The lab was a maze of steel, shadows, and thumping machinery.
Fluorescent lights hummed above, casting erratic bursts of illumination down the sterile white corridors, as if the building struggled to catch its breath. Broken glass from the containment cells crackled under Von's boots. Alarms softly moaned in the distance, blending with the ever-present hum of fans and the rumble of automatic systems powering down.
In the center of the holding chamber—past the shattered cube where Justin had drifted unconscious—stood Dr. Rhane, his figure cloaked by a charcoal-colored duster coat with the fabric flapping from the pulsing pressure surrounding him.
His eyes were pale blue, but not with authority—it was calculation.
Von faced him, chest panting, sweat trickling down his brow, fists tightening hard. He'd already battled in the lab—bypassing traps, staying hidden from cameras, and using his levitation skills with greater finesse due to Marco's training. But now he was standing before the man responsible for everything.
Dr. Rhane (with a chill in his tone):
"You've come far, Von. Quite far. But I know your kind. Emotional, hot-headed, and driven by guilt. You've already lost."
Suddenly—
WHHHHOOOOOMMMMP.
Air around Von narrowed in anger, and in a flash, he was unable to breathe.
Dr. Rhane raised one hand, fingers spread as if grasping the intangible air itself.
Rhane:
"I command the air, Von. You… rely on it."
Von fell to a knee, hands clutching at his throat. His lungs burned, his vision narrowing at the edges. Each breath was a struggle—breathing through the eye of a needle.
Rhane walked slowly closer, boots clanking off the white tile floor.
Rhane (smiling):
"Suffocating, isn't it? You think you're tough because you got here. But you have no concept of what we're playing for. No concept size, what we're trying. You're just… in the way."
He released his hand, and pressure dissipated—Von gasped for air frantically, lungs clawing greedily as if he'd been underwater for hours.
But he didn't collapse.
Instead, Von rose again—slowly. Teeth clenched.
Von's mind was racing. He wasn't going to overcome this through brute force. Not through a head-on attack.
Something didn't sit right, though.
Dr. Rhane could manipulate air, yes—but his movements were sluggish, like a languid Sunday afternoon. His body language was that of a backroom expert, not a front-line warrior. And the more Von watched, the more jarring it became:
Rhane was keeping his distance. Always.
He's stalling and trying to keep Von on fumes. Trying to wait him out.
Then it all made sense.
He's not strong. He's not fast. He's smart.
Marco had warned him. Rhane was bad news—but it wasn't brute strength. It was his mind. He was a puppet master. A master manipulator.
Von (thought):
If I can get close to him. He's mine.
But how?
Each step Von attempted to take forward, Rhane would toy with the air—pushing, pulling, choking, and slamming wind pressure into his body to push him away.
Von scanned the room: the overhead lights above. The broken floor tiles. The suspended cables. The clutter of laboratory equipment.
He began to construct a strategy.
Dr. Rhane raised his arms now, releasing a full burst of pressurized gust from the corridor behind him. It built a whirling hurricane aimed at Von—an invisible bullet to sweep him off his feet.
But this time, Von reacted differently.
Instead of rushing ahead, he used his ability—precise levitation—to pull a shattered metal table in front of him and batted the airstream away. The blast ripped through the table instead, sending it crashing into a wall.
Von never stopped moving.
He launched himself into the air for an instant, using his levitation to traverse up along the pipes in the ceiling—moving around lights, wires, and machinery like a high-wire artist.
Rhane (alarmed):
"Hmph. Impressive. But it won't save you."
He clenched his fists, and every molecule of oxygen in the top air crystallized.
Von fell—but that was the plan.
As he was falling, Von drew upon his powers to blast a burst of rubble—wires, shards, slivers of glass—not at Rhane, but at the control panel behind him.
Rhane whirled around instinctively, gazing at the panel—
And that's when Von launched his assault.
Von rolled to the ground and slammed forward at top speed, employing his legs and his levitation to push off the ground for additional acceleration.
Von (yelling):
"You're clever, Rhane… but you overthink control!"
He was already close enough to Rhane to attack before the man could raise a hand.
Von's punch landed squarely on Rhane's jaw—a hard, clean punch that sent the scientist stumbling backward, blood spewing from his mouth.
Rhane's calm act broke down.
He stretched out, trying to summon another pressure wave—but Von grabbed his wrist, whirled him around, and hurled him over his shoulder.
The two crashed to the ground—Von on top.
Von:
"I trained for this. I bled for this. You think I'm weak?"
Von (rage-driven):
"You made me believe I was nothing. That I couldn't fight back. That I didn't count…"
He punched again. And again. Each blow rang with years of pent-up pain and anger.
"But I do matter!"
With a flick of his wrist, Rhane unleashed a blast of pressurized air that sent Von a couple of meters back—flinging him onto his side.
Nose and mouth bleeding, Rhane got up.
Rhane (wheezing):
"You… little insect… You don't know what's coming…"
Von rose again. More slowly this time. But with flames burning in his eyes.
Von:
"Then tell me. Tell me what's coming. Whatever it is, I'll stop it. Just watch me."
Dr. Rhane spat, blood trickling from his chin, and remained silent.
Only a twisted grin.