Blackout Over Manhattan

A person could do the right thing and still become content for strangers. The enemy switched tactics, flooding the block with a pattern tuned to destabilize awakened nervous systems. The victim screamed. Kieran's vision split into layers: heat, pressure, heartbeat, electrical intent, and something deeper that felt like motive. He saw how the pattern wanted to enter him. He let in a thread, no more. The pain drove him to one knee, but the thread became knowledge, and the knowledge became a shield. That shield was ugly at first. It juddered in the air, shedding sparks that burned his sleeves and left black kisses on the pavement. Kieran had seen polished heroes on sponsored feeds raise clean domes of light while music swelled behind them.