– Fire Over the City –
The roar of Draigo's attack still hung in the air.
In the streets of Bangalore, people stared up at the fiery bloom in the distance, mouths agape. Some raised their phones, filming the sky as if afraid the sight might vanish too quickly.
Sirens wailed, a sharp counterpoint to the distant rumble.
In an apartment several floors up, the light from the explosion spilled through half-closed curtains. A young woman with bubblegum-pink hair—pizza slice halfway to her mouth—froze, then set her food down.
She stepped to the window. The blast's glow painted her face.
Her lips curled into a grin.
Showtime.
---
– The Stream Begins –
She flicked on the light in her bedroom, revealing a desk cluttered with tech. Seven sleek drones, each a black sphere the size of an orange, sat in perfect formation beside a high-end camera rig.
With a few practiced motions, she powered them up, their indicator lights blinking in unison. The hum of their rotors filled the room.
Throwing on a blue hoodie—unzipped just enough to show the silver ring at her navel—she settled in front of the camera.
"What's up, everyone?" Her voice was smooth, playful. "I just landed in Bangalore, and things got crazy. Police cars everywhere, huge explosion downtown—" She tilted her head toward the window. "—and you can bet we're going to find out who's behind it."
Her fingers danced over a control pad. Six drones zipped out into the night sky, heading toward the fire. One stayed hovering in her room, its lens trained on her.
"We all know Bangalore for its high-tech, low-chaos vibe," she continued. "So… who's breaking the rules tonight? Who's with me?"
The chat lit up in real time—comments streaming in, gifts flashing on screen. Some viewers, halfway across the globe, began spamming her name in unison.
"ZOE BLINKS! ZOE BLINKS!"
Her grin widened.
---
– Crowd on Edge –
Meanwhile, closer to the chaos, soldiers and police pushed civilians back.
"Stay clear! This area's under lockdown!"
A man in the crowd raised his voice. "We're citizens—we deserve to know what's going on!"
Others shouted their agreement.
The soldiers stayed firm. "Situation is classified. Please evacuate."
A reporter broke through the crowd, mic in hand, her tone measured but sharp. "Classified? People's homes are in ruins from that blast. Don't you think the public deserves an explanation?"
When the soldier didn't answer, she pressed harder. "Is it terrorists? Villains? Another experiment gone wrong? We need answers."
The soldier slapped the mic aside. "Stay away from the area. That's all you need to know."
Her expression hardened. "You're forcing us back without giving a single straight answer."
A squad of soldiers passed, carrying unfamiliar equipment—heavy, reinforced crates marked with hazard symbols. The news cameras caught every detail.
The reporter's voice dropped to a whisper. "What in the world…?"
---
– The Black Wish –
Far from the barricades, in the city's underbelly, a bar hummed with low music and rough voices. Criminals, mercenaries, and assassins mingled, weapons slung casually at their sides.
The bartender polished a glass while the news played on an overhead screen.
The door opened.
A woman stepped inside—black dress hugging her figure, the hem brushing her ankles. Her presence turned heads. The conversations faltered.
Whispers followed her.
"Irina Kaisla Volkov von Kirill… the Black Wish."
A single glance from her cut the whispers short. Eyes dropped. No one dared hold her gaze.
Her entourage—four men and a woman in black suits—escorted her to the bar. She took her seat with quiet authority.
"How's business, Tony?" she asked.
The bartender sighed. "Business is great."
She turned her attention to the TV. "Turn it up."
He complied without question.
---
– Very Interesting –
The anchor's voice was taut. "We are live in Bangalore, where an intense battle appears to be unfolding. Military units and registered heroes have been spotted, but officials refuse to confirm any details."
Irina sipped her whiskey, eyes steady on the screen. "Interesting," she murmured.
"And now," the anchor continued, "footage from a streamer known as Zoe Blinks—already on the scene—shows the aftermath of the initial blast."
Irina's gaze flicked to Tony—a silent order.
He hesitated. "Come on, Irina… You're demanding tonight. I thought you just came in for a drink."
Her stare froze him in place. Without another word, he began searching for the channel. The other patrons sat stiff, uneasy.
"Got it," Tony finally said.
The feed switched to Zoe's drone view—smoke, flame, twisted steel. The glow of Draigo's attack still raged, and in the center of it… a lone figure.
The bar went quiet.
Irina clicked her tongue softly, the corner of her mouth curling.
"Very… interesting."