Chapter 32 – The Rain Knows (Expanded)
The forest breathed like a beast under the storm.
Rain drummed against the canopy, sliding down leaves in heavy drops before crashing to the earth. The mud beneath Jack's boots squelched as he shifted, his lungs burning with every inhale of the cold, wet air. Each breath carried not only fatigue but memory—memories he had tried to bury under years of silence, now clawing their way back as though the storm itself demanded truth.
Across from him, standing unshaken in the tempest, was H.I.M.
He was a silhouette at first—a shadow blurred by rain and lightning. But as the clouds flashed above, Jack saw his eyes. They were not human anymore. They gleamed with something primal, something ancient, as though the storm itself had chosen him to be its vessel.
Jack's knuckles whitened around the hilt of his blade. His body screamed for rest, his heart begged for forgiveness, but his pride held him upright.
"You…" His voice cracked. He coughed, swallowed rain. "You've become a demon."
H.I.M didn't flinch. His soaked coat clung to his body, his chest rising and falling with terrifying calmness. His lips curved into the faintest smile.
"No. I've only shed what made me weak."
The words were soft, but they cut sharper than steel. Jack's grip faltered.
That night.
The screams echoed in his skull—his own hands painted in crimson, the look in the woman's eyes when the blade cut too deep. The child's cry, silenced in one swift, merciless stroke. The smoke, the fire, the unbearable silence after it was all over.
It wasn't just murder. It was the birth of this monster before him.
Jack bit his lip until blood mingled with rain on his tongue. He raised his sword again, though his hand trembled like an old man's.
"If you came here to kill me," he said, forcing steadiness, "then stop circling and do it."
For the first time, H.I.M moved.
Not in a blur, not in an explosion of power—just a slow, deliberate step through the mud. Then another. The storm seemed to hush as he closed the distance, his boots leaving deep impressions in the softened ground.
The fight began not with a strike, but with silence.
Jack lunged first, blade slicing through the rain. H.I.M's arm rose casually, blocking with his forearm. Steel bit into skin—but he didn't wince. Blood mingled with water, trailing down his arm like paint on canvas.
"Still relying on steel," H.I.M murmured. "Still afraid of your own hands."
Jack gritted his teeth and struck again, wild, desperate. The sound of metal meeting flesh and mud echoed across the clearing. H.I.M didn't counter. He simply absorbed, letting the blade push him, letting Jack expend himself, until the older man's swings slowed and his shoulders sagged.
Lightning flared. For a fraction of a second, Jack saw his reflection in H.I.M's eyes—not the man he once was, but the traitor who had given birth to a nightmare.
And he hated it.
"Shut up!" Jack roared, thrusting his blade forward.
This time, H.I.M caught it barehanded. Fingers clamped around steel. The rain hissed as it struck his palm, but he held it effortlessly. Jack's eyes widened, his strength failing him.
"You still don't get it." H.I.M's voice was low, calm, terrifying. "This isn't about power. It's about inevitability."
He pushed the sword aside and with one motion sent Jack staggering backward.
The storm raged.
---
Meanwhile… in Liberty City.
The roads gleamed with rain, neon lights from signs smeared across puddles like brushstrokes. Stellman's car tore down the avenue, tires cutting water into streams. Gina clutched the dashboard, her eyes scanning the message again and again:
> Bomb threat. President's residence. Immediate response.
They arrived in minutes. The mansion loomed dark and silent, guarded but uneasy. Stellman's instincts screamed wrong. Every window was a mouth waiting to scream. Every shadow whispered betrayal.
"Too quiet," he muttered.
And then—
BOOM.
The world split open.
Flames surged outward as if the mansion's heart had erupted. Windows shattered, hurling glass like daggers into the street. The shockwave tore Stellman and Gina from their feet, slamming them onto the soaked pavement. The heat seared their skin even from a distance.
When Stellman forced his eyes open, chaos greeted him. Politicians' bodies littered the ground, some burning, some still twitching, their screams drowned by roaring flames. The air stank of blood and smoke.
His ears rang. His chest heaved. He staggered to his feet, pulling Gina up. His suit was scorched, rain mixing with ash. His eyes burned—not from smoke, but from the weight of déjà vu.
"…Not again," he whispered. His hand trembled as it clutched his sword. "God, not again."
---
Back in the forest…
Jack staggered, sword slipping from his hand into the mud. He fell to his knees, coughing, gasping. His vision blurred, rain streaking across his face like tears he would never admit.
H.I.M approached slowly. Not rushing, not gloating—just walking, as though drawn by destiny.
Jack raised his head, lips trembling.
"I… I was wrong. I thought killing them… I thought it would change things. But all I did was… create you."
For the first time, H.I.M crouched before him, tilting his head. His face was unreadable.
"You finally see it. But it doesn't matter. Regret doesn't bring back the dead."
Jack's chest heaved. His voice cracked.
"Then finish it."
Lightning cracked. Thunder roared.
H.I.M's fist slammed into his chest—not enough to kill, but enough to hurl him into the mud. Jack gasped, clutching at his ribs, pain searing through his body.
H.I.M knelt beside him, gripping his collar. His words were venom wrapped in silk.
"You don't die tonight. Not yet. Live with it. Drown in it. And when I come again… remember this moment."
He shoved Jack down, unconscious.
The rain carried the silence away.
---