Project Zero

Chapter 1: The City Below

       The smog of Haven City hung heavy in the air, thick and acrid, wrapping itself around every building, every street, every person like a strangling vine. It was a fog that never lifted, a perpetual haze that obscured the sun during the day and smothered the stars at night. The city was a sprawling, decaying mass of steel and concrete, a place where the past clung stubbornly to the present, refusing to let go. The air tasted of rust and oil, and it burned the back of your throat with every breath.
Xander Kane—known as Zero to those who knew him best—made his way through the maze of alleyways that crisscrossed the Lower District. The streets were narrow, lined with crumbling buildings that leaned precariously over the sidewalks, their windows shattered or boarded up. The ground beneath his boots was slick with oil and grime, the pavement cracked and uneven. Garbage was piled high against the walls, and the stench of rotting food and unwashed bodies was almost overwhelming.
Xander moved through the alleys with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times before. He knew every twist, every turn, every dead end. This was his territory, his home, and he navigated it with a confidence born of necessity. His body was tired, every muscle aching from the long day at the docks, but his mind was sharp, focused on his destination.
His thoughts drifted, as they often did, to his younger brother, Alex. The kid was only twelve, but he was already more mature than most adults Xander knew. It wasn't fair, the way life had forced him to grow up so fast. But then again, life in Haven City wasn't fair. It was a place where the strong survived and the weak were crushed underfoot. Xander had made it his mission to ensure that Alex didn't end up like so many other kids in the Lower District—lost to the streets, or worse.
As Xander turned a corner, the neon glow of a nearby sign cast a sickly light on the alley, momentarily banishing the darkness. The sign flickered, buzzing loudly, as if struggling to stay alive in a city that was dying around it. He didn't even glance at it; his eyes were fixed straight ahead, his mind already at home with Alex, imagining the kid waiting up for him like he always did.
Home. The word didn't mean much in Haven City. Their apartment was a small, dingy space in a run-down building on the edge of the Lower District. The walls were thin, the ceiling leaked, and the windows were so caked with grime that no amount of scrubbing could make them clear. But it was all they had, and Xander had learned to be grateful for even the smallest comforts. At least they had a roof over their heads, which was more than could be said for a lot of people in Haven.
Xander's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind him. He didn't turn around; there was no need. He knew the sounds of the city, knew when something was out of place. The footsteps were light, quick—too quick for someone just walking home. They were following him, trying to catch up without being noticed.
Xander kept his pace steady, not wanting to give anything away. His hand drifted to the knife he kept hidden under his jacket, fingers curling around the hilt. He didn't want trouble, but in Haven City, trouble was never far behind. It was best to be prepared.
The footsteps drew closer, and Xander could hear the faint rustle of fabric, the sharp intake of breath. Whoever it was, they were nervous, inexperienced. Xander almost felt sorry for them. Almost.
He waited until the last possible moment, then spun around, knife flashing out in the dim light. The figure behind him yelped in surprise, stumbling back and raising their hands in a defensive gesture. Xander's eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of the would-be attacker—a skinny kid, no more than seventeen, with a wild look in his eyes and a switchblade clutched in one shaking hand.
"Fuck off," Xander growled, his voice low and dangerous. The kid froze, eyes wide with fear as Xander stepped closer, the point of his knife inches from the kid's throat. "You really wanna do this?"
The kid shook his head frantically, the switchblade slipping from his fingers and clattering to the ground. "I—I'm sorry, man," he stammered, backing away, his hands still raised. "I didn't mean nothing by it, I swear."
Xander's grip on the knife tightened for a moment, the temptation to lash out, to teach the kid a lesson, flaring up inside him. But he forced it down, reminded himself that he wasn't that kind of man. Not anymore. With a grunt, he lowered the knife and stepped back.
"Get the fuck out of here," Xander said, his voice cold. The kid didn't need to be told twice. He turned and bolted down the alley, disappearing into the shadows. Xander watched him go, his expression unreadable, before slipping his knife back into its sheath and continuing on his way.
It wasn't the first time someone had tried to jump him, and it wouldn't be the last. But the kid had been desperate, not dangerous. Just another victim of Haven City, trying to survive in a world that didn't give a damn whether he lived or died. Xander knew that feeling all too well.
As he approached the rusted door of his apartment building, the familiar ache in his chest returned. He paused for a moment, glancing up at the cracked window where the faint flicker of candlelight was barely visible. Alex was awake, as always. The kid never went to sleep until Xander was home, no matter how late it was.
Xander took a deep breath, trying to push down the mix of emotions that always hit him when he thought about his brother. Pride, guilt, anger—they all blended together into a tight knot in his chest, one that never seemed to loosen. He knew he wasn't doing enough, that he could never do enough to make up for the shit life had thrown at them. But he was trying, and that had to count for something.
Finally, he opened the door and stepped inside, careful not to make too much noise. The apartment was dark, save for the small candle burning on the table next to the couch where Alex was curled up with a book. The kid looked up as Xander entered, a small smile breaking through the exhaustion on his face.
"Hey, Zero," Alex said, his voice soft but warm. The nickname was something their grandfather had started calling him years ago.
"Hey, kid," Xander replied, ruffling Alex's hair as he walked past him to the kitchen area. He set the bag of groceries down on the counter, the meager contents a stark reminder of how hard things had gotten. "You been waiting up for me?"
"Yeah," Alex admitted, closing his book and sitting up. "I couldn't sleep."
"Shouldn't be staying up so late," Xander chided gently, though there was no real anger in his voice. "You've got school tomorrow."
"I know," Alex said, shrugging. "But I don't mind. I like waiting for you."
Xander felt that familiar ache in his chest again, stronger this time. "Well, I'm here now," he said, trying to keep his voice light. "So how about you get some rest, huh?"
Alex hesitated, glancing at the grocery bag. "Did you get anything good?"
Xander sighed, pulling out the items one by one—a loaf of bread, a couple of cans of soup, some instant noodles. It wasn't much, but it was all he could afford. He set them on the counter, trying not to let his frustration show.
"Yeah," he said, forcing a smile. "Got your favorite—chicken noodle."
Alex's face lit up, and for a moment, the weight on Xander's shoulders felt just a little lighter. "Thanks, Zero," Alex said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude.
Xander nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He turned his attention to putting the groceries away, the routine giving him something to focus on, something to distract him from the gnawing feeling in his gut. Every day was a struggle, a fight to keep them both afloat in a world that seemed determined to drag them under. But he couldn't let himself think about that—not now, not with Alex watching him, depending on him to keep it together.
As Xander finished putting away the groceries, Alex got up from the couch and stretched, yawning. "I guess I should go to bed," he said, though his tone made it clear that he didn't really want to.
"Yeah," Xander agreed, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "You need your sleep."
Alex gave him one last smile before heading to the small bedroom they shared. "Good night, Zero."
"Good night, kid," Xander replied, watching as Alex disappeared into the bedroom. The door clicked shut behind him, and Xander was left alone with his thoughts.
He leaned against the counter, staring at the flickering candle on the table, his mind racing. He was exhausted, his body screaming for rest, but his thoughts wouldn't let him sleep. He kept thinking about the kid in the alley, the fear in his eyes as Xander's knife had hovered near his throat. It could have been Alex out there, desperate and scared, forced to do something stupid just to survive. The thought made Xander's blood run cold.
He pushed himself away from the counter, unable to stand still any longer. The apartment felt too small, too suffocating, and he needed air. Grabbing his jacket, he slipped out the door as quietly as he had come in.
The night was cold, a sharp contrast to the stifling heat inside the apartment. Xander pulled his jacket tighter around himself as he started walking, his breath coming out in visible puffs in the frigid air. The streets were mostly empty at this hour, the occasional car passing by or a lone figure hurrying home. But Xander wasn't looking for company. He just needed to clear his head.
His feet took him on a familiar path, down the narrow streets and alleys that made up the Lower District. The city was a maze, a tangle of buildings and roads that seemed to have been thrown together without any thought or planning. But Xander knew it like the back of his hand. He knew which alleys were safe to walk through and which ones to avoid, which corners were watched by gangs and which ones were quiet enough to be ignored.
As he walked, his thoughts drifted to the past, to the days before everything had gone to shit. Back when their parents were still alive, before the accident that had taken them away and left Xander and Alex alone. Xander had been sixteen at the time, just old enough to understand what had happened, but not old enough to know how to deal with it. He'd been forced to grow up fast, to take on the responsibility of looking after his brother, to keep them both alive in a world that didn't give a damn.
He hadn't done a perfect job. There had been times when he'd fucked up, when he'd made the wrong choice or let his anger get the better of him. But he'd always done his best, and he'd always put Alex first. That was the only thing that mattered to him—keeping Alex safe, keeping him out of the worst of it.
Xander's thoughts were interrupted as he reached the corner store where Mrs. Keller worked. The place was a relic from another time, a small, dimly lit shop with a neon sign that buzzed and flickered above the door. The windows were coated in a layer of grime that had built up over the years, and the shelves inside were half-empty, the products gathering dust. But Mrs. Keller kept the place running, and for that, Xander was grateful.
He pushed open the door, the bell above it giving a sad little jingle as he stepped inside. The air was warm and musty, a stark contrast to the cold outside, and the familiar smell of old wood and stale coffee greeted him. Mrs. Keller was behind the counter, as she always was, her gray hair pulled back in a neat bun and her glasses perched on the end of her nose. She looked up as Xander entered, her tired eyes lighting up with a smile.
"Evening, Xander," she greeted him, her voice warm and welcoming. She was one of the few people in Haven City who still used his real name, and for some reason, it always made him feel a little more human.
"Evening, Mrs. Keller," Xander replied, returning the smile as best he could. "Thanks for holding the groceries for me."
"Of course, dear," she said, sliding the small bag across the counter. "How's Alex?"
Xander hesitated, his smile faltering for a moment. "He's doing okay," he said finally. "Hanging in there."
Mrs. Keller nodded, her expression softening. "He's a good boy," she said, her voice full of affection. "You're both good boys."
Xander swallowed, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. "Thanks," he managed, his voice rough. He took the bag of groceries, his hands trembling slightly. "I appreciate it."
Mrs. Keller reached out and patted his hand, her touch warm and comforting. "You're doing a good job, Xander," she said firmly. "Don't ever doubt that."
Xander nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He gave her a tight smile, then turned and headed for the door.
"Take care of yourself, dear," Mrs. Keller called after him as he stepped outside. The cold night air hit him like a slap, but it was a welcome relief from the warmth of the store. He stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath and trying to steady himself. Mrs. Keller's words had hit him harder than he'd expected, and he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because he didn't hear them often enough—people telling him he was doing a good job, that he was a good person. Maybe it was because he didn't believe it himself.
As he started walking again, his mind drifted to Celestia, the city in the clouds that loomed above Haven like a cruel joke. It was a place of wealth and privilege, a place where the rich and powerful lived in luxury while the rest of the world struggled to survive. Xander had heard the stories, seen the images on the news—gleaming towers, pristine parks, people dressed in clothes that cost more than he made in a year. It was a fucking paradise, and it made him sick.
Celestia had been built on the backs of people like him, people who toiled away in the dirt and grime of the Lower District, barely scraping by while the elites lived in their ivory towers. Xander's grandfather had worked on the project, back when it was still just a dream, a vision of a better world. But that dream had turned into a nightmare, and now Celestia was a symbol of everything that was wrong with the world.
Xander had never been to Celestia, and he never would be. People like him weren't welcome there. But that didn't stop him from thinking about it, from wondering what it was really like behind those gleaming walls. Was it as perfect as they said, or was there something darker hidden beneath the surface? Xander didn't know, and he didn't care. All he knew was that Celestia was a place he could never reach, a place that had no room for people like him.
As he walked, his thoughts turned darker, his anger bubbling up inside him. The world was fucked up, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was just one man, one small, insignificant man in a city that didn't give a shit about him. But Alex—Alex was different. Alex had a future, a chance to get out of this hellhole and make something of himself. And Xander would do whatever it took to make sure that happened.
By the time Xander reached the door to their apartment building, his anger had cooled, replaced by a cold determination. He couldn't change the world, but he could protect his brother. That was the only thing that mattered. He climbed the stairs to their apartment, each step echoing in the narrow stairwell, the weight of his responsibility pressing down on him like a physical force.
When he finally reached the door to their apartment, he paused, his hand resting on the doorknob. The apartment was dark, silent, and for a moment, Xander just stood there, his mind racing. He thought about the kid in the alley, the fear in his eyes, the desperation in his voice. He thought about Alex, asleep in the next room, his face peaceful and untroubled. And he thought about Celestia, that perfect fucking city in the clouds, so close yet so impossibly far away.
With a deep breath, Xander pushed the door open and stepped inside. The apartment was as he had left it—small, dark, and cold. The candle on the table had burned down to a stub, the wax pooling around it in a sticky mess. Xander walked over to the cot in the corner and sat down heavily, his mind still spinning with thoughts he couldn't quite pin down.
He glanced over at the bedroom door, closed and silent. Alex was asleep, safe and sound, at least for now. Xander knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, not with all the shit racing through his head. Instead, he leaned back on the cot, staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting back to Celestia.
The city was a symbol of everything that was wrong with the world, but it was also something more. It was a challenge, a goal, something to strive for even if you knew you'd never reach it. Xander didn't want to live in Celestia, didn't want to be a part of that world. But he wanted to understand it, to know what it was that made people so desperate to get there, so willing to leave everything behind for a shot at a better life.
And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to tear it down. To watch it fall from the sky and shatter into a million pieces, just like the lives it had destroyed.
Xander's eyes drifted shut as exhaustion finally claimed him, his thoughts fading into darkness. But even as he slept, the image of Celestia lingered in his mind, a gleaming city in the clouds, full of secrets and lies.