The car came to a sudden stop in front of the alley where Marcus lay, motionless on the pavement among the wreckage of his broken bicycle. Before he could react, four figures emerged from the vehicle. Black shadows moving with determination and silence, approaching the young man with measured, dangerous steps.
Marcus was completely wrecked. The pain in his chest and ribs made it hard to breathe, and any attempt to move sent stabbing jolts through his body. His limbs seemed not to obey him, and the world around him shrank to the pain and the sound of his own pounding heartbeat.
One of the four attackers paused for a moment, tilting his head toward Marcus. His eyes narrowed and a low hiss escaped his lips. —He's still conscious —he muttered under his breath—. Damn… this kid is tough.
Marcus, still gasping and in pain, could barely move his head. Through the chest pain and the confusion from the impact, he managed to see the four figures slowly advancing toward him. Their dark suits and coordinated movements gave them an intimidating, professional air.
Before he could react, one of them bent down and grabbed his arm firmly, while another took hold of his legs. The remaining two made sure no one on the street could see them. Marcus struggled weakly, but the pain in his ribs and fatigue left him defenseless.
With precise, silent movements, they dragged him to the end of the alley, where the building's shadows hid him from the view of any passerby. Marcus could barely breathe, feeling every tug and shift as they carried him toward an unknown destination.
Marcus was thrown against the alley wall with force, the impact reverberating through his chest and ribs. He gasped, unable to move, his vision blurred from the pain.
The man holding the knife stepped forward, spinning the blade between his fingers with unsettling calm. He leaned over Marcus, eyes assessing every reaction, every labored breath.
—Don't think you're getting up so easily —he whispered, the knife glinting under the streetlight.
Before bringing the knife closer, he stomped on Marcus's already damaged chest, pressing him hard against the pavement. A stifled gasp escaped Marcus as pain shot through him.
—Remember me? —the attacker growled—. I'm the one from the alley. And don't think your quick moves and tricks make you strong.
Finally, the man lowered the knife, resting the blade against Marcus's neck with care before making a clean, swift motion to the right, a twisted smile on his face. Marcus choked, tasting his own blood, beginning to bleed out. Desperation surged through him; he tried to move, to scream, to fight—anything to stop the inevitable—but his body wouldn't obey.
As darkness began to pull him under, his last thoughts flashed on his family. He thought of them and how, even after only a month, he had fallen in love with having a real home, something he had never experienced in his previous life. Fear, pain, and helplessness consumed him as consciousness slipped away.
The men didn't even stop to look at Marcus's death. They turned their backs and began to walk away. One of them muttered, a hint of concern in his voice:
—Maybe we should clean up a bit, just in case…
Another chuckled softly, shaking his head:
—Relax. The boss has that part covered.
They disappeared into the shadows of the alley, leaving behind the lifeless body of the boy.
But then, dense white smoke began to pour from Marcus's entire body. At first like a whisper, then like a torrent rising to the sky. Every muscle convulsed, every bone creaked as if about to break and then recombine into something far greater. Marcus began to grow and grow, reaching a monstrous height of three meters.
From the white smoke emerged a colossal figure 3,50 meters tall. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, and his thighs firm, forming a body both powerful and surprisingly agile. He was covered with gray plates that seemed like natural armor, with gaps at the joints revealing red muscles, tense and pulsating, as if burning beneath the shell. His head was almost entirely covered, except for the mouth: a wide, grotesque opening, lipless, showing unnervingly human teeth, a detail that made his appearance even more disturbing.
One of the attackers, hearing the heavy footsteps behind them, turned in shock. He only managed to see a gigantic foot, larger than his own head, smash into his chest. The impact sent him flying through the air toward the alley's entrance, where his body smashed through the windshield of the parked car. Glass shattered in a burst of glittering shards, and the man was lodged among the debris, dead on the spot.
The other three, terrified, tried to flee desperately. The monster advanced with ground-shaking steps, and with a devastating backhand of his right arm, the monster struck the attacker running on his right, smashing him against the wall with such force that the brick cracked and the dry sound of breaking bones filled the alley. The man fell lifeless instantly.
The remaining two ran with all their strength, but the monster gave them no chance. With a sharp blow to the back, he slammed the slower one into the ground. The man screamed, but it was useless: the monster lifted him with a single hand and hurled him violently against the last fleeing attacker. Both bodies collided with a dull crash and tumbled across the pavement, twisted and unable to move.
The white smoke continued rising toward the sky, illuminated by the flickering streetlights. In the midst of it, Marcus's colossal figure fully rose and let out a triumphant roar that echoed throughout the alley, a deep, deafening sound blending fury and power.