THE ANOMALY: RISE OF A BILLIONAIRE

1

A light rain glazed the sidewalks of Ashborne that night. Neon signs flickered above, their reflections rippling across the wet asphalt.

Amid the restless city that never slept, Jake stood outside the glass display of the district’s biggest jewelry boutique. His eyes locked on a golden watch behind the pane, its gleam cutting sharp as a blade.

“Quick. Five minutes tops,” he whispered to himself, like a promise.

He stepped inside. The automatic door chimed shut behind him. The air smelled of fresh carpet laced with expensive perfume. A clerk approached with a professional smile.

“Good evening, sir. How may I help you?”

Jake returned the smile, voice steady. “I can manage on my own.”

His hand traced along the glass cases, eyes scanning with precision. Only three other customers lingered inside—a middle-aged couple and their restless child.

Jake crouched in front of the display, lips barely moving as he muttered, “Three cameras, two guards, one exit. Easy.”

When the clerk turned his back, Jake moved. Swift, almost invisible—nothing but a blur. In seconds, the golden watch was in his hand.

He stood, slipping it into his jacket pocket. Nearly free—until a shrill cry broke the silence.

“Mom! Mom! He took the watch!” The child pointed at Jake, finger trembling, voice cutting through the store.

The clerk gasped. “Hey! Stop!”

The two guards at the corner rushed forward. Jake’s lips curved in a cold, thin smile as he stepped back.

“Not that fast,” he said under his breath.

The clerk shouted, “Lock the doors! Hurry! Track it by the chip!”

A spotlight flared from the security cameras, pinning Jake in its beam. Instead of panicking, he struck a pose—then slammed his shoulder into the glass. CRASH! Shards exploded, scattering light in all directions. Customers screamed.

Jake strode out into the rain, alarms wailing in his wake.

“Damn it! He’s not on the system! The chip isn’t active!” the guard barked. “Deploy units—now!”

Panic rippled as security scrambled to pursue.

“Target headed north! Code 127!” one guard shouted into his radio.

Jake glanced back. Two guards closed in, breathless. Patrol officers joined in, sirens rising in the distance.

“Chase me if you want. Idiots like them don’t know the rat runs around here,” Jake muttered.

He darted across the street, horns blaring as cars skidded. Rain poured harder, city lights blurring into streaks. He moved like a shadow, faster than any normal man.

He vaulted a fence into a side street—only to find a police cruiser blocking the way.

“Freeze! You’re surrounded!”

Jake laughed at the warning. “Surround me? Go ahead—try.”

He sprang onto the hood, vaulted over, and landed on the opposite sidewalk. Pedestrians screamed, some raising phones to record.

Suddenly, a drone’s spotlight lit him up. It hovered low, camera fixed squarely on him.

At headquarters, an officer leaned toward the monitor. “Target in the north district! Lock coordinates—”

The feed shook—then went dead.

“What just happened?”

“Impossible… we lost him,” the operator stammered, pale. “He vanished from the system.”

Meanwhile, Jake slipped into a narrow alley between old buildings. His breathing was calm, steady—as if he hadn’t just run for blocks.

“Perfect,” he muttered.

He emerged on the far side. The rain had eased, only a drizzle clinging to his shoulders. The streets here were nearly empty, lit only by tired streetlamps.

He stopped beneath a broken neon sign: Baron’s Diner. From the shadows, a deep voice called out.

“Interesting.”

Jake stiffened, instincts sparking. “Who’s there?”

A man in a gray suit stepped forward. His expression was calm, but his eyes cut deep—like he could read Jake’s thoughts.

Jake dropped into a stance, voice low. “If you’re one of them, walk away now. I won’t hesitate to smash that pretty face of yours, rich boy.”

The man gave a faint smile. “I’m not security. Not a cop. And definitely not ordinary.”

Jake narrowed his eyes. “Prove it.”

The man raised his hand. A small card slipped from his fingers, landing at Jake’s feet.

Jake looked down. The card was blank—no name, no photo—just a strange circle with a cross through it.

“What is this? Tch. I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care! Move, unless you want my fist in your face!”

The man stepped closer, voice quieter now, weighted. “Arrogant. You think outrunning a few cops makes you special? Just because no one’s ever been able to track you… doesn’t make you great, does it?”

Jake froze, heart pounding. The words hit harder than he expected.

He stared, wanting to fire back, but nothing came out.

The man smirked, turning back into the shadows. “We’ll meet again, Jake. Go—run. They’re still out here.”

Jake stood rigid, fists tight. Rain spilled down his face once more.

“Freak,” he spat. The twenty-year-old turned and stalked away, leaving the silver-haired stranger smiling in the dark.

Every so often, Jake glanced back—the man still stood there, watching him with that unsettling smile.