The air in Hollywood was thick with the scent of sawdust and desperation as Adan Beckett, better known to the world as SkyRyder, caught wind of a disturbance at the local Home Depot. He was halfway through a binge of *Doctor Who* reruns in his tiny apartment when the police scanner crackled to life with reports of ICE agents rounding up families like they were stray lumber. Adan’s jaw clenched. “Not on my watch,” he muttered, tossing his popcorn aside.
In a blur of motion, he transformed. His lanky frame filled out with lean muscle, his tousled black hair and green eyes shifting to a rich brown, and his blue-and-white suit materialized with a faint electric hum. SkyRyder was ready to roll. With a smirk, he launched himself out the window, the city sprawling beneath him as he soared at breakneck speed toward the orange-roofed fortress of DIY dreams.
He landed with a thud in the parking lot, just as a grim-faced man in a black suit—Ryan Parker, ICE agent extraordinaire—was barking orders to load terrified families onto a grimy bus. Children clung to their parents, eyes wide with fear, while Parker’s men prodded them with the butts of sleek, futuristic rifles that glowed with an eerie yellow light.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the poster boy for government overreach,” Adan drawled, crossing his arms and leaning casually against a stack of pallets. “What’s next, Parker? Gonna deport them to Narnia?”
Parker turned, his cold gray eyes narrowing. A sneer curled his thin lips. “SkyRyder. Should’ve known you’d show up to play hero. This is federal business. Buzz off before I swat you like the annoying fly you are.”
“Oh, I’m trembling,” Adan shot back, mock-shivering. “But let’s be real, the only thing federal about this is how federally screwed you’re about to be. Let these people go, or I’ll turn your little operation into a DIY disaster.”
Parker’s sneer deepened as he gestured to his men. “Take him down. Let’s see if this freak can dodge a few beams.”
Before Adan could quip again, yellow energy blasts erupted from the rifles, slicing through the air like angry hornets. With a grin, he blurred into motion, his super speed turning him into a streak of blue and white. The beams missed by inches, scorching the asphalt where he’d stood. “Missed me!” he taunted, zipping behind one agent and crushing his weapon into a twisted heap of metal with a casual flex of super strength. “Oops, did I break your toy? My bad.”
One by one, the rifles crumpled under his grip, the agents scrambling back in panic. But the fight wasn’t over. Two hulking figures emerged from the shadows near the bus—N.H.D.A. guards, their bodies encased in alien metal armor that shimmered with an otherworldly sheen. Their glowing yellow batons crackled with energy as they charged.
“Great, the sci-fi cosplay squad showed up,” Adan muttered, dodging a swing that would’ve caved in a normal man’s skull. The second guard landed a hit, the baton slamming into his shoulder with a burst of searing pain. Adan grunted, stumbling but recovering with a roll. “Okay, ow. Points for style, but I’m still gonna wreck you.”
With a burst of speed, he closed the gap, snapping their batons in half like dry twigs. He grabbed one guard by the collar, lifting him off the ground effortlessly. “Talk, Tin Man. What’s with the glow sticks? And why are you even here?”
The guard’s voice was a distorted rasp through his helmet. “You’re out of your depth, SkyRyder. N.H.D.A. doesn’t play games. There’s a prison in Nevada—underground. That’s where we keep… things like you. You’ll end up there soon enough.”
Adan’s eyes narrowed, but his smirk didn’t falter. “A secret prison for spooks and super-freaks? Sounds like my kind of party. Thanks for the invite.” He dropped the guard, who crumpled to the ground, and turned to the families still huddled by the bus. With a few swift moves, he tore the restraints off their wrists, his voice softening. “You’re free. This city—hell, this world—belongs to you as much as anyone. Don’t let jerks like Parker tell you otherwise.”
Parker, now weaponless and backed against the bus, glared daggers at Adan. “This isn’t over, SkyRyder. You’ve just painted a target on your back. N.H.D.A. will hunt you down. You’re nothing but a glitch in the system.”
Adan sauntered over, towering over Parker with a grin that was equal parts charm and menace. “Oh, I’m a glitch, alright. The kind that crashes your whole damn server. See you around, Agent Buzzkill. Try not to cry into your alien tech tonight.”
With a mock salute, Adan launched into the sky, the families’ grateful murmurs fading below him. His mind raced as he streaked toward Nevada, the wind whipping through his hair. A secret prison for supernatural beings? That wasn’t just a conspiracy—it was a full-blown nightmare waiting to be cracked open. And if N.H.D.A. thought they could cage him or anyone else, they were about to learn that SkyRyder didn’t just fly. He fought.
As the glittering lights of Vegas appeared on the horizon, Adan muttered to himself, “Time to dig up some dirt. Let’s hope Nevada’s got more than slot machines and bad decisions waiting for me.” With a determined glint in his eye, he sped onward, the mystery of the underground prison pulling him like a magnet into the heart of danger.
To be continued…
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