He didn't understand.
The guard's eyes were wide, unfocused, trying to process something his mind simply couldn't accept. Ethan didn't expect him to understand. He glanced down at the charred, pitch-black ruin between the man's legs and allowed a faint, almost playful smile to touch his mouth.
With a sharp step forward, he brought his heel down.
The brittle mass collapsed instantly, crumbling like overcooked charcoal. Black ash scattered across the concrete floor, drifting in uneven patches. Ethan stepped over the fallen guard, grinding his foot lightly against the ground in disgust before letting out a quiet sigh. "If you can't keep something," he murmured calmly, "sometimes it's better to let it go."
The guard stared at the ash between his legs, disbelief hollowing out his expression. For a split second, the shock dulled the pain. Then the delayed reaction slammed into him like a freight train.
His mouth opened.
A thin, blistering beam of red light pierced straight through his skull.
There was a sharp hiss as superheated air met moisture. The smell of burning flesh filled the room. When the beam vanished, what remained was no longer a man but a dark, rigid lump of carbonized matter that collapsed sideways with a dull thud.
Ethan lowered his gaze and delivered no further words. He had no interest in leaving loose ends behind, no interest in some absurd comeback later. Dead meant dead.
In the monitoring room, the sudden burst of flickering light from Cell Seventeen caught Paul's attention. He frowned, annoyed, and instinctively swung the camera back toward its original angle despite having redirected it moments earlier.
The image resolved just in time.
He saw the red beam punch clean through the guard's head.
"Oh shit—what the hell!"
Before he could process it, another beam flashed across the lens. The screen went dark in an instant.
Paul stumbled backward and fell out of his chair. Fear hit him in a suffocating wave, stealing his breath. He scrambled to his feet, lunged toward the control panel, and slammed his palm down on the large red button.
A deep mechanical hum vibrated through the facility.
Then the alarm erupted.
The shrill, piercing sound tore through the corridors of the entire hospital, echoing off steel and concrete. Emergency lights flashed to life, bathing the hallways in rotating red.
Ethan didn't hesitate.
He stepped into the corridor and unleashed his heat vision with ruthless precision. Cell doors along the row erupted in molten sparks as he targeted the locks directly. With each blast, metal warped and liquefied, dripping down like glowing wax before hardening.
He adjusted quickly, refining his aim. Instead of melting entire doors, he struck only the hinges and locking mechanisms. The destruction became cleaner, faster.
Chaos began spreading behind him.
"What the hell is going on? Can't those guards handle one floor?" Legrand muttered irritably as he stepped out of the laboratory office, report still in hand.
Halfway down the corridor, he froze.
A figure stood ahead, framed by flashing red lights. The iron gate beside him had just been forced open. Faint red glow faded slowly from his eyes.
Legrand recognized him immediately.
Number Fifty-Eight.
Ethan.
Roger Lang's mind struggled to reconcile what he was seeing. Just days ago, this had been the quiet patient obsessed with sunlight. Now melted locks lined the corridor, and the air smelled faintly of scorched steel.
Ethan turned and looked at them.
Roger forced a smile that felt brittle on his face. "It's late," he said carefully. "Taking a walk? Tomorrow I'll personally arrange that room with a larger window for you."
Ethan didn't respond. He just stared.
Legrand felt his composure unravel in a way it never had before. He had faced Vought executives. He had stood in conference rooms answering aggressive questions. He had shaken hands with members of the Seven.
None of that compared to this.
Because this wasn't a negotiation.
This was a mentally unstable superhuman staring at him through flashing red lights.
Roger swallowed hard. Sweat collected along his spine.
"Oh," he said suddenly, slapping his forehead with forced realization. "I forgot a file in the lab. My mistake."
He turned and walked briskly back the way he had come.
The red beam struck him through the chest before he took three full steps.
There was a sharp crack as bone and tissue evaporated. A gaping, blackened hole appeared where his sternum had been. He looked down at it with stunned disbelief, the smell of burnt fabric and flesh rising in the air.
A faint, bitter smile touched his lips just before his knees buckled and he collapsed.
The alarm continued to scream.
Lights snapped on across the complex. Doors burst open. Shouts overlapped in confusion and panic.
Some of the other test subjects, freed from their cells, staggered into the corridors. Many of them were unstable even before Compound V. Now, with unpredictable powers and no restraint, the situation deteriorated instantly.
One guard exploded in a violent spray of blood and bone without warning. Another screamed as corrosive saliva dissolved through his skull. A third was crushed and twisted by a massive inmate nicknamed "Bull," whose elongated, muscular body lashed like a constricting serpent.
The air filled with smoke, screaming, and gunfire.
"Seal it! Seal the sector!"
"Get the tranquilizers—where's Lamplighter?!"
Ethan kept moving forward.
Two armed guards rounded the corner ahead of him, rifles raised.
"Don't move! Drop—"
Twin red beams erupted.
The smell of burning gunpowder and scorched bone filled the corridor. The guards' heads vanished in an instant, their bodies collapsing backward before their commands finished leaving their mouths.
In the monitoring room, Security Chief Wilson stared at the dead screens and the few remaining live feeds.
"That's our tech," he muttered in disbelief. "How does he have it?"
He grabbed the radio and roared into it, voice cracking under pressure. "B-Sector! B-Sector, listen up! Target Number Fifty-Eight has laser vision! Repeat, laser vision! Drop the tranquilizers! Lethal force authorized!"
Research value no longer mattered.
If they didn't kill him now, there wouldn't be anyone left to report to Vought.
Ethan advanced through the corridor like a furnace on legs. Guards who appeared in his path were cut down instantly. One glare was enough. If it wasn't, he fired again without hesitation.
Bullets struck him from multiple angles as teams regrouped and switched to live ammunition. Impacts thudded against his torso and shoulders, leaving swelling bruises and burning pain. His enhanced physique absorbed the worst of it, preventing penetration, though the force still drove him back half a step at times.
It hurt.
But it wasn't fatal.
And that was enough.
The facility dissolved into full-scale riot. Freed subjects rampaged through hallways, some killing indiscriminately, others simply fleeing in confusion. Smoke curled toward the ceiling as alarms continued blaring.
Ethan reached the final stretch leading to the exit.
His pulse pounded hard in his ears. After this door, there was one more gate. Beyond that—open air.
Freedom.
He stepped forward and pushed the outer door.
It burst inward.
A wall of blinding fire crashed into him before he could react.
The force lifted him off his feet and hurled him backward into the concrete wall. Pain exploded through his back as flames crawled over his body.
For a split second, through the glare of fire and smoke, he saw the figure standing beyond the doorway.
Lamplighter.
The flames danced across Ethan's skin, scorching and searing. The heat was intense, overwhelming, but not instantly catastrophic. He could feel it sliding over his flesh, searching for purchase.
He closed his eyes and let his body go limp amid the shattered debris.
From the doorway, Lamplighter stepped forward slowly, lighter still in hand, expression no longer amused but fully alert. The sight of the charred figure lying motionless reduced some of the tension in his shoulders, though his gaze remained sharp.
Superhumans were never simple.
And this one had just turned the entire facility into a graveyard.