Later That Night
Ray lay back against the bench, his muscles sore and his body aching from the fight. His head rested against the cool, concrete wall of the gym's medical room, where his coworker, Maya, was carefully wrapping his hand in gauze.
Maya was a breath of fresh air in the gym. Her cheerful, easy-going personality made her well-liked by everyone, and it was hard not to smile when she was around. But Ray knew she wasn't all fun and games. Behind her warm demeanor was a sharp mind, a fighter in her own right, and someone who knew exactly how dangerous the world they were living in could be.
"Man, you know how to get yourself beat up, huh?" Maya said, her voice light, though there was a hint of concern in her eyes. She finished bandaging his hand, then looked him over.
Ray gave a tired chuckle, rolling his shoulder to try and stretch out the stiffness. "You could say I'm a pro at it."
Maya shook her head, her dark brown hair bouncing as she leaned back, crossing her arms. "Seriously, though, you're lucky Luke showed up when he did. You can't keep doing this, Ray. The more you get involved with gifted users, the more dangerous things get. You can't predict their power, and you can't always take the hits."
Ray raised an eyebrow, looking at her curiously. "You know a lot about it."
She hesitated for a second before pulling up a chair next to him and sitting down. "I grew up around that stuff. My brother was one of them—the gifted ones." Her voice softened, and there was a somber look in her eyes. "He was... a hothead. Always getting into trouble and picking fights. And because of his power, people were afraid of him. Some would provoke him on purpose, testing his limits. One night, he didn't come home. Found out later he'd gotten into it with some random guy. No matter the opponent, no matter the fight, he always came back home, but this time... he didn't. He was reckless, stubborn, and foul-mouthed, but most important of all, he was my brother.
Tears began to form as she said, "After that, I decided to get away from all that. But it follows you, you know?"
Ray could feel the weight of her words. He had seen that kind of fear and recklessness first-hand, especially with gifted users like Vince. People with power didn't always know how to control it, and things could spiral fast.
Maya sighed, her expression softening as she glanced at him. "I hate seeing you get hurt like this, Ray. You've got so much potential, and I don't want to see you wrecked before you get a chance to show what you can do."
Ray was silent for a moment, taking in her words. Finally, he gave her a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks, Maya, but with you by my side, I have nothing to worry about."
She returned his smile, her eyes glinting with humor. "Always. Just... try not to take on the whole world at once, okay?"
Ray let out a low laugh. "I'll try."
Maya finished bandaging his wounds, and Ray stepped out into the cool darkness on his way home. The gym's bustle was a distant memory now, replaced by the quiet hum of the city at night. He moved with a calm determination—his body still sore, but his mind sharper than ever.
On his way home, a raccoon started following him. Ray didn't even have to look.
"Took you long enough, Peanut," he muttered, smirking.
He ducked behind a streetlamp and waited. The raccoon scampered past in confusion. Then—
"Boo."
Peanut squeaked and jumped. Ray caught him easily, arms like a cradle.
"You suck at sneaking up on people," Ray grinned.
Peanut licked his face, like always.
"Yeah, yeah, save the flattery for someone with snacks."
Peanut tilted his head, then nestled against Ray's shoulder like he belonged there. Like always.
Then—footsteps.
Not Peanut's.
Slowly, a figure emerged from the shadows.
It was Vince—no apologies, no buildup, just pure tension and unspoken violence. The air snapped between them.
Before Ray could fully register Vince's intent, the rookie charged.
Ray's instincts flared. He didn't think—he reacted.
"Hold on, buddy."
In a blur, Ray tossed Peanut up and away, fast and precise. The raccoon twisted midair, tail spinning for balance, and landed perfectly on a nearby light post, claws digging into the metal.
Peanut let out a startled chirp.
Ray sidestepped the incoming attack, feeling the rush of air pass him by. His body moved with fluid precision, honed by years of experience. The punch aimed at him was wild, desperate. And it was exactly what Ray had anticipated.
Countless encounters with gifted users had honed his instincts to near perfection. He knew Vince's style well—reckless and predictable, like a slugger in boxing. Luke's earlier attack had also revealed Vince's one true weakness, his midsection.
In a heartbeat, Ray struck back. A brutal, calculated blow to Vince's midsection forced the rookie to stagger back, gasping for breath. Ray could see the shock in his eyes, but it was no time for mercy.
Vince roared and swung again, but Ray didn't flinch. He ducked under the wild haymaker, his hands already moving before Vince's next attack even reached the air.
"Too slow," Ray muttered, the words barely leaving his lips before his fists collided with Vince's ribs—each strike landing with the sharp precision of a practiced killer.
Vince stumbled, coughing once—but grinned wide, eyes gleaming with something wild.
He wasn't worried. He was thrilled.
Ray was good. Sharp. Focused. A real challenge.
And challenges were rare.
This... this was almost fun.
His fists flared again, and he pressed in, strikes wild but heavy.Not clean, not technical—just relentless. Vince didn't care. Technique was for people with limits. He'd been trained to surpass them.
As he fought, memories flickered—clean white halls, marble floors, the clink of silverware. His mother's gentle hand on his head. His father's voice like thunder, but always proud.
Vince had grown up surrounded by elegance.Maids that whispered. Tutors that bowed. A room larger than most apartments. He had everything—comfort, praise, security.
Except power.
Real power.
The kind that made people tremble. The kind that couldn't be bought.
He remembered the first time he snapped. The way the butler flinched when Vince raised his voice. How easy it had been to tip over a tray and watch the maid's hands shake as she cleaned it up. How her eyes had glassed over when he laughed in her face.
The power of being feared... it was intoxicating.
He hadn't stopped there.
Later, when the program found him, they called his anger "untapped potential." They gave him the bracelet, told him pain was a weapon. He listened. He learned.
Now, every punch that Ray landed only stoked the flames in his chest.His breathing was ragged, but his grin never left. Somewhere between the beeping and the blood, he laughed—short, breathless, real.
"You're good," Vince thought, ducking a jab and throwing a wild hook in return. "But I've broken people better than you."
He thought of the maid with the shaking hands. The one who screamed when he tore her nails out one by one.
That had been a good day.
This might be better.
Ray weaved past another wild swing, calm and surgical.
"Glass cannon," he thought. "All force, no structure. Doesn't matter how much power you have if a few well-placed shots can break you apart."
He didn't hesitate.
A sharp pivot. A hook to the ribs. A jab to the throat.
Ray wasn't just countering—he was dissecting.Every move is precise. Efficient. No wasted motion.
But Vince—Vince was laughing.
Blood ran from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were lit with something unhinged.
"That's all you got?" he rasped, staggering as he wiped blood off his lip. "C'mon, Ray... make me feel it."
Ray's expression didn't change.
He stepped in again—feint, shift, liver shot.
Vince choked on air, doubling over, but still grinning like he was having the time of his life.
He loved this.