Chapter 265: A New Villain [Edited]

The Oak Creek Power Substation sat on the dark outskirts of Chicago, a massive grid of steel towers, high-voltage transformers, and thick electrical cables. Normally, it hummed with the steady energy that powered half the county.

Tonight, it was a warzone.

Thick black smoke billowed into the cold night sky. Heavy transmission towers had been twisted and bent, groaning under their own weight before collapsing onto the concrete below. Blue arcs of electricity snapped through the air as another transformer exploded, showering the asphalt with sparks.

Walking slowly through the center of the burning wreckage was Specimen B.

He wore a sleek, dark combat suit without a mask. The fires cast a flickering orange glow over his face. He looked exactly like Phantom—the same sharp jawline, dark hair, and athletic build.

But his posture was entirely different.

There was none of Phantom’s calm restraint or quiet focus. B walked with a cruel, arrogant swagger, like a predator finally allowed to roam free.

Above him, the loud chopping of helicopter blades echoed through the smoke. A local news chopper circled the substation, its bright spotlight shining down on the destruction.

That was exactly what B wanted.

He wanted an audience.

The wail of sirens pierced the night. The chained steel gates of the substation were suddenly blown off their hinges as three armored Association vehicles skidded into the compound.

A local response squad poured out. Five heroes in heavy armor spread out with their weapons ready. They looked at the burning power grid before turning their attention to the man standing in the middle of the wreckage.

"Hold your ground!" the squad leader shouted. He was a massive man whose arms were covered in thick, jagged rock armor. He pointed a heavy shock-baton at B. "Put your hands in the air! You are surrounded by Association forces!"

B didn’t raise his hands.

He simply smiled.

"Surrounded?" B echoed. His voice was identical to Phantom’s, but filled with cold amusement. "You brought five people. That isn’t a perimeter. That’s an insult."

The rock-armored hero didn’t wait. He roared and charged forward, his heavy boots cracking the asphalt. He pulled his fist back and swung at B’s head with all his strength.

B didn’t even bother to block.

He tapped into his spatial abilities. A small tear in space opened in front of him. B stepped through it and disappeared, reappearing three feet behind the charging hero.

The hero stumbled as his punch struck nothing. Before he could turn around, B raised a hand and released a concentrated burst of gravity.

The sudden weight slammed down onto the hero’s shoulders. He collapsed to his knees with a choked gasp, the asphalt cracking beneath him. The rock armor covering his arms cracked under the pressure.

"One," B said mockingly as he stepped past the pinned hero.

The rest of the squad panicked.

A woman in sleek silver armor raised her gauntlets and fired a rapid stream of bright energy blasts. At the same time, two other heroes rushed toward B with electrified spears.

B’s dark eyes flashed.

He channeled a surge of refined Qi, allowing a thin ribbon of white-hot energy to form along the edge of his bare hand.

He swung his arm in a wide arc.

A dark crescent of spatial energy tore through the air, destroying the incoming blasts before they could reach him. It continued forward and sliced cleanly through the two electrified spears.

The heroes froze, staring at the severed weapons in their hands.

B moved before either of them could react.

He grabbed the first hero by the armored collar and threw him with terrifying force. The man flew backward and crashed into the side of one of the armored vehicles. The heavy door dented inward as he fell unconscious.

The second spear-wielder tried to retreat, reaching for a sidearm.

B simply raised his hand and reversed his gravity field.

The hero was suddenly pulled forward, his feet leaving the ground as he flew toward B’s waiting hand. B caught him by the throat and lifted him into the air with one arm.

"Too slow," B whispered before tossing him aside.

The last remaining hero—the woman with the energy gauntlets—stared at B in horror.

Her entire squad had been defeated in less than twenty seconds.

She took a step back, her hands shaking as she raised her gauntlets again.

B didn’t attack.

He simply stood among the burning transformers as the news helicopter’s spotlight washed over him. Then he looked up, staring directly into the camera.

He raised one hand and pointed a finger at the lens.

A cruel smile spread across his face.

He wanted Phantom to see this.

He wanted the original to know that the copy was coming for him.

Without another word, B turned and casually walked into the thick black smoke, leaving the ruined substation and defeated heroes behind.

---

Hundreds of miles away, the apartment in Grayland was quiet and warm.

In the living room, Nicholas had a simple canvas duffel bag open on the floor. He was packing practical gear for the Sahara: durable clothing, canteens, and two perfectly balanced carbon-steel utility blades.

Sitting on the sofa, Selena scrolled through flight manifests on her tablet. Across the room, Nectron leaned against the kitchen counter, eating a massive turkey sandwich, while Marina quietly wrapped extra protein bars for their flight.

Down the hall, Katie was safely locked in her bedroom, fighting a desperate battle against her math homework.

It was a peaceful, domestic scene of a team preparing for a mission.

Then the front door burst open.

Julie ran into the apartment, her pink bucket hat nearly falling off her head. She was breathing hard, clutching a large digital tablet to her chest.

Her eyes were wide, and for once, she didn’t look excited about breaking news.

She looked terrified.

"Turn on the television," Julie gasped, pointing at the large screen mounted on the living room wall. "Right now. Channel four. The national broadcast."

Nicholas immediately set his blades down. He grabbed the remote and switched to the national news network.

The screen flickered to life, showing shaky helicopter footage of the Oak Creek Power Substation. Reporters were talking frantically over the footage, replaying the fight that had just taken place.

They watched the man on the screen use a spatial fold to dodge a punch. They watched him use crushing gravity to pin a hero to the concrete. They watched him unleash a Void slash that tore through weapons with ease.

Finally, they watched him look up at the camera and point.

"The clone," Nectron muttered, his sandwich forgotten on the counter. "He’s operating openly."

"He just took out the power grid for half of Chicago," Selena said, her voice shaking with quiet fury. She quickly set her tablet down. "He isn’t even trying to hide it or frame you anymore, Nicholas. He wants the whole world to see him."

Marina stood in the kitchen doorway, holding a dish towel against her chest, her face pale.

Nicholas didn’t say a word. He watched the replay, his dark blue eyes following every movement the clone made.

"He’s fully healed," Nicholas said softly.

"What do you mean?" Selena asked, turning toward him.

"When I fought him in the warehouse, I broke his ribs. I shattered his internal energy pathways. His body was falling apart," Nicholas explained, his voice calm and clinical. "But look at his movement in the footage. His balance is perfect. His spatial folds are seamless, and the gravity pulse he used was completely stable. Whoever pulled him out of that rubble fixed him. He’s operating at one hundred percent."

"Larry," Nectron rumbled, his jaw tightening. "It has to be Larry’s people."

"We suspect it’s Larry," Selena corrected, rubbing her temples in frustration. "But we don’t have solid proof. Larry’s corporate backers are moving money through the shadows, but every time the Association’s cyber division tries to track it, the trail ends in offshore shell companies. If Larry is funding this, he’s making sure there’s no paper trail that can connect him to B."

"It’s more than calculated," Nicholas said. "Look at the way B pointed at the camera. He wasn’t looking at the news anchor. He was looking at me."

Nicholas’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"He wants a rematch."

Before anyone could say anything else, Selena’s secure Association comm-link buzzed loudly in her pocket. The screen flashed red with a priority call.

She answered it and put the call on speaker.

"Director Eric. We are watching the Chicago broadcast right now."

"The whole country is watching the broadcast, Selena," Eric’s exhausted, gravelly voice came through the speaker. "Chicago is in total chaos. The local governor just declared a state of emergency. The media is panicking and asking why the Association’s heroes were defeated in twenty seconds."

"Do you want us to deploy to Chicago?" Selena asked, slipping instantly into her professional supervisor tone. "Phantom and Nectron are geared up. We can divert our flight and be in the air in twenty minutes."

There was a brief pause.

"No," Eric said firmly.

"Eric, he just dismantled an entire squad without breaking a sweat," Selena argued, her eyes moving toward Nicholas. "If he hits the downtown sector, the local defense grid won’t be able to hold him."

"I know," Eric sighed. "But the High Council just stepped in. They’re deploying a massive force to Chicago. Two dozen high-rank heroes from the eastern seaboard are already in the air. The Association will secure the city and hunt the clone down."

"And us?" Nicholas asked calmly.

"You are going to Africa," Eric said. "Zero is already waiting at the airstrip."

Nicholas’s expression remained unchanged.

"Listen to me, Phantom. We highly suspect Larry’s backers are behind this clone’s sudden return. And if they are, this is a massive distraction. They want us throwing all our best heroes into Chicago so we take our eyes off the desert."

Eric took a deep breath.

"If those corporate rats find that alien ship while we’re busy fighting B in the streets, they’ll acquire technology that makes a single clone look like a joke. Phantom, I need you on that plane to Cairo. The Association will handle Chicago. You handle the ruins. Do you understand?"

Nicholas looked down at his canvas duffel bag. Then he looked at Selena and Nectron.

The clone was out there, using his face and abilities to hurt people. B was openly calling him out, demanding a fight.

But Nicholas wasn’t a hotheaded rookie looking to settle a grudge.

He knew what mattered more.

The alien spacecraft buried beneath the desert was the greater threat, especially if Larry’s people were searching for it.

"I understand," Nicholas said.

"Good. Wheels up in one hour. Eric out."

The line clicked dead.

Nicholas picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

Chicago was burning, but he had a flight to catch.