Years had passed since Damien left the police force in Westridge. He was now in the neighbouring city of Dalen, sitting on a comfortable dark green lounge chair, late at night. The small apartment was old but modest, and the wall to his right was lined with police awards and medals, leaving little room for anything but the window. The medals infuriated him when he first entered the room, but now he paid them no mind. All he could focus on was the door on the opposite wall.

He was dressed in simple black fabrics, with dark shoes to go with the rest of the outfit. At first glance, he seemed calm and composed, but if you looked closely, you could see his fingers twitching and his foot subtly tapping the brown floorboards underneath. Beads of sweat were forming on his bald head and ran down his cheek. Most of them were caught by his inky bushy beard, but some joined the puddle underneath his loose clothing. He stank, and the truth is that he was not at all calm, nor composed, for past his distant gaze laid the image of true hatred.

A racket broke the loud silence of the room, and the door handle turned. His stomach dropped. It was finally time.

A man of small stature entered the apartment, with a bag of groceries in one hand, and keys in the other. On his head rested what looked to be a brown tupé. He was clean-shaven and wore a uniform Damien knew all too well. The police officer locked the door and was about to take off his shoes before Damien started to speak.

“How does it feel?” He said in a subdued but firm tone.

The man positively jolted at the sound and dropped everything in hand. The apartment was dark, so he hadn’t noticed the middle-aged man sitting in his favourite afternoon chair.

“Wha– Who are you?! What are you doing in my apartment?!” the officer demanded.

Damien repeated his question. “How does it feel?”

The officer was dumbstruck and did not answer. He started fidgeting as if he might do something stupid, so Damien continued.

“Does it feel good? Does it feel nice to be the big man? The big strong man beating kids to a pulp?” He said, punctuating every word.

“What are you–” The officer began before he was interrupted.

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

“You tore him apart!” Damien yelled. After a moment of tense silence, he started sobbing with his gaze still firmly planted on the officer.

“He was only seventeen.. with his whole life in front of him.”

Fight or flight occupied the officer’s mind, so he didn’t pay much attention to what Damien was saying. He simply stared back at him, began to charge the surge in his right leg, and slowly reached for his baton.

“I was an officer too…” Damien said pensively and glanced towards the wall of awards. The officer took advantage of the moment. He released the power built up in his foot and shot himself towards Damien, with his baton in hand. He performed the tried and true stoneskin and enhance techniques mid-air, and a small clap of thunder followed. Stoneskin hardened his flesh, and his agility and strength were heightened by the enhance technique. The crack that followed the enhance technique wasn’t nearly as loud as real thunder, but he hoped it would alert the nearest neighbours at the very least. He was powerful for sure, as all officers of the law were either surge manipulators or augmentors, but if this man was an officer too, he might need assistance.

Mere inches from the man, he slammed his baton down towards his skull, faster than humanly possible. An explosion of splinters followed. Wood splinters, the officer realised. The baton had completely shattered on the back of Damien's head. The officer looked at the broken piece of wood in his hands, and back to the intruder's unscathed head.

“But- But how…?”

Damien began rising to his feet, and the officer slowly backed away.

“You’re all fucking useless.” Damien spat. As he walked towards the officer, a small thunderclap sounded from him as well.

“You dare call yourself an augmentor.” He scoffed. “The limits of the surge is a fucking lie!” He continued, and thunder clapped once more, louder this time. The officer's eyes widened.

“My skin could rival diamonds.” As he talked, the officer started visibly shaking, horrified at the display.

“If that baton was made of metal, it would bend!” He laughed. Then the air seemed to pull inwards towards Damien, and for a moment the room became void of all sound. Following, a third crack of thunder boomed throughout the room, shaking the whole building, and causing the officer's ears to ring a high-pitched chime.

“Thavion... save me...” The officer muttered between shaky lips.

“I’ve longed the day to see the same fear in your eyes, as you did in my son’s, and tear you apart, piece by piece.” His steps made indentations in the wooden floor as he walked now, and space seemed to contort around him.

“I will fucking kill you.”