Brant, noticing the puzzled expression One was giving him becomes confused.
"Why that expression?..." He asks
One replies
"Why didn't you fight him, you could've easily won... I'm still in need of more corpses for my experiments"...
Brant finally understood why One felt puzzled. Before the recent enhancement brought about by the use of strengthening serum, he was a hot head, a little spark, and that was all it took for him to charge head on towards danger, but now, after using the serum, he has solved the problems related his increasingly chaotic emotions.
He isn't really sure how One could create such a potent and miraculous serum, it had somehow stabilized his mutation...he now had more self control in the face of situations like this.... thinking back, he finally realized how fragile his previous emotional resilience was. He replies One:
"We're new here, there's no need for a pointless confrontation without understanding the overall situation...I'll find and take care of him later after we're done settling down"
One shrugged his shoulders with a neutral expression.
After Steven's fierce intimidation of Gillian, Talon, who had been watching the show with an interested expression had his expression slowly twist into one of barely contained rage.
Even though that mutant had been a little weak according to his standards, it had still been his subordinate.
To be intimidated by just a gaze is too much of a humiliation to him. What happens when the group asks around, then finds out that the wimp of a mutant was his subordinate.
He couldn't just take the embarrassment lying down. He'll have to quickly handle that mutant to prevent him from smearing his name in the mud. Thinking this, he hurriedly left the shadowed corner, and through a series of complicated and narrow pathways, made his way to an abandoned, half destroyed building. It gave off a decayed and gloomy atmosphere which was further amplified by the rotten smell of corrupted creature blood oozing from the building.
He kicks the door open while screaming in rage
"GILLIAN"
"I know you're in here, get ur ass here right now"..
After a few seconds of shouting, Gillian finally came out of hiding while trembling, with a pale and panicked expression.
Talon approached him with terrifying movement speed, grabbing him by the neck before he could put up a struggle
"What happened?...why would you show such a disgraceful and embarrassing behaviour back there" He removes the thick arm from his Gillian's, placing it on the back of his head while he continued:
"You know how much i hate cowardly subordinates right?"
He spoke while looking at Gillian with an annoyed but earnest expression.
The previously panicked Gillian beacon even more panicked when he felt the large veiny arm holding the back of his head.
He begged:
"Please boss, i beg you..I was just a little scared... please boss, give me another chance to prove myself...i will do whatever you ask..."
He pleaded while sobbing with fearful expression....
Talon, seeing him like this suddenly spat some phlegm on the floor while cussing:
"So useless"...
Before Gillian could beg any further, he suddenly felt the arm on the back of his head becoming increasingly hot...he opens his mouth to scream but his head exploded into blood mist with blood and brain matter splattering everywhere in the house...A terrifying silence suddenly descended into the creepy building.
The metallic scent of blood lingered heavily in the air.
Steam rose faintly from the corpse as it bled onto the cracked pavement.
The wet sound of crushed bone still echoed faintly in Talon's memory.
He suddenly felt a jolt of intense pleasure and intoxication admist such brutal display of power.
The twisted vein-like patterns running along his large, muscular arms began to pulse faintly beneath his skin.
A low, bubbling sound stirred deep within his forearms.
The air around him shimmered slightly, like invisible flames licking outward. A faint smell of scorched iron began to spread.
He hurridly lossened his bulky pants, whipped out his large veiny cock, then began stroking it admist the bloody and gory scene, feeling intense sick pleasure.
After approximately 20 minutes of the intense exercise, he ejaculated with hot white cum splattering onto the bloody corpse on the floor.
He finally released the intense negative emotions accumulated from the previous series of events.
Talon exhaled slowly.
A thin line of steam escaped between his fingers.
The bubbling beneath his skin gradually settled, though the visible veins remained faintly illuminated.
He closed his eyes.
And replayed the entire confrontation with the new group in his mind.
Steven's authorative and intimidating pressure released by his gaze alone.
He really didn't blame Gillian for the fear he showed....But what he hated was the act of him running away without even any form of composure nor confidence related to being his subordinate. He couldn't let anyone look down on him because of such cowardly display by a useless subordinate. Never.
It really sets him off.
He imagined a face-off between himself and Steven.
Steven's earlier composure and behaviour suggested that he was the current group's boss after the tall stalwart man(Marco). That alone meant he had to be very strong.
But Talon wasn't afraid.
He was just being cautious.
He didn't think he would lose if it really came down to a fight.
Before the pollution, he had been nothing more than a city mafia goon. Breaking bones. Collecting debts. Surviving through violence and intimidation. Living a life while walking the thin line between life and death.
He had always understood the brutality related to gaining power and wealth.
After the pollution, when the world rotted and the air thickened with polluted energy, he survived the mutation.
And his power manifested violently.
Liquid lava-like flame energy began flowing through the twisted vein-like patterns on his large, muscular arms.
The first time it happened, he thought his arms were going to explode.
The sensation had been unbearable—like molten metal forced through narrow pipes. His veins glowed a molten orange beneath his skin. The ground beneath his feet blackened from the heat alone. The air around him warped from the intensity.
And when he first tried compressing that energy—
His right forearm nearly ruptured.
Hairline fractures spread along his skin. Flesh tearing under internal pressure. The implosive force rebounded violently against him.
That was when he realized:
His ability was dangerous.
Not just to others.
To himself.
Over time, he learned to compress that liquid-like energy into both palms.
When fully compressed, the energy became dense. Unstable. Vibrating.
The air around his hands distorted visibly. A low humming resonance filled the space. Sometimes the ground beneath him would crack faintly under the pressure of containment.
He could inject the compressed energy at the exact point of contact between his palms and an opponent.
And then—
It would implode.
Not explode outward.
Implode inward.
The liquid energy would invade the opponent's body and collapse from within.
Organs rupturing.
Bones crushing inward.
Blood vessels detonating.
Instant death—if the opponent wasn't strong enough.
Imagine fighting a physically enhanced monster.
Every punch terrifying.
Every palm strike delivering not just force—but internal annihilation.
His physical durability and strength were also under constant reconstruction and strengthening by this dangerous energy.
It constantly refined him.
Reinforced him.
Restructured muscle and bone under pressure.
But it remained dangerous.
If not properly controlled or compressed, the implosion could reverse—
Destroying both his arms from the inside.
From the moment his ability awakened, he hunted relentlessly.
Mutants.
Abominations.
Anything he could use to train.
He refined his control through pain. Through near self-destruction.
Until he met Malcolm's group.
That was when things changed.
He began working as a scavenger under Malcolm, gathering resources and earning blood coins.
With blood coins, he enhanced the durability of his arms—layer by layer—strengthening bone density, muscle fibers, resistance.
He invested heavily into reinforcement to prevent implosion backlash.
His forearms were no longer ordinary flesh.
They were hardened conduits built to withstand catastrophic internal pressure.
Even now, faint heat radiated from them like sealed reactors beneath skin.
His energy was already terrifying enough.
There was no need for any more.
He opened his eyes again.
He loves the intoxicating feeling of control. The feeling of imposing his will on another individual whether he/she likes it or not.
The feeling of bones, organ, flesh imploding...It gives him a terrifying feeling of pleasure....he tightened his pants, fastening his belt before making his way out of the gloomy building.