Exhausted, Yurui drags herself through the desert.
What the hell is wrong with that woman? She kills her friend, makes out with me, and then tells me we're going to see each other again?!
Does that mean she's coming after me? Why would she even want anything from me?
Heat rushes into my face.
I look up and see the bright lights of Miracle City. Relief hits so hard I almost laugh.
"Finally! I made it!"
Almost there... At least I made it here without getting lost.
A hooded man walks through the crowded streets of Miracle City. The city never sleeps. It is no quieter at night than it is at noon. By the time he nears the city center, the crowd is thick enough to swallow him. The streets are packed, and people keep shoving past him shoulder to shoulder without a glance. He nearly loses his footing more than once, but keeps going.
Then someone comes barreling through the crowd and slams into him. He stumbles, his phone slipping from his hand. He reaches down for it, but someone steps on his hand before he can grab it, crushing it against the phone until the screen cracks.
Blood starts dripping from his hand. The person who stepped on it doesn't even look back. They just keep walking. He stays there in the middle of the street while people keep bumping into him from every side, jostling him back and forth. Thin streams of smoke start curling up from the pavement. The crushed phone catches fire.
He lingers for a moment, then whips his injured arm forward, spraying blood at the people passing by. The ones who get hit glance back at him, confused. A second later, their skin starts to sizzle, and they scream. People nearby turn toward the commotion. The ones touched by his blood burst into flames and lunge forward in blind panic, setting others on fire as they run.
The whole street erupts into chaos.
People start screaming and running as panic tears through the crowd.
The hooded man doesn't move an inch. He waits.
The crowd clears out, leaving the street empty. He stays there a moment longer, then slips his hands into his pockets.
Finally. Some peace and quiet.
He walks down the empty street and stops in front of an upscale bar.
Angel Street 54.23
He stares at the address for a few seconds, then walks up and pushes the door open.
Inside, the bar is packed. People crowd around tables, drinking and laughing, talking over each other. Everyone looks like they're having a good time.
At least somebody's having a good time.
That thought only makes him angrier.
Then he sees them.
The people who turned him into the freak he is.
Near the front of the bar sits a woman in a white suit, with bleached gray hair, blonde tips, and a few blonde bangs. One of Director Maevis's personal protégés. Around her are several other high-ranking "on the floor" workers from the Medical Institute of Miracle Inc.
He stands there in the middle of the bar, staring at them, rage tightening his hands until blood starts running down them. He thinks he hears bones crack. He doesn't care.
For years after escaping the institute, Ivy did nothing but hunt down the people who had done this to him. Looking the way he did, there was no chance he would ever be accepted by society. But he didn't blame people for being repulsed by him. He was just as disgusted of himself as everyone else, terrified of what he had become.
He used to tell himself he would get used to it. That time would make it easier.
It never did.
If anything, the opposite happened. The more time passed, the more repulsed he felt. So he buried himself under layers of clothing until all that was left was a hooded figure.
At first, he thought about killing anyone who looked at him with disgust. But even he knew that would be unfair. He felt the exact same way about himself. So he went after the people actually responsible instead. The institute staff. The institute itself. The evil bitch Maevis. Miracle Inc.
I'll burn it all down.
That was the promise he made when he joined a terrorist organization. In exchange for doing their dirty work, he got information. Targets. Names. Locations. The kind of information he never could have gotten on his own. So he became their dog. He did things he hated. Things that went against his own morals.
Because, despite everything, he was not evil.
At least that was what he told himself.
He did not kill just for revenge. He did it so there would not be more victims.
That's right. So nobody else has to go through the same horrific fate as me.
That was what he used to tell himself before he brutally murdered his victims.
And now, after all this time, after all the dirty work and all the useless institute grunts they fed him, he is finally standing in front of the people truly responsible. People he knows. People he remembers.
His anger boils over.
His vision starts to warp. He squeezes his hands harder and harder, blood dripping faster and faster onto the floor.
A bleeding hooded man in the middle of a packed bar, staring at a VIP table, was bound to draw attention. A security guard heads straight for him with quick, purposeful steps. He stops right in front of Ivy and starts saying something, but Ivy is not listening.
He flicks his left hand.
His blood spatters onto the guard.
The man jerks back in shock. Then the screaming starts.
Everybody in the bar turns to look. A moment later, the guard bursts into flames, and fear flashes across every face.
The woman in the white suit jumps to her feet.
"Oh, shit!"
She screams as she transforms into some kind of fish/bird of prey hybrid.
"Everyone, transform! Now!"
But she is too late.
Before she can even finish transforming, Ivy has already rolled up his sleeves, revealing freaky bluish skin covered in loose, stringy white fur. He takes out a knife and starts slicing into his arms.
Before the group in the bar can fully understand what is about to happen, before any of them can transform,
he swings his arms.
Blood sprays across people.
He swings again.
More blood. More people. Tables. Chairs. Walls. Floor. Ceiling.
Again.
And again.
The woman in the white suit is still trying to decide whether to fight or run when blood splashes across her face. She drops to the floor, already knowing what comes next.
"No, no, no... this can't be happening. I did everything right. My whole life. School, university, work. I did everything perfectly."
She mutters, terror written all over her face.
Then she reaches a hand toward the hooded man.
"Ivan... please..."
She bursts into flames mid-plea, body flailing wildly.
And it is not just her.
Everyone except Ivy starts thrashing as if they are dancing to the music still playing in the bar.
Ivy stands there, watching.
Burning people dancing.
It was almost beautiful.
By then, the screaming has drowned out the music. The whole bar is on fire. Tables, walls, the ceiling, everything. Eventually the music cuts out. After that come the last screams, the last wails, until the bodies start dropping one by one.
Silence settles over the room.
Only the crackle of flames remains.
The man does not burn. He is Pompeii worm blessed. He has iron blood and the body of a worm built to handle it. He is more or less immune to fire and heat, because he is nearly that hot himself. Even his clothes are almost completely fireproof.
Ivy stands in the burning room. After all this time, he finally got his hands on the people he had been chasing for so long. He killed them with the same powers they forced on him for their own selfish reasons.
And he feels nothing.
No satisfaction. No relief. No sense of accomplishment.
He just stands there, watching the charred remains of the people he hated shrink smaller and smaller until they turn to ash.
There is nothing left for him here. He turns and walks out.
As he steps into the street, still half-blinded by smoke, he bumps into a girl who was watching the fire.
She falls to the ground. Her clothes are dirty, ragged, and stained with blood.
He reaches toward her, then snatches his hand back as if he got burned.
The girl smiles and lowers her eyes.
"It's okay. I'm not scared. I'm just like you."
His chest tightens.
Then he remembers why he did all this.
It was never really about revenge.
It was about stopping this. Stopping little kids like her from being dragged through the same hell he survived.
He looks down at the little girl and says, kindly and quietly, but with certainty,
"It's okay, little one. I'll take care of it."
"Take care of what?" the girl asks.
"The world. So people like us won't have to suffer because of people like them anymore. I'll carve fear so deep within them that they'll think twice before they ever do anything like this again"