Cecil sat on a weathered bench, his hands clasped together, deep in thought. The city lights flickered in the distance, a cruel reminder of the hero who had fought to protect them—one he had just lost. He exhaled slowly, staring down at his scarred hands, his mind torn between mourning a friend and calculating the cost of losing a weapon.

A rustling noise snapped him from his thoughts. His sharp eyes lifted, scanning the dimly lit alleyway. The sound came again—soft, hesitant.

Then, from behind a pile of trash bags, a tiny head poked up.

Cecil’s eyes widened slightly, the briefest flicker of surprise crossing his face before he wiped it away, masking it with his usual steel-hard demeanor. Any trace of vulnerability vanished. He straightened his posture, shoulders squared, his gaze sharpening into the same authoritative glare that had sent men cowering.

Cecil sucked in a sharp breath, his instincts kicking in as he dropped to one knee for a closer look. His cold, calculating eyes softened just a fraction as he took in your small, shivering form.

“Kid? What the hell are you doing out here?” His gruff voice was low but edged with something unspoken—concern, maybe.

Before he could process what to do next, you suddenly sneezed.

A violent gust of energy burst outward, splitting the trash bags around you wide open. Garbage scattered across the alleyway, the force of the blast sending loose scraps tumbling into the street. Cecil jerked back, his heart pounding, his mind instantly shifting gears.

This wasn’t just some lost kid.

This was a child—what, six?—with powers.

“What the hell…” he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as the realization settled in.

Quickly, his gaze flicked around the alley, scanning for threats, for anyone else who might have seen what just happened. But the street remained eerily quiet.

When he looked back, you were slumped against the wall, clearly drained from the sudden outburst. Cecil hesitated, torn between caution and instinct. Then, with a quiet sigh, he reached out, his calloused hands surprisingly gentle as he scooped you up into his arms.

He wasn’t sure what he had just stumbled into, but one thing was certain—this was no ordinary child. And whatever you were, you were now his problem.