We cracked the car door open just enough for Vinico''s copy to slip outside. Once he was gone, the door clicked shut, and we settled into a tense silence. Inside the car, Vinico focused on the feedback he was receiving from his duplicate, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he began to narrate.


    "They''re letting me get closer," he muttered, as he processed the dual streams of information. "The road''s empty, but something feels off."


    Through the windshield, his copy continued forward, its body shrinking as it disappeared into the distance. The road stretched long and desolate, abandoned houses standing like rotting husks on either side.


    "There are eight of them," Vinico reported. "They came out of the abandoned houses."


    "They''ve surrounded me. Heavy blasters and EMT rifles. Five of them are using high-grade exoskeletons. Their meta-nature must be useless."


    Alex leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Military spec?"


    Vinico gave a slight nod, fingers tapping restlessly against his knee. "Old generation, from what I can tell."


    Now, this was finally getting interesting. High-grade exoskeletons? This wasn’t just some ragtag group of common thugs. These were professional mercenaries or worse—a network of organized crime wielding military-grade tech. Whatever they were guarding, it wasn’t petty street-level business.


    Drug labs? Unlikely—too much security for something that could be moved easily.


    Weapons manufacturing? Possible.


    Human trafficking? Worse, but also possible.


    A gang war? That seemed like the most logical answer, but something still didn’t sit right.


    I kept my thoughts to myself. Whatever was going on in there, it wasn’t small-time.


    “They’re asking what I’m doing here,” Vinico added. His brow furrowed slightly as if he were relaying the weather.


    But, the car fell completely silent except for the sound of our breathing, each inhale heavy with suspense. The eerie stillness filled the cramped space.


    “What should I say?” Vinico asked.


    Alex and I exchanged uncertain glances.


    No one had a proper answer.


    What could we say? Telling them we’d come to dismantle them wasn''t an option. We’d planned to disable everything quietly, without serious confrontation. Talking our way out of this hadn’t even crossed our minds.


    “Tell them you lost your way and ended up here,” Henry said, but it was too late.


    Vinico suddenly flinched. His body shuddered, and a sharp gasp escaped him. Before we could react, he clenched his teeth, sucking in a deep breath. "Damn it, that hurt!" he spat, his voice was filled with pain. His hand instinctively went to his chest where the copy had been shot, even though his body was unharmed. We stared at him, wide-eyed and alarmed, but before any of us could speak, he let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "They shot me—vaporized the copy," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of humor and irritation.


    The pain was already fading from his features, replaced by a calculating look. "I didn''t answer fast enough. One of them got impatient and fired."


    “Damn, that feedback stings.”


    “So they’re serious,” Alex muttered, leaning back against his seat. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Exosuits, blasters, and who knows what else.”


    “Right,” Vinico said, voice taking on a sharper edge. “These guys aren’t amateurs. If we’re not careful, this could get messy fast.”


    “No kidding,” Alex muttered. He studied Vinico for a moment before smirking. “Didn’t peg you as the type to laugh after getting your ass zapped.”


    “It’s either laugh or scream,” Vinico shot back. “I figured this would scare you all less.”


    Despite the sting of the experience, there wasn’t a shred of fear in his eyes. If anything, he looked vaguely entertained, even sniggering at our stunned expressions.


    “There have to be at least two dozen more hiding in the houses and other spots,” Vinico said, glancing around at all of us. “What’s the plan? How do we deal with this?”


    I took a deep breath, weighing the options. Going in guns blazing would be suicide. We needed something smarter. "Henry, back the car up—fast. Make it look like we''re scared and trying to get away," I said. The last thing I wanted was for these half-baked gang members to open fire on us. If they thought we were running, they might hold their fire—assuming they weren''t the bloodthirsty type.


    But Henry shook his head, his voice carrying a note of disappointment. "They''ve already surrounded us," he said flatly.


    "Well, that''s just rude," Gina quipped. "Don''t people know how to make proper introductions anymore?"


    Before I could respond, a noise from the road ahead grabbed our attention. A deep, mechanical rumble. The ground trembled beneath us.


    Then we saw it.


    A high-grade military tank rolled into view, its dark metal plating gleaming under the artificial lights.


    A fucking tank.


    These people had actually rolled out a tank, ready to blast us out of existence if we didn''t surrender and step out of the car.


    The sight left us all speechless.


    And yet, Alex of all people let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.


    “Wow,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “They really brought out the heavy artillery.”


    Was he amused? Confident? Maybe he felt invincible, even against a tank designed to vaporize everything in its path.


    Meanwhile, my thoughts spun like a broken carousel. Where the hell did these guys even get something like this? This wasn’t standard military hardware. These tanks, along with the exoskeletons we’d seen earlier, were tech designed by meta engineers working with the military to protect against large-scale threats—like attacks from other countries or rogue metas. This wasn’t the kind of equipment that just fell into criminal hands by accident.


    I clicked my tongue in contempt. If these people wanted to play this game, I’d oblige.


    I’d entertain them to their heart’s content until there was nothing left of their so-called power.


    Gina, ever the strategist, tilted her head. “Should we just let ourselves get captured?” she asked, her tone eerily thoughtful.


    Everyone turned to stare at her.


    She didn’t flinch. “Think about it. If they take us in, we might be able to learn their plans more easily. It would get us inside, past all the firepower, without having to fight our way through.”


    Lore, sitting opposite her, immediately shook her head. “That’s too risky,” she said, voice firm. “Not all of us are immune to blasters or whatever other high-tech weapons they’re packing. One mistake, and someone dies.”


    Gina exhaled through her nose, crossing her arms. “I can foresee any mistake we make up to ten seconds ahead,” she countered. “I’d know if something was going to go wrong.”


    Henry, still watching the tank, scoffed under his breath. “Great. So you can tell us ten seconds before we get obliterated. That’s real comforting.”


    Gina shot him a glare. “It’s better than nothing.”


    Vinico finally spoke up, his usual smirk returning. “Or—crazy idea here—we don’t get captured.” He gestured vaguely at the armored beast in front of us. “I dunno about you, but I don’t particularly feel like spending the night locked up in whatever high-tech dungeon these psychos have set up.”


    Lore nodded. “He’s right. We don’t know what kind of interrogation methods they have. If they have access to military-level equipment, they might have something that can bypass our usual defenses.”


    Henry sighed, running a hand down his face. “Okay, so no capture, no surrender. That leaves us with what? A miracle?”


    Alex leaned back, his posture disturbingly casual despite the fact that a tank was aimed directly at us. “Why waste our time getting caught up in conspiracies?” he said, voice flat, almost bored.


    The bluntness of his words caught us off guard. It wasn’t just what he said—it was how he said it, like it was the most logical conclusion in the world. It reminded me of Jade. Though, to be fair, even she had a darker perspective. To her, enemies weren’t human. They weren’t even obstacles. They were toys to break. Alex wasn’t like that. Not quite. His indifference didn’t come from cruelty. It came from experience.


    I couldn’t help but wonder—if this were any other group of heroes, one of those city protector teams, would they be so calm? So nonchalant about being surrounded by heavy artillery?


    Somehow, I doubted it. Hell, they probably wouldn’t have even stepped into an area like this. The moment they caught wind of military-grade weapons in enemy hands, they would’ve pulled back, called for reinforcements, feared for their lives.


    But we?


    We just smiled.


    “I’ve seen how these gangs operate,” Alex continued, his tone measured, analytical. “These people? They’re bottom feeders. Trash with exoskeletons and stolen blasters. Even calling them villains is an insult to the word.”


    “Given the military-grade hardware, there’s a high chance they’re manufacturing something illegal—drugs, bioweapons, some kind of underground meta tech. That’s why they need firepower. Not because they’re strong, but because they’re scared.”


    That actually made a sick sort of sense.


    People who were truly powerful didn’t need to wave their weapons around like threats. They knew their strength. They didn’t need an army to prove it.


    “But,” Alex went on, “I’m almost certain the captured civilians aren’t here.”


    That caught me off guard.


    I narrowed my eyes. “You’re saying the hostages aren’t even at this location?”


    Alex gave a slow, deliberate nod.


    “They wouldn’t waste this kind of protection on people,” he said simply. “This isn’t a prison. It’s a fortress. The kind of place you’d guard valuable assets—not disposable prisoners.”


    I wasn’t sure what unsettled me more: the fact that his logic was sound, or that I hadn’t thought of it first.


    Caleb had revealed earlier that Alex was a famous villain, someone with an actual fanbase.


    At the time, I hadn’t thought much of it.


    But now? I wasn’t so sure. Maybe I needed to look him up.


    Still, I found myself leaning toward Alex’s assessment—it made too much sense to ignore. These gang members weren’t just posturing with high-tech weaponry; they were protecting something big. They likely thought we were a rival faction, here to capture or interrogate them. Given the sheer amount of military-grade hardware surrounding us, this wasn’t just some street gang scraping by on stolen goods. This was an operation. A network—maybe even five hundred to a thousand members—systematically siphoning resources from the city. But another question lingered in my mind. Aside from Alex and me, was anyone else here willing to kill? Would they cross that line, or was this just talk?


    Before I could dwell on it further, shouting erupted outside.


    Some of these gang members were yelling from the tank, their voices carrying faintly through the walls of the car. I guessed they were wary of approaching us directly, likely fearing what our meta natures might unleash. I glanced at Lore, Alex, and the others, searching their expressions for any sign of a plan. A way out. But the answer came faster than I expected.


    The tank’s barrel shifted, adjusting ever so slightly—


    —directly toward us.


    The air tensed and I felt it in my bones. The impending finality of what was about to happen.


    Then—


    "Explode."


    Lore’s voice cut through the silence like a blade.


    Flat. Devoid of emotion. A command, not a request. A single word. And then—


    BOOM.


    The world erupted.


    A shockwave tore through the air, fire and metal screaming as the tank detonated from the inside out.


    My world was drowned in a blinding flash.


    The car lurched backward, skidding violently as the shockwave from the explosion slammed into us. Tires screamed against the pavement. The impact sent my stomach lurching into my throat, and for a few terrifying seconds, we were weightless. Flames and debris filled the sky, blotting out what little remained of the fading sunlight. My ears rang, an unbearable shrillness drowning out everything else. The world outside turned into a muffled blur of chaos. I ducked down instinctively, clamping my hands over my ears as the vibrations tore through my skull. It felt like my eardrums were on the verge of bursting, and for a moment, I was convinced I could feel blood trickling down the sides of my face.


    By the time the world stopped spinning, I opened my eyes to find the car tilted at an awkward angle, half its wheels no longer touching the ground.


    Smoke and ash clogged the air, stinging my lungs as I struggled to take a breath. My hands trembled as I gripped the edge of the seat, forcing myself not to completely lose my mind.


    And Lore—Lore had no chill.


    She hadn’t warned us. Hadn’t even hesitated before turning an entire armored tank into scrap metal. She’d wiped them off the face of the Earth without a second thought. And I was stuck here, in the aftermath, questioning everything about this so-called team.


    Maybe I wasn’t in the right company.


    Or maybe… this was just how everyone at Beyonder’s Academy operated—killers in disguise, waiting for the right moment to reveal their true selves.


    It would explain the enthusiasm they all had for missions like this. The way they enjoyed it. Taking down gangs and criminals with far too much excitement for my comfort.


    I swallowed hard, my mind racing.


    Mental. These people were absolutely mental.


    What the hell had gone so horribly wrong in their lives to turn them into this? And more importantly—How had I, a perfectly sane person, gotten stuck in the middle of their madness? I buried my face in my hands, quietly mourning my fate. This wasn’t what I’d signed up for. And then, it hit me.


    We weren’t superheroes. Not even close.


    We were deranged individuals who thrived on chaos.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    True supervillains.


    And this—this—was definitely not what I’d agreed to.


    As I wrestled with that horrifying revelation, the others began regaining their footing—though the wreckage and destruction surrounding us wasn’t making it any easier. The air still crackled with lingering heat from the blast. The smell of burning metal and charred bodies was thick enough to choke on. And that’s when the screaming started.


    “What the hell, Lore?!” Gina exploded, her voice raw with fury.


    She was still bracing herself against the dashboard, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.


    Lore exhaled. “What?”


    A single word. Bored. Dismissive. Gina’s face turned red with absolute disbelief.


    “A warning would’ve been nice!”


    Henry groaned dramatically from the driver’s seat, his head hitting the steering wheel.


    “My poor car,” he muttered, voice thick with devastation.


    Then he rubbed the steering wheel lovingly, as if trying to console it. “You were so young… so full of life…”


    “Oh my god,” I mumbled. “Henry, not the time.”


    “No, it is the time!” he snapped, his voice cracking. “Do you see this?!” He gestured wildly at the dashboard. “My baby is totaled! We are not walking away from this with insurance coverage! Do you think I can explain to my parents and the agency that a psychic lunatic BLEW UP A TANK TOO CLOSE TO MY CAR?!”


    Lore sighed. “Relax. You can just buy another one.”


    Henry’s eye twitched violently. “It’s. Not. The. Same.”


    “Henry, shut up!” Gina snapped, then turned back to Lore. “I’m serious. That was excessive!”


    Lore tilted her head slightly, like she was trying to process the idea that there were consequences to her actions.


    “They were going to fire,” she said simply. “I just beat them to it.”


    “YOU MADE US CRASH.”


    Lore shrugged.


    “Small price to pay.”


    Gina groaned, dragging her hands down her face like she was physically trying to contain her frustration.


    “My ears are still ringing,” Vinico groaned, clutching his head as if that might somehow stop the pounding.


    Finally, clearly done with the bickering, Lore snapped.


    “Silence.”


    Her voice was ice—sharp. The second the word left her lips, the sound in the car vanished.


    Snuffed out.


    It wasn’t just that we stopped talking—we literally couldn’t make a sound. No matter how much we yelled, groaned, or tried to protest, our voices never reached the air. It was as if our vocal cords had been yanked out of existence, leaving behind a deafening, crushing quiet. Even the natural background noise—the distant crackling of fire, the metallic groans of wreckage settling—was gone.


    The oppressive silence wrapped around us like a vice. Lore turned, her expression painted with irritation, her sharp eyes flicking across each of us like we were children throwing a tantrum.


    "Stop complaining," she said, her voice somehow cutting through the void she’d created.


    None of us could reply. None of us could argue.


    So we just… stared.


    "What did you want? To get vaporized by that tank?" she continued, her tone flat, utterly unimpressed.


    Her words did nothing to improve morale. If anything, it only made the tension in the car worse. Vinico clenched his jaw, fists tightening, but he knew better than to push her. Lore had proven one thing tonight: she did not care for anyone''s approval. And worse—she didn’t feel an ounce of remorse for what she’d done.


    The fire from the explosion reflected in her eyes, casting flickering shadows across her face. Did she even care about the destruction she’d caused? Or the lives she might have taken? I searched for some hint of regret in her expression—some flicker of guilt.


    I found nothing.


    However, we had no time to waste. A distant rumble snapped us all. The massive explosion had drawn more villains, and now they were surrounding us from all sides. They were cautious now. After watching us rip apart their strongest defenses, they weren’t taking chances. But that didn’t mean they’d hesitate. If anything, they’d adapt. And I wouldn’t have been surprised if they decided to fire a missile at us next—standard military tactics.


    The motto was simple: If you can’t capture them, erase them.


    Lore finally lifted her ability, allowing sound to return in a sudden, jarring rush. The crackling flames. The murmurs of the approaching enemies. The distant hum of drones sweeping the sky.


    It was almost worse than the silence. None of us dared to complain too loudly, though.


    We weren’t stupid.


    Alex took the lead, rolling his shoulders as he glanced around at the rest of us.


    “Alright, we’re regrouping at the front of the warehouse,” he announced, his voice calm despite the fact that we were surrounded.


    From his bag, he pulled out two sleek metal rods, each as long as his arms. At first glance, they looked simple—almost too plain to be anything impressive, but faint glowing lines ran along their length, hinting at hidden functions or tech built into the design.


    “Let’s see who’s the fastest,” he said.


    Before I could even process what he meant, he moved. His fist slammed into the car door with ridiculous force—


    BOOM.


    The door ripped clean off its hinges. Not just pushed open—torn. The metal groaned, warping like it was made of foil, before it soared through the air like a missile. It crashed across the road, landing with a deafening clang, embedding itself halfway into the concrete like a wedge driven into stone.


    I stared, speechless.


    Vinico blinked. “Uh.”


    Gina muttered, “That’s… not normal.”


    Even Lore raised an eyebrow. Meanwhile, I was trying not to look too impressed.


    Because damn. If I were a girl, I probably would’ve swooned right then and there—completely floored by the sheer display of manliness and the killer smile he’d flashed just before smashing the door off.


    So strong.


    I let out a quiet, involuntary gasp, and then immediately hated myself for it. Alex must have heard, because his grin widened ever so slightly.


    Oh no.


    I could already feel the smugness radiating off of him.


    Yet, Henry’s anger flared as he stared at the wreckage of the car, but he didn’t have time to yell. Alex’s voice spurred a chain reaction, and within moments, everyone had jumped out of the vehicle.


    Everyone except me.


    I sat there, still processing.


    Just… completely alone.


    “…Are you serious?” I muttered, blinking at the empty car. These people had zero coordination. None. I’d never worked with such a disorganized group before. Under different circumstances, I might’ve called it a refreshing change of pace. But right now? While we were trying not to get killed by a bunch of heavily armed villains? They could at least try to act like they gave a damn about the mission.


    I huffed in frustration, rubbing my temple.


    “Bunch of lunatics,” I muttered under my breath. “How the hell do they even function as a team?”


    And then, a sharp slicing sound cut through the air.


    Beep. Beep. Beep.


    My blood froze. I looked up. A shadow flickered overhead—


    And then everything exploded.


    Boom.


    Fire.


    Heat.


    Shockwave.


    A deafening roar swallowed the world.


    Fuck!


    I froze, tilting my head upward. Darkness swallowed my vision.


    My sarcastic prediction had come true far too quickly. Those idiots had actually dropped a bomb right over my head. Flames roared, debris rained down, and I could only curse my luck as chaos consumed everything around me. I barely had time to react before the blast swallowed everything, swallowing the car, the street, and anything unlucky enough to be caught in the radius. Flames tore through the space where I sat, wrapping around me in a raging inferno. But I didn’t burn. I didn’t even feel it. Because I wasn’t there anymore. Phantom in the Fire. The explosion’s force rushed through me like a ghost passing through a wall—an unstoppable wave of destruction that couldn’t touch me. Intangibility was my greatest asset. And at moments like this, I knew it was the best meta nature anyone could ask for. I was untouchable. Fire couldn’t burn me. Bullets passed straight through me. Blunt force? Meaningless.


    Unless someone found a way to corner me, trick me, or use a power that could actually counteract mine, I was unkillable. Uncatchable.


    I should fish more!


    The absurd thought popped into my head again, unbidden and completely out of place. I shoved it aside. Now wasn’t the time for distractions.


    Stepping out of the crater, I took a moment to regain my bearings. My vision swam for a second before the chaos outside hit me.


    The battlefield had already erupted.


    Lore was a blur of motion, weaving through the hailstorm of automatic blaster fire with unnerving precision. Her expression? Cold. Calculating. Lethal.


    The ground beneath her warped, space itself bending and twisting in unnatural ways, making her movements seem disjointed, otherworldly. She didn’t dodge in the conventional sense—she folded reality around herself, shifting just enough to make attacks miss by a fraction of an inch. A plasma bolt sizzled past where her head had been a second ago. Lore didn’t even blink. She closed the distance to the shooter in an instant, her figure flickering before she reappeared behind him, a single sharp twist of her hands ending him before he could scream.


    Dead before he hit the ground.


    Not far away, Alex was already in the thick of it, charging headlong into a cluster of enemies.


    His confidence was tangible, as solid as the golden aura cocooning him. Plasma bolts ricocheted harmlessly off the glow, each deflected shot only feeding the storm of destruction he was creating.


    The way he fought…


    It wasn’t just power—it was belief.


    Alex believed he was invincible—and somehow, that belief became reality. His dual metal rods crackled with energy, arcing like lightning with every movement. He zigzagged across the battlefield, a streak of raw power, each step sending small shockwaves through the ground. One of the gang members tried to raise his blaster—Alex was already there. The first rod connected with the thug’s ribs—a crack rang out, followed by a sickening crunch as the man folded inward, launched backward with impossible force. The second rod came down like a hammer, smashing a metal barricade into twisted scrap. He was relentless, moving too fast for them to keep up, too powerful for them to even slow down. One man swung at him with a baton—Alex caught it mid-air, squeezed, and the weapon shattered in his grip like glass.


    Then he smiled.


    And that was the scariest part.


    Henry, on the other hand, was nowhere near the front lines. At first glance, he appeared to be crouching behind a burnt-out car, as if hiding. But a closer look revealed the truth. His hands were steady, fingers encased in sleek gloves with glowing circuitry lining their surface. And moving at impossible speeds, an almost-invisible disk zipped through the air, flickering in and out of sight.


    It was hard to notice unless you knew exactly what to look for. But the aftermath? Unmistakable. One moment, a villain stood ready to fire his rifle.


    The next—


    His head slid off his shoulders, severed so cleanly only a drop of blood hit the ground. The disk was silent. It didn’t just cut—it erased.


    A gang member dove behind cover, trying to hide—Too late.


    The razor-thin projectile zipped past, slicing through the metal barrier like it was air. A second later, the man collapsed, his torso falling in two. But Henry wasn’t just sniping from a distance. Sometimes, he moved. Too fast. Too quietly. One of the thugs flinched, feeling something shift behind him, Henry had materilled out of his thoughts, standing in his shadow, his voice a whisper in the man’s ear.


    A single flick of his wrist—


    Gone. No struggle. No scream. Just silence.


    He was like a virus, parasitizing their thoughts and then manifesting out like horrible symptoms.


    I shook my head in quiet disbelief. None of them were weak, despite some of their meta natures not being traditionally suited for combat. Everyone had their own ingenious methods, and together, they were a terrifying force to watch. It made me realize just how out of place I felt among them. Not because I was weaker, but because of how far they’d leaned into the chaos. And, for better or worse, I was part of it now.


    Suddenly, the distant sound of shouts and screams caught my attention.


    I turned toward the noise just in time to see it—


    Vinico’s duplicates had flooded the battlefield like a relentless army. They were all naked. Hundreds of them. Identical versions of him dashed through the chaos, swarming enemies like an unstoppable wave.


    Some were engaged in hand-to-hand combat, overwhelming their opponents through sheer numbers. Others darted around the battlefield, flanking enemies, distracting them, and making it impossible for the gang members to focus. The duplicates were falling, sure, but for every one destroyed, another seemed to rise in its place, all wearing that same cocky smirk. It was almost impossible to tell where the real Vinico was.


    I couldn’t help but feel a pang of self-awareness.


    I watched the battlefield unfold around me—Lore, dancing through attacks. Alex, smashing through everything in his path, a one-man storm of destruction. Henry, silent, precise, and utterly lethal, turning kills into an art form. And Vinico—Turning the battlefield into a game, using impossible numbers to drown his enemies in pure chaos.


    I let out a breath, feeling a strange, gnawing sensation in my chest.


    Compared to these kids…


    I felt like I had been left behind. They had no hesitation. No fear. Just audacity, power, and the sheer will to dominate. And me? I was just watching. I shook my head, a quiet chuckle escaping my lips.


    Jade would have loved this. She had always thrived in this kind of chaos. She would’ve dived in headfirst, laughing, tearing through enemies without a second thought.


    Then, movement flickered at the edge of my vision.


    Something blurred in the chaos, closing in fast. I sidestepped instinctively, just in time to avoid a strike from a lanky man wrapped in a small cage of exoskeleton. His bloodshot eyes burned with an unnatural intensity, like he was riding a high from some potent drug. The exoskeleton didn’t hinder him at all—in fact, it made him frighteningly fast.


    I wondered how he’d managed to sneak up on me.


    He adjusted his stance, swinging his shoulder toward me with mechanical precision. Our eyes locked for a tense moment, neither of us speaking. Then he grunted, a guttural noise, and launched another punch, this time with the full power of the exoskeleton behind it.


    The fist came at me like a freight train. A piston-driven punch, powered by the exoskeleton drilled into his spine—a force capable of turning steel into scrap.


    I caught it with my bare hand. The impact drove me to my knees. Pain shot through my arms, radiating like a wildfire through every nerve in my body. The crushing pressure of the exosuit threatened to grind me into the ground, my bones screaming in protest. The raw power behind that strike was inhuman.


    But I remained calm. No fear.


    And in that instant— I released his fist.


    He stumbled forward, his balance broken. Immediately, the exoskeleton reacted, its mechanical servos hissing as it fought to correct his stance, stopping him from collapsing under his own weight. I could hear it struggling—the gears grinding, the actuators screeching in protest. The brutal efficiency of these old suits was also its greatest weakness—it compensated too fast, overriding human instinct.


    And that was all I needed.


    In that moment of imbalance, I struck.


    My right hand lashed out, wrapping around his exposed neck like a steel trap. The soft, vulnerable skin was warm and slick with sweat under my fingers. His bloodshot eyes bulged, panic flooding them as he realized his mistake. His hands flew to mine, clawing and scratching, but it was useless. The suit’s strength didn’t extend to his desperate, trembling hands. They were only human, after all. And human hands could not break my grip.


    The exoskeleton, however, wasn’t.


    It roared to life, its joints grinding and pistons firing as it tried to wrest control of his body back from me. The servos in his arms hissed violently, the suit jerking his limbs in wild, erratic motions that were more mechanical than human. However, all this was for nothing. The force passed through me as I never existed in the similar space as him. And protected or not, it didn’t matter to me.


    Because what my hand gripped wasn’t just his neck—it was his bones itself.


    I felt the gritty texture of his spine. It was thin and brittle beneath the layers of muscle. For a fleeting moment, I wondered what kind of life he must have lived to end up like this—so bloodthirsty, so far gone. However, I was the same, not really a big difference. But the thought passed as quickly as it came. I wasn’t exactly in a position to judge anyone else’s path, not with what I was about to do.


    His breath came in ragged gasps, his body convulsing violently as my fingers pressed deeper into his throat, sinking past sickly flesh, pressing against the delicate bones of his neck.


    I reckoned the sensation must’ve been horrifying—


    An invasive, crushing pain.


    A feeling like his own body had turned against him, like he was being unmade from the inside out. A wet, choking sound escaped his throat—a grotesque mix of a gurgle and a wheeze. Then came the blood. It seeped from his eyes, his ears, his nostrils— Every vulnerable orifice. The human body was a fragile thing, no matter how much armor you wrapped it in. The suit responded, its programming recognizing the threat to its host. With a screech, it activated an override, forcing his body to lurch backward. The movement was violent, a mechanical whiplash that should have thrown me off. But I held on.


    A cruel smile tugged at my lips.


    I didn’t let go.


    The wars I had fought had turned me into someone I barely recognized.


    The blood of those I had killed stained my soul so deeply that even my own scent repulsed me.


    My hands clenched tighter, fingers locked around the fragile, slippery mix of flesh and bone beneath my grip. It was warm, pulsing— Slick with his blood, his life, his fear. The texture was both smooth and sickeningly soft, like raw meat—like something that shouldn’t be exposed to air.


    The exoskeleton was pulling one way.


    I was pulling the other. Two forces, opposing each other, tearing him apart. He had no chance of surviving.


    His tongue lolled from his gaping mouth, thick and swollen, as blood poured freely from his jaws, his throat making that horrible, wet gargling noise of a man drowning in his own insides.


    And then—


    I pulled.


    Hard.


    The scream that erupted from him was raw and primal, filled with a desperation that no longer belonged to a man—but to a dying animal. I had heard screams like this too many times before. They no longer fazed me.


    I didn’t blink. I didn’t flinch.


    Then—


    A grotesque, wet crack split the air.


    The flesh ripped. The bone snapped.


    His head tore free from his body, his spine trailing behind it—a mangled mess of crimson ribbons, tendons, and shattered vertebrae. The exoskeleton collapsed, falling lifelessly to the ground with a dull thud.


    It was a machine, after all. And machines couldn’t function without a living host.


    I stared at the head attached to the long bloody spine in my hand, feeling its weight. The face frozen in horror, twisted in unimaginable pain. The eyes wide open, bloodshot, unseeing.


    Dark, bloody drips fell from the jagged end of the spine, pooling at my feet.


    The battlefield hadn’t gone quiet, the fight still raged on.


    But in my mind? For just a moment, there was silence.


    With a flick of my arm, I hurled the severed head across the road, sending it spinning through the air. It landed with a sickening thud, rolling once before coming to a dead stop, staring blankly into nothing. The man’s headless body crumpled, collapsing into a lifeless heap, spilling out like liquid.


    I stood there, breathing heavily, my chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven gasps.


    There was no victory in this. No sense of accomplishment.


    “...”


    “...”


    “...”


    My breath hitched.


    My fingers twitched, my hands coated in red, the warm slickness of fresh blood clinging to my skin.


    I stared at them.


    At the proof of what I had just done. At the evidence of something I couldn''t take back.


    Why?


    Why had I done this?


    Panic clawed at the edges of my mind.


    My face twisted, my vision swam.


    WHAT HAD GOTTEN INTO ME?


    I couldn''t scream out loud.