Tyrone looked at the two cops with dark intent. It seemed like nothing else mattered to him now. He could hear it, the sound of his heart beating in his chest. It was a calm, methodical pulse of a killer, someone with deep focus and determination.
Everything around him dimmed, the world all around him bled darker because he willed it to, instinctually manipulating the DarkForce inside him to effect the environment, all due to his emotions that were not going out of control.
He saw how the two cops laughed with one another, casual and smug, hands resting near their holstered weapons like they were props in a play. Like they hadn't ruined lives. His life.
He remembered it with too much clarity. Every night he went to bed, he dreamed of that night. The way they knocked on the door, how they smugly mocked him, crudely told him the fate of his family, and even punched him.
The way they exchanged a look, cold & careless, as if Johnson was just another name on a list. Not a father and brother ripped from their families.
They had stood there, clearly corrupt and in on it alongside the various gangs. He remembered picking up his father's dead body, the lackadaisical manner it was handled, the look of fear and desperation that was on his face.
All of it was burnt into his mind, permanently.
Now he'd seen these cops again. He'd seen them multiple times over the past few years in fact, but this time...
This time he had power.
And as the cops broke off their conversation, locking the vehicle and turning to walk deeper down the block, Tyrone followed silently & patiently.
Unbeknownst to him, his powers continued to flow more and more, affected by his emotion. Street-lights he walked past dimmed and even completely blacked out, the very areas he walked seemed to have their light sucked out of them until they were as dark as night.
The air grew colder and thicker, like the environment was suffocating under his intent as he followed the two cops, spotting them cut through a side street, away from the main one.
'Perfect.' Tyrone's lips curled into a humorless smile as he saw that, moving faster, the world blurring, his form melting into the shadows until there was no Tyrone Johnson, only Cloak.
The first cop barely had time to glance over his shoulder. A ripple in the darkness, a prickle at the back of his neck. His hand twitched toward his belt where his gun was placed.
Too late.
Tyrone erupted from the black like a beast unchained, slamming the man into the wall with such force that the brick cracked rapidly.
CRACK.
The sound of the cop's breath wrenching from his lungs was intoxicating. The cop coughed up blood, his eyes immediately growing wide as he opened his mouth to scream at the sight before him,
but Tyrone's fist cut the sound off, snapping his head sideways with a blow that left teeth scattering across the ground and more blood dripping from his mouth.
"HEY!" The second cop roared out as he spun around, his hand going for his gun.
WHOOSH!
However, Tyrone's cloak had already pulled the gun into the DarkForce Dimension within him, the man's arm followed the gun, half-consumed.
When he finally yanked himself back, his arm had simply vanished, cleanly severed from his shoulder, blood dripping. He looked at it in shock, and then the pain came...
"AAAAHHHHHHHH!" A loud, terrifying screech of pain echoed from the policeman as the immense pain from his arm basically being cut off hit him all at once.
Tyrone turned, face hidden in the dark of his hood, but his eyes burned void-black, empty pits that promised only terror. He stepped forward, shadows writhing like serpents.
The second cop tried to run away, but he didn't get far. Tyrone's cloak billowed and the pull tripped the cop up, causing him to crash down off his feet with brutal force.
His head slammed against the ground, chin splitting open and blood staining the concrete as Tyrone dragged him back across the street, the man's nails scraping the pavement, leaving streaks of desperation behind.
Tyrone dropped to one knee, slamming the man's face into the ground once, twice, three times. Each impact filled the night with a meaty crack. Blood poured, bones shifted under skin, and still Tyrone didn't stop.
BANG.BANG.BANG!
Each slam was with such force that it dented the very material the street was made out of, and each strike fed something inside Tyrone that had starved for years. His hunger for revenge, for vengeance.
Every tear, scream, sob & plea of Tyrone from the past 5 years since his family's death were slowly being satiated by the pain he inflicted on these cops. It would never be enough to satiate the depression he experienced over the years, but it was a good start.
The first cop groaned behind him, trying to crawl away. Tyrone's head snapped toward the sound, and he immediately pinned the man's legs.
The cop raised his hand weakly, trying to defend himself, "Wait, wait, "
However, it was far too late, Tyrone was seeing red, or rather, seeing pitch black. He grabbed the cop by the throat, lifting him clean off the ground. The man's legs kicked uselessly, eyes bulging as shadows tightened, cold and merciless, around his windpipe.
"You laughed," Tyrone growled, his voice layered with the Darkforce's distortion, inhuman, monstrous,"You stood there and laughed, mocked me, you corrupt bastard,"
The man gargled, nails clawing at Tyrone's wrist, tearing skin that wasn't skin. Every time he tried to touch Tyrone, all he touched was an endless void of darkness that was inside his cloak, the shadows around them only thickening.
"You let them die. You let it happen. You facilitated it with your corruption," Tyrone said angrily, the memories of what happened continuously flashing through his mind.
He slammed the cop against the wall again, once, twice, savoring the crunch of bone against brick. The man's eyes rolled, spit and blood bubbling at his lips.
The second cop tried to crawl, face a ruin of red and swelling. Tyrone's shadows wrapped him, dragging him back. He screamed, high and broken, begging words spilling out between sobs.
"Please, please, I've got a family, "
"So did I," Tyrone snarled. His fist came down like a hammer, splitting the man's cheek open further, the sound a sickening thud, "So did they."
He didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Every punch was a release, every strike a balm against the gnawing void. Their pain was his fuel. Their terror was his light.
And it felt good.
Better than anything he had experienced in his life so far. When he finally paused, both men were ruined. Bloodied, broken, their faces unrecognizable, breaths ragged and shallow. Tyrone stood over them, chest heaving, hands dripping black that wasn't blood but felt just as satisfying.
The two cops lay broken at his feet, twitching, breath rattling in ruined throats. Tyrone's shadowed chest rose and fell like a predator finally fed. His hood hung low, the void where his eyes should've been gleaming with something primal, something beyond humanity.
They tried to move, tried to beg and crawl away from him pathetically, but he wouldn't allow it. No way!
"You don't get to walk away," Tyrone whispered, his voice no longer his own. The words echoed as if a thousand mouths spoke them at once, reverberating from the walls, the ground, the shadows themselves.
It was a voice powered by the DarkForce, and as he spoke, his cloak billowed, blacker than night, deeper than any cave.
The first cop whimpered, hands scrambling against the pavement as his body trembled. He tried to form words, a plea, but all that came was a wet cough of blood.
Tyrone crouched beside him, gripping his chin with a hand that wasn't flesh, but shadow. Cold seeped into the man's veins instantly, his body convulsing as though every drop of heat and hope was stripped away.
"You laughed," Tyrone said again, quiet now, almost tender, "Now laugh in there."
He flung the man into the cloak. The shadows swallowed him whole in a single convulsive motion. His scream rose high, piercing—then cut off instantly, muffled as the Darkforce closed its jaws around him.
The second cop's bloodied face turned up to him, swollen eyes wide with horror, "No, please—God, no, "
Tyrone loomed over him, shadows dripping from his hands like tar, "God didn't save mine."
The cloak billowed once more, the cop shrieked, kicked and clawed, but the Darkness pulled him into the perpetual darkness, banished to the DarkForce Dimension for all of eternity, a cruel death a guarantee.
With the two cops banished, Tyrone stood alone, the cloak rippling behind him, satisfied. Inside, he felt it, their fear, their agony, trapped now in the endless Darkforce dimension, where there was no light, no warmth, only shadows and whispers and death creeping slow.
They would die there. Not quick. Not merciful. They would die terrified, forgotten, and never found.
And he would not lose a second of sleep over it.
Tyrone's fists clenched, his breath slowing. The hollowness inside him was quiet now, filled with something darker, heavier. Satisfaction.
However, he didn't let himself get carried away, this wasn't the end. This was just the start. His lips curved into a grim, humorless smile as he stepped out of the alley. The shadows followed, curling around him like wolves ready to hunt.
"The cops were just middlemen," Tyrone muttered, voice low but certain. "It's time to cut off the head."
Next, he would find the gangs. The ones who took his family. The ones who thought themselves untouchable.
And he would kill them all.