Scene 0☄️ — The Shatter{prologue} 2022.NOVEMBER 15, SATURDAY.
Seven scientists gather in the shadows: Kent Lockhood, Vila Kington, Quan Warden, Lisa Paloma, Garry Black, Frankstein Freeman, Layla Olfe.
They discover a mysterious energy leaking from an abandoned house.
Kent: Prepare Protocol: S.H.A.T.T.E.R. Now, Dr. Hann.
Vila: Human evolution is coming… really soon.
The scientists begin kidnapping humans, experimenting, dumping them into cages.
Garry: Fucking monsters. Always screeching and screaming.
Lisa: I know, right. Useless. I think we should take the mutagen for ourselves.
Garry: Yes… haha. I love that plan.
Lisa: We'll be the strongest of all!
A mutant overhears them. Kent walks past.
Mutant: Hey… he… hey…!
Kent: What, bro? Damn.
Mutant: The other two… they want the mutagen… for themselves…
Kent's face shifts from confusion to rage.
Kent: What? Who?!
Mutant: Na…me… Gar… something… The mutant collapses unconscious.
Kent [THINKING]: Garry. Of course. And someone else… I need to find out who the fuck is plotting this. But first…
Kent confronts Vila.
Kent: We need to shut this down.
Vila: This is human evolution!
Kent: Vila—!
Vila screams, pulls a gun, and shoots Kent in the chest. Kent falls, bleeding.
Kent: I will… fi…nd you… and kill you… Kingto… His body goes limp.
Vila drags him into a tunnel.
Vila: Don't be a bitch about it, Kent. You'll be okay.
2 DAYS LATER — TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 17.THE ELDION INSTITUTE MASSACRE.
The lab explodes. Humans scream, bleed, plead. Supernaturals tear through the halls.
Roars. Growls. Screeches.
On the burning bridge: Garry, Lisa, Quan, Frank, Layla. Frank trips, falls into fire.
Quan: FRANK—NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Garry and Lisa betray Layla and Quan. They run.
A monster devours Lisa brutally. Garry: OH MY GOD! The monster eats Garry alive.
Garry: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
The monster roars.
Quan: Layla, run! Now!
Layla: No… I can't leave you!
Quan pushes her as the door explodes. Layla runs, crying.
Quan sits on the burning bridge. His arm glows faintly — blue veins.
Vila searches Kent's body for the keycard. But Kent's corpse is gone.
Vila: Shit… oh my god…
Frank appears behind her, holding an iron bat.
Vila: Frank! Help me, please!
Frank: You killed my colleagues…guess i have to do the same
frank bashes vila's head with a bat brutally.
The Eldion Institute burns. Screams echo through collapsing halls. Blood stains the walls, cages split open, monsters unleashed.
Layla runs into the night, her tears swallowed by the roar of fire. Quan's faint blue veins glow brighter as the bridge crumbles beneath him.
Vila stumbles backward, staring at Frank's iron bat raised high. Her breath catches.
Kent's body is gone. The keycard is gone. And somewhere in the ruins, something far worse has awakened.
The Garden waits… behind the fence.
⚔️ Scene 1 – Redfern Ridge, Willowbrook
The ridge was silent at first. A silence so heavy it pressed against the chest, broken only by the whisper of wind through skeletal trees. Redfern Ridge stood like a scar above Willowbrook, jagged stone cliffs jutting out against the night sky, a place where legends said the world's fabric was thinner—where Wrathborn were born and corruption seeped through.
Nathan Moya—Parallax—stood alone at the cliff's edge. His coat whipped in the storm winds, his grin stretched wide, his eyes fractured with madness. Around him, reality bent and twisted: the grass rippled like water, the stars above flickered as if they were candles about to die, and the ridge itself seemed to breathe.
"Humans… fragile, crawling things," Nathan muttered, voice sharp with contempt yet trembling with something deeper. "But I promised my mother. I'll protect them. Even if I hate them."
Behind him, the mirror‑entity shimmered—his monstrous subconscious, shards of broken glass floating in the air, reflecting infinite versions of himself. It whispered in a chorus of voices, each one crueler than the last: "Break the promise, Nathan. Rewrite them. Humanity is a disease. You are the cure."
The storm thickened. Lightning forked across the sky, illuminating Willowbrook below—its streets flooded, its people screaming, its Wrathborn tearing each other apart. Nathan's laughter echoed across the ridge, reckless and sociable even in insanity.
He stepped forward, reality folding beneath his boots. The cliff crumbled, but instead of falling, the world bent to his will. Gravity twisted, stone became liquid, and the ridge itself bowed to him.
"If corruption is inevitable… then I'll rewrite inevitability itself."
The mirror‑entity laughed with him, shards of existence scattering into the storm. Redfern Ridge trembled, Willowbrook shuddered, and the Wrathborn war was about to begin.
⚔️ Scene 2 – The Assassin of Citrus
The storm over Redfern Ridge had barely settled when the air shifted—sharp, acidic, biting. Nathan Moya felt it before he saw her. The scent of oranges, sweet yet corrosive, burned his lungs.
From the shadows of Willowbrook's ridge path, she emerged. Cloaked in amber silk, blades dripping with glowing juice, the assassin known only as Ms Orange stepped forward. Her eyes gleamed with venomous delight.
"Parallax," she hissed, voice smooth as citrus peel. "Your reality bends, but even reality rots when acid eats through it."
Nathan grinned, reckless and unafraid. "Acidic oranges? That's your trick? Cute. Let's see if juice can rewrite existence."
She struck first—flinging daggers of hardened pulp, each blade sizzling as it carved through stone. The ridge hissed, rocks melting into bubbling pits. Nathan twisted reality, bending the trajectory, but the juice clung to the air, burning holes in the fabric of his manipulation.
"You can't bend what corrodes," Ms Orange taunted, her blades splitting into streams of acidic rain.
Nathan laughed, his madness echoing across the ridge. He snapped his fingers—gravity inverted, the rain froze mid‑air, droplets suspended like stars. He spun them into a spiral, turning her own acid storm into a cage.
But Ms Orange was no ordinary assassin. She sliced her palm, blood mixing with juice, and the cage dissolved in a hiss of smoke. She lunged, blades aimed for his throat.
Reality shattered. Nathan's mirror‑entity flared, shards of existence rising like a shield. Her blades struck, but instead of piercing flesh, they sliced through reflections—each shard showing a different Nathan, each one laughing.
"You fight with fruit," Parallax sneered, twisting the ridge beneath her feet. "I fight with reality."
The ground split, cliffs bending into spirals. Ms Orange staggered, her acid dripping into the void. Yet she smiled, defiant. "Even reality can rot, Parallax. And I am rot made flesh."
Their clash lit the ridge in fire and acid, reality and corruption colliding in a storm that shook Willowbrook below.
🩸 Scene 3 – Bloodwright vs Venimre
The night bled into chaos at the edge of Willowbrook. Tires screeched against the asphalt as a black sedan tore through Redfern Ridge's winding road. Inside, a woman screamed—Helen, her wrists bound, her eyes wide with terror. At the wheel sat Kaelen Dross, the anti‑hero known as Bloodwright, his pale hands slick with crimson veins that pulsed like living serpents.
"You belong to me now," Kaelen whispered, his voice a hymn of hunger. His blood dripped onto the steering wheel, glowing faintly, whispering promises of power.
But fate had other plans.
From the shadows ahead, a figure appeared—Venimre Veron, Helen's husband, his aura thick with venom. His eyes burned with fury, his veins blackened with toxins that writhed beneath his skin.
"You took my wife," Venimre growled, his voice venomous, "and now you'll choke on my wrath."
With a single slash of his hand, Venimre unleashed a Venom Slash—a crescent of toxic energy that carved through the night. The strike shredded the sedan's tires, acid eating rubber to ash. The car flipped violently, metal shrieking as it spun mid‑air.
But Venimre was faster than gravity. He leapt through the shattered window as the car twisted, his body a blur of venomous grace. In the chaos of spinning glass and steel, he reached Helen, pulling her into his arms before the wreckage could consume her.
The car slammed into the ridge, flames erupting.
From the inferno, Kaelen emerged—laughing, bleeding, alive. His veins split open, blood pouring into the air. He raised his arm, and from his own lifeblood, a sword formed—long, jagged, dripping crimson light.
"Venimre Veron," Kaelen hissed, his voice echoing like a curse. "Your venom may corrode, but blood is eternal. Tonight, you bleed."
Venimre set Helen down gently, his eyes locked on Bloodwright. Venom dripped from his fingertips, sizzling against the stone.
Two Wrathborn stood against each other—blood and venom, corruption and toxin, husband and kidnapper. The ridge trembled as their powers clashed, the night itself holding its breath for the slaughter to come.
⚔️ Scene 4 – The Upside Down World
The battle at Redfern Ridge raged on. Acid hissed against stone as Ms Orange rolled forward, her blades dripping with citrus venom. Nathan Moya—Parallax—stood unshaken, his grin widening as the storm above fractured into shards of broken stars.
She lunged, slicing arcs of acidic juice that burned through the ridge. Nathan snapped his fingers.
The world inverted.
Suddenly, they were standing in an upside‑down version of reality—the sky beneath their feet, the ground above their heads, rivers flowing upward into the heavens. Ms Orange staggered, her balance broken, but Nathan thrived in chaos. He bent the inverted world to his will, slamming her into walls that weren't walls, gravity twisting like a serpent.
"You think fruit can rot reality?" Nathan laughed, his voice echoing in madness. "I'll peel you apart."
Ms Orange snarled, rolling into her Orange Roll—her body curling into a glowing sphere of acidic pulp. She charged, spinning like a cannonball, tearing through the upside‑down world with sizzling trails.
Nathan snapped his fingers again.
The world shattered into a 3D prism of existence—a kaleidoscope of infinite planes, each folding into the other. Ms Orange's form twisted, her assassin's body collapsing into a literal orange, pulpy and fragile, rolling helplessly across the fractured ground.
Nathan stepped forward, contempt dripping from his grin. "Ugh… take a rest, damn assassin."
He crushed the orange beneath his boot. Juice splattered, reality bent, and when he snapped his fingers once more, the world stitched itself back into normalcy.
In his hand, only Ms Orange's severed finger remained—a grotesque trophy. Nathan smiled, tossing it aside into the dirt.
But before his laughter could echo, a shadow loomed.
From nowhere, a massive figure spun into motion—an eight‑foot‑tall, muscular beaver clad in an advanced supersuit. Its kick was a blur, a steel‑clad spin that smashed into Nathan's chest, sending him crashing into the ridge wall.
The ground shook. The storm froze.
Nathan wiped blood from his lip, his grin unbroken. "What the hell… a beaver?"
The towering creature stood over him, armored plates gleaming, eyes burning with primal fury. The battlefield had just shifted again, and Parallax's reality was about to be tested against something far stranger than citrus.
🕯️ Scene 5 – The Boy in the Alley
It was October 3rd, 2138. New York City was a concrete jungle of neon signs and rusted fire escapes, a place where shadows whispered louder than the crowds. In Brooklyn's back alleys, Gideon Young, seventeen, wiry and restless, moved like a ghost. His mind was wired for machines, his hands always tinkering, but tonight wasn't about scraps of tech—it was about survival.
Six months had passed since his mother vanished. All he had left was a torn photograph: her standing beside a man in a trench coat marked with a strange emblem—a flaming steel mask. That symbol haunted him, driving him deeper into the city's veins, chasing whispers of a program no one dared speak aloud.
Tonight, the whispers led him beneath an abandoned cathedral.
The air was thick with dust and silence. Gideon's flashlight flickered across broken pews and shattered stained glass until he found it—an elevator hidden beneath the altar. The doors groaned open, and he descended into the earth.
The chamber below was a forgotten lab. Dusty consoles lined the walls, shattered glass crunched beneath his boots, and in the center stood a humming containment pod. Inside: a suit. Sleek, metallic, laced with glowing red veins that pulsed like a heartbeat.
The terminal crackled to life. "PHANTOM PROTOCOL: INITIATE."
Before Gideon could react, the pod hissed open. The suit lunged forward like it was alive, wrapping around him, fusing into his skin. Pain seared through his body, light blinded him, and then—silence.
When he woke, the world was different. His body felt alien. His vision sharpened until he could see heat signatures glowing in the dark. He could hear electricity humming in the wires above. His muscles thrummed with power. He was faster. Stronger. Invisible when he willed it.
But the suit wasn't just power—it was a curse. It was a prototype from a secret military project called PHANTOM MAN, designed to create living weapons. Gideon wasn't supposed to survive the bonding.
The agency behind the program, VIREX, noticed immediately. A retrieval unit stormed the cathedral ruins, armed with pulse rifles and venom drones. Gideon panicked, but the suit reacted. He cloaked, vanishing into shadow. Bullets tore through the air, but he was already gone, leaping across rooftops, magnetic fields bending to his will.
For the first time since his mother vanished, Gideon felt alive. Not just a runaway. Not just a boy in the alley.
He was something else.
He was Phantom Man.
🩸 Scene 6 – Venom vs Blood
The night at Redfern Ridge was alive with fire and venom. The wreckage of the flipped sedan still burned, its twisted frame glowing in the stormlight. Venimre Veron stood tall, his eyes blazing with fury, his wife Helen trembling safely behind him. Across the flames, Kaelen Dross—Bloodwright—rose from the wreckage, his crimson sword dripping with living blood.
Venimre's veins pulsed black, his body a conduit for toxins. He raised his arms, venom dripping from his fingertips, and with a guttural roar he shaped the poison into jagged constructs. Venom Shurikens—dozens of them—spun into existence, each blade glistening with lethal acid.
"You'll regret touching her," Venimre snarled, his voice thick with rage. "My venom will carve your soul apart."
The shurikens flew, slicing through the air like a storm of death.
Kaelen laughed, his madness echoing across the ridge. He swung his blood‑forged sword, each strike slicing venom apart. The crimson blade hissed as it cut through the toxic projectiles, droplets of blood and venom spraying into the night. Sparks of acid burned against his skin, but he pressed forward, relentless.
"Venom rots," Kaelen hissed, his voice sharp as steel. "But blood endures."
Venimre unleashed another wave—larger, faster, a storm of venomous blades that lit the night in green fire. Kaelen's sword elongated, veins stretching into a massive crimson greatsword. He spun, carving through the barrage, each strike a symphony of violence.
The ground shook as their powers collided—venom sizzling against blood, acid burning against crimson steel. Helen screamed as the shockwaves tore through the ridge, stone crumbling beneath their feet.
Venimre leapt forward, venom dripping from his fists, slashing in arcs that melted stone. Kaelen met him head‑on, his blood sword clashing against venom claws. Sparks erupted, acid hissed, blood sprayed.
Two Wrathborn locked in an epic duel—husband defending his wife, kidnapper reveling in chaos.
Venimre's venom burned through Kaelen's blade, but Kaelen's blood regenerated, reforming into sharper edges. Each strike was faster, harder, more desperate. Venimre's fury was endless, but Kaelen's madness was unbreakable.
The ridge became a battlefield of toxins and crimson, every clash echoing like thunder.
"Tonight," Venimre roared, venom dripping from his teeth, "you bleed for her!"
"No," Kaelen whispered, his grin wide, "you bleed for me."
Their battle raged on, venom and blood painting the night in chaos.
🦫 Scene 7 – The Beaver in the Supersuit
Nathan Moya—Parallax—staggered back, his grin twitching as he stared at the towering figure before him. Eight feet tall, muscles rippling beneath an advanced supersuit, the creature's massive tail scraped against the ground like a blade. Its helmet gleamed, eyes glowing with primal fury.
Nathan tilted his head, laughter bubbling from his throat. "This one's tall… strong… an actual challenge. Assassin? No… bounty hunter? Nahhhhh… a crazy fan, of course!"
He cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed into the storm: "HEY BEAVER MAN!!! I ain't gon' kill you now—show me what you go—"
Before he could finish, the beaver moved.
A colossal fist smashed into Nathan's chest, launching him through the air. He crashed into the side of a crumbling building, stone and steel exploding around him. Dust filled the night, but Nathan snapped his fingers, reality bending—only for the beaver to appear behind him, impossibly fast.
The creature seized Nathan's wrists, forcing his hands down before he could twist existence again. With brutal strength, it slammed him into the ground, the ridge trembling under the impact.
Nathan coughed blood, laughing through the pain. "Ohhh… you're fun."
The beaver didn't answer. It backflipped with impossible agility, its armored legs striking Nathan's jaw in a devastating kick. Nathan spun, crashing into rubble, his grin splitting wider.
"Alright then… sword time."
He pulled from the air a blade forged of fractured reality, shimmering with shards of broken glass and bending light. With a roar, he slashed across the beaver's chest, the blade carving through armor, crimson sparks spraying.
The beaver staggered, but instead of falling, it reached behind its back. With a mechanical hiss, it pulled free two massive ultra‑guns, sleek barrels glowing with neon energy.
The night lit up as the beaver opened fire. Bullets of plasma and steel tore through the ridge, each shot shaking the earth. Nathan twisted reality, bending trajectories, but the sheer volume of firepower forced him back, his laughter drowned in the storm of gunfire.
The clash was no longer assassin versus protector—it was chaos incarnate: Parallax vs the Supersuited Beaver, reality against raw firepower, madness against primal fury.
---
🩸 Scene 8 – The Hive of Skinwalkers
The ridge burned with venom and blood. Venimre Veron hurled another wave of venom shurikens, each blade sizzling through the night, while Kaelen Dross—Bloodwright—spun his crimson sword in a frenzy, slicing them apart. Sparks of acid and blood lit the battlefield, their duel echoing like thunder across Willowbrook.
But then—smoke.
A sudden hiss filled the air as a smoke bomb detonated, thick clouds swallowing the battlefield. Venimre coughed, his vision blurred. From the haze, delicate hands reached out—Helen's hands. She grabbed his mouth, muffling his roar, and dragged him backward into the shadows.
"Helen…?" Venimre gasped, but before he could resist, she pulled him deeper into the smoke. When the haze cleared, Venimre was gone.
Kaelen staggered, his blood sword dripping, his eyes wild. He screamed into the night, rage boiling. "VENIMRE!!! SHOW YOUR FACE!!!"
Silence answered him. Until a voice—soft, feminine, mocking—slipped from behind.
"Do you need help, cutie?"
Kaelen spun, blade raised. Behind him stood a woman cloaked in black silk, her eyes glowing with eerie light. He snarled, threatening to cut her down.
But then the ground shifted. From the shadows, dozens of Skinwalkers emerged—twisted figures with shifting flesh, their bodies morphing between human and beast. They surrounded Kaelen, their eyes blank, their movements in perfect unison.
The woman smiled, her voice dripping with power.
"I am Queen Elizabeth… the Hive‑Mind of Skinwalkers. And I have a deal for you."
Kaelen's grip tightened on his sword, blood dripping from his veins. "Speak quickly before I carve you apart."
She stepped closer, her army breathing as one.
"Help me build my army, Bloodwright. In return, I will help you kill Venimre Veron. His venom will rot, his love will fade, and his blood will be yours."
Kaelen's eyes narrowed, his madness flickering between rage and intrigue. Surrounded by Skinwalkers, crimson blade trembling, he realized the battlefield had shifted.
This was no longer just a duel. It was the beginning of an alliance—blood and corruption bound to a hive.
---
⚡ Scene 9 – The Electrician's Awakening
The streets of Brooklyn were dim, the lamps flickering like dying stars. Jimmy, a young electrician with calloused hands and tired eyes, walked toward a building with damaged lights. His veins throbbed unnaturally, dark lines crawling beneath his skin. He coughed violently, clutching his chest, his throat raw.
He cleared his throat, muttering to himself, "Just another job… just another damn light."
But then the sky answered.
A bolt of lightning split the heavens, jagged and merciless. It struck Jimmy directly, searing through his body. He screamed, collapsing to the pavement, his veins glowing electric blue. Sparks danced across his skin, his heartbeat thundering like a generator.
Darkness swallowed him.
Jimmy opened his eyes to a place that wasn't Brooklyn. The world around him was endless static—crackling arcs of electricity forming walls, floors, and skies. He stumbled, terrified, his voice breaking.
"Where am I?! Where am I!!!"
The static shifted. From the storm, a figure emerged—his subconscious monster, a humanoid silhouette made of pure lightning, eyes burning white. Its voice was both thunder and whisper, echoing inside his skull.
"Home, Jimmy."
Jimmy's breath caught. "Home? This… this isn't home. This is hell."
The figure stepped closer, arcs of electricity snapping across its body. "No. This is where you belong. You are Wrathborn now. The storm chose you. Every wire, every current, every spark—it's yours to command. But power comes with a price. You will never be free of me."
Jimmy trembled, his hands glowing faintly, sparks leaping from his fingertips. He realized he could feel the hum of every circuit, every light, every pulse of energy in the city above.
"I don't want this," he whispered. "I just wanted to fix the lights."
The subconscious laughed, a sound like thunder splitting the sky. "You don't fix lights anymore, Jimmy. You are the light. You are the storm. And storms don't ask permission—they destroy."
Jimmy fell to his knees, electricity surging through him, his veins glowing brighter. He screamed as the storm consumed him, his humanity flickering like a dying bulb.
When he opened his eyes again, he was back in the alley. The lights above him blazed to life, brighter than ever. His hands crackled with blue lightning. His veins pulsed like live wires.
Jimmy was no longer just an electrician.
He was Wrathborn.
🦫 Scene 10 – The Beaver's Wrath
The storm over Willowbrook roared as Nathan Moya—Parallax—stared down the towering beaver in its supersuit. His grin twitched, madness sparking in his fractured eyes.
The beaver snarled, muscles rippling beneath steel plating, and with impossible strength it ripped a table from the wreckage and hurled it at Nathan.
"Really? Furniture?!" Nathan laughed, snapping his fingers.
Reality folded.
The world shifted into a cartoonish dimension—colors exaggerated, buildings bending like rubber, the sky painted in absurd hues. Nathan blinked, smirking. "Well, this is new."
But before he could react, a massive hand appeared from nowhere, smacking him across the face and sending him crashing through a warped building. The cartoon skyline rippled like paper as Nathan staggered to his feet.
"Alright, Beaver Man… let's dance."
He lunged, kicking the beaver multiple times, each strike bending the cartoon physics into chaotic bursts of sound and color. He grabbed the creature's head, twisting reality around it, and slammed it into the ground with a thunderous crack.
The beaver roared, its suit sparking. Then, with brutal determination, it reached to its own chest. Metal plates split open, wires tearing, flesh and steel exposed. From the cavity, a surge of light‑green energy erupted, a beam so intense it carved through the cartoon world.
The blast struck a nearby building. Instantly, the structure glowed sickly green, veins of energy crawling across its walls. With a deafening explosion, the entire building detonated, shards of cartoon rubble raining down in glowing fragments.
Nathan froze, his grin faltering. His eyes widened as the green light reflected across his fractured reality.
"Oh… I am f*ed."
The beaver stood tall, chest still glowing, its ultra‑guns humming at its sides. The battlefield was no longer a joke—it was annihilation waiting to happen.