The gym was packed, buzzing with noise as two teams battled it out. Shoes squeaked against the hardwood, the crowd roaring after every possession. The scoreboard glowed overhead:
94 – 95
Tension hung thick in the air.
Suddenly
A blur cut across the court before anyone could react, he was already in the air.
BOOM.
Zay slammed the ball down over two defenders, the rim rattling violently as he hung there for a split second before dropping.
[Introduction: Zay Mitchell: Height: 6'5, Age: 17
47 Points, 24 Rebounds, 17 Assists]
The gym erupted with multiple shouts
"HEYYY!!"
"DAMNN!"
"ON HIS HEAD!"
But the other team didn't waste time.
They inbounded instantly, pushing the pace.
The ball handler crossed half court fast, eyes locked on Zay.
Zay picked up instantly
One quick move.
A sharp crossover.
Zay slid almost falling
The guard slipped past him.
Gasps echoed through the crowd.
He drove straight to the rim, going up for a layup blowing through zay team
But from nowhere
A smaller figure launched upward.
SMACK.
The ball got sent flying off the backboard.
Clean.
Violent.
Perfect timing.
[Introduction: Kel — Height: 5'6, Age: 16
9 Points, 12 Steals, 8 Blocks, 2 Assists]
The crowd popped again.
"OKAY KEL!!"
"GET THAT SHIT OUTTA HERE!"
Zay shouted.
Zay:
"Good shit."
But the play wasn't over.
The ball bounced right back into the other team's hands.
They reset.
Cut to the sidelines.
Takeshi leaned back, sitting between a girl's legs as she braided his hair, eyes locked on the game.
Takeshi:
"Damn… this one gon be close."
Dennis sat beside him, elbows on his knees, watching closely.
Dennis:
"They been carrying all season."
Takeshi smirked.
Takeshi:
"He lowkey gon' hit 50."
Dennis:
"Depends."
The girl behind Takeshi sighed.
Girl:
" this game pretty serious huh."
Takeshi didn't even look back.
Takeshi:
"Playoffs. Win or go home."
Girl:
"…oh I didn't know playoffs already started."
Dennis chuckled.
Dennis:
"Yea it is, no way we choke round one."
Back to the court.
The other team moved the ball sharply now.
Zay was in a flow on defense, sliding clean sticking to the ball handler, cutting off angles you name it.
Every movement was fast and focused.
But then
They ran a play.
Two screens.
A quick rotation.
Kel hesitated.
Just for a second.
His eyes bounced between two players.
Wrong read.
Too late.
The shooter was already up.
Splash.
The net snapped.
96 – 98
The gym got loud but split.
Half cheering.
Half groaning.
Zay was visually pissed.
Zay:
"Talk, Kel! Talk!"
Kel nodded, frustrated.
Kel:
"My fault!"
Next possession
A reckless play… A turnover
Fast break happens for the other team
Zay and the ball handler jump, a hard layup, a good contest
A whistle blew.
Sharp.
Loud.
Everyone froze.
The ref pointed.
Foul.
On Zay.
The entire gym erupted.
"WHAT?!"
"NO WAY!"
"THAT WAS ALL BALL!"
The coach stormed the sideline, yelling.
Coach:
"YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!"
Takeshi sat up now, annoyed.
Takeshi:
"Man hell nah."
Dennis shook his head.
Dennis:
"That's a weak call."
The girl flinched from the noise.
Girl:
"Ugh….seriously?"
Takeshi:
"Ref that's some bullshit!"
Takeshi shouted
Back to the court.
The shooter stepped to the line.
The gym buzzed.
He shot.
Clank.
Miss.
But the ref tossed him the ball again.
Second shot.
Swish.
96 – 99
Silence hit half the gym.
Five seconds left.
Timeout.
Zay walked to the bench, breathing heavy, sweat dripping.
His jaw was tight.
Coach drew something up fast.
Coach:
"We're going to run a play to get Zay the ball as fast as possible ."
Zay nodded.
Zay:
"I got you coach."
They all clapped their hands and stood up
Back on the court.
The ball was inbounded.
8 seconds.
The point guard tried to move
but got ripped instantly.
Gasps.
The ball hit the floor.
5 seconds.
Kel dove for the ball.
Full extension.
Sliding across the court determined
He barely got a hand on it
and flicked it out.
The ball bounced toward the corner.
Zay caught it.
2 seconds.
Two defenders collapsed on him instantly.
Zay took one hard step left.
1 second.
Corner.
No space.
No angle.
Just pressure.
He jumped.
Released.
The buzzer sounded.
The entire gym held its breath.
The ball spun through the air
Hit the rim.
Bounced high.
Dropped again
Rolled…
…and slipped off.
Silence.
Then
"DAAAAMN…"
"NO WAY…"
"MAN, FUCK…"
Zay dropped to the floor, slamming his hand against the court.
Zay:
"WHERE'S MY FUCKING FOUL?!"
The refs ignored him.
Whistle.
Game over.
Final Score: 96 – 99
Cut to the stands.
The girl exhaled loudly.
Girl:
"Damn…"
Takeshi didn't move.
Eyes still locked on the court.
Takeshi:
"Tsk… ain't no way."
Dennis had his hand over his face.
Silent.
Down on the court, players lined up, shaking hands.
But Zay?
He barely looked at anyone.
Jaw tight.
Eyes distant.
Frustration sitting heavy on him.
The game was over.
Soon, players started filing back toward the locker rooms, and the crowd spilled out onto the court. Everyone was buzzing some talking, some laughing, others just hanging around.
Takeshi, Dennis, and the girl waited near half-court, the noise of the crowd all around them.
Zay finally came out of the locker room, his bag slung over one shoulder, head hanging low.
Takeshi walked up first.
Takeshi: "You did good, bruh. Don't beat yourself up, man."
Zay looked up at him, didn't say anything at first, just gave a tired nod.
Dennis stepped up beside them.
Dennis: "Yeah, shit was hella close. Y'all lost, but you was hoopin' regardless."
Zay looked at him, his mouth twitching like he wanted to say something deeper, but all that came out was:
Zay: "Yeah... you're right, I guess."
They stood around talking for a little while longer, the energy low but respectful. Eventually, Zay checked his phone.
Zay: "Alright, y'all, I'mma head out. My momma planned somethin' for me apparently."
Takeshi grinned and held his hand out.
Takeshi: "Aight, gang."
They hit a quick handshake, then Zay drifted off toward the parking lot. Dennis watched him for a second before backing up too.
Dennis: "Yeah, I'mma head out too."
Takeshi: "Bet."
The girl followed Takeshi as they made their way to his car, already laughing about something.
Dennis linked up with the people who gave him a ride, still in the middle of the crowd.
Meanwhile, Zay was already pulling out of the lot, his car blending into the traffic heading down the street. He looked at the clock.
*10:30*
Zay pulls into a gas station a few blocks away. He slid out the car, moving slow like the night finally caught up to him.
He went inside, paid for the gas, and started walking back toward the pump, tired but moving. The lot was quiet a homeless man sat by the station door, head low, mumbling to himself. Two cars were parked off to the side, their drivers inside, minding their own business.
Zay clicked the pump into place, the handle clanking against the tank.
A car pulled up slow beside him at pump two, real casual. Zay didn't think much of it…
Dennis was still outside the school, leaning up on a car, laughing with a group of friends, kicking at pebbles on the ground, completely unaware of anything wrong.
Zay adjusted the pump, glancing over at the car beside him.
That's when he heard it a sharp metallic click.
He looked up, confused.
"Remember me?"
The words barely registered before the bullets started flying.
Pop. Pop-pop-pop.
Zay didn't even have time to duck. The rounds tore through him, spinning him back into the side of his car. Blood splattered across the concrete as he crumpled to the ground, gas still leaking into the air.
The car sped off fast, tires screeching, disappearing into the night.
Zay lay there, motionless, a dark puddle growing under him.
Takeshi and his girl were back in the car now, parked in a random lot. The windows were fogged up, and every few seconds, the car would rock slightly, rhythmically. You didn't have to look too hard to guess what was happening inside.
No phones ringing, no news alerts. They were still lost in the moment, completely unaware of what just happened to their friend.
Minutes later, the faint wail of sirens cut through the night, but it was already too late.
Moments later, cop cars pulled up to the gas station, lights flashing through the night. The homeless guy was gone, and so were the two cars parked earlier. Inside the store, a scared cashier sat behind the counter, stuttering as he explained what happened to the first officers on scene.
A few minutes later, medics arrived and rushed to help Zay, but it was already too late. They covered his body, leaving the gas station surrounded by flashing lights and yellow tape.
The scene cuts back to Takeshi as he pulls up to a house, the girl fixing her hair a little as she gets ready to get out.
Takeshi: "Aye, text me when you 'bout to lay down."
She nods, smiling a little. "OK."
The scene switches to Dennis stepping out the backseat of a car.
Dennis: "Appreciate it, gang."
The driver nods. "I got you, bruh."
Dennis shut the door and walked toward his house, his backpack slung over his shoulder.
Meanwhile, across the city, the news was already spreading.
Zay's mom sat on the couch, her hands shaking as she called his phone over and over. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stared at the news report on TV, hoping, praying it wasn't her son.
Zay's Mom: "Please... please pick up the phone..."
But it kept going straight to voicemail, each missed call hitting her harder than the last.
While Takeshi was driving, his phone buzzed.
A message from Dennis popped up:
Dennis: "AYE GANG LOOK AT THE NEWS"
Takeshi responded: "I'm driving bruh, what happened?"
There was a long pause before Dennis finally texted back:
Dennis: "Zay got shot..."
Takeshi, not really paying attention, glanced down at his phone. As he read the message, his eyes widened in shock. His hands slipped on the wheel and he swerved out of his lane, barely catching control of the car before it could crash.
His heart was pounding, hands gripping the steering wheel tight as he tried to process what he just read.
…
Flashing red and blue lights lit up the block like a twisted light show. Police tape was already strung up, officers moving with urgency as the rainy night drizzled down over the body still lying at Pump 1. The streetlights cast a faint yellow hue, flickering just a little the city always felt like it was on edge. Sirens echoed faintly in the distance, and the cold wind pushed trash across the lot.
A thick wave of cigar smoke curled into the air as the Police Chief, dressed in a long dark coat, looked up from his crouch near the body. His eyes narrowed at the sound of something heavy hitting the ground with a solid thud. A tall figure stepped forward — sleek, armored, and imposing.
Polished black plating over muscle-enhancing tech. Shoulders squared. Chest reactor pulsing faint blue. His helmet gleamed in the night.
The Police Chief grunted.
"Reaper… you arrived." He shifted the cigar to the side of his mouth.
Reaper didn't answer immediately. He glanced at the body, then slowly scanned the surrounding area. His helmet's interface lit up, analyzing shell casings, measuring angles, marking bullet impact zones. In seconds, a virtual mock scenario played inside his HUD — glowing outlines showing the drive-by vehicle, muzzle flashes, Zay reacting, dropping to the ground. A tragic, fast-forwarded reenactment of the final seconds.
The Chief stepped forward. "Doesn't look like a Mark crime there was no signature…nomral gun rounds. If I had to guess, bad blood… maybe gang-related. Or someone wanted to send a message. To many options hell if I know"
He turned slightly, his visor scanning the bullet fragments digital lines tracing caliber, travel path, and strike velocity. His HUD highlighted a result:
// 9mm rounds detected
// Source: Civilian-market subcompact handgun
// Match found in 27 stores within a 100-mile radius
Reaper exhaled slowly.
Behind them, headlights cut into the lot as a car skidded to a stop. The door flung open and a woman bolted out, her screams echoing through the night.
"ZAY!"
It was his mother.
She tried to run forward, but two officers caught her just in time. She fought against their grip, sobbing, tears streaking down her cheeks as she stared at her son's lifeless body in disbelief.
"No—NO! Let me go! That's my baby!"
Reaper turned. For a moment, his eyes locked onto hers. He said nothing. Just observed. She stopped struggling and met his gaze, her voice trembling.
"Please… what happened, who did this to my baby."
There was something heavy reaper felt at that moment. Not grief or desperation. But rage. The kind that's so intense you stay quiet, unable to express it..
He turned and walked toward his armored vehicle a matte-black, six-wheeled beast sitting idly by the curb.
Waiting by the open door stood a man with spiky orange hair and a half-buttoned vest, tapping on a wrist device.
"Captain." Oren gave a slight nod as Reaper stepped in.
Inside the vehicle was cool, sleek a tactical command center on wheels. Screens flickered. Lights glowed softly. A young woman sat hunched at a control station, fingers dancing across her keyboard.
"Two Mark signatures just lit up in a restricted zone. No registration, no permits. It's either a battle… or a setup."
Reaper leaned back in his seat, calm as ever.
"Then why are we still here?"
Without hesitation, Oren closed the door, barking out orders to the cops outside.
"Secure the area. Pull surveillance from the last thirty minutes. And someone get the mother home safe. We got things to handle."
He hopped into the front seat, punched the gas, and the armored vehicle tore out of the gas station, engine roaring as the rain picked up again.
Inside, the girl looked back. "Coordinates locked. Want me to deploy drone support?"
Reaper stared out the window, eyes fixed on the night.
"No."
"I want to handle this."
Reaper's seat hissed and lifted out of the armored car's roof like an elevator platform, locking into place with magnetic grips as the vehicle sped down the dark street, engine roaring against the rain-slick asphalt.
Reaper:"You two sit this one out."
Without another word, he launched himself into the air in an arc of raw force as his boots cracked the roof on takeoff. He soared, bounding from building to building making small craters at each leap, his descent was controlled.
He landed in a narrow alleyway, dimly lit by a flickering security light. Rain pattered against the metal vents and dumpsters as he walked through, the sound of his boots echoing in the wet silence.
He tapped his helmet. A call connected instantly to Police HQ.
SUIT FULLY OPERATIONAL
MARK SUPPRESSION IS CURRENTLY AT 97 AND VITALS ARE GOOD...
THIS IS A FIELD TEST
ONE IN
PROTOTYPE
NO. 22749.
PERMISSION TO ENGAGE?
…
PERMISSION GRANTED.
The panel faded out as Reaper stepped out of the alley into an empty parking lot surrounded by chain-link fence and cracked pavement. Neon signs flickered weakly from nearby buildings.
Across from him, two figures stood both panting, worn down from a recent scuffle. Their clothes were torn, blood on one of their sleeves. As they saw who stood before them, one of them froze.
"Shit… Reaper."
The second didn't speak, but the look in his eyes said everything fear, disbelief… and the knowledge that they were likely about to die.
Reaper's voice cut through the night, calm but dangerous.
"I'm in a bad mood as of now. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Both of you come at me. You land a blow, and both of you walk away free."
Silence.
The two exchanged a glance. They hesitated, but the name Reaper name carried too much weight in many stories, none of them good. If he was offering a way out, they'd be fools to ignore it.
Marks began glowing on their arms, twisting and crawling like fire beneath the skin. The ground cracked under their feet as a menacing aura erupted from both of them, wind surging outward, trash and debris lifting slightly from the force alone.
Reaper exhaled slowly and closed his eyes.
Then, in the blink of an eye he vanished.
The alley is dead quiet. Then — in a single blur — Reaper moved.
A shockwave blasts out as his boot slams into the chest of the first man, launching him like a ragdoll across the lot. His body smashes through a building wall, leaving a crater in the concrete. Debris rains down.
The second fighter stumbles back, stunned.
"Wait—you sa—"
Before he can finish, Reaper appears in front of him fist first. The punch crashes into his jaw, sending him flying into another building across the lot. Cement cracks. His body thuds against the wall and slumps to the ground, dazed.
Reaper walks forward slowly, voice low and almost amused.
"I never said I'd just stand around and let you hit me."
He grins under the helmet, a brief flicker of satisfaction.
"Tch. You little—" the second guy growls, biting back pain. He raises his arm and a thick, pulsating tentacles form above him, twisting unnaturally in the air. They whip down toward Reaper like spears.
The suit's mask registers the incoming strike, coldly flashing, low-level threat.
Reaper's right arm lights up a Spear summoned.
With a clean, precise swing, the tentacles are shredded mid-air.
"Disgusting," he mutters.
The second man doesn't hesitate, he flings both arms wide. Boiling jets of water blast forward from multiple angles sharp, whistling arcs that hiss as they cut through the air. He throws himself forward behind them, building momentum into a flying punch.
Reaper lunges straight into it.
He sidesteps one stream, narrowly ducks another, and drives his offhand into the man's incoming punch. There's no HUD reaction, just bones in the man's forearm shattering on contact, snapping clean in two. He howls in agony mid-air.
Before the fight can slow, the first man — blood trailing down his face — claws out of the rubble. He grabs a chunk of bent metal rebar and slams his palms together. From the ground beneath Reaper, a burst of steel tines shoot upward like spikes.
Reaper leaps back, landing calmly a few feet away, unfazed.
"Alive, huh? I thought you were dead," he says flatly, spinning the spear once in his hand. The tip gleams red under the parking lot lights.
The two marked men regroup, faces beaten, breathing heavy, still smoldering with aura.
Reaper watches with an eerie stillness.
"This is the best you've got?" he says. "No wonder your signatures were blinking."
Both men grit their teeth in unison, insulted.
"You're weak," Reaper adds. "Both of you."
They charge again their final desperate gambit. Tentacles lash, aura flares, and burning streams of water erupt as the steel user shapes more deadly shards from the ground. The air distorts from the energy.
Reaper just exhales.
"I think you had a fair chance."
His mask opens. His voice turns official.
"Using unauthorized Marks in a restricted or public area is a serious crime.
As Captain of the Marked Police Force… I sentence you both to death."
The helmet seals shut again.
There's no time to react.
A flash of light — a blinding white line slashes horizontally across the lot. Then, hundreds of afterimages follow in an instant, surrounding the two men in a cage of cuts.
{Hidden Slash}
Reaper stands behind them, unmoving, holding his blood-soaked spear straight out.
Time pauses. Then reality catches up.
Their bodies crumble into lumps of string like flesh.
A burst of blood rains out like a crimson storm. It coats the pavement, splashes against Reaper's armored suit, steaming slightly against the heat of his gear. Both enemies collapse lifeless, torn apart by impossible speed and precision.
Reaper slowly lowers his spear, eyes glowing beneath the mask.
No words follow.
Just silence, and the sound of the city holding its breath.