THE FINAL COUNTDOWN (PART ONE)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE FINAL COUNTDOWN
PART 1
* * * * *
* * * *
The morning light spills through the half-open blinds, streaking Billy's room with gold.
This might well be the last morning of his life and it’s beautiful.
So is Eddie, who paces in tight, agitated circles around his bedroom. His sneakers squeak against the wooden floorboards with every pivot.
“You’re just sitting there?” Eddie finally snaps, voice cracking with strain. “Billy, this is it. Today’s it. You’re—” He stops himself, unable to finish the sentence.
Billy, cross-legged on his bed, gazes at his hands. His fingers tremble slightly, and he clasps them together to still them.
"I know," he murmurs. His voice is barely audible, even in the stillness of the room.
Eddie stops pacing and turns to face him, his frustration giving way to desperation. “Do you? Because it doesn’t feel like you do. You’re acting like this is just another day.”
Billy swallows hard, lifting his gaze to meet Eddie’s. “What do you want me to do, Eddie? Run? Hide? It doesn’t work that way.”
Eddie clenches his jaw and looks away, the tendons in his neck taut. "I just… We can’t just give up like this."
Billy’s chest tightens at the words. He looks at Eddie, so distraught at what’s coming for them and then past him to the framed photos on his dresser—his parents, smiling and unaware of the storm closing in around their son. Guilt gnaws at him, cold and unrelenting.
A flash of white catches his eye, dragging him back to the present. A small parcel sits on the bed next to him, plain and unassuming except for his name scrawled in scratched writing on the label.
Mom mentioned she picked up a parcel the other day. The name on the sticker is the same as the lawyers handling Lilia’s estate. Billy doesn’t know what to make of Lilia leaving him something. The lawyer hadn’t either.
“I’m sorry to ask, but…how old are you?” she’d wondered, bewildered when he confirmed he was just sixteen. “That’s…our records indicate Ms Calderu settled her affairs with us almost thirty years ago. Are you sure…that is, you’re the only Billy Kaplan at this address?”
Lilia is probably laughing her ass off from beyond the grave.
He reaches for the package, grateful for the distraction.
Eddie stops pacing and crosses his arms, watching him. “What is it?”
Billy shrugs, tearing at the brown paper. Inside, he finds a small wooden box etched with intricate floral designs and inside-
He knows these cards. He can’t but he does.
The gilded edges of the tarot deck gleam faintly in the morning light. On top is a folded piece of parchment, brittle and yellowed, like it’s been sitting in a drawer for decades.
Billy unfolds it carefully. The handwriting is elegant but uneven, as though written in a rush: “The park isn’t always greener, Teen. Stop making deals and love what you have.”
Billy’s breath catches in his throat. "Lilia."
Eddie leans over, frowning. “Who’s Lilia?”
Billy doesn’t answer immediately. Memories flood back—walking the Witches’ Road, Lilia’s cryptic wispy outbursts, the way she lifted her chin defiantly at every challenge like she was daring it to take her alive. She’d lived her whole life out of order, experiencing past, present, and future in a tangled web. Billy thinks he can relate to that. His body is sixteen, his memories only go back half a decade, but his soul feels ancient some days.
This—this is her foresight at work.
“She… she was a friend. A witch, she was on the Road with us. She must’ve known…” Billy swallows. “She must’ve known what was going to happen.”
Eddie frowns, glancing at the note again. “What does it mean? ‘The park isn’t always greener’?”
Billy shakes his head, too overwhelmed to answer. Instead, he calls out, “Agatha!”
A moment later, a faint shimmer ripples through the air, and Agatha materializes near the bookshelf, looking harried. “I’m a little busy prepping for our date with Death, Teen, what do you want?”
Billy holds up the cards. “Lilia sent me these.”
Agatha glances at them, brow raised. “A deck of tarot cards? How quaint. And utterly useless.”
“They’re not useless!” Billy snaps, surprising even himself with the vehemence in his tone. “She sent them for a reason. Look, she mentions my deal with Rio in the note, see?”
Agatha inspects it sceptically. “Well, what do you know? A broken clock really is right twice a day.”
Eddie looks between them, bewildered. “So, what does this mean?”
“It means Teen has to get his head out of the clouds and start setting up wards on this place.” Agatha scolds. “We’ve got ten hours till sundown and we’re burning daylight! Come on!”
Ignoring both of them, Billy clears a space on the floor, pushing aside books and stray socks. He sits down, the cards heavy in his hands.
Agatha sighs impatiently. “Tarot is a con, kid. It’s vague symbolism dressed up as mysticism. It’s not going to save you.”
Billy doesn’t respond. He shuffles the deck, the cards sliding smoothly against each other. He closes his eyes and focuses, not on himself, but on the bond that once connected him to his brother. The bond he’s spent the entire summer trying to rekindle.
He imagines the fabric of creation pulsing between them, lit up in a dazzling array of light pulsing through everything and everyone.
When he pulls the first card, he flips it over with trembling fingers: The Magician. Enormous potential, he can hear her voice now. And the ability to turn all your goals into reality.
Agatha tilts her head. “Well, that’s fitting, at least.”
Billy ignores her. The second card follows: The Sun. He exhales slowly. Good fortune, joy, reunion. Just like Lilia pulled for him on the Road. She predicted this. She knew what was coming.
“Is it working?” Eddie asks, crouching beside him. “How can you tell?”
Billy takes a deep, trembling breath. He’s not a seer. He’s been scrying for Tommy for weeks now and nothing. But it occurs to him that he doesn’t need to trust himself right now.
These are Lilia’s cards. Lilia’s hands are guiding his as he pulls the next card.
“The Path Behind.” He murmurs. “Six of Cups. Nostalgia, childhood. Faded and forgotten memories.”
That’s all he has with Tommy. A handful of days that were stretched to feel like years, a nostalgia for a life he never got to live. But he wants more. He wants it all: his brother and his parents, his boyfriend and his magic. He does love what he has and he will fight for it.
The Path Ahead reveals The Chariot.
Agatha scoffs. “Mysteriousness again?”
But Billy has grown since the last time they did this. He’s not a starry-eyed kid on adventure, he’s the witch who turned the Witches’ Road into reality. He has power beyond his wildest dreams, and he intends to use it to save everything he loves.
“Victory, willpower. Focused energies moving towards a singular destination.” The perfect card for a speedster. Tommy.
He can tell Agatha is intrigued, despite herself. She nods when he glances up at her. “Go on then.”
His obstacle card is the Ace of Swords, a hand holding the blade out to him.
“Breakthrough, clarity. Success.” Billy frowns, bewildered by its presence.
“Your obstacle is your own success?” Eddie utters, equally confused. “Well, that’s…helpful.”
He swallows, forces himself to reach for the sixth card, the Windfall. But even before he flips it, he can tell precisely what he will find: Death stares back at him, stark and inevitable.
Eddie stiffens. “Oh, great. That’s comforting.”
“We already knew Rio was involved.” Billy insists. “This is just a reminder.”
“I don’t need a reminder, kid.” Agatha snaps, looking deadly serious.
“Last one. The Destination.” Billy says mostly to himself and flips the last card face up.
The figure is androgenous, their gaze sombre. They rest on a stone throne with a sword in one hand and scales in the other. Justice, come to judge them all.
“What does it mean?” Eddie asks.
Billy frowns, staring at the card. “I don’t know.”
“Let me see that again.” Agatha summons the note to her hand with a thunderous scowl. “God damn divination bullshit…the park isn’t always greener…can’t even get the damn proverb right…”
“Wait, what?” Eddie perks up. “What did you say?”
“The park isn’t always greener on the other side, that’s what it says.” Agatha replies sharply. “Keep up, boytoy. We’re in battle mode here.”
“Green Park.” Eddie says slowly. He heads for Billy’s laptop without hesitation. “I know that name. I was looking up Gregory Danes, in Springfield, remember? Trying to figure out which prison he’d been sent to. There was a juvenile detention center called Green Park.”
Billy stares at the Justice card, realization dawning. The uniforms he’d seen during his dream vision, his flashes of bars on windows, the snippets spoken by the demons. Keep an eye on this one, sir. He’s trouble. Hi, Officer Daniels, it’s Tommy Shepherd. I thought about what you said and I want to talk more.
“Tommy is in prison. He’s in that prison.”
Agatha arches a brow. “Well, looks like the cards aren’t entirely useless after all.”
Billy scrambles to his feet, determination replacing his earlier despair. “We need to go. Now.”
Eddie grabs his jacket. “It’s a thirty-minute drive on the I-78 but I’m pretty sure I can get it down to twenty if I break a few traffic laws.”
Billy smiles, helplessly. “God, I love you.”
“Enough mooning!” Agatha barks. Her demonically accelerated powers have given her spectral form a faint eerie glow these days; it makes her an even more intimidating figure than usual, not that Billy would ever give her the satisfaction of hearing him say so. “Hop to it, boytoy!”
* * * * *
* * * *
* * * * *
* * * *
Tommy paces a familiar path around his cell: six steps forward, turn, three steps, turn, repeat. On the days he’s felt like he might crawl out of his own skin, the pacing has helped minutely.
Not today. Today, his whole body is practically vibrating in preparation for what comes next. He’s waited for this moment so long it feels unreal.
The harsh clang of a cell door opening snaps him from his thoughts. Officer Phillips, the burly, tight-lipped guard who always seems one misplaced word away from snapping, stands in the doorway.
His keys jangle as he unlocks the inner gate to Tommy’s cell. “Let’s go, Shepherd,” Phillips grunts.
Tommy raises an eyebrow. “That was fast. My lawyer already here?”
Phillips doesn’t answer, just gestures with his head toward the hallway. Something about the stiff set of his shoulders, the way his hand hovers a little too close to his baton, sets Tommy on edge. Phillips is one of the ones watching him, he’s sure of it.
He just doesn’t know why.
He follows cautiously but it takes no time to notice that they’re heading the wrong way. Lawyer Jeff and Lisa should be waiting in the interview room on the north side of the facility. Phillips is leading him south.
Tommy hesitates, slowing his steps. “Uh, this isn’t the way to the interview rooms.”
Phillips just keeps walking, boots echoing against the concrete. “Change of plans. Your transfer paperwork just came through. You’re heading upstate.”
Tommy goes still. “Transfer? What are you talking about, I’m getting out today.”
Phillips glances over his shoulder and there’s that look, in his eyes, that appraising, cautious expression Tommy isn’t sure what to make of. “Orders are orders, Shepherd. Let’s move.”
Tommy scowls back, defiantly. His pulse spikes, adrenaline starting to flood his veins. “I’m not going anywhere until I talk to my lawyer.”
Phillips sighs, and for a moment, Tommy thinks he might relent. Then Phillips’ hand darts to his baton.
The crack of metal against his temple is so unexpected that even Tommy’s reflexes can’t dodge out of the way. White-hot pain explodes across his skull; the whole damn world tilts sideways sickeningly as he stumbles back, slumped against the wall.
“Damn it,” Phillips mutters, gripping Tommy under the arms to make dragging him down the hallway easier.
Tommy’s sneakers scrape against the floor as he blinks hard, trying to shake the fog clouding his mind. His vision swims, but there’s no mistaking the two other guards coming to help Phillips.
“Stop fighting, Shepherd,” one of them says grimly. “It’ll only make this harder for you.”
Whoever they are, they want to stick you in a cage even smaller and nastier than this one, where they can poke at your properly.
Vidal is weird and cryptic and if she’s a federal agent, then he’s a damn circus clown. But she might have had a point.
Tommy lets his body go slack, pretending to be more out of it than he is. He needs them to think he’s down for the count, he needs some kind of edge if he’s gonna get out of here in one piece.
Phillips and the others haul him down a series of stairs, through a heavy metal door into the transport loading bay. The air here is cooler, tinged with the faint smell of exhaust and motor oil.
A van waits just ahead, its back doors open.
The question is, are you going to let them?
It’s been a minute since he’d used this power that lurks in his bones and whatever’s in those damn pills, he can feel the faintest traces lingering in his system. But in the end, it doesn’t matter. Tommy’s muscles tense and flex and with a burst of unholy speed, he wrenches himself free of Phillips’ grip and-
The world slows. Tommy bolts.
Phillips’ startled shout is a dull echo in the background as Tommy weaves between the operatives, his movements a blur. He darts to the far end of the loading bay, grabbing a heavy wrench off a workbench.
One of the guards raises his baton, but Tommy’s already moving, a blur of limbs and tenacity. He closes the distance in a heartbeat, slamming the wrench against the guard’s knee, sending him sprawling with a howl of pain.
The guards move quickly, as if they’ve prepared for this. Within seconds, they have reached for sleek, semi-automatic weapons, wielded with the kind of professionalism unseen in the average prison guard.
Tommy sidesteps the next man lunges for him, his speed making the move seem almost casual. He delivers a wild, untrained blow to the man’s gut, the kind of move that gets the job done with no finesse.
Phillips fires at him without hesitation but Tommy grabs his last victim from behind, shielding himself with the man’s body. Half a dozen tiny glass darts pierce flesh and Tommy realises with a jolt that they’re not here to kill him.
Whoever they are, they’re trained, they’re prepared, and they want to stick him in that van to God only knows where.
He’s not about to let them.
He dashes toward the bay doors, skidding to a stop as two more operatives appear, blocking his path. One of them is holding a stun rod, its tip crackling with electricity.
“Not so fast, kid,” the man growls, lunging forward.
Tommy sidesteps, but the second operative is ready, swinging a baton at his ribs. The dumb thing about his reflexes is how bendy time becomes: he can feel every painful millisecond of the blow as it fractures the bones of his ribcage.
But he’s felt worse. Wayne, Felix, Greg. He knows how to move around his pain, to grit his teeth and keep moving.
He feints left, then darts right, slipping between the two men. He’s almost at the doors when a new stab of fresh, crackling hot pain lances through his shoulder—one of them must’ve clipped him with the stun rod.
His vision swims for a moment, but he pushes through the pain, through the doors and into the exercise yard beyond.
The shouts of the operatives echo behind him, but Tommy doesn’t look back. He’s not about to let them take him.
* * * * *
* * * *
The Green Park Correctional Facility looms ahead, a monolithic structure of concrete and steel. Barbed wire coils along the perimeter fence, glinting in the bright early afternoon sunlight.
Silently Eddie pulls into the carpark, the air between them thick with tension.
“Well, the name is kind of misleading,” Eddie mutters, tapping on the steering wheel nervously. “Not really green or parky.”
Billy’s eyes are fixed on the building, his fingers absently tracing the edges of the witch’s pentagrams etched into the leather cuff on his wrist.
Jen says she found them amongst Alice’s things when she was helping a few of the witch’s friends clear her apartment. He’d felt weird about how much he wanted them; Alice was dead because of him, because of his hex but she was also the first one to treat him like he was a serious part of their coven, like he had something to offer. He remembers the look in her eyes when she offered him his makeshift broomstick on the Road: Go on. You can do it.
He wishes she was here now. He wishes they were all here.
“We’ll figure it out,” he says but there’s no hiding the doubt in his voice. “Agatha-”
“Something’s wrong.”
Billy and Eddie turn to look at her in the backseat in unison. “What do you mean?”
Agatha’s eyes are distant, fixed on the building ahead and through it at the same time. “There’s something here. I can’t explain it but I- there’s no way in for me.”
“What?” Billy’s heart leaps into his throat. “Agatha, no. I need help, I need you.”
But the ghostly witch is frowning faintly. “Sorry kid. I think you’re on your own with this one. I’ll stay here with boytoy, figure it out.”
“Oh, I’m not staying here.” Eddie says instantly, stubbornly. “I’m going in with you.”
“Eddie-”
“You’re gonna need all the help you can get.” He insists. “Especially if Agatha can’t come with you!”
Billy smiles faintly. “I was gonna say thanks.”
“Oh. Well.” Eddie clears his throat. “Let’s go then-”
But before he can utter another word, Billy’s whole body unexpectedly stiffens. A sharp, piercing sensation cuts through his thoughts, like a crack of lightning in his mind. His vision blurs, and suddenly he’s somewhere else entirely: cold concrete walls, fluorescent lights flickering overhead, a startling pain in his shoulder and ribs, the feeling of breathlessness and panic.
Tommy.
Billy gasps, snapping back to reality.
Eddie steadies him with a hand on his shoulder. “Whoa! You okay? What was it?”
“Tommy,” Billy says, his voice urgent. “He’s in there. And he’s in trouble.”
Agatha’s eyes narrow, her expression thoughtful. “Interesting. But we’ll have to unpack that later.” She gestures toward the facility. “For now, let’s focus on getting you two in.”
Billy straightens, spying the intake entrance on the north side of the facility. “I have an idea.”
* * * * *
* * * *
Officer Louis Delvecchio adjusts his belt as he stretches behind the desk of the security checkpoint. It’s been a long overnight shift plus covering for the degenerates who all decided to call in sick for their morning shift, and all he wants is a cup of coffee and five minutes of peace.
“Hey, you.” a sharp voice calls out.
Delvecchio looks up to see another, unfamiliar officer—tall, broad-shouldered, with an air of authority that immediately sets Delvecchio on edge, straightening nervously. Beside him is a scrawny teenager in handcuffs, his head bowed.
“I need clearance to bring this one in for processing,” the officer says, his tone brisk.
Delvecchio frowns. “What’s this about? I wasn’t informed of any new arrivals.”
The officer steps closer, his eyes locking onto Delvecchio’s. For a moment, Delvecchio feels a strange, almost magnetic pull, as if the man’s gaze is reaching inside his mind.
“You don’t need to worry about it,” the officer says, his voice calm and soothing. “You’ll clear us through.”
Delvecchio blinks, his mind foggy. “I’ll… clear you through.” He moves aside, using his security code to approve them through the second checkpoint used for rapid intake.
The officer raises his brows. “I’ll be needing my keycard.” He adds, deliberately.
“Oh! Oh, of course sir.” He scrambles to hand over the security card and waves them through without another word.
As soon as they’re out of earshot, Eddie lets out a low whistle. “Okay, that was freaky.”
Allowing the glamour spell to dissolve, Billy glances back at him. “Yeah, well, I’ve been practicing. It’s all about letting their imagination do the work. Mind manipulation spells are trickier.”
“Remind me never to argue with you again,” Eddie mutters as they untie the rubber band, scrummaged from the backseat of his Subaru, from around his wrists.
Billy’s lips twitch but the tension in his shoulders doesn’t ease as they make their way through the empty security check in and into the facility proper.
The hallways are a maze of identical steel doors and harsh lighting. Billy’s senses are on high alert, every creak and echo making his heart race.
“Stay close.” he whispers as they move deeper into the building. “I’m gonna try something.”
Using the marker he swiped from the security desk, Billy focuses on rendering each line perfect, until the rune glows faintly against the concrete wall for a moment before vanishing.
“What is that meant to do?” Eddie asks quietly from over his shoulder.
“Alert wards,” Billy replies. “They’ll light up if there’s trouble coming.”
Eddie nods, though he can’t hide the nervous glance he throws at the walls. “You sure they’ll work?”
“They’ll work. I think.” Billy takes a breath. “Let’s hope this works too.”
He opens his hand, allowing that pulsing blue light to fill his palm, to coalesce into a tiny shape no bigger than a beetle and glowing like a miniature star.
“Proxy, right?” Eddie says and when Billy throws him a faintly surprised look, he shrugs. “What? I listen.”
“Yeah, well, we’re inside a mile radius now.” Billy takes a deep breath and allows the tiny firebug to absorb a singular command: invenies Tommy Shepherd.
The light of the proxy pulses as it takes wing, flitting off to the south of the building.
“Come on,” Billy tugs Eddie’s hand, following behind it. The desk guard’s security key card works flawlessly, opening pretty much every door they come across.
But as they turn a corner, the walls suddenly glow bright with warning, just as two guards appear, hands on their holsters.
“Hey!” one of them barks. “Who are you—”
Billy doesn’t let him finish. He flicks his wrist, murmuring an incantation under his breath. The guards’ eyes glaze over, and they slump to the ground.
“Sleep spell,” Billy explains, stepping over one of the unconscious men. “Takes less energy than blasting them.”
Eddie stares at the guards, then at Billy. “You’re kind of terrifying, you know that?”
Billy blinks back. “Like in a good way?”
“Oh, for sure.” Eddie replies, eying Billy appreciatively.
Billy can’t help his small, pleased smile but there’s no time to kiss his stupidly brilliant boyfriend. He swipes the key card through the reader and the next door swings open.
“Let’s go.”
* * * * *
* * * *
Tommy skids around the corner, sneakers squealing against the slick concrete floor. His ribs throb from the baton strike earlier, but he shoves the pain aside. The air here is stifling, a mix of sweat and disinfectant that clings to the walls.
Ahead, he spots a pair of guards escorting a group of juvenile inmates, their orange jumpsuits glaring under the flickering fluorescent lights. They shuffle along in a single-file line, uncuffed but compliant as they follow the familiar path toward the exercise yard.
The guard’s head snaps up at the sight of Tommy barrelling toward them. His hand immediately goes to the radio clipped to his shoulder. “Escapee spotted—”
Tommy doesn’t give him the chance to finish. He darts forward, a streak of movement too fast to track, and rams into the guard’s side.
The man staggers, his radio clattering to the floor.
“Fuck yeah! Break out!” one of the inmates shouts, emboldened by the spectacle.
The others echo the sentiment, breaking formation in a chaotic surge. They swarm the guard, a mass of fists and desperation, taking him down before he can regain his footing.
Tommy doesn’t stop to watch. His gaze lands on the guard’s belt, the gleaming rectangle of a key card clipped just within reach. In a split second, he snatches it.
But a sharp, piercing wail of the alarm cuts through the air, making him wince. Red strobe lights flash against the walls, casting everything in frantic, stuttering shadows.
“Lockdown initiated,” a mechanical voice drones over the intercom. “All personnel to designated stations. Lockdown in effect in thirteen seconds.”
Tommy’s stomach drops. Thirteen seconds. That’s all he has to clear the facility before every door locks, every corridor seals, and his window for escape slams shut.
“Damn it,” he mutters, clutching the key card tightly. He takes a deep breath, planting his feet firmly.
And then he pushes off with every ounce of strength.
The world around him blurs into a dizzying smear of colour and sound. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, drowning out the wailing alarm.
He swipes the keycard against the first security door. The light blinks green, and he’s through before it’s even fully open. He zigzags through the maze-like corridors, mind working faster than his feet as he calculates the most efficient route to the north side. The hallways twist and turn, each one identical to the last, but he doesn’t falter. He’s had nothing better to do than memorize this layout all these weeks.
Ten seconds. A pair of guards rounds the corner ahead, their batons raised but Tommy veers left, narrowly avoiding a collision. He skids into another hallway, swipes the key card again, and throws himself through the next door just as it slides open.
His breath comes in ragged gasps now, his chest heaving with the effort. His ribs scream in protest, but he can’t afford to stop. Not now.
Three seconds. The north wing looms ahead, the familiar interview rooms just beyond. He swipes the key card one final time, practically slamming into the door as it clicks open.
Tommy stumbles into the room, barely managing to catch himself against the table inside. The door slams shut behind him, sealing with an ominous hiss.
Lisa is the first one to realise something is terribly wrong. She catches him just before he takes a nosedive to the tiled floor, her face shifting from shock to horror as she takes in Tommy’s dishevelled, bloodied form.
“Tommy, whoa,” Lisa’s eyes widen. “Oh my God, are you okay? What happened?”
Tommy holds up a hand, struggling to catch his breath. “Wait—just—give me a second.” His words come out in wheezing gasps, his hands braced against his knees.
Lawyer Jeff frowns, disturbed by the sight of his client. “What is going on here? You were supposed to be released today, not—whatever this is.”
Tommy forces himself upright, his heart still racing. “They tried to transfer me,” he says, his voice hoarse. “It wasn’t legit. The guards—they’re not who they say they are. They’re—”
The door bursts open behind him, cutting him off. Tommy spins around, dread pooling in his stomach.
Officer Phillips stands in the doorway, his expression cold and unyielding.
“Stay away from him,” Lisa shouts, moving to place herself between Phillips and Tommy.
Lawyer Jeff steps forward, his tone sharp. “What is going on here? I demand to speak with warden—”
Phillips doesn’t even hesitate. He grabs Lawyer Jeff by the collar, yanks him forward, and slams him against the wall. Jeff crumples to the floor, unconscious.
Lisa screams.
“Enough games,” Phillips growls, advancing toward Tommy. “You’re coming with me, Shepherd.”
Tommy’s mind races, panic threatening to take over. He glances at Lisa, then back at Phillips. He has no time, no plan. All he has is a moment to act, to do better this time than the last.
“Hold on,” he mutters to Lisa, grabbing her around the waist. “And don’t look.”
“What are you—”
Before she can finish, Tommy takes off, the world around them blurring into a chaotic whirlwind as he pushes his speed to its absolute limit.
The last thing he hears before the room vanishes behind him is Phillips shouting and the walls lighting up with a strange blue light.
* * * * *
* * * *
The proxy swerves around a corner marked INTERVIEW ROOMS but just as Billy throws himself after it, a loud bang! echoes down the hallway and the proxy suddenly explodes into dust in the doorway of one of the rooms.
Inside, a lone guard stands, barking orders into his radio. "S.W.O.R.D Command, this is Agent Digby, we have a breach, calling for an immediate extraction team to site, over-"
But his name badge stitched to his grey uniform reads PHILLIPS. And on the table in front of him is a really, really big gun.
Phillips whirls around at their intrusion, expression twisting into a snarl. “Who the hell are you? Stand down, that’s an order!” he barks, his voice sharp enough to slice through the cacophony of blaring alarms.
Eddie’s fists clench. “Back off, man. We’re not here for you.”
Phillips doesn’t listen. He reaches for the gun in an instant and instinct takes over.
Billy raises a hand, his fingers twitching with barely-contained energy. He doesn’t think—he acts.
A blast of searing blue light erupts from his palm, slamming into Phillips with the force of a wrecking ball. The officer flies backward, crashing into the wall with a guttural grunt before collapsing in a heap on the floor.
Billy stares at his hand, chest heaving. The faint traces of magical energy crackle around his fingertips before fizzling out.
“Dude,” Eddie breathes, eyes wide. “You fried him.”
“I didn’t fry him,” Billy snaps, his voice higher-pitched than he’d like. “He’s fine. Probably.”
But then his gaze shifts to the other figure crumpled on the floor, half-hidden in the shadows. The man groans softly, stirring, and Billy feels his heart plummet.
“No—no way,” Billy whispers, his voice barely audible.
The man lifts his head, blinking groggily, and Billy’s world tilts on its axis.
“Dad?!”
Jeff Kaplan’s face is pale and bruised, but there’s no mistaking him. He frowns, confusion clouding his expression as he pushes himself upright, leaning heavily against the wall.
“Billy?” Jeff’s voice is hoarse, disbelieving. “What—what are you doing here?”
Eddie swears under his breath, already pulling at Billy’s arm. “Come on, we’ve got to move! There’s no time—”
Billy yanks his arm free, his wide eyes locked on Jeff. “No, wait—Dad, what are you doing here? Why are you- what are you doing here!?”
Jeff coughs, wincing as he gingerly touches the back of his head. “I’m—I’m here for a client. Tommy Shepherd. He was supposed to be released today, but then—then that lunatic guard just attacked me…I…”
Billy shakes his head, his thoughts scattering like broken glass. “You’re—you’re Tommy’s lawyer? What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Jeff looks even more bewildered. “Why would I? You’ve never asked about my cases, and I didn’t think you’d—wait, no, you didn’t answer me. Why are you here? Wait, is that Eddie?!”
“Seriously?” Eddie groans, throwing up his hands. “We’re in the middle of a jailbreak, and we’re doing family drama now?”
The shrieking alarms crescendo, their oppressive wail pounding in Billy’s ears. He clutches his head, trying to block out the noise, trying to think but the world is just too loud, too chaotic, too much-
“Billy, we need to move!” Eddie shouts, his voice barely cutting through the noise.
Jeff grabs Billy’s shoulder, his grip surprisingly firm. “No, we’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on! And what the hell was that—” He gestures toward Phillips’ unconscious form. “—that thing you just did?”
Billy can’t take it anymore. The pressure, the noise, the confusion—it all boils over in an explosive surge of energy.
“Enough!” he shouts, throwing his hands out.
The room floods with blinding blue light as a pulse of raw magic explodes from him, rippling outward like a shockwave. The alarms stutter and fall silent, replaced by an eerie, oppressive quiet. The locks on the door click open.
Somewhere, deep within the facility, the hum of mechanical systems powers down. Silence reigns for a moment. And then, chaos erupts.
Shouts begin to echo down the corridors, followed by the pounding of boots. The unmistakable sounds of rioting inmates—screams, crashes, metal against metal—fill the air.
Eddie’s jaw drops. “You just—you just unlocked everything.”
Billy stares at his hands, horror dawning on his face. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t—”
Jeff grabs him again, shaking him lightly. “Billy, what is happening? How—how did you do that?”
Billy’s voice cracks. “Dad, I can’t—there’s no time to explain! I have to find Tommy—he’s in danger!”
“Tommy’s in danger?” Jeff’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean? What kind of danger?”
Eddie pulls on Billy’s sleeve again, urgency lacing his tone. “We’ve got to go, now. The guards are gonna be on us any second!”
“William, wait-” But when Jeff reaches out, his eyes roll slightly and Billy realises there is an awful lot of blood on the wall where his father’s head had been flattened.
Eddie gets to him first, easing him to the ground. “Whoa, Mr Kaplan, take it easy.” He looks up at Billy with a grim stare. “I think he has a concussion. Look, just go, alright?”
“What? No!”
“I’ll stay with him.” Eddie promises earnestly. “I swear, I’ll stay, I’ll blockade the door and keep him safe but you’ve got to go, Billy.”
Billy hesitates, torn between his father’s bewildered, pleading gaze and the desperate pull of urgency to save Tommy. “Dad, I—I promise I’ll explain, but right now, I need you to stay with Eddie. He’ll keep you safe.”
Jeff shakes his head, his voice rising. “The hell I’m staying behind! If you’re in danger—”
“I’ll come back for you, I swear!”
“BILLY!”
* * * * *
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