He loved it
Every second of it.
The way his bones creaked, the way Ray's strikes turned his body into a percussion instrument of pain—it was exhilarating. The bracelet on his wrist beeped again, red and erratic, but he didn't care. He lived for this chaos.
For a moment, Vince thought of the maid again—how she screamed when he leaned in close and asked which finger she wanted to lose first.
That scream? That was real.
This? This was close.
He came at Ray again with wild momentum—but Ray was already slipping past him.
Another hit—an elbow to the jaw.Vince's vision blurred, blood clouding his eyes.
Ray ducked a desperate swing, planted, and struck—clean to the sternum.
Vince staggered, breath ragged, but still laughing.
"He thinks he's breaking me," Vince thought. "But this is where I come alive."
Ray circled him now, sharp and silent, eyes like a predator. He watched for the opening and saw it—Vince's shoulder dropping just a little too far.
That was enough.
Ray slid behind him, grabbed the arm, twisted—
Snap.
The crack echoed like a gunshot.Vince screamed—but his smile stayed, trembling through the pain.
"Yesss," he hissed through gritted teeth.
Ray didn't pause.Knee to the gut. Another collapse. Vince hit the pavement hard, coughing blood, arm dangling uselessly at his side.
Still, that damned grin clung to his face like a scar.
Ray stood over him, fists tight, breath steady.
He hadn't overpowered Vince.
He'd unraveled him.
And Vince?
He was loving it.
Ray's eyes narrowed, feeling the thrill of dominance creep over him. It was more than just a fight now; it was a lesson.
"Still haven't recovered, huh?" Ray muttered under his breath, watching Vince's expression falter. His body was shaking, but it wasn't just from the blow. It was like the fight had already taken everything out of him. He wasn't the same rookie who charged at him earlier—this was a man who had underestimated the cost of his anger.
"You should've stayed down," Ray whispered, moving behind him in a blur.
"Did you think you could win?" Ray sneered, dodging another blow and landing a crushing punch to Vince's jaw. The rookie's knees buckled, but he fought to stay on his feet.
Ray's next move was fluid and smooth.Vince, caught off guard, staggered. As he attempted to throw another punch, Ray anticipated the move perfectly. With a quick feint and a low pivot, Ray swept his leg behind Vince's, knocking him off balance. In less than a heartbeat, Ray launched a sharp roundhouse kick aimed at Vince's temple. The blow landed solidly, and Vince crumpled to the pavement—an abrupt end to what might have been a drawn-out brawl.
Vince's body was already showing the toll—bruises blooming across his skin, blood dripping from his mouth, one arm bent at an angle it shouldn't be.
But Ray wasn't done.
His gaze bore into Vince's broken frame with a calm indifference—no fury, no thrill.Just cold intent.
Then the fists came down again.
One to the ribs.
Another to the jaw.
Then the shoulder—already dislocated—followed by a brutal hook to the gut.
Each hit landed with surgical cruelty, like Ray wasn't just trying to win—he was erasing him.
Vince wheezed, gasping for air, the taste of iron thick on his tongue.
He had always felt unstoppable.
From the moment he was born, the world bent to his will.
A private estate with more rooms than he could count.
Maids that bowed when he entered.
Butlers who laughed at his jokes—even when they weren't funny.
Endless praise. Endless gifts.His father called him "golden." His mother kissed his forehead every night and whispered,"You're meant for something great, my darling."
Anything he wanted—he got.
And when the power finally came—when the program handed him rage in the form of energy, strength, speed—he thought,This is what I was always meant to be.
Unbreakable. Untouchable.
A prince reborn as a god.
But now—
Here he was.
Lying on the pavement like a discarded thing, chest heaving, arm shattered, face swollen, blood pooling beneath him.
He couldn't get up.
Ray hit him again.
And again.
"Stop..." the thought surfaced weakly, not from the monster in him—but from something smaller. Something human.
"Please stop. I don't want to... not anymore..."
The words formed only in his mind. His mouth wouldn't open. His body wouldn't move.
Each hit now felt like it struck through flesh and into something deeper. A sense of reality crumbling.
"This isn't how it's supposed to go."
"I was chosen. I was perfect. I was—"
Another punch shut off the thought. Vince twitched, trying to lift his arm—only to feel it dangle uselessly.
And in that moment, as Ray stood over him like judgment itself, Vince felt it.
Hopelessness.
Heavy. Crushing. Final.
He wasn't unstoppable.
He wasn't divine.
He was just another name, another body, under someone else's boot.
The last remnants of his pride—obliterated.
The palace he carried in his mind—reduced to rubble.
And Vince—the boy who had once ruled his world from a golden crib—lay in the dirt, begging in silence.
Peanut's chirp broke the rhythm of Ray's fists.
Ray paused, breath ragged, as the silence finally caught up with him.
From a distance—an applause.
Vince's Keeper stepped out of the shadows.
Ray looked up, furious."You could've stopped it. You watched him get torn apart."
R tilted his head."Terrible, aren't I? But no worse than your precious guardian, I'm sure."
Ray's fists clenched. "Don't talk about him."
R laughed. "Relax. I'm giving you credit. That performance? Brutal. Efficient. Personal. Have you ever thought about a career change?"
Ray stepped forward. "While you're here, I have some questions."
R gestured grandly. "By all means. Let the interrogation begin."
"What's with the red bracelet? I've seen containment tech before. That wasn't containment. It was like he was being... juiced."
"Oh, very observant," R said, impressed. "Vince is part of a little experiment. A government-funded push-past-the-limit type deal. Today was a threshold test. Every beep you heard meant his body was failing... and evolving."
Ray's face didn't change.
"He burned through five percent of his muscle mass in the last four hours," R added. "But hey, can't make an omelet without breaking a few ribs."
Ray shook his head. "You're sick, he's dying, and you're still sending him out here to fight your battles?"
"It's called progress, something that's necessary for human evolution.Besides, what I'm doing now is just a drop in the bucket compared to Bravo and his closet of corpses."
Ray blinked. "Bravo?"
"Mm," R smiled. "Not his real name. Just what we called him. Always marching in like some noble knight. Thought he could fix everything."
Ray's voice went flat. "Why are you telling me any of this?"
There was a flicker in R's eyes.Like something calculative snapped into place.
"Because you matter more than you think, Ray. You're not like these leash-wearing soldiers. You've got instincts. Speed. Rage. You're not bound by their rules yet."
Ray stared, jaw tight.
"So here it is," R continued, stepping forward, lowering his voice like a devil at confession. "Join us. We'll give you real power. No leash. No handlers. Just... evolution. Join us. Be part of something bigger. We could use someone like you in the program."
Ray didn't hesitate.
Ray scoffed. "You serious?"
"Deadly."
"Hard pass," replied Ray.
That got a reaction. A beat of silence.
"It's a shame. You could've thrived with us."
"And you could've shut up five minutes ago," remarked Ray.
R gave a theatrical sigh and shrugged. "Teenagers."
Ray narrowed his eyes. "Anyways, you talk about Luke like you know him."
R's grin faltered slightly. "Well... I do."
Ray blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, what? How do you know Luke?"
R clapped his hands once, mockingly. "Oh, bravo! Look who's asking the real questions now."
Ray didn't laugh. "Answer me."
R tilted his head. "We go way back. Shared a lot of... ideologies, once upon a time. Before he became so noble and boring."
"Listen Ray. Hear you're searching for something. We could help you find... answers. Maybe... even about your parents."
Ray's eyes sharpened. "What about them?"
"You've spent your life surviving scraps of memory and rumors. What if I said we have access to records... clues about their disappearance?"
Ray cut him off, voice hardening. "Disappearance? They're dead. Long dead."
R smiled—not wide, not mocking. Just unsettling.
"Are they?"
The words slithered out, quiet, deliberate.
Ray stared at him.His heart thumped once—hard.
"What do you know?" he demanded.
R's expression darkened, but his tone remained playful. "Nothing I'd waste on someone too stubborn to see past the leash they're wearing."
Ray took a step forward, fists clenched. "Say another word and I'll rip your damn tongue out."
R just chuckled. "You're not ready, Ray. But you will be."
Then—he blurred and vanished. No sound, no warning, just gone.
Ray tensed, eyes scanning—
Thump
Behind him, R stood calmly, Vince slung over his shoulder like a dead weight.
"You're looking in the wrong places, Ray," R murmured, his voice almost a whisper—but it cut through the silence like a blade. "Always have been."
Then he was gone, slipping into the dark like a breath exhaled.
Shaking his head in disbelief,Ray didn't move for a second. The street was quiet again—like none of it had happened.
Peanut made a small sound, resting his head on Ray's leg.
Ray muttered under his breath, still facing the dark.
"Dead. They're dead."
But a part of him—the part that remembered screaming in the dark with a locket clutched in his fist—wasn't so sure anymore.
He turned away, aching muscles screaming, mind spiraling.
Behind him, Peanut chittered and followed without hesitation.