The young man swings his arm again — fast, sharp — mimicking the motion that leveled the store. In the blink of an eye, Brooke and Reader shoot upward, their instincts kicking in.
Triumphant stays grounded — arms wide, laughing.
PSHHHH!!! SWUUUSHHHH!!!
The invisible wave hits — a destructive force pounds into Triumphant. Concrete cracks sideways, signs rattle, and debris kicks up in every direction.
Triumphant (grinning, shouting): "YEAHHH!! ALRIGHT!!! I LIKED THAT!!! Give me more!!"
Brooke (hovering, scanning): "What the hell was that? Was that wind?"
Reader (tapping his goggles, calm): "Not wind. A Wave. He condensed raw energy and released it at a target."
Brooke: "So... like a shockwave?"
Reader: "More like... Seismic Wave, a Shear-Wave. That explains the sideways cracks on the floor. Controlled . You don't see it — you feel it."
Brooke (annoyed): "Great. So his ability is basically... breaking things."
Reader (deadpan): "Destruction. Pure and simple."
Brooke (shaking her head): "Yeah, well... that's just what we needed today."
She glances down at Triumphant, still standing, fists clenched, boots rooted in cracked concrete.
Brooke (calling out):"You good holding this psycho?"
Triumphant (grinning): "What, you bailing already?"
Reader (focused, serious): "He 's stalling. For Crusher. We can't all waste time here. It would be unwise to do"
Brooke (nodding): "Exactly. The Militia needs us. Wrap this up, Tri."
Triumphant (laughing): "Hey, I'll mop him up. Just make sure Crusher's still breathing when I show up — I owe him a beat-down."
Brooke and Reader blast off, streaking into the distance.
The young man watches them go, tilting his head with a smirk.
Young Man (to himself): "Tch… I was hoping at least two would stay after that attack. But I guess the muscle-head ate the whole thing like a snack. Whatever"
Triumphant (stretching, cracking his knuckles): "Don't worry about them. You and I. We're about to get really personal now pal…just don't make it too freaky, okay?" (He winks at him)
Young Man (coldly): "Cute dirty talk…for a guy who's about to be smear all over the pavement."
Triumphant (smirking): "Ohhh... good. C'mon and bite me then."
Their eyes lock.
Their stances tighten.
The tension coils like a spring about to snap.
This wasn't just a fight. It was about to be a reckoning.
Two Weeks Ago…
New Breedom City — 4th District, South Side — "The Trenches"
The 4th District was a far cry from the clean-lined skyscrapers and floating taxis of New Breedom's central zones. Here, the sky was a hazy shade of bronze, polluted from decades of unchecked smog. Buildings stood half-collapsed, their jagged edges clawing at the air like broken teeth. The streets were cracked, stained with oil, and littered with makeshift tents and fires burning in rusted barrels.
This was The Trenches — where desperation slept in doorways and power shifted with a loaded gun. Criminal networks flourished here, especially those dabbling in illegal extraterrestrial arms trading, black-market cyberware, offworld smuggling and trafficking.
Tucked away behind a graffiti-covered steel gate and two heavily armored guards stood The Crushers' hideout. On the outside, it looked like an abandoned warehouse. But inside? It was a fortress.
Walls lined with alien plasma rifles. Turrets mounted in the corners. Tables cluttered with data slates, alien tech blueprints, and dismantled weapons. Holograms projected strategy maps midair, and soldiers marched back and forth, prepping for something big.
In a dimly lit room of the compound sat The Crusher—the gang's towering, eight-foot leader. A massive cigar glowed between his teeth, the smoke curling around his head like a crown of chaos.
He was hunched over a holographic comms console, frustration visible in the twitch of his eye.
The Crusher (into comms, gruff): "I told you—we'll have the money on time. But I need collateral. Something to guarantee you won't back out."
He leaned back in his chair, exhaling a thick plume of smoke, fingers rubbing his temple with slow pressure.
"This ain't just some back-alley sting. We're going up against fucking Hope. You don't hit a goddamn legend half-cocked. This has to be clean—overwhelming."
A pause. Then a grin. He leaned in closer to the hologram as if the unseen contact could feel his smile.
The Crusher (calming): "Alright, good. Send the specs. You'll have what you need from me… Promise you won't regret it."
He closed the comm and let out a low chuckle, just as a sharp knock hit the heavy metal door.
The Crusher (without looking): "C'mon in!"
The door hissed open and in stepped Draco—his second-in-command. Late twenties, sharp-featured, wiry frame, clean-shaven. His short, spiked blonde hair was slightly disheveled, his glasses flickering with faint HUD data. His military jacket bore insignia that marked him as Crusher's trusted right hand.
Draco (stern): "He 's here, sir."
Behind him, a figure emerged from the hallway. Calm. Poised.Confidence. The young man. His expression was unreadable—bored, even.
Levi.
He walked like a man with no fear, every step measured. His eyes scanned the room once and locked on The Crusher.
The Crusher (smirking): "Look who it is. Levi."
Levi gave a subtle nod, stopping a few feet from the desk.
The Crusher: "You've read the blueprint. What's your take son?"
Levi (quiet but clear): "It 's doable. But only if that piece comes through. Without it—if he shows—we're dead in the water."
The Crusher (grunting): "I know. But we've got confirmation. That, is coming—on schedule. We just follow through, make the payment, and make history."
Levi didn't smile. He glanced around at the holo-map floating beside the Crusher—locations marked in red, predicted fighter routes, breach points.
The Crusher (standing up, stretching): "Let 's walk."
The three of them moved through the massive hall of the base. Outside the war room, the place felt like a ticking bomb. Tanks gleamed under halogen lights, drones hovered above racks of energy-fused ammo, and soldiers—a mix of humans and off-world mercs tightened their armor and did last-minute drills.
Draco (reporting while walking): "Armaments are stocked. Four assault teams ready. Vehicles refueled. All waiting for the green light Sir."
Levi stopped for a second, watching a technician attach a pulse core to a handheld cannon.
Levi (dryly): "You sure this is enough?"
The Crusher (laughs, shaking his head): "You doubting us already?"
He turned toward Levi, lighting another cigar, the flicker illuminating his face.
The Crusher: "I gotta say, Levi… When I brought you on three months ago, I wasn't sold on you. Thought you'd burn out fast or disappear. But you've proven your teeth. That mission on the Nitchtron Ship? You made believers outta people."
(He took a long drag, then exhaled smoke slowly)
(serious)"But now? We're past loyalty. This is war. So I need to know, straight up—are you ready to do your part?"
Levi stared out across the staging area, watching a group of recruits fasten heavy exosuits.
Levi (measured): "The 3rd District is guarded by three low-end Seraphims. If we hit the general bank, they'll probably respond in minutes. Especially him."
The Crusher: "Triumphant."
Levi (nods): "If I stall two of them, maybe your plan will work. All three? Not a chance. They'll see right through me and know I'm stalling for you."
Draco (curious): "You think they'll figure it out that fast?"
Levi: "Maybe not right away. I can't beat them all at once. The moment I start leading them in circles—they'll know."
The Crusher (shrugs): "You won't have to fight all of 'em. When that gets here. I'll have up to five shots. I can't waste any on 'I'm. Take 'im out. I should have enough for the other ones…and Hope. That's all I need."
Levi (after a pause): "Alright. I'll take Triumphant."
The Crusher's grin widened.
Present Day — 3rd District
Back in the Streets –
The battlefield was still.
The chaos of the city, the sirens, the distant screams — all of it faded for a moment. Just Levi and Triumphant, face-to-face. A cold wind swept through the street, swirling dust and ash between them. Neither flinched. Neither blinked. Both grinned — one with bloodlust, the other with confidence. Their eyes locked like predators sizing up prey. Tension hung in the air like a coiled spring.
Then —
BOOM.
Levi vanished in a blink, launching forward at supernatural speed, jacket flaring behind him like black smoke. His fist cocked back and slammed into Triumphant's chest with enough force to shake the pavement.
SSSSHHHH!!
A shockwave rippled outward. The ground shakes their feet. Smoke burst from the impact point, clouding everything.
Levi stepped back, exhaling slowly through his nose, scanning the smoke. For a moment, he thought he'd gotten him. But as the dust cleared—Triumphant stood. Unfazed. A grin still carved across his face.
Triumphant (smirking): "Oohhh… that's a good one."
His voice was calm. Even impressed.
Without warning, he retaliated — a heavy right hook, cutting through the air like a cannonball. But Levi was already moving. He dropped low, his entire body ducking beneath the punch, sweeping the ground like water flowing around stone.
Levi spun, twisted, and unleashed a fierce left kick — straight to Triumphant's ribs. The strike landed clean, the shockwave jolting through the street, shaking concrete beneath them.
But Triumphant didn't budge.
Still grinning.
Still towering.
Looking down at Levi like a titan entertained by a mouse with fangs.
Triumphant (cool and confident): "Oh yeah…You ain't walking out of this one"
(Meanwhile a few blocks away)
3rd District — General Bank, On the Edge of Chaos
Smoke chokes the horizon. Fires flare through broken windows. The ground trembles under the rumble of tanks and pounding boots.
Adam crouches behind a crater-formed wall, his cameraman beside him. Dust coats their gear; anxiety coats their voices.
Adam (voice tight, into camera): "We're witnessing total mayhem, folks—The Crushers are cutting through our militia like a hot knife through butter. They've got tanks, grenade launchers, and even... illegal alien weaponry. It's chaos out here!"
A militia soldier, face streaked with grime, grabs Adam's elbow and yanks him back.
Militia Soldier (urgent whisper): "Sir, we gotta move back—now! Stay behind me, stay low!"
Adam (nodding, breath rasping): "Okay Alright!"
They stumble behind a perimeter wall where armored vehicles and assault trucks form a shield of steel.
Militia Soldier (into comms, voice firm): "Lieutenant Charles—perimeter locked, civilians cleared. We're holding."
Lieutenant Charles, early-forties, buzzcut, brown skinned, fit and composed, scans the scene. His eyes bore into the firestorm.
Charles: "Copy that. Hold fast. Fighters inbound."
Adam turns his head skyward.
Adam (voice raising, awe mixed with relief): "There! They've arrived—Brooke and Reader! Our Fighters are here!"
Above the Frontline — The Fighters Touch Down.
Brooke lands beside Charles, dust billowing from under her gliding attack boots. Next comes Reader, graceful and analytic, scanning the battleground with a reflective visor.
Brooke (breathing fast): "Nice work holding them back."
Charles (saluting lightly): "Your timing's perfect. We've already got the area secured and set up a perimeter, now it's your time to go to work. That lunatic there—I've seen no other force like him. Let's stop him before he brings this district down."
Reader (adjusting settings on his goggles): "We've got numbers against us. We need all the help we can get."
Charles (defiant): "Wasn't planning on hiding. We fight with you."
Across the Street — The Crusher commands amid the rubble of the bank's destroyed façade, The Crusher stands, half-hidden by smoke. Tall, scarred, and unyielding.
Crusher (shouting over chaos): "They're here! Draco—report!"
Behind him, Draco stands with a bulky case filled with purple light and floating code—technology buzzing at his fingertips.
Draco (without looking up): "Just about here. Need a minute, Sir."
Crusher (grinning with savage calm):"Perfect."
(raising his voice)
"SOLDIERS! We've got Fighters incoming—Aim for their heads! And don't you dare miss!"
Battle Erupts
Brooke and Reader sprint forward into a firestorm of gunfire, fractured blasts, and shrapnel. Militia fighters burst from cover, firing laser rifles. Crushers troops counter with alien blasters and grenades that scar the pavement.
Glass shatters. Screams cut through the haze. Every shot, movement, and breath ripples with chaos.
Flames dance in the distance, licking at the steel bones of buildings once proud. Sirens wail like ghosts across shattered streets. Amid the bedlam, two figures move like controlled storms: Brooke and Reader—Fighters of New Breedom.
They carve their way through the chaos with surgical precision, surrounded by smoke, plasma fire, and panicked screams. Reader sidesteps a burst of plasma, turning toward Brooke mid-motion, eyes already scanning new threats.
Reader (focused): "More heavy hitters on the grid. We'll cover more ground if we split up."
They don't hesitate. They never do. This is who they are.
Brooke – The Elastic Blitz charges into enemy lines, gunfire erupts—but the bullets don't pierce her. Instead, they bounce off her body, which stretches and ripples like taut rubber.
She grimaces—not from pain, but from annoyance.
Crushers Soldier (in disbelief): "The hell?! Did those just bounce?!"
Brooke stretches her arms, grabs one of the Demons and slams him into the pavement, revealing her unique physiology. In one fluid motion, she extends her leg like a whip, sweeping three soldiers off their feet. They slam into debris.
She reaches up—arms stretching several meters—and slingshots herself between two ruined buildings. Midair, she twists, turning her body into a tight spiral, limbs like spinning blades. She carves through enemy lines, then compresses into a dense sphere—a human cannonball—and slams into an enemy tank, crushing it on impact. The explosion behind her casts her silhouette like a myth.
Reader – The Calculated Phantom moves like a ghost among machines. He isn't just fast—he's accurate, each step chosen in real time with the aid of his kinetic vision ability. He's scanning inputs faster than a supercomputer. He can see motion before it happens—muscle tension, eye focus, breath rhythm. Reader reads their intention like a book.
Crushers Soldier (shouting): "What the hell is he?? A damn ninja??!!"
They try flanking him, but Reader already sees the angles. To him, the battlefield is a 3D holographic map, every threat outlined, every movement already predicted. He deflects a bayonet with his wrist, spins, and lands a pressure-point strike that drops the attacker like a ragdoll.
Crushers Soldier (shouting): " We can't land a hit!!!"
A grenade is lobbed toward him—he tracks its arc, calculates its spin, and with a smooth, almost lazy roundhouse kick, redirects it into an enemy hovercraft.
BOOM.
The explosion levels part of a wall. Reader stands amid the debris, eyes locked on the enemy formation.
The Crusher watches across the street, on top of scorched bank steps, His lips curl into a sneer.
Crusher (low, to Draco): " Draco….They're here…"
Behind, Draco is hunched over the dark tech case, still trying to decode it.
Draco (typing fast): "Almost ready, sir— I told you we should've done this beforehand."
Crusher (angrily): "There was no time for that!! You better type faster. These two ain't playing games."
The Fighters Press Forward.
Brooke and Reader regroup in front of the demolished bank, smoke rising between them and the enemy. They stare down The Crusher, whose sneer deepens as his eyes flick to the tech case behind him.
Reader (under breath): "He's buying time."
Brooke (prepping her blade): "Let's not give him too much of it."
They step forward, unfazed, unstoppable.
Back to the Streets – Outside Max Streams' Storm
(Tension rising… the storm is only just beginning.)
The storefront is barely holding together. Shattered windows rattle with every collision. Pavement crumbles beneath the boots of two titans. Levi and Triumphant crash into each other again—blow for blow—sending shockwaves down the street. Sparks fly from nearby streetlights. Power flickers in the buildings surrounding them.
Triumphant (grinning through a punch): "HA! You're a brawler!!"
Levi eyes stay locked on Triumphant—focused, cold, calculating. No trained form. No refined style. Just raw instinct forged in alleys, fights for scraps, and survival.
He swings an uppercut—fast and heavy.
CRACK!
Triumphant blocks it, locks Levi's arm, and with one brutal pivot slams him into the ground. The concrete spiderwebs beneath Levi's back.
Levi (through clenched teeth): "Ngghhh—!"
Blood drips from his lips.
Triumphant steps over him, cocking back for another hit.
But Levi's hand flares red. His aura whips around like wind in a storm.
Levi: "Get. OFF!!"
He whips his arm sideways—Destruction roars to life.
A silent wave of pressure erupts—an invisible cannon blast—sending Triumphant hurtling through the air like a wrecking ball. He crashes into a building four stories up.
Walls shatter around him.
Dust clouds the sky.
Then movement—Triumphant emerges, wiping blood from his chin.
Triumphant (chuckling, coughing): "Heh… cough, cough… Alright. I didn't think you could hit harder."
Levi (thinking): "It bent. Not much. But enough, why now though ?….. Don't stop. Don't give him time to settle."
He kicks upward into the air—Destruction launches from his foot like a slicing wind. Triumphant sidesteps. The energy crashes into a parked hover-truck, carving it in half.
Before Levi can brace, Triumphant charges—blindingly fast.
WHAM!
A shoulder slam nearly caves Levi's ribs in. He's launched through a row of buildings, plowing through metal, drywall, and storefront glass. Levi lands in a peaceful green park — eerily still amidst the chaos. Trees sway gently. Flowers bloom in bright patches. The contrast is surreal. He groans, laying in a torn-up bed of grass. Blood pools beneath him.
CRASH!
Triumphant drops from the sky like a meteor, sending shockwaves through the park.
No time wasted.
He launches.
Punch after punch.
Trees fall with the aftershocks. Levi dodges nimbly, slipping between the heavy strikes like a dancer ducking blades.
Levi (thinking): "His stardust's at Fifty-eight. Heavy. Dense. Like trying to punch a wall that hits back. Going head-on ain't working."
Levi starts swinging back—each hit pulsing with Destruction. He tags Triumphant's ribs, thigh, shoulder—but the juggernaut keeps marching.
Unfazed.
Triumphant fakes a roundhouse—Levi reads it, pivots back, and releases another slicing Shear-wave.
Levi: "Destruction!!!"
BOOM.
This one hits—Triumphant drops to one knee, winded.
Levi (not hesitating): "Now."
He swings both arms crossed in an "X"—two arcs of Destruction scream through the air.
But Triumphant evades with a wide roll, landing in a crouch.
Levi (panting): "Heh… So you dodging now?"
Triumphant (wiping sweat, smiling): "What, you think I'm just gonna kneel there and get beat up? This ain't a practice dummy, pal. It's a fight."
Levi charges. Kicks. Miss. Spinning heel. Miss.
Desperation creeps into his movements. He lands one clean punch to Triumphant's jaw.
Nothing.
Triumphant's face doesn't even flinch. His smile fades.
He plants his feet, cracks his knuckles, and slams his glowing fist forward.
Triumphant: "VICTORY—BLOW!!"
BOOOOM!
The hit lands like a comet. Levi blocks, but the force still sends him flying like a ragdoll—through trees, benches, and dirt. He finally crashes into the trunk of a tree, barely staying conscious.
Triumphant (walking forward): "Had enough, pal?"
Levi coughs. Limps up to one knee. Then… he grins.
Not out of arrogance.
But recognition.
Levi (thinking): ''There it is"
His aura thickens—crimson, almost black now.
The ground trembles.
Triumphant (slowing his steps): "…Alright, now that's a creepy smile."
The air shifts. Triumphant's instincts scream. He knows he has to finish this quickly before it's too late.
Triumphant (narrowing eyes): "That's not rage... that's bloodlust."
(He takes a stance. Fists raised)
"Any last words… Demon?"
Levi doesn't answer.
But the words echo in his mind
Levi (thinking):" The worst one."
KA-KRAKOOM!!!
A tremor rips through the park. Trees split. The sky darkens for just a moment. In the distance, birds scatter in flocks, alarmed by the echoing blast.
And blocks away, at the 3rd District General
Bank, war rages on.
Fighters clashing with Demons.
The city cries louder.
The storm still builds.
The battle is coming to its climax.