Rain had washed the city clean that morning—cleansing the gutters, silencing the sirens—but filth always found its way back into New York's bones. By noon, headlines screamed from every corner:
"THIRD BANK VAULT FOUND EMPTY — NO SECURITY FOOTAGE"
"MISSING PERSONS LINKED TO NEUROPEACE USERS"
"AUTHORITIES BAFFLED BY MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCES"
Evelyn Nada stood motionless in her office, crime scene photos spread across the desk like a jigsaw puzzle no one dared finish. Each picture told the same story: glassy eyes, slack jaws, a kind of grim serenity in the faces of the vanished—as if they'd walked off the edge of the world without protest.
The vault doors? Not blown open. Not forced.
Unlocked.
No prints. No sign of tampering. Just silence—and a single object left behind at every scene.
The same headset.
The same logo.
NeuroPeace.
Across the desk, Marcus paced like a tiger in a shrinking cage. His jaw worked as he muttered beneath his breath—curses, fragments, questions with no answers.
"We're missing something. A trigger, a pattern—hell, anything." He slammed his notepad down, the sound sharp against the quiet. "People don't just sleepwalk into high-security vaults, rob them clean, and evaporate. That's not a thing. That's not—"
"They're not sleepwalking," Evelyn said, her voice a calm blade. "They're obeying."
Marcus froze mid-step. "Obeying?"
She finally looked up. Her eyes were tired but hard, like ice under pressure. "They didn't resist, Marcus. Not one of them fought back. No panic. No hesitation. They followed instructions... like they were programmed."
A long silence stretched between them.
Marcus sank into the chair beside her, rubbing his temple. "You think Morgana's actually giving commands now? Not just sedating people, but—what? Turning them into puppets?"
"That's exactly what I think," Evelyn replied. "And if we're right… this isn't about 'peace.' It's about control."
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling like it might offer divine intervention. "God help us…"
Neither spoke for a while. The room was too full of what they weren't saying.
Finally, Marcus stood abruptly. The scrape of his chair against the tile was too loud, too raw.
"I need air," he muttered.
Evelyn nodded. "Take your time."
---
The evidence room was colder than the rest of the precinct, deliberately underlit and muffled by concrete. It felt removed from the world—like time slowed here.
Marcus stepped inside, closing the door behind him. For a few long moments, he stood still, breathing in the silence.
Then he moved.
He crossed to a locked drawer, pulled out his keycard, and slid it through the reader. The lock clicked open.
Inside, sealed in a plastic bag, was a NeuroPeace headset.
He stared at it like it was a loaded gun.
He knew what it could do. He'd seen the way it hollowed people out—seen the slack expressions, the mechanical obedience, the absolute surrender.
But still…
He unzipped the bag with shaking fingers.
Just one second, he told himself. Just a glimpse. Just to understand.
He slipped it over his head.
At first—nothing.
Then warmth. Then silence.
Then... joy.
A false dawn broke inside his skull—soft, golden, painless. The headache that had haunted him for days dissolved. The tension behind his eyes melted. The cold claws of fear and guilt receded.
For the first time in weeks, Marcus smiled.
It felt like forgiveness.
It felt like peace.
And then—
"Marcus."
The voice was a thunderclap in a dream.
He flinched.
Evelyn stood in the doorway, framed by the flickering fluorescent light, her expression unreadable. Her eyes locked onto his, calm and fierce.
She took one step forward.
He yanked the headset off, shame crawling up his neck.
"I—I wasn't—" he stammered. "I just wanted to know what it felt like. I needed a break. Evelyn, I swear, I wasn't going to—"
"You're getting addicted," she said quietly. "That's how it starts. A moment of relief. Then it becomes your only answer."
Marcus looked down at the device, his hands trembling. "I didn't know what else to do. I feel like I'm drowning, Ev. Just for a second... I could breathe."
She reached out and gently took it from his hands. Wordlessly, she placed it on the metal table. Then she opened the drawer again—and pulled out the small hammer resting beside the evidence bin.
She didn't hesitate.
CRACK.
The first blow shattered the outer casing. Circuits sparked.
CRACK.
The second hit crushed the headband.
CRACK.
The LED blinked once, then went dark.
The silence after was total.
Marcus stared, breathing hard, his eyes wide. And then—relief. Like a fever broken.
He closed his eyes.
"Thank you," he whispered. "I didn't want to fall into it. I really didn't."
Evelyn nodded. "You didn't. Not completely. You pulled back."
"But what if I hadn't?" he asked, voice small. "What if you hadn't walked in?"
She laid a hand on his shoulder.
"That's why we're partners," she said. "We hold the line. We don't fall alone."
---
That night, the city shuddered beneath low clouds and trembling neon.
From the rooftop, HeartEater watched.
He stood on the edge of the same building where he'd first seen the black-suited couriers move like ghosts through the alleys. His cloak fluttered behind him like a shadow too stubborn to die.
Rain traced cold fingers down his mask. The lenses of his eyes glowed faintly—ember orange in the dark.
Below, in the alley, another figure emerged—slim, silent, and serene. A NeuroPeace headset clung to their brow like a crown. They walked with purpose but no urgency. Calm. Controlled.
At the rear door, the courier appeared again, dressed in black from head to toe, face hidden. They passed over a small crate, identical to the last.
HeartEater narrowed his eyes. He didn't know what was inside those boxes yet, but he could feel the pattern sharpening around him like the edge of a blade.
This wasn't peace.
It was poison dressed as salvation.
War wrapped in silk.
And if no one else would tear off the mask...
He would.
Even if he had to bleed the truth from every lie in this city.