Chapter 266: The Enemy Of Your Enemy Is Not Your Friend [Edited]

The screen flickered in the dark, damp garage in Grayland.

Hexi sat on an overturned milk crate, leaning forward as the harsh blue light from the screen covered his face. Shadow stood near the rusted oil drum, warming her hands over the dying fire. Sniper was slouched in a ripped leather car seat, his feet resting on a stack of old tires. A lit cigarette hung from his lips as he casually tossed a small metal bolt into the air and caught it.

The national news was replaying the footage from Chicago.

They watched as a man with Phantom’s face tore through an entire hero response squad in less than twenty seconds. The footage showed the spatial folds, crushing gravity, and the Void slash that cut through solid steel with ease.

Hexi watched the man grab a hero by the throat and slam him into the concrete before turning toward the camera with a cruel smile.

They knew immediately that the man on the screen wasn’t Phantom.

It was the clone.

"That’s the fake from the warehouse," Hexi said. A wide, manic grin spread across his bruised face. "Look at him. He is strong. His brain must be strong too. And he doesn’t act like that street thug begging for the camera’s attention."

"Obviously," Shadow said, unsurprised. "It’s the clone. He’s not even trying to hide it."

"Good for him," Sniper yawned, catching the metal bolt and dropping it into his pocket. He took another drag from his cigarette. "Can you tilt the screen a little to the left? The glare is hurting my eyes."

Hexi ignored him and jumped up from the milk crate.

"Don’t you see what this means? That clone hates the Association! He’s out there making a public mockery of them. Which means he hates Phantom too!"

Shadow frowned.

"Hexi, no. Do not even think about it."

"Why not?" Hexi demanded, pacing across the concrete floor as he pulled at his dark hair. "We want Phantom dead. The clone obviously wants to ruin Phantom’s life. We share the exact same enemy! We know he’s just a lab experiment, just like Dr. Malik Vance made us. We can use this!"

Sniper let out a long sigh, smoke drifting from his lips.

"That sounds like a whole lot of unnecessary effort, man. The guy just squashed five armored heroes like bugs. You want to walk up to him and hand him a partnership resume? Be my guest. I’m going to take a nap."

"We can help him!" Hexi argued, desperation creeping into his voice. "He has the raw power, but he doesn’t know the streets like we do. We were Master’s prime subjects! I have my ability. If we team up, I can turn entire city blocks into puppet armies for him. He fights the heavy hitters, and I control the masses. It’s the perfect alliance!"

"He doesn’t need anyone," Shadow said coldly. "Look at the screen, Hexi. He just leveled a power plant. He doesn’t need an army of puppets. He needs targets. And right now, you look exactly like a target."

Sniper chuckled and grabbed a cold can of beans from a nearby crate.

"She’s right, you know. The guy is a walking natural disaster. You walk up to him, he’s probably just going to punch you in the throat because he’s bored. Let’s just sit here, eat our beans, and let him do whatever he wants in Chicago."

"I am going," Hexi sneered.

He didn’t bother grabbing a weapon. He didn’t need one. His weapon was the black fog that bent people’s minds to his will.

"He’s in Chicago. The news said he disappeared into the industrial rail yards moving south. If you two want to sit in this freezing garage and do nothing for the rest of your lives, fine. I am going to find our new partner."

Hexi turned and marched out into the cold, rainy night.

Shadow watched him go before turning to Sniper.

"He’s going to get himself killed," she said quietly.

"Probably," Sniper replied lazily. He popped the tab on the can of beans, took a bite, and shrugged. "Honestly, I give him ten seconds before the fake Phantom breaks his other jaw."

"Are we just going to let him go?"

Sniper groaned and set the can down. He slowly dragged himself out of the leather seat, dropped his cigarette, and crushed it beneath his boot. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and pulled the hood of his gray sweatshirt over his head.

"I guess not," Sniper muttered. "Dr. Vance said we were supposed to stick together, right? Come on. Let’s go take a walk in the rain and watch him make an absolute idiot of himself."

---

The abandoned freight rail yard on the southern edge of Chicago was a sprawling maze of rusted train cars, cracked gravel, and overgrown weeds. The rain had stopped, leaving the night air cold and heavy with the smell of wet iron.

Hexi, Shadow, and Sniper moved through the dark spaces between the freight cars.

They didn’t have to look hard to find the trail.

The tracks were warped and twisted, while the metal doors of several train cars had been ripped from their hinges.

They followed the destruction toward the center of the yard.

In a wide clearing stood Specimen B, his back to them as he looked up at the night sky. His dark combat suit was covered in a thin layer of dust from the power plant, but he showed no sign of exhaustion.

Sniper stopped and leaned against the wheels of a train car, keeping his rifle over his shoulder.

"Yep, I’m good right here," Sniper whispered. "Good luck, buddy. Try not to die too loudly."

Shadow pressed herself against a nearby steel container. Up close, the clone’s presence was suffocating.

Hexi ignored them and stepped into the open.

"Hey!" he called out, forcing his voice to sound confident.

B slowly turned around.

Hexi felt fear run down his spine.

The face was exactly the same as the man who had destroyed his life—the dark hair, sharp jawline, and broad shoulders.

But it was the eyes that froze him.

B’s dark blue eyes were coldl. He didn’t look surprised or angry. He looked at Hexi the same way Phantom had looked at him at the docks, as if he were nothing more than a stain on the pavement.

"Who are you?" B asked.

His voice was calm and steady, exactly like the original Phantom.

"My name is Hexi," he said, forcing himself to take another step forward. He pointed a thumb at his chest. "We saw the broadcast. We know you aren’t the real hero. We are impures. We were subjects of Dr. Malik Vance. We want to help you."

B tilted his head slightly, his gaze moving over Hexi before rubbing his forehead.

"Ahh, that’s right we fought in the dome" B stated. "He broke your jaw."

"Yeah, he got a lucky hit," Hexi lied, his pride flaring despite his fear. "But we know how he operates. We know Grayland. I can control people. If they breathe in my miasma, they become my puppets. If we team up, I can build an army for you. We can set a trap for him. We can—"

"You are weak," B interrupted.

Hexi stopped.

His face flushed with anger.

"What did you say?"

"I said you are weak," B repeated calmly. He didn’t raise his voice or take a fighting stance. He simply stood there with his hands at his sides, perfectly mimicking Phantom’s terrifying stillness.

"You are a low-tier impure. How could you possibly help me?."

The words cut deeper than a knife.

It was exactly how Phantom had treated them. The same effortless dismissal. It didn’t matter whether this was the hero or the villain.

To them, Hexi was nothing.

His vision blurred with rage. The humiliation from the docks, the weeks of hiding, and the constant fear all came rushing back.

He forgot about the alliance.

He forgot about Dr. Vance.

"I’ll show you weak!" Hexi screamed.

Thick, black miasma erupted from his hands. The fog spread across the gravel toward B. If Hexi could get the clone to inhale even a single breath, he could hijack his mind and turn the ultimate monster into his personal puppet.

B didn’t even blink.

He didn’t use a spatial fold or a gravity pulse. He simply waited until the black fog was inches from his face before stepping directly through it.

He didn’t inhale.

With flawless precision, he moved through the thickest part of the cloud before Hexi could react.

Hexi’s eyes widened as the clone appeared directly in front of him.

Before he could pull back or release more fog, B raised his open palm and struck him squarely in the chest.

There was no flashy burst of Qi or explosion.

Just pure physical force.

The impact slammed into Hexi’s ribs.

CRACK.

Hexi’s feet left the ground. He flew backward across the gravel before crashing into the side of a rusted train car. The heavy steel door dented inward from the impact.

Hexi collapsed onto the gravel, coughing up a mouthful of blood. His black miasma quickly faded into the cold night air.

His vision blurred, and his chest felt as though it had been struck by a wrecking ball. He tried to push himself up, but his arms trembled and gave out.

B stood in the center of the yard, casually dusting off his hands.

He hadn’t even broken a sweat.

He slowly turned his head toward the shadows where Shadow and Sniper were hiding. He had known they were there the entire time.

"Take your trash," B said to the darkness, his voice echoing across the rail yard. "And get out of my sight before I decide to kill you too."

Sniper didn’t flinch.

He stepped out of the shadows with his hands tucked into his sweatshirt pockets.

"Yeah, fair enough," Sniper said lazily. He looked at B, gave a small shrug, then turned to Shadow. "Told you this was a stupid idea. Come on, Shadow, grab the dead weight. Let’s go home."

Shadow rushed forward, her face pale. She grabbed Hexi by the collar of his jacket and dragged him away from the train car.

Hexi couldn’t walk. He dragged his boots through the gravel as Shadow pulled him along, while Sniper walked beside them, whistling quietly as they disappeared into the darkness.

As they left the yard, Hexi looked back.

B was already turning away from them, completely losing interest. The clone walked toward the edge of the rail yard, his dark silhouette blending into the night.

Hexi’s chest throbbed with pain, but it was nothing compared to the humiliation weighing on his mind.

Sniper had been right.

Shadow had been right.

Hexi had spent weeks telling himself that Phantom had simply gotten lucky. He had convinced himself that with a better plan, he could win.

But watching the clone move—seeing that same cold, effortless precision as he bypassed his miasma without even trying—shattered that illusion.

He wasn’t an equal.

He wasn’t a rival.

Hexi closed his eyes, tears of pain and humiliation mixing with the blood on his face as he was finally forced to accept the truth.

He was weak.

’... I won’t remain weak’ Hexi thought, his eyes going bloodshot.