The landing gear screeched against the tarmac, the cabin shaking slightly as the jet touched down in the dull grey gloom of London. Rain had fallen not long ago - Isaac could tell by the slick sheen on the runway and the mist clinging to the air.

Sven stretched, his bottle still in hand, and gave a loud yawn. "Would've been nice to have one of Nadya's hangover patches right about now," he muttered, tipping back the bottle for one last drink.

Isaac sighed. "You were supposed to stop drinking before we landed."

"Don't wanna waste good liquor," Sven shrugged, his voice slightly slurred but somehow still annoyingly confident.

Takeshi said nothing, tightening the belt of his sword sheath before standing. His expression was calm, but alert, as if expecting enemies rather than a welcome party.

Isaac felt the same tension. His heart thumped against his ribs as the plane slowed. It had been years since he last set foot in his home city - longer still since he'd seen his family. He wasn't sure what worried him more: seeing their faces again or the ghosts of what he'd left behind.

When the doors opened, a gust of cold London air swept inside. The faint smell of rain, fuel, and city smoke filled his lungs - familiar, grounding, but suffocating.

Outside, five sleek black SUVs were lined up in a perfect formation. A dozen suited men stood around them, hands behind their backs, all wearing the same expressionless faces. Isaac recognised the precision instantly.

It was the Fletcher family security detail. His family practically had their own personal army that secured their properties and followed them everywhere they went.

And in front of them, two figures waited.

'Here we go,' Isaac thought grimly, his heart skipping a beat after seeing them...

-

The Fletchers had a reputation that ran deep in London's veins. A century ago, they were nothing more than a notorious East End gang. But as time passed, they evolved - swapping knives for contracts, street corners for boardrooms.

By the time Isaac was born, they'd become a respected noble household with old money and new power.

But beneath the fancy suits and noble titles, the criminal empire still thrived.

When the Z-Virus struck and the world burned, they adapted faster than anyone. While others lost everything, the Fletchers bought up what was left - real estate, companies, even people.

They traded safety for ownership, offered protection for obedience, and when mutants appeared, they recruited them. By the time the Association formed, the Fletchers weren't just feared.

They were revered.

Sven had heard plenty of rumours about them. Seeing them now - their cold, disciplined posture and expensive cars - made him sober up instantly. "Bloody hell," he whispered. "Your family is loaded and terrifying."

The two figures in front stood out sharply among the suited men.

One was a man around Isaac's age, sharp features, perfectly styled dark hair - he looked like Isaac, incredibly so, though his expression was carved from disdain. His hands were buried in his pockets, posture too rigid to be relaxed.

He locked eyes with Isaac, and there was immediate tension - it was far from a happy to see you look.

The other was a young woman who appeared barely out of her teens. She was graceful, with long brown hair that caught the light as she broke into a run.

"Isaac, it really is you!" she cried, throwing her arms around him. Her voice trembled with joy, her embrace tight, desperate. She squeezed hard around him, as though she were afraid he would sink into the ground.

Ironic, right?

Isaac froze, his usual composure faltering. Slowly, he hugged her back, guilt flickering in his eyes before he managed a small smile. "It's been a while, Elizabeth."

He couldn't help but be amazed at how much she had grown and changed.

She pulled back, studying him. "What happened to your arm?! And your clothes - what on earth have you been doing?"

Isaac looked down at his worn jacket and dirt-stained boots. He couldn't exactly explain that he'd spent the past few years fighting monsters, mutants, and half the Association. He just gave her a weary grin. "Travelling. You could say I've had a rough trip."

Elizabeth frowned, then glanced at his companions. Her eyes lingered on Takeshi - his blindfold, his sword - and then on Sven, who tried to straighten his shirt and failed.

"Friends of yours?" she asked hesitantly.

"You could say that," Isaac said.

Sven gave a lazy wave. "Name's Sven, and I'm a big fan of family reunions. Say, you got any single cousins? Or how about yourself, are you-"

Before Isaac could cut him off, Takeshi smacked the back of Sven's head with the hilt of his sword - taking Nadya's usual job of keeping Sven reeled in.

"Rude," Sven muttered, rubbing the spot. "I was just trying to be friendly."

Elizabeth blinked, unsure whether to laugh or be weirded out by the unusual people. Instead, she took a breath and smiled faintly. "Let's just… go home. Father's waiting."

Isaac hesitated, glancing up at the grey sky. The clouds hung low, heavy and oppressive - just like the city itself. The weather was pretty much always depressing like this in London.

'Home, huh? Haven't heard that word in a long time.'

He exhaled and followed after her - though the mention of his father made him nervous, not that he would ever admit it.

From giant monsters to mutants that could massacre an army - Isaac had seen them all. Yet, that lingering fear of his father still remained. But alongside it was the excitement of finally facing the man now that he had changed.

Sven stumbled behind him, mumbling, "That's your sister, huh? I'm serious, mate - I wouldn't mind being a Fletcher."

Takeshi didn't hesitate this time - another smack to the back of his head.

Isaac couldn't help but chuckle softly. At least he wasn't facing this alone. If he was going to step back into the viper's nest that raised him, he'd rather do it with a drunk and a swordsman at his side.

And as the SUVs rolled out into the cold London streets, Isaac couldn't shake the feeling that this reunion was only the calm before a much darker storm...

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