I took in the scene and knew that whatever “plan” I thought I’d have was now officially out the window. Charlie’s fingers went slack around the pepper spray, and that was my cue. Sometimes, the best approach is the obvious one.

With zero subtlety or forethought, I broke into a sprint, launching myself into the alley and throwing myself between Charlie and the lead goon. They hadn’t even noticed my arrival - a move that could’ve been ninja-level slick if I hadn’t blown it by charging in like a lunatic. But hey, I may be handsome; I never said I was the sharpest cookie in the shed.

“The lady said, ‘Back off,’” I announced, giving Lester and his lackeys my best no-nonsense glare. “I’d listen to her if I were you.”

Behind me, I whispered over my shoulder, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Aren’t you the guy from the club?” she whispered back, fierce and incredulous. “What are you doing here? Are you an idiot?”

I threw her a quick, lopsided smile before turning back to face the trio of unwelcome guests. “And who is this?” Lester sneered, clapping slowly in mock applause. “A dark knight to the rescue? Bravo, good sir. Well played.”

Charlie’s voice came again, tense, low, and unmistakably worried. “You shouldn’t be here. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. You should’ve minded your own business.”

“Hey,” I said with a shrug, keeping my tone casual. “Looked like you might need some help.”

“You should listen to her,” Lester said, eyes narrowing as he looked me over with thinly veiled disdain. “You really have no idea what you’ve stumbled into. But since I’m nothing if not a gentleman, I’ll give you one chance to walk away.”

He stepped to the side, motioning for his goons to do the same, creating a clear path to the exit. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted. Sure, the noble thing was to stay, but I couldn’t pretend it didn’t cross my mind to take the out. Just a quick thought, though.

I squared my shoulders, rolling them back as I took a grounded, relaxed stance, facing down the goons. “No thanks. The lady and I are leaving, and if you don’t want to get hurt, you’ll back off. This is your only warning.”

If you weren’t paying attention, you might’ve thought I was just standing there, casual as could be. But I was balanced, centered, and ready to move at the slightest twitch. And Lester must’ve seen that in my eyes because his smirk dropped, and he signaled to his goons.

“Oh well, can’t say I didn’t give you a chance.” He stepped back, giving the two goons room to approach. They lunged in, quick and brutal.

The first hit took me by surprise. Damn, these guys were strong - the kind of strength that leaves a bruise before you’ve even registered the hit. Blocking felt like smacking my arm against a steel bat; my fingers went numb, tingling from the impact. And their speed? Faster than I’d expected. I had to adapt quickly, dodging instead of blocking, ducking under a wide hook from the goon on my right while slipping past a jab from the one on my left.

They might’ve been faster and stronger, but I had technique, and I knew how to use it. I ducked another strike and countered with quick, grounded punches to their throats and ribs, keeping my movements efficient and economical. My instructor had drilled it into me - staying “rooted” meant using the earth’s power to amplify every strike. It’s why flying superheroes never made sense to me. Take away that grounded connection, and you lose a lot of real force.

In seconds, the alley was a blur of fists and feet, strikes and blocks, my training kicking in on autopilot. Thankfully, these guys had all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, relying purely on brute force rather than skill. They were tough, no doubt about it, but they had zero technique. Meanwhile, I kept myself in shape - maybe not superhuman, but enough to know how to take a punch and deliver it right back, with a little extra.

Three attackers at once is no small feat, and the only way to avoid getting swarmed was to keep them moving. I redirected one goon’s punch, spinning him off balance and sending him crashing into his buddy. When the other tried to knee me, I blocked with my shin, bracing against the impact. He let out a satisfying grunt of pain, stumbling back.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Then Lester stepped in, and I realized right away he was a different breed. He moved fast, with rapid strikes that had a little more finesse than his pals. But speed alone doesn’t make a fighter, and after a few exchanges, I could see the gaps in his form. I kept retreating, waiting for him to overreach - which he finally did, when his foot landed on the discarded can of pepper spray.

That was my opening. I poured everything I had into a relentless assault - elbows, knees, fists, the whole works. I drove each strike with the grounded energy my instructor had taught me, channeling the force of every punch into Lester’s head, ribs, joints, every vulnerable spot I could reach. I became a whirlwind of raw energy, unleashing years of training on the sorry souls who dared to corner us.

My instructor always had a simple motto: Don’t start the fight, but if it starts, finish it. And if someone threatens your life, they’ve forfeited their right to keep theirs. I wasn’t sure if these guys were that far gone, but they’d definitely earned a solid beating.

I felt bones crack, joints pop, and by the end of it, all three goons were sprawled out in the alley, groaning in pain or completely unconscious. I straightened, catching my breath, and turned to Charlie, who was staring at me, eyes wide in shock and something close to admiration.

“That was… incredible,” she breathed.

I shrugged, trying to play it off. “It was nothing. Some people don’t know how to fight - they just rely on brute strength. Now, don’t get me wrong, they hurt me pretty good. But training wins out every time.”

As the words left my mouth, I felt a strange shift in the air behind me.

Charlie’s eyes widened as her gaze focused on something just past my shoulder. Slowly, she raised a hand to her mouth, her other hand lifting to point, almost numbly, at whatever was standing behind me.

---

Damn cheating bastards.

I turned to see what should’ve been three broken heaps on the ground and instead found the goons standing up, rearranging themselves like pieces of a grotesque jigsaw puzzle. Limbs twisted, bones ground and snapped into place, and their wounds sealed up, the blood slithering back into their bodies as if time had rewound itself.

“What the fuck?” I muttered, my voice low, watching in horrified disbelief as Lester’s jaw clicked and morphed, each syllable clearer than the last as he spoke.

“Now, now, good sir,” he chided, his voice dripping with that insufferable smugness. “There’s a lady present. Let’s keep it civil.”

He looked almost pristine now, as though he hadn’t just been bludgeoned into oblivion. He brushed some imaginary lint from his suit, tilted his head from side to side, each pop of his neck echoing in the silent alley. Within seconds, they looked like they’d just dusted themselves off after a light spar, not a full-blown beatdown.

“But yes, you are correct, my boy,” Lester said, his lips curling into a smile that was anything but friendly. “You are, as you so eloquently put it… fucked.”

He gave a casual wave, and his henchmen lined up beside him, exchanging a look before turning to us in eerie synchronization. Almost like they were all running on the same twisted clockwork.

“You should’ve listened to the lady when she told you to leave,” Lester taunted, his voice sliding into a darker, mocking tone. “But now… well, now it’s far too late.”

His face began to shift, his jaw unhinging, mouth stretching wide enough to reveal rows of teeth that seemed more shark than human. His goons joined him, their mouths open in identical, gaping snarls, and they hissed in unison, a sound that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.

“What the hell are you guys?” I took a step back, accidentally bumping into Charlie. She was just as shaken, her breathing rapid, her gaze locked on the nightmare in front of us.

“Oh, we’re just a bit peckish,” Lester hissed, his tongue flicking over his lips as he appraised us like two particularly tasty entrées. “You’ll be the main course, of course. And the lady… well, dessert.”

The two goons grunted, and I caught snatches of their vile banter, words like “meat sack” and “blood bags” passed back and forth in anticipation. I clenched my fists, bracing myself.

“Before, we were merely toying with you,” Lester said, his tone deceptively smooth. “But now… now you’ve gone and pissed us off. And I can assure you, my colleagues here are very, very hungry.”

The words barely registered before all three of them moved, converging on us with a speed that made them little more than blurs. I threw myself into defense, landing a few strikes, but their strength was overwhelming, and each hit they threw felt like getting slammed by a wrecking ball.

Despite my training, despite every ounce of energy I poured into the fight, they got through my defenses, breaking me down piece by piece. I could barely keep standing, each breath more labored than the last, my body screaming under the onslaught. But I held on, long enough to see Charlie edging around them, slipping toward the mouth of the alley.

She looked back at me, hesitation in her eyes. I managed a weak smile, grimacing through the pain. One of us will make it out of here. I gave her a look, pleading, hoping she’d understand.

RUN, I mouthed, too weak to force the words out. Blood trickled down my face, blurring my vision, and my strength was fading fast.

She took a step toward the alley’s exit, her gaze darting between the open street and me, uncertainty painted across her face. She lingered, torn, and I knew she didn’t want to leave me there - but there wasn’t a choice. She had to go.