ZAYDEN CROSS THE IRON GUARDIAN

The Blood Debt

The rain hadn’t stopped for hours. It drummed softly against the hospital windows, washing the neon reflection of Akron City into streaks of red and blue.

Inside Room 214, Luca Cross slept beneath the glow of the monitors. His breathing was shallow, chest rising and falling beneath the white blanket. The machines around him hummed — a steady, fragile rhythm of life that tethered Zayden’s war to meaning.

A nurse adjusted the IV line, humming quietly. She smiled down at Luca, not knowing that monsters were already walking through the front door.

---

The Infiltration

At 11:46 p.m., three figures stepped out of a black van parked near the emergency wing.

No plates. No headlights.

They wore maintenance uniforms — the kind hospital staff barely noticed. But under the fabric, holstered beneath their arms, were suppressed pistols and carbon blades.

At their lead was Specter.

Half of his face was burned from the fire at Warehouse 47, the skin jagged and pale beneath the fluorescent light. His eyes, cold and sharp, gleamed like glass.

“Two minutes,” he said, voice low through the comms. “No noise. We take the boy alive if possible. Draven wants leverage, not a corpse.”

The others nodded and split off silently down the hallways.

---

Rhea’s Warning

Across the city, Rhea Voss sat in front of a wall of monitors, watching encrypted feeds flicker with static. She sipped cold coffee, tapping keys with military precision — until one red alert blinked at the corner of her screen.

> Unauthorized network breach detected — ARKON MEDICAL CENTER.

Her stomach dropped.

“No… no, no, no.”

She patched through to Zayden immediately.

“Zayden, it’s Rhea. Someone’s in the hospital system — masked signal, professional-level encryption. I think it’s Draven’s people.”

His voice on the other end was cold, controlled — the kind of calm that always came before destruction.

“How many?”

“Three. Maybe four. I can’t get visuals yet.”

He didn’t reply. Just the sharp click of metal — magazine sliding into a gun.

“Keep the cameras open,” he said. “I’m going.”

---

The Drive

Zayden tore through Arkon’s midnight traffic like a bullet. The stolen black Charger roared as rain hammered the windshield. He barely noticed the red lights or the sirens in his wake — only the sound of Rhea’s voice and the echo of one thought in his mind:

If they touch my son, I’ll burn the world for it.

He weaved through a narrow underpass, tires screaming. A sharp turn — sparks flying as the car scraped the railing.

Rhea’s voice came again. “Zayden, I’ve got visual—”

Static.

Then, her tone dropped to panic. “They’re in the ICU.”

---

The Attack

Back in the hospital, the nurse froze as the lights flickered.

“Hello?” she called softly.

A dark shape appeared at the end of the hall — a silhouette framed by the emergency glow.

“Sir? Visiting hours are over—”

She didn’t finish the sentence. A whisper of movement, then a quiet thud.

Specter stepped over her body, silencer still smoking.

He pushed open Luca’s door.

The boy stirred faintly, eyes fluttering. “Dad…?”

Specter tilted his head, almost curious. “No, kid. Your dad’s busy dying.”

He raised the syringe — clear liquid swirling inside. One dose, perfectly measured. The same formula that had poisoned him before.

Then, the sound hit — a low rumble growing louder.

Engines.

---

The Arrival

Zayden’s Charger burst through the hospital’s side gate, headlights off, windshield shattered from debris. He didn’t even brake — the car skidded into the emergency ramp, metal screaming as it crashed to a halt.

He was out before the engine stopped roaring — gun drawn, soaked in rain.

Guards tried to stop him. He didn’t see guards, only obstacles.

One punch. One throw. One body down.

He stormed through the corridor, boots leaving muddy prints on sterile floors. The fluorescent lights above him flickered — as if the building itself could feel the violence coming.

“Rhea,” he growled into his comms.

“Third floor, east wing. ICU,” she replied. “Zayden, there’s movement—”

He didn’t wait.

---

The Clash

He hit the ICU doors with his shoulder, splintering them open.

Specter spun around just in time to dodge the first shot. The bullet shattered the monitor beside Luca’s bed, sparks flying.

The two men locked eyes — fire and ice.

“Still alive,” Specter said, smiling through burned lips. “You really are hard to kill.”

Zayden fired again — missed by inches as Specter flipped the bed, sending medical tools scattering.

Zayden lunged. Specter countered. They collided in a brutal blur — fists, knives, and blood mixing with the sterile smell of antiseptic.

Specter slashed across Zayden’s forearm; Zayden retaliated with a knee to his ribs, sending him crashing into the glass window.

Outside, lightning struck, flashing white.

Zayden grabbed Specter by the throat and slammed him into the floor. “You came for my son?”

Specter spat blood, grinning through pain. “Draven sends his regards.”

Zayden’s eyes went dark.

---

The Executioner

He hit Specter again — and again — until the assassin’s face was unrecognizable.

Each punch carried the weight of every sleepless night, every scream he’d buried inside.

When it was over, he stood there, breathing hard, knuckles split open.

Specter coughed, half-conscious. “You… you can’t protect him forever.”

Zayden picked up the silenced pistol that had fallen beside him and aimed it at Specter’s head.

“I don’t have to protect him forever,” he said coldly. “Just long enough for you to die.”

Click. Boom.

The sound was small, but final.

He didn’t look at the body again.

---

The Aftermath

Zayden turned to Luca. The boy’s eyes fluttered open weakly.

“Dad?” he whispered.

“I’m here,” Zayden said, dropping the gun and kneeling beside him. His voice cracked for the first time in years. “You’re safe now.”

Rhea’s voice crackled through the comms. “Zayden—what the hell happened? I lost my camera feed for five minutes.”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at his son, blood dripping from his hands onto the hospital floor.

Then, his phone buzzed. Unknown number.

He answered.

Draven’s voice came, smooth as oil.

“Impressive, Zayden. You saved one life tonight. But tell me—how many more will die because of it?”

Zayden’s jaw tightened. “If you ever touch him again, I’ll end you.”

Draven chuckled softly. “You already tried. And every time you burn one of my men, I’ll burn a piece of your city. Let’s see who runs out of fuel first.”

The line went dead.

Zayden stood slowly, looking out the broken window as sirens wailed below. The hospital lights reflected off the rain, turning the street crimson.

He whispered to himself, voice low and trembling with fury:

> “You took my peace. You came for my blood. Now I’ll come for you.”

And with that, the Iron Guardian walked back into the storm.