Chapter 2: This is My Story
The black-haired man struggled to catch his breath, each inhale burning like fire in his lungs. From the shadows, three figures emerged, their eyes fixed on him with predatory precision.
The air thickened, tense, charged with the unspoken promise of violence.
The leader stepped forward—a burly man with a crescent-shaped scar above his left eyebrow that pulsed faintly with a dark glow. Towering, broad-shouldered, his presence was almost tangible, the aura of power radiating off him in waves. His black leather jacket, adorned with metal studs, reflected the fractured neon of the streets, and his dark hair was slicked back, revealing a pronounced widow's peak.
Flanking him, the others were equally dangerous. One, lean and agile, hair a messy mop of blond, wore a cruel grin and eyes that glimmered with malicious delight. The other, a towering figure six-foot-six, bald with a thick beard, radiated brute strength; his fists clenched, eager to strike.
"You're a hard man to find," the leader hissed, voice laced with malice. "But now that we've got you, you're going to pay for what you did."
The blows came without mercy—kicks to his gut, each landing with a wet, sickening thud.
"You're a joke," the leader spat. "Once a hero, someone the Gifted, the Nats… even other superheroes looked up to."
"You were feared by villains… by thugs. Now?" He laughed, dark and hollow. "Now you're nothing but trash. Worse than some low-level scum."
The others jeered alongside him. "Yeah, a real hero," one sneered.
"A hero to no one," the other added, laughter dripping with cruelty.
Apex tried to speak, but his voice barely left his throat. "Wha… what do you want?"
The leader chuckled, cold and mirthless. "Plenty. But first, you pay for your mistakes."
The thugs continued their assault, precise and brutal. Apex doubled over as fists and boots struck him, pain ripping through his body. In desperation, he tried to summon his powers. A flicker of sparks danced at his fingertips, debris floated a fraction off the ground.
But it was fleeting. The energy slipped through him like sand, leaving only pain, a scorching ache in his temples. He cried out, clutching his head.
"Look at him!" one of the thugs jeered. "Can't even use his powers anymore!"
From the leader's hand, a faint, dark purple glow erupted. Chains of shadow snaked out, wrapping around Apex with icy precision. They bit into his skin, constricting him like living metal. The leader's eyes gleamed with malevolence, commanding the chains with every twitch of his fingers.
"You see, Apex," he sneered, voice dripping with mockery, "this is how you use your 'gifted ability.' You're just a shadow of your former self. Mortal, like everyone else."
Bound, restricted, Apex's mind drifted. Memories of victories, accolades, heroic moments—they all seemed distant, unreachable. The power he once held felt like a ghost, teasing him before vanishing.
"You're not a hero anymore, Apex. Not after what you did months ago," the leader taunted. "You're a footnote, a memory of a bygone era."
Apex whispered, barely audible, "You're right…"
The leader laughed, mirthless. "Good. Now… you'll pay."
The beatings continued, each strike precise, echoing through the alley. Pain and shame surged inside him, memories of lives lost, mistakes made, and trust betrayed. Rock bottom wasn't a place he thought he could sink to—but the sensation of failure pressed down with unforgiving weight. Every blow reminded him of what he had once been—and what he had lost.
Amidst the chaos, his inner voice whispered, sharp and bitter: You were their hero once. Their symbol of hope. Now look at you. Beaten, chained, mocked. Did they ever love you, or just the idea of you?
And yet, a spark lingered—fleeting, fragile, buried beneath the pain. I'm not done. Not yet. They think this is the end… but it's only another test.
The male voic, distant and reflective—spoke again, threading through the assault:
"From once being a famous superhero, loved and adored by all… to now being mocked, hated, reviled."
"From the hero every child idolized… to the man every child now scorns."
"From the figure every woman admired… to the one they despise."
"And from the terror that even villains respected… to a man beaten, broken, bound."
"Apex. Once a symbol. Once a hero. Once… me."
"Yes. That's me. Getting my ass... beaten."
"I'm Apex."
"The famous superhero who fell from grace."
"And this… this is my story."
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[Author's Note:]
The Gifted: Individuals born with supernatural abilities, each unique, each dangerous. Their powers will be explored throughout the novel.
The Nats: Short for Naturals. Ordinary humans, born without any abilities, navigating a world reshaped by the Aether Break.
Superheroes: Gifted who have chosen to protect the Nats and maintain order.
Villains / Supervillains: Gifted who use their powers to harm, dominate, and sow chaos, challenging the fragile balance of the world.