Author Romeru
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[ADAM] Chapter 25: On The Run, Again...?
🕑 Added 2025-04-03 02:47:05 +0000 UTC[Duelist of Rose nearly defeated by a B-tier Team!]
[In what many are calling the most controversial Game of the year, S-tier Hero Sylvie Rousseau narrowly secured victory despite three of her teammates hiding after experiencing multiple deaths.]
[…In related news, C-Tier Hero Bjorn, known as the Silent Brawler, appeared in court today facing serious allegations of Game fixing. Bjorn has not denied any of the charges against him, and we could see him here in this drone footage repeatedly crushing the head of an allied creep—an action betting analysts claim to be deliberate. Some sources claim that Bjorn had an altercation with the said creep.]
[The identity of the creep remains unknown, but social media took it upon themselves to dub him as 'The Undying,' as footage of the very same creep has been surfacing all throughout the inte—]
[Memes have been scattering around social media of a very special creep—]
[The internet are now creating fanarts of 'The Undying', imagining him as a Hero. Unfortunately—]
[Who is 'The Undying'? Some people claim that he—]
"Damn it!"
Before the news could finish, Dr. Aniston shattered the TV with the remote she threw from across her desk, sending cracks splintering everywhere. The doctor's fractured reflection stared back at her, but she didn't care.
She was angry, livid.
"Goddamn it!" she hissed, standing up abruptly from her desk. "They were supposed to keep this quiet! Every network is running the footage of Patient Zero! And why is Bjorn in court!? If he was going to prison, the least he could have done was completely destroy Zero!"
"Uhmm. Maybe the government doesn't care about us anymore? And...there's a way to destroy Zero?"
"What!?" Dr. Aniston snapped her head toward the only other person in her office, Dr. Hal.
Hal flinched at Dr. Aniston's loud voice, his face wincing and his shoulders shrugging, hesitating whether to say what was on his mind. But since Dr. Aniston was already looking at him like she was going to kill him, he had no choice but to speak his mind.
"I… don't think the government cares about us anymore. I mean, the Hospital's goal is to find people with special abilities and learn more about them," Hal looked at the remote sticking into the TV, "But after the Game, we've practically just become…well…"
Hal meekly looked at Dr. Aniston,
"We're only being kept because of sentimental value. A relic. I don't even think the new people sitting there think we still exist."
"No," and Dr. Aniston immediately shut him down, "We're being kept because we know a lot of dirty secrets about them. But since we've sent this information about Patient Zero possibly being alive—they should be contacting us soon. And the fact that he and Bjorn are all over the news should tickle their feet. But for now…"
Dr. Aniston's voice finally started to calm down as she grabbed an earpiece from the desk and pressed it to her ear.
"We are alone. What's the situation there?"
And a quiet voice quickly responded. [Still no sign of the subject.]
"Maybe..." Hal leaned cautiously, "…Zero really is dead?"
Dr. Aniston shot him a withering look. "That is the best case scenario. But I truly hope that you—"
The voice in her ear cut her off. [Someone's coming into the apartment! Should we engage? He's unlocking it with keys.]
Dr. Aniston straightened. "Wait for a moment. How many people do we have inside the apartment?"
[There are two.]
"Watch what he's doing first and then engage." She held her breath.
[The subject is inside, and he is heading to a wall vent. Subject has retrieved a box. Subject is leaving.]
"Stop him! Engage, engage!" Dr. Aniston screamed, gripping the edge of the table so hard her fingernails almost bent backward.
Through the earpiece came sounds of struggle, a crash, then a high-pitched shriek of terror. Muffled words she couldn't make out. But after a couple of seconds, everything calmed down.
[It's not him, Doctor.]
"Who is it, then!?" she demanded.
[A thief. He said he knew the subject, and that he was hiding cash in the vents. Should we kill him?]
"No! What!?" Dr. Aniston's face twisted. "We're trying to eliminate a monster here, not become one. Let him go."
"Affirmative."
She clicked her tongue, yanking the earpiece out and tossing it onto the table. "Are you really dead, Patient Zero?" she muttered, rubbing her temples in frustration, "You're…not going to haunt us, right?"
***
Unknown to Dr. Anistion, someone else was watching his men.
In the shadows of a narrow alleyway, a hooded figure was seated on the ground. The green of his eyes, reflecting the images from the phone he was holding.
He was watching the men in formal suits release the scrawny, nervous thief.
"Hmm," the young man lightly hummed, swiping his finger across the screen and cycling through the different angles of the apartment—front door, hallway, living room.
He was trying to see whether someone was following the thief.
And when he was sure they weren't following, the young man exhaled slowly and tucked the phone into his jacket. He then leaned against the grimy brick wall, its surface damp against his back.
The sounds of the city washed over him—the sirens, the chattering of the people, the voices spilling from the bar next to him—but he wasn't listening to any of them.
He tilted his head back, letting his hood slip just enough for the moonlight and city lights seeping into the alleyway to touch his face.
And of course, it was Adam.
His face emerging from the darkness, no longer just empty and worn, but carrying something new—a flicker of purpose, perhaps? Something that wasn't there before the Game summoned him.
"Grace… Samantha…" The names escaped his lips, and he pressed his hand against his chest.
Are you still wondering about it, Adam? Wondering if dying with them would have been easier? But that's not possible, not for you. Especially now that you've made promises.
Make the Hospital pay. Make the Administrators pay.
He wouldn't let himself disappear until at least one of those promises was kept. And then there was her other request—to find someone special. But… where would he even find someone like that? And would they be more special than what he had already lost?
What about her? The woman in your memory? The doctor...the one you consider your older sister? She might still be out there—alive.
"Is... she?" Adam whispered.
Then is one promise you can do now, Adam. Smile.
Adam lowered his gaze, scanning the alley for a fractured mirror. Finding nothing, he pulled out his phone again and opened the camera. His face looked back at him—exhausted, hollow-eyed. The harsh light from a nearby street lamp cast half his face in brightness.
He touched his cheek with his cold fingers, trying to force his lips upward. The muscles felt stiff, uncooperative.
"...Looks weird," he muttered, shoving the phone back into his pocket.
And before the voice in his mind could respond to him, a silhouette stepped inside the alley, a man.
"Are... are you here?" The man's voice echoed slightly between the brick walls—it was the same thief back in his apartment, though not actually a thief at all.
"I... got what you asked for." The man shuffled closer, clutching the metal box to his chest. "What's even in this? And you're right, there were people there—they look like feds. Are they feds? Are these drugs? Can... can I have some?"
He sniffled loudly, edging closer to Adam with bloodshot eyes.
"It's not," Adam said flatly, taking the box from the man's twitchy hands. He moved to the wall where a rusted exhaust pipe jutted out and, without hesitation, thrust his arm deep inside.
"W...whoa!" The man jumped back. "A...ain't that hot, man!?"
"No," Adam shook his head as he reached deeper into the pipe. The sound of sizzling flesh filled the alley, but Adam showed no reaction. When he withdrew his arm, it was covered in burns, but clutched in his blistered fingers was a small key.
The man's eyes widened. "Oh...oh man...I think the dope's kicking in."
Adam completely ignored him, and he placed the box on a nearby trash can and unlocked it. The man crept forward, peering over Adam's shoulder… and his breath caught as soon as his eyes landed on the stacks of rolled cash filling the box.
"It...it really was filled with dough!?" The man gasped, taking a step back as Adam turned toward him.
"As promised," Adam said, handing him one of the rolls. The man snatched it quickly, his eyes darting between Adam and the open box of money.
Adam noticed the look, sighed, and locked the box. He turned to leave, but the man rushed to block his path.
"W...wait!" The man's voice cracked. "You... you have more in that box. Give me more or... or I go back to that apartment and tell the feds where you are."
"No..." Adam sighed again, placing his hand against the metal trash can next to him. With barely even a breath, he pressed his fingers into the metal, slowly denting and warping it.
The man's mouth fell open. "You...you're a veteran!? No..."
His gaze then dropped to Adam's arm where, beneath his sleeve, the horrific burns were already vanishing, fresh pink skin replacing the charred flesh.
"You're... a Hero!?" The man swallowed hard. "You—"
Adam stepped forward, cutting off whatever the man was about to say.
"I... know where you live," Adam whispered, "You tell them I'm here, I won't be—but what are the chances I'll still find you in the place where I found you?"
The man's face drained of color, and his pupils shrank.
"I... I won't tell anyone about you, man!" He raised his hands in surrender, backing away. "C-chill. I was just... I was only joking! I ain't no snitch!"
Adam merely gestured to the street with his head, and the man scurried off like a rat.
Adam stared at the man's back disappearing into the light. And once Adam was sure he was alone in the alley, he released a deep, stammering breath.
"Ho…" His shoulders sagged, he truly wasn't used to threatening people even after everything he had been through—no. He refused to get used to it.
He pressed his hand against his chest again, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath his palm. But after a moment, he reached inside his shirt and pulled out a small pouch hanging from a necklace—he wasn't holding his chest through his jacket at all, but the pouch.
Gently, he planted the pouch against his forehead, his eyes closing briefly. Then he removed it from his neck and placed it carefully inside the metal box.
"Huh..." he exhaled, grabbing the box before retrieving a large bag hidden behind one of the trash bins.
Adam had spent twenty years running from the Hospital, always prepared for moments like this.
He'd fled at the first sign of their presence, habitually keeping his belongings scattered in different locations. But this time was different—this was the first time he was actually running with the Hospital actively on his trail. Previous escapes had been driven by paranoia, but this one was real now.
They know he exists, and it would only be a matter of time until they find him again.
But years on the run had taught him how to disappear. He was good at becoming a ghost, walking invisible among crowds.
He finally stepped out of the alley, joining the flow of pedestrians.
But like most of these people, he was lost.
Returning to scavenging wasn't an option—Jefferson was dead, and the Hospital might be watching those grounds closely. Hannah might also still be working as a scavenger, and he wouldn't be able to explain why he was still alive after his team lost the Game.
And so, he walked, blending with the masses flowing through the city streets.
Only days had passed since the Game, yet the city was already recovering. Granted, the Dome emerged at the opposite end of the city, but the speed at which people moved on in this side was striking—or perhaps they simply didn't care since they weren't directly affected.
Life continued. Heroes' faces were once again plastered on billboards and screens at the side of the buildings.
Adam stopped in front of a large perfume advertisement featuring a beautiful female Hero.
Charlotte, the Saint of Flames.
He stared at her face, and then at her name, and all he could think of was Grace's face as the flames consumed her.
"Kh..." He clicked his tongue in frustration, shaking the image from his mind.
He'd made Grace so many promises, but how could he even begin to fulfill them? The Administrators seemed untouchable—no one knew how to reach them. And the Hospital? He was too weak to confront them now.
Weak.
Power. That's what he needed. He needed to become strong enough that he wouldn't have to run anymore, from anyone.
But how? The next Game was a month away. He needed something else, something he could do now.
"Hmm..." Adam's eyes widened slightly as he remembered something. He quickly pulled out his phone.
There was something he could do now that he couldn't before. Something Jefferson had always warned him and the other scavengers about.
Leaks.
***
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AUTHOR NOTES
Adam, so many secrets. Please do holler if you notice any mistakes!
