Black Tide

Chapter Eight: Presentation

The soft hum of Kaine’s gym filled the music from his morning workout playlist. Sweat glistened on his scarred body as he stood in front of the mirror, fresh from a brutal workout. His muscles ached in that satisfying way that only came from pushing himself to the edge. The scars across his chest and arms, pale against his deep brown skin, were constant reminders of the fire that had forged him. His prosthetic legs gleamed faintly in the dim light, their sleek design blending with the toned strength of his frame.

He ran a towel over his face, muttering to himself as he made his way to the kitchen. Breakfast today was normal—eggs, bacon, and toast—cooked on an old stovetop rather than created by his powers. It was one of the few ways he kept himself tethered to the life he’d had before. As he sat down with his plate, the TV in the living room blared to life, tuned to a news channel.

The anchor’s voice was tense and excited. “Footage from last night’s gang war at the Shreveport Super Projects has gone viral. An unidentified individual, clad in high-tech armor, intervened in what authorities are calling one of the deadliest gang confrontations this year. Witnesses have dubbed him ‘Black Tide’ after a chilling exchange with an officer on the scene.”

Kaine smirked as the screen showed grainy footage of him moving through the Super Projects. The camera shook as civilians fled for cover, but the image of his glowing red eyes cutting through the chaos was unmistakable. Clips of his drones shielding people and disabling gang members played in a loop.

“Looks like you’re trending,” Pred’s voice chimed through the Smile Chip, laced with amusement. “#BlackTide is blowing up. You’re officially a household name.”

“Great,” Kaine muttered, stabbing a piece of bacon with his fork. “Just what I needed.”

“Relax,” Pred said. “They don’t have a clue who you are. Besides, you’ll love what I found while you were dreaming of world domination last night.”

Kaine raised an eyebrow, chewing thoughtfully. “What’d you dig up?”

Pred didn’t respond right away. Instead, the lights in the war room dimmed, and the living room TV screen flickered, transitioning to a sleek black interface with Pred’s glowing red geometric logo.

“Welcome to Erratics 101,” Pred said, his voice taking on the mocking tone of an overenthusiastic teacher. “Brought to you by your friendly neighborhood predatory AI.”

The screen split into quadrants, each displaying an array of classified documents, surveillance footage, and organizational charts.

“First, let’s talk numbers,” Pred continued. “Erratics, people like you with abilities that break all known rules of science, are rare. The official count? A few hundred worldwide. The real count? Thousands. Governments have been keeping this quiet for decades.”

The screen shifted to show profiles of known Erratics. Kaine leaned forward, his interest piqued. One file showed a woman who could manipulate water, and another a man with the ability to phase through solid objects.

“Now, let’s meet the assholes hunting them,” Pred said, the screen transitioning to three sinister logos: Specter Corps, The Janus Directive, and The Iron Order.

“These guys are the worst,” Pred continued. “Specter Corps—your friendly United North American States (UNAS )death squad. Your lovely home turf. Masters of stealth and assassination. The Janus Directive—Euro-Alliance’s pet project. AI-enhanced zealots who think they’re God’s gift to the planet. And last but not least, The Iron Order. Cybernetic nightmares from the Sino-Russian Federation. These bastards make the Terminator look friendly.”

Kaine set his plate down, his jaw tightening as Pred detailed the gruesome methods these organizations used to capture or kill Erratics. The footage of raids, experiments, and executions left no doubt about their ruthlessness.

“And here’s the kicker,” Pred said, his tone darkening. “They’re not just after Erratics. Anyone who helps one is fair game. They’ll torch entire cities if it means taking out one of you.”

Kaine stared at the screen, his fists clenched. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Plan?” Pred asked. “You tell me, boss. These are the players. You’ve got the power. Question is, how far are you willing to take this?”

Kaine leaned back, his eyes narrowing as the screen displayed a rotating globe covered in glowing red markers, each representing an active Erratic or organization.

“As far as I need to,” Kaine said quietly. “But for now, I am more interested in a different set of assholes. These will hold. Keep an eye on them.

“Already bugged their systems,” Pred replied.