Chapter 1 - The Breach of Ordinary Sun
The sunlight poured across the dining table in long, honeyed slabs, warming the glazed porcelain plates and the buttery steam rising from tender florets of broccoli. Three-year-old Leo held his tiny fork with both hands, chewing with the unbothered, deliberate slowness peculiar to early childhood. Across from him, his mother, Sarah, smiled faintly, her gray knit sleeve bunched at her wrist as she lifted her glass of water. It was an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, quiet enough to hear the hum of the refrigerator and the gentle rustle of birch leaves brushing against the porch glass.
Then the front door exploded inward with a deafening crack. The deadbolt splintered out of its pine frame, cascading chunks of painted wood onto the hardwood runner.
Sarah gasped, freezing mid-motion as three towering men crossed the threshold without breaking stride. They were broad-shouldered, clad in tactical navy uniforms that bore polished brass badges and dark combat belts heavy with gear. Their heavy boots thumped across the floorboards in relentless unison, vibrating through the legs of the table.
Leo paused his chewing. His wide hazel-brown eyes followed the lead officer—a barrel-chested man with graying temples, a clipped jawline, and an gaze colder than granite.
""You,"" the lead officer boomed, halting inches from the booster chair. His thick, gloved forefinger snapped out, leveling directly between the boy’s eyes. ""You are under arrest.""
A fork trembled between Leo’s small, sauce-smeared fingers. He tilted his chin upward, completely bewildered, his voice no louder than a dry leaf scraping pavement. ""Why?""
""Because your followers and comments are too low,"" the officer declared without a trace of remorse.
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The world seemed to lose its gravity. Tears formed instant glistening rivers over Leo’s flushed cheeks, his bottom lip vibrating in sheer, uncomprehending terror. ""Please,"" he sobbed, his voice breaking into tiny hiccups, ""please... follow and comment for me...""
The lead officer did not blink. Instead, he reached toward his utility harness and unclipped a pair of matte-black restraint bands, murmuring into the radio on his shoulder, ""Target located. Commencing immediate extraction.""
