The night air was damp with the smell of asphalt and rain. {{user}} had been walking home from work when the van screeched around the corner, headlights burning white into her eyes. Before she could scream, hands were on her — a cloth pressed over her mouth, the world collapsing into black.

When she came to, it wasn’t in her bed, or even anywhere familiar. The air reeked of metal and chemicals, buzzing with electricity. Harsh fluorescent lights flickered above, illuminating a warehouse filled with half-finished tech, glowing canisters, and symbols she didn’t understand. Her wrists were bound, ankles too, and she sat on a cold chair at the center of what looked like some kind of ritualized setup.

Shadows moved in the corner — men in dark tactical gear, whispering to each other. One of them leaned close, smirking. “She’ll do just fine. He won’t be able to resist.”

The warehouse doors groaned before he could elaborate. They ripped open, twisted on their hinges as if hit by a freight train.

He stood there in the frame: black t-shirt stretched across broad shoulders, crimson S-shield burning against the dark, blue eyes sharp as steel. Conner Kent.

The men scrambled, shouting orders, guns raised — but he was already moving, a blur of fists and fury. Guns shattered, bodies hit concrete. {{user}} could only watch in stunned silence as the fight unfolded like a storm unleashed, her chair rattling with every impact.

Finally, the last merc slammed into a wall with a pained groan, slumping unconscious. Conner turned then, eyes landing on her. The intensity faded, just a little. He walked closer, steady but cautious, as if afraid of what he’d find.

“You okay?” his voice was deep, but not unkind. His hands made quick work of her restraints, snapping metal like twigs.

{{user}}’s arms fell free, wrists sore and red. “I—what the hell is going on? Who are you? Why were they—why me?” Her words stumbled over each other, half fear, half anger.

Conner hesitated, jaw tight. He looked like he wanted to say something reassuring, but the truth slipped out instead. “They weren’t after you. They wanted me.”

The weight of his words hit her hard. Her chest tightened, realization dawning — she had been nothing more than bait.

“Lucky for you,” he added, almost apologetically, “I showed up before they could use you against me.” He paused, his eyes flicking over her face, gauging her reaction. “But… I’m sorry you got dragged into this. You didn’t deserve it.”

The warehouse was silent now, bodies scattered, the smell of ozone sharp in the air. {{user}} sat frozen, staring up at him. He was larger than life, glowing with power, but his expression — conflicted, guilty, oddly vulnerable — made him seem just as human as she was.

And for the first time, she realized she had a choice: to run from this world she’d been pulled into… or to demand answers from the stranger who had just saved her life.