There were two things Damian hated: spiders and history class. He had to sit through one of them at school and it wasn’t the history class. He was sitting at the principal’s office in everyday Damian fashion with closed eyes and Miss Fidel staring at him intently with her six eyes. Eight legs stuck out her back, wiggling forth without a moment’s rest. Damian could swear she did it on purpose.

She kept on lecturing him on how a young man had to behave and how what Damian was doing was un-gentleman-like, and how he had to conduct himself. Everyone other than future army employees needed to know that, in which case one needed to know how to best use their gift in a combat situation which Damian was honing at the moment. The war wasn’t so cold and battles were fought all the time.

“I’ll have to call your parents if I catch you one more time. Let me remind you, young man, I don’t want to call any parents in September.” Said Miss Fidel, closing her eyes and slouching back on her chair. She clearly didn’t have the energy to complain anymore and didn’t want to waste the effort.

“I understand, Miss Fidel. It’s just that they picked the fight this time, and I promise I’ll try to keep out of trouble from now on.” Said Damian and closed his eyes as well. Shivers kept traversing his spine as long as he was looking at the woman. There was just something innately sinister about spiders.

“We’d better hope you’re a man of your word, or otherwise we’ll have to take some measures, Mr. Edison.” Said Fidel and Damian nodded to her, quickly closing the door behind him and letting out a sigh of relief. Of course Damian’s parents wouldn’t even care. They sent him to a boarding school just for that, after all, getting rid of him in the process. In a formal way much like any other person in the empire would, they’d say ‘He’s your problem now.’

He was finally outside, with a permission slip from the principal. Reflection time, maybe, and either way Damian didn’t want to pick fights. He was just easily provoked. The boxing gym was for fighting. It was just that the delinquents wouldn’t give him a quiet life. Damian had quite the bad name to himself in his younger days, and gave up on the study path early on in his life.

The school building was a large U-shaped building, two stairs leading out both wings. Damian was walking out one of them, completely vacant of human life except a hurried girl holding onto her bag. It was this way during the school hours with the occasional shambling student who had overslept or had more important business to take care of than class. As for her hurried steps, Damian didn’t have that good an impression on his classmates, always in a grumpy mood.

If Damian remembered right, it was his classmate, a bullied one, pretty badly to boot. There was no one willing to piss off the ringleader since she was the beloved daughter of a gang leader. It was actually a wonder how having a gift made even the cops shut their mouths in disdain, especially one of the few who could fight and weren’t in the army. The army paid well, after all. Seems like crimes paid better, but few people knew. For those few that wanted to stand up, some money slaps stopped them. That was just how things worked.

She stumbled near Damian on the stairs and fell down to the ground, the contents of her bag spilling on the ground. The flustered girl hurriedly picked up the scattered pieces and put them in her bag, before proceeding into school.

“Zip your bag, that’s what the zip’s for.” Damian said, and the girl gave a quick nod before moving on.

He had trouble making friends from a young age, the antisocial genes of his father, though he had no trouble with befriending thugs and some unsavory people. The fact was, no one at school hanged up with him since the other tough guys hated his guts for being on the other side, and as for the majority of the school, they hated him for being a tough guy like the other more delinquent-y bunch. That gave him an unapproachable aura.

The school guard simply shrugged as Damian walked out. He had seen Damian jump up the fence several times and didn’t mind, and said to leave with the main gate if he had to. A very cool guy on Damian’s radar, since he was one of the few people he got along at school. He could skip as he wanted and his parents wouldn’t bat an eye, being a fourth, unwanted half-orphan bastard child.

The bus stop was a ways from the school, a mile or two. He didn’t bother going there, since the downtown was where the school was located, or near, very near that some gangsters made trouble down the road at the bus stop. That was also where some of Damian’s friends lived, bad guys by the standard but decent enough to not descend to crimes.

There weren’t many people who liked to pick fights in Downtown, since anyone could pull out a knife and the fight would turn into a death battle in a matter of seconds if something like that happened. Damian looked the part, and no one picked a fight with him, even with his school uniform that consisted of a rather comfortable black shirt with an insignia on the heart side, the second thing Damian liked about the school.

He walked over to a shabby apartment building built in the eighties, meaning it was about seventy years old or more than that. There were graffiti all over the outside of the building, and piss and shit entered the nostrils first thing there. Thankfully, it was better inside homes though Damian couldn’t see why people lived here. Some better than this were easily affordable with a small amount of money.

On the third floor was a door with the number eight on it, and it was Damian’s destination. He knocked twice, and knocked twice again after a small pause. It repeated several times before the door opened, revealing a short man with a bald head, Barry. He was the owner of the apartment where Damian and Co. hung out.

“You’re early.” He said with a raised eyebrow.

“Had some trouble at school.” Said Damian and walked in.

“Can see that. The others aren’t here yet, so let’s play some video games or something.” Said Barry and closed the door behind Damian. Most of the games were outdated, but as the saying went ‘old but gold’.

“Sure.” Damian nodded and collapsed on the couch. It was something like a communal home where everyone practically lived before going home, or some just lived here, home runaways or the kind. The whizz of the disk spinning inside the console could be heard for a few seconds before it booted up, and the news channel changed to the game. The name ‘Gamestar’ was written on the screen and it booted up soon enough. It was a fighting game called Monster Hunters where there were a variety of hunter characters, a variety of monsters new and old, as in before Dawn old.

Barry’s pick was his usual: Dracula, one of the said old monsters. Damian picked his favorite as well: Graham, one of the hunters who always used a crossbow, which meant arrow spamming.

“Hey, that’s a forbidden char.” Said Barry, his thick brows overlapping.

“You’re using yours.” Said Damian with a chuckle, and cancelled his pick, choosing another character. It was called Werewolf and seemed to be the nemesis of Dracula as the trailers and lore made it out to be. “So this way you’re picking someone your size.”

“The new one? You haven’t played with him before, have you? I honestly can’t see how you would win.” Said Barry with a smile, and pointed at the bare-chested, violent-looking character of his opponent. “And there’s nothing like a wolf to that guy.”

The fight started, of course after Damian skimmed through the controls. Barry’s character healed for the same amount of damage it gave the opponent, and got an energy boost whenever its opponent fell to the ground, meaning it could practically outlast AND spam its skill, a red ball that had a pseudo-homing function.

But when the awakening flame activated, Barry smiled and looked at Damian. “You can awaken now, since there’s no winning hope for you.”

With a sigh, Damian did so and it was his turn to smile. The health rapidly jumped up and best of all, his character turned into a wolf and practically turned Dracula into rags with a combination of attacks and the skill which came in the form of another combo. The result showed as ‘S’ and Barry literally shoved down his controller at the table.

“What the hell is that? It’s too friggin OP.” He said, and pointed at the posing Werewolf. “You had less than a quarter of your damn health and it healed you up to full? I say bullshit, and I mean it. The game company’s just too unfair.”

“It’s an old game, bud, they might as well be trying to break the game.” Said Damian, with a chuckle. Barry had no idea how that Dracula was unfair on very many levels from the fact it was the only characters that healed AND had another unique ability.

The day was spent idly, until the others came, or at  least one of them. It was Adam, the bulky guy. He had a bloody T-shirt and held his right biceps with his other hand. Clearly, he was injured and needed medical help.

“Those cowards. It’s Richard’s gang, they ambushed me and Simon. They got him.” Said Adam with a scowl, looking behind his back several times. “Let me in.”

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

“No way, you need medical help, dude.” Said Barry from the side.

“I can do the bandages myself. They’re coming, let me in dammit.” Said Adam, sending a quick glance over his shoulder.

“No way I’m gonna sit this out. I’m going out, and I’ll show them who’s boss. Barry, get Adam to the hospital, quick.” Said Damian, clenching his teeth.

“His gang’s got twelve people, and some small group’s helping them. I admit it, you’re a strong guy, even without your gift, but it’s too dangerous.” Said Adam, grabbing Damian’s forearm and letting the blood drip down his hand.

“I know what I can and can’t do. Taking on some gang is nothing.” Said Damian with wide eyes, staring at Adam with his most trustworthy look possible. There was something within him that wanted to snap for a long time. He didn’t have any reason to, or an excuse to for that matter. There was always an excuse, but that wasn’t to get angry but to confine himself to the set standard of the people and live a normal life. Now that there was no excuse to make an excuse, he could truly be angry. Richard would regret it, he’d make sure of that.

He bumped into several walls, intentionally per say. It was for his gift, and he had to be as well prepared as possible. Ever since Damian could remember, his mother was an abusive one and he wasn’t one to be bothered by it. Anytime he hit something, he’d feel nothing and absorb the impact and store it, somewhat.  He knew for sure after tanking a car crash at a fifty mph speeding one –none were harmed, neither Damian nor the car. It was his safety function, automatically functioning his powers that kept the opponent from harm. If he wanted to harm the enemy, it was easy. Too easy.

He could release it in an unbelievably strong punch, all at once, not part by part. Either way, with immunity to punches and knives leaving only superficial cuts, it was easy to force gangs down to the ground.

Damian walked out the building with flames burning in his eyes, fiery flames of hell. That’s what happened when he used his gift, and Richard was none the wiser after the last match. None of them could win. He had to make that clear, Richard couldn’t win no matter what underhanded methods he used.

“Richard, this has gone too far. Last time I left you with a warning, this time I’ll show you how futile resistance is.” Said Damian.

“Ohoh, last time all I remember happening is a slug fight!” Shouted Richard from behind his goons, a guy with golden earring on his ear and some golden teeth in his mouth as well. He was rich, and had many goons for that.

There were twenty something weaklings there, and two… three of the leaders were standing behind their minions. There were only two in Richard’s gang, which only meant that another gang helping them was true.

“Sick ‘im, boys.” Said Richard with a crooked smile, walking back.

They pounced at Damian, all of them. That made it easy. He crashed at with all his stored kinetic energy at a poor guy’s nose at front, a bulky guy at the front. He was sent flying back at his comrades, with his nose undoubtedly smashed into his skull. A boxer’s punch with kinetic energy from three crashes at the wall was more than dangerous.

Now it was time for normal boxing, without the dodging and guarding crap. Damian never had to care for that, earning him the name of Juggernaut in the ring. He was like a war god among humans, smashing his fists at one man after another, each hit sending them stumbling several steps. Then it was time for the big hit once more, with the stored energy from some dagger stab tries. They never penetrated his skin, and it gave him a lot of energy to work with. Pointy things did that.

*BAM!*

The next hit fell on another poor soul, this time on the abdomen of one. The recipient flew back several paces, taking several of his comrades when he was at it, blood leaving his mouth. That ought to have did some internal organ damage. The goons scrammed, all of them, dragging their five unconscious with them while leaving the others.

“Get back here, you dipshits. I’ll hunt you down if you run on me this time!” Richard shouted with an ugly expression.

“Sorry boss, but no one messes with the Big D.” Said one of them, supposedly their leader-ish guy.

“I said we were facing a tough guy before, didn’t I?” Hissed Richard.

“You never said it was Big D, the goddamn Dreadnought! You said we were fighting a strong guy, but you never said a monster!” Shouted the man and ran away with his goons, leaving only Richard and his trusty right hand with the new guy, dressed in a black robe like a cultist or the kind.

“Dreadnought? Is that your damn nickname or something? Thought you lived here.” Said Richard, throwing a look at Damian.

“I hang out around here, not live, you moron.” Said Damian, walking toward them.

“Goddamit, it costs a lot, make it count.” Richard said, and the robed person brought out a large metal rod that Damian knew all too well was a gun. But he thought there weren’t any that worked anymore. “Have a taste of Tinker-tech, Dreadnought.”

It was dangerous, that was the only thing Damian knew. A blue beam appeared out of the rod, and just for a second, Damian was frozen with fear, thinking what would happen if he was hit with it. There wasn’t time to dodge, or even react against it. Only now did he feel the terror of a Tinker-tech.

The next thing he knew, the beam flew above Damian’s shoulder, right next to his head.

“Damn it, you useless shit! Give that to me!” Richard shouted and pulled the gun from the robed man’s hands, and in that timeframe Damian could turn his head just for a second to look at what was behind him. A fair area of the building had icing on it, and Damian was sure he’d have frozen as well. For the first time, he feared for his life, and that meant panic.

With panic, Damian dashed back to the apartment complex, looking out several times behind his shoulders. Fueled by fear and adrenaline, the rush was great and he had thankfully appeared behind the door and closed it behind it. A thud could be heard from the outside, most likely the beam.

Tears streamed down his face, and Damian cried for the first time in a long time. He knew what it was like to fight, but fear a fight? No, not once in his life. In fact, this was the first Damian feared something other than a scolding and a spider principal.

He couldn’t stay here. He had to hide. And the apartment was the best place as any with a window facing the area where Richard stood with his gun. He didn’t want to be anywhere near there, anywhere but there. That was the best idea he could find, and force himself to do.

Adam and Barry had managed to get away to the hospital, or that’s what Damian hoped. He had his own key and he used that to enter the house. It was empty. Richard was growling there, and kneeing the helpless robed guy in the head several times. Damian could relate, since the only guy who could stand up to his gang had escaped because of him. At least the only one who wasn't law enforcment.

“Now we have only one more damn shot! All because you messed up!” Richard’s shouts and curses could be heard even with the window open, as it wasn’t more a piece of art than a mass produce failure in the socket there. Maybe, just maybe Damian could dodge and give that dipshit a taste of what happened.

“I’ll have your whole damn family killed, and I’ll force them down your throat!” Shouted Richard again, and Damian’s brows furrowed. He was going to do what?

“Fuck you! You’re not the boss of me!” Shouted the other one, in the robe, and a glance through the window proved that they had fallen out. The robed one had grabbed the gun, and pointed it at the other two: Richard and his lackey.

Damian’s eyes widened, both with glee and righteousness. Richard would get what he deserved. If only he could grab a hold of that gun, he could make the snobby idiot pay for his crimes rather than slapping cops with money.

“Get him.” Said Richard, and the lackey obeyed. He was his dog more than a lackey, but that was that. The freak’s brain was small, but body and strength was not. Lifting a car was within its capabilities, and throwing it was also one of them.

He opened the window, and jumped down the balcony of the third floor apartment. He absorbed the impact, both to him and to the ground, supercharged, electricity crawled around his skin, a red one. Lightning crackled on his body and a fiery red orb replaced his eyes. This was close to his limit, or at least that was what Damian theorized. It became painful the more energy he held, and it was hard to bear with this.

“I’ll take care of the strong guy, you take Richard!” Shouted Damian, dashing toward Goon No.1, more a train than a human. He was Dreadnought, the king in the ring. All that fear, it was irrational, for his safety. Most likely due to this being his first time being truly endangered.

The ray of frost ejected from the gun, and hit Damian’s right hand. A deep chill filled his body, down to the very bone. It turned a blue color, a sickly blue. His gaze turned toward the robed man and he snapped. He had come to help him, yet he had betrayed his trust. Damian’s righteous rage unleashed on Goon No.1 in the form of a charge. It sent him flying to a wall at the far end of the street, with a pat. The fiery orb never left Damian’s eye, for he had endured an impact no less than what he had during the fight before. His body absorbed the impact his body would otherwise endure, and recycled it.

The robed man dropped the gun and ran for the hills. Little did he know Damian was no stranger to running, chasing for that matter. In mere seconds, Damian found his way before the robed man, and kicked him in the gut for the satisfaction it offered.

He fell to the ground, but the power hadn’t yet been released. Much like how a karate practitioner broke planks and bricks, Damian broke the man’s body with a punch at his guts, with all the weight of his body and the kinetic energy he had absorbed. Blood left his mouth, and Damian’s eyes turned back to normal, still they glowed with menace and bloodlust at Richard’s running form. Damian would pay him back.

His right hand ached, more than what the power did. He could manage, but Damian could only imagine what would have happened had it hit his face. Would his brain freeze, or just the face? He had to get this frostbite treated, but the world wasn’t so kind and destiny was a cruel mistress – the police arrived, sirens blaring to their content. Someone had called the cops.

Three police cars pulled into the driveway, and they saw Damian standing a fair distance away from several fallen thugs. He couldn’t play the innocent either, as there were eyewitnesses. Simply telling them the truth wasn’t good enough, he’d be suspended as some gang member. Just telling them he went to protect his friends was the best story, so he picked it up.

Red City was a harsh place, and the cops had to be good at seeing through lies. The context wasn’t the problem now, the problem was lying and the context was simply the side dish more than anything. Damian wasn’t really known for lying, but he’d try.

“Sir, you’re apprehended for being suspected of a group fight. Anything you say will be used against you in the courts, and I suggest you remain quiet. Those nachos are quite heated at their job.” The cop said and forced his hands behind his back, putting cuffs on them. Fighting the government wasn’t the best idea.

“Officer, I think I may need to go to the hospital.” Said Damian. He had been apprehended here and there in the past, but not that many as to become well-known in the department.

“What’s that?” He asked with a smile, pulling down his shades.

“They had Tinker-tech.” Said Damian, looking at the officer, and nudged to his hand and toward the slowly melting trail of frost upon the building.

“A swelling? No, it’s a frostbite. You do need medical help.” The officer said, and turned to shout at his friends checking in on the fallen thugs. “It’s a serious case. We’ll drive him to the hospital to get him checked. Put them in cells overnight and don’t let them pay out.”

“There you have it, kid.” He said, and shoved Damian into the car’s backseat, and telling his partner to drive him to the hospital, not the normal kind, but the police hospital.