UNKNOWN

SCENE 1: THE CLASSROOM (TENSION BENEATH NORMAL) The screen flickered again. Same footage. Same screams. Same sky tearing itself apart like it couldn’t hold whatever was behind it. Jake didn’t look away this time. There was something about the way the light moved in the video—wrong, like it wasn’t just light, but something else pretending to be it. “Year One of the Incursion resulted in over two billion recorded casualties…” A low whistle came from the back of the class. “Damn…” Mr. Daramola didn’t react. “…but from that collapse, a new global structure emerged” Jake’s fingers tightened slightly around his pen. The sound stretched. Just for a second. Like it echoed longer than it should have. Jake blinked. Everything snapped back. Outside the classroom window. Something moved. Not fast. Not slow. Just… wrong. A shadow where there shouldn’t be one. On a clear day. Jake’s eyes flicked toward it. But by the time he focused, Nothing was there. “…You good?” Marcus asked. Jake hesitated. “…Yeah.” But he glanced at the window again. Just to be sure. “Pause.” Mr. Daramola turned off the screen. Silence. “Tell me something,” he said, pacing slowly. “Why do you think people still argue about whether the Incursion was a disaster… or an evolution?” A girl raised her hand. “Because some people benefited from it?” “Good. Expand.” “They got powers. Status. Some of them became heroes.” “And the others?” “…Didn’t.” Mr. Daramola nodded. “History is written by survivors,” he said. “But perspective is written by the fortunate.” Jake’s eyes drifted again. Becky wasn’t taking notes anymore. She was staring at the blank screen. Frowning slightly. Like something about it bothered her too. Marcus leaned in again. “She’s thinking deep thoughts, bro. This is your moment.” Jake didn’t respond. Because for some reason, He felt… uneasy. SCENE 2: HOME (WARMTH WITH CRACKS UNDERNEATH) Jake returns home from school. The front door clicked shut behind him. Instantly, The smell hit him. Food. Spices. Something baking. Comfort. “Jake?” Elizabeth called. “In here.” He dropped his bag, loosening his shoulders slightly like the weight of the day was something physical. Elizabeth stepped out, wiping her hands. She paused. Just for a second. “You okay?” Jake frowned slightly. “Yeah… why?” She studied him. Too closely. Then smiled it off. “You just look tired.” “I am tired.” “Hmm.” She didn’t look convinced. Fred didn’t look up from his tablet. “Training today?” “Yeah.” “Performance?” Jake shrugged. “Same as always.” Fred nodded. “Consistency is good.” Jake smirked faintly. “You say that like I’m a lab result.” Fred finally looked up. And for a moment, His expression was unreadable. “Everything can be measured,” he said calmly. Jake held his gaze. Something about that sat… wrong. But before he could respond, “JAKE!” Lena crashed into the room again. “You promised!” “I said maybe.” “That means yes.” “It literally doesn’t.” Later, during dinner, “School was fine?” Elizabeth asked. “Yeah.” “No trouble?” “No.” “Fights?” Jake paused. “…No.” Fred’s gaze lingered longer than usual. Not fatherly. Not casual. Measured. Jake shifted slightly. “What?” Fred blinked once, like he’d been somewhere else. “Nothing.” But his tablet screen dimmed slightly as he lowered it, And for the briefest moment, Reflected in it wasn’t data. It was a paused frame. Security footage. Jake. Earlier that day. At school. Fred locked the screen. Too quickly. “Finish your food,” he said calmly. Jake frowned slightly. But didn’t press it. Caleb leaned forward. “If Jake had powers, what do you think they’d be?” Lena rolled her eyes. “Not everything is about powers.” “It is now,” Caleb insisted. Elizabeth smiled lightly. “Hypothetically?” Jake shrugged. “I wouldn’t want any.” That got everyone’s attention. “Why not?” Lena asked. Jake leaned back slightly. “Because nothing about it looks… normal,” he said. “Everyone with powers ends up in the military or on some watchlist. Or worse.” Fred spoke quietly: “Power doesn’t determine your path. Control does.” Jake looked at him. “…And if you don’t have control?” Fred didn’t answer immediately. Then: “Then someone else will.” Silence. Jake looked down at his plate. For some reason, That answer stayed with him longer than it should have. The next day didn’t feel important. That was the problem. Jake sat at the back of the classroom, half-listening, half somewhere else. The teacher was talking. Numbers. Equations. Something about energy distribution models. None of it stuck. “…Jake?” He blinked. “…Yeah?” “You’ve been staring at the same page for ten minutes.” A few students laughed quietly. Jake glanced down. Blank. He hadn’t written a single thing. “…I’m thinking.” “About failing?” More laughter. Jake smirked faintly. “Not today.” “Then start writing.” Marcus leaned over. “You good?” Jake nodded, but slower this time. “Yeah… just didn’t sleep well.” “That’s what happens when you spend your nights imagining a future with Becky.” Jake rolled his eyes. “You’re obsessed.” “I’m observant.” Across the room, Becky was actually paying attention today. Focused. Serious. That wasn’t new. What was new, She kept glancing at the window. Like she was expecting something. Jake noticed. And for some reason, It made him uneasy again. It was school the next day. The bell rang. Students poured out like always. Noise. Movement. Chaos. “Jake!” He turned. Becky again. But this time, something felt… different. “You’re coming for practice, right?” she asked. “Yeah,” he said. “You already asked me that yesterday.” “I know, I just—” she paused. Then shrugged it off. “Just making sure.” Jake studied her for a second. “You good?” She hesitated. “…Do you ever feel like something’s off?” Jake frowned slightly. “Off how?” “I don’t know,” she said quickly. “Like… things are normal, but they shouldn’t be.” Jake blinked. That hit closer than he expected. “Like the Incursion stuff?” he asked. “Not just that,” she said. “That’s history. I mean now.” A beat. Then she shook her head. “Forget it. It sounds stupid.” “It doesn’t,” Jake said. She looked at him. Searched his face. Like she was trying to see if he really meant that. “…See you at practice,” she said softly. Then she left. Marcus appeared immediately. “What did she say??” Jake didn’t answer right away. “…Nothing.” Marcus squinted. “That didn’t sound like nothing.” Jake adjusted his bag. “It wasn’t important.” But that wasn’t true. And he knew it. After School – Practice (Grounding Before the Break) The field felt normal. Predictable. Safe. “Move, Jake!” Coach shouted. Jake pivoted, dodging past Marcus and pushing forward. Movement came easy here. No overthinking. No weird tension in his chest. Just instinct. “Pass!” Jake threw the ball, Clean. Accurate. Perfect. Marcus caught it and scored. “LET’S GO!” he shouted. Coach blew the whistle. “Better! That’s what I want to see!” Jake bent over slightly, catching his breath. Sweat dripped down his face. His chest rose and fell steadily. Normal. Everything felt normal here. Becky stood near the sidelines. Watching. She gave him a small thumbs up. Jake smiled back. For a moment— Everything felt exactly how it should be. After Practice – The Slow Shift The sun dipped lower. The sky softened. Players began heading out. “Walk with me?” Becky asked. Jake blinked. “Uh—yeah.” Marcus, from behind: “Oh this is crazy.” Jake ignored him. They walked side by side. Not too close. Not too far. “You played well today,” she said. “Thanks.” “You always say you’re average, but you’re not.” Jake shrugged. “I’m just consistent.” “That’s not the same thing.” A pause. Comfortable. Then, “I meant what I said earlier,” she added. Jake glanced at her. “About something feeling off?” She nodded. “…Do you feel it too?” Jake hesitated. This was the moment he could brush it off. Make a joke. Keep things simple. But instead, “…Yeah,” he said quietly. Becky looked at him again. This time, Relief. “I thought it was just me,” she said. They reached a split in the road. “My turn,” she said. “Yeah.” Another pause. Neither of them moved immediately. “See you tomorrow?” she asked. “Yeah.” She smiled. Then left. Jake watched her go. For longer than necessary. Then turned. And started walking home. The street stretched ahead. Quiet. Still. Jake walked slower than usual. Not because he was tired. Because something felt… Off again. He glanced behind him. Nothing. But the feeling didn’t leave. High above. On the edge of a distant building. A figure stood. Still. Watching. Too far to make out clearly. But not too far to matter. A faint glow pulsed once, From their eyes. Then, Gone. Like they were never there. The wind shifted. Sudden. Cold. Jake stopped walking. That feeling again. Stronger now. Closer. His chest tightened. “…Okay, what is that?” He turned, Scanning rooftops. Windows. Shadows. Nothing. But somewhere. Hidden from sight. A voice spoke. Calm. Observing. “Subject shows early signs of activation.” A pause. “Earlier than projected.” Another voice. Distorted. Unclear. “Do we intervene?” Silence. Then, “…No.” A beat. “Let it happen.” The street grew quieter the further he walked. The sounds of the field faded. Replaced by distant traffic. Wind. Silence. Jake adjusted his bag. His mind replayed everything. The classroom. Becky’s words. That feeling. Something’s off. He exhaled slowly. “Yeah… maybe.” Then, “Help! Please!” Jake stopped. And just like that, The normal day ended. SCENE 3: THE ALLEY (SLOW, BRUTAL AWAKENING) “Help! Please!” Jake stopped walking. His chest tightened. That wasn’t distant. That was close. He stepped closer to the alley entrance. Shadows stretched long across the ground. Movement inside. Struggle. “Please—take it, just—!” A grunt. A shove. A body hitting the wall. Jake’s jaw tightened. His brain ran through options— Walk away. Call for help. Not your problem. Another hit. A cry cut short. “…Damn it.” He stepped in. “Hey!” All three turned. The moment stretched. Jake felt it immediately, The imbalance. The mistake. Still, “I said leave him.” The first guy stepped forward slowly. “You trying to be a hero?” Jake didn’t answer. That was enough. The punch came fast. Faster than Jake expected. It snapped his head to the side. Sound dulled. Not gone. Just… distant. Second hit. This one to the stomach. Air gone. Body folding. Jake tried to swing back, Missed. They laughed. “Wrong place, kid.” Another hit. And another. Jake dropped. Concrete slammed into his side. Pain spread sharp and fast. His thoughts scattered. This is bad. This is really bad. Hands grabbed his shirt. Dragging him up And then, Something… shifted. Not outside. Inside. It wasn’t sudden. It was building. Like pressure behind a wall. Cracking. Straining. Jake’s breathing changed. Shallow. Uneven. “What the hell…?” one of them muttered. Jake felt it before he understood it. A pulse. Deep. Violent. His fingers twitched. The air around him, reacted. “Yo—back up—” Too late. It broke. Not like an explosion. More like Reality snapping. Force surged outward in a wave. Invisible. Unstoppable. The men weren’t pushed. They were launched. One slammed into the wall hard enough to dent metal behind him. Another flipped over a bin, crashing violently. The third hit the ground and didn’t get back up immediately. Silence. Heavy. Wrong. Jake dropped to his knees. Breathing hard. Heart racing like it was trying to escape his chest. “…What… was that…” His hands shook. Not slightly. Violently. The classmate scrambled backward. Away from him. “Stay back,” he said. Voice shaking. Terrified. Jake froze. That hit harder than the punches. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean—” Sirens. Distant. But coming. Jake looked around. The damage. The bodies. His hands. And then it hit him. Fully. This wasn’t random. This wasn’t external. This was— Him. Jake stood slowly. Backing away. For the first time, He wasn’t scared of them. He was scared of himself. “This wasn’t supposed to happen to me.” Far from the alley. Far from the noise. In a place untouched by the chaos, Screens flickered to life. Multiple angles. Multiple feeds. All showing the same thing. Jake. Standing. Shaking. Awake. A figure stepped forward into the dim light. Face unseen. Presence heavy. “…So,” the voice said softly. “After all this time…” A pause. “…we found you.”