2026-08-12 17:07:21Chapter 5: The Close Call
The heavy, three-hundred-pound barbell whistled through the gym air, a jagged arc of steel death. Time stretched, vibrating like a plucked guitar string. Bagas didn't think; he reacted. His body—governed by the [SECRET AGENT] sub-routine—snapped into a blurred, kinetic flow. He didn't just move; he vanished from his spot, a phantom of pure, unbridled torque.
He caught the bar inches from Siska’s temple, his hands sinking into the steel as if it were soft wax.
"Bagas?" Siska breathed, her eyes blown wide, her back pressed against the splintering rack.
"Stay still," Bagas growled, his voice vibrating with a dangerous, metallic resonance.
"You… you just moved like you were teleporting," she whispered, her hands trembling as she hovered over his arms. "How are you holding that with one hand?"
"Don't look at the bar, Siska. Look at me."
"I’m looking," she murmured, her heart drumming against her ribs. "But your eyes… they aren't looking at me. They’re looking at everything else. Why are you scanning the room?"
"Security protocols," he muttered, his mouth betraying him again. "I need an exit strategy."
"Exit strategy? We’re in a high school gym, not a spy movie."
"Are we?" Bagas tilted his head, his gaze icy and detached. "You’re in danger. Everyone is."
"Stop it," she laughed, though it sounded shaky. "You’re scaring me, but God, it’s working. You’re so intense right now."
"Intensity keeps people alive."
"And what about us?" Siska leaned into the space between his arm and the rack, her scent of lilies and cold iron hitting him like a physical blow. "Does the 'secret agent' have time for us?"
"I have time for exactly what I want."
"And what do you want, Bagas?"
"To keep you from being crushed by the weight of my reality," he said, his voice dropping into that smooth, terrifyingly intimate register.
"You’re doing it again," she whispered, her fingers grazing his corded forearm. "That voice. That look. It’s intoxicating."
"Siska, back away."
"No. I want to see you drop it. I want to see you lose that control."
"I can’t. If I drop it now, the floor—"
"I don't care about the floor," she interrupted, stepping closer until her chest brushed his arm. "I care about the guy holding the world up."
"You’re playing a dangerous game."
"I’ve always liked dangerous games."
Suddenly, the blue screen flared in Bagas’s vision.
[SYSTEM ALERT: INTEGRATION UNSTABLE. SKILL DRAIN: SECRET AGENT 100% -> 0%.]
The world slammed back into focus. The weight—the massive, crushing three-hundred-pound barbell—suddenly reclaimed its gravity. His muscles, stripped of the supernatural augmentation, screamed in agony.
"Oh, no," he gasped.
"Bagas? What’s wrong?" Siska frowned, noticing his sudden pallor. "You’re sweating again. Like when you were dancing."
"The weight," he choked out, his knees buckling. "It’s… it’s too heavy!"
"Don’t you dare drop it!" Siska shrieked, but her eyes were filled with a frantic, protective heat.
"I have to!"
"On three," she said, bracing her hands against his shoulders to guide him. "We move on three. One… two…"
"Three!"
They lunged together, the heavy bar crashing into the rubber mats with a deafening, floor-shaking boom. Bagas collapsed, his lungs burning, his limbs feeling like lead pipes filled with sand.
"Bagas!" Siska dropped to her knees beside him, her hands frantically searching his face. "Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?"
"I’m… I’m fine," he panted, his voice finally his own—shaky, weak, and terrified.
"You weren't fine a second ago. You were… different. Like you weren't even Bagas anymore."
"I’m always Bagas, Siska."
"Don't lie to me." She pulled his hand toward her, pressing his palm against her racing heart. "You’re cold. Your skin is freezing, but your heart… Bagas, it’s beating at, like, two hundred beats per minute."
"It’s just adrenaline," he tried to laugh, but it came out as a ragged cough.
"No," she whispered, her eyes searching his, filled with a sudden, sharp clarity. "Adrenaline makes you fast. This? This makes you a mystery I’m going to solve."
"Siska, please, just let it go."
"I can't." She leaned in, her lips inches from his, her voice a low, teasing threat. "Because the moment you dropped that bar, you grabbed my wrist. And I felt something."
Bagas froze. "What?"
"Something under your skin," she whispered, her thumb sliding over his pulse point, searching for the anomaly. "It felt like… like a pulse, but not human. Like a clock ticking inside your veins."
Bagas felt his breath hitch. The system screen flickered, a faint, rhythmic thump-thump echoing in his ears that only he could hear.
"You’re imagining things," he stammered, pulling his hand away.
"Am I?" She stood up, looking down at him with a mix of hunger and suspicion that made him want to bolt for the door. "Then tell me, Bagas—why is your skin still glowing?"
Bagas looked down at his arm. Faint, blue circuitry-like lines were pulsing beneath his skin, fading rapidly but leaving behind a strange, metallic scent.
"I should go," he said, scrambling to his feet.
"Wait!" she called out, reaching for him.
He didn't wait. He didn't look back. He sprinted toward the locker room, his heart screaming in sync with the fading blue light under his skin.
He locked himself in the farthest stall, his hands shaking as he pulled out his phone. The screen was black, then suddenly burst into a single, blinding line of text.
[WARNING: SYSTEM BREACH IMMINENT. USER IDENTIFICATION: TARGET ACQUIRED.]
Bagas stared at the screen, his blood running cold.
"Target?" he whispered into the empty, echoing room. "Whose target am I?"
A soft, melodic ping sounded from the back of the gym, followed by the sound of footsteps—precise, heavy, and rhythmic.
"Bagas?" a voice called out. It wasn't Siska. It was deeper, more precise. It was the girl from the hallway. "You can hide in there, but we both know the system knows exactly where you are."
Bagas gripped his hair, his mind fracturing under the weight of the secrets, the adrenaline, and the girl currently rattling the stall door.
"Open the door, Bagas," she said, her voice dripping with an artificial, cold authority. "Your 'trial period' is over. Now, we talk about your subscription."
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