With his blades in hand, Mikey charges Payne, fury carrying him forward like a storm breaking loose. He slashes with both weapons in a furious rhythm, left then right, strikes cutting the smoke-thick air with a whistle. Payne glides between them with uncanny ease, weaving through the blows as if the violence were a dance choreographed only for him. His grin spreads wider with every dodge, his laughter spilling out into the fire-lit air.
Mikey flips the right dagger, catching the handle upside down, switching grip in one fluid motion. He slashes again, teeth bared, but Payne sidesteps, always just out of reach, always taunting.
"See?" Payne hisses through his grin.
Mikey thrusts with the left dagger, this time aiming straight for Payne's chest, determined to feel steel bite flesh. But Payne slides aside like smoke, catching Mikey's elbow and slamming a palm strike into it. The blade spins loose from Mikey's grip, clattering across the floor.
"You can't do anything!" Payne jeers.
Before Mikey can recover, Payne's fist drives into his face, sending him staggering backward, but Mikey plants his feet and steadies himself, breath ragged, fury still holding him upright. Payne lunges, and Mikey swings his remaining dagger in a desperate arc. Payne snatches the weapon's path, twisting it aside with cruel precision, then barrels into Mikey, tackling him hard.
The penthouse burns hotter around them, the heat blistering, the air clogged with smoke and falling embers. Payne pins Mikey's hand down and clamps the other on his throat. Fingers crush against his windpipe, laughter bubbling up as Mikey gags and claws at him.
"You gonna beg me?" Payne growls, squeezing tighter, savoring it.
Mikey's eyes dart—and land on the charred, burning corpse of his mother. Rage floods him, molten and unstoppable, burning hotter than the flames.
"Rahhhh!" His roar tears from his chest.
He raises his free hand and slaps blindly at Payne's face until his thumb hooks Payne's eye. With all the strength of his rage, he drives it in.
"AHHH!" Payne screams, stumbling back as Mikey digs deeper.
Mikey kicks hard, shoving Payne off, the thumb sliding from the socket with a sickening pop. Blood gushes down Payne's cheek in thick streams, dripping like twisted tears. He clutches at the ruined eye, then drops his hand and—still smiling—shows the empty, sealed lid, the grotesque grin somehow more terrible with half his sight gone.
Mikey charges again, one dagger flashing in his grip. He swings, and this time the blade cuts, slashing across Payne's shoulder. Mikey howls with primal fury, slashing again and again, his rage propelling his arm. Payne intercepts, seizing Mikey's wrist and gripping his collar with the other hand. He cackles, hurling the boy into the wall.
The impact rattles Mikey's skull; the wall cracks and groans. He sees Payne already moving, fist cocked to smash. Mikey drops low at the last second and Payne's punch blasts through the wall, debris scattering.
Seizing the moment, Mikey pushes off the wall and slides across the ash-littered floor, sparks raining as burning overhead lights crash down around him. He dives under a falling fixture, rolls, and snatches his other dagger from the ground. In one fluid turn, he spins and hurls both blades at Payne. The first dagger drives straight into Payne's thigh, pinning him to the wall with a meaty crunch. The second embeds into his other leg.
"GAHHH!" Payne's scream is raw, furious, but still laced with laughter.
Mikey is already upon him, fists swinging. He drives punch after punch into Payne's face, knuckles splitting, blood spattering with each impact.
Left, right, left, left, right, right—each strike fueled by the roar of his soul, each one heavier than the last. The penthouse groans and burns around them, firelight painting their struggle in hellish colors. But Payne catches his arms, locking Mikey's wrists in his grip. His smile widens even as his bloodied face swells.
"Yes!" Payne bellows, before slamming his forehead into Mikey's.
The headbutt cracks like stone. Mikey stumbles backward, dazed, stars flooding his vision. Payne tears the daggers from his legs, tossing them clattering to the floor. Mikey rushes again, desperate. Payne greets him with a brutal kick to the stomach, folding him in half. As Mikey doubles over, Payne grabs his skull and drives a flying knee into his face. Mikey's head snaps back, pain blooming white-hot across his vision. Payne laughs louder, manic, unbroken.
Grabbing Mikey's hair, Payne yanks his head up, holding him in place like a trophy. Then the punches rain down. Wild, merciless, each one a hammer smashing against Mikey's face. His vision blurs, eyelids fluttering, and through the haze, he can only make out Payne's silhouette—smile stretched, one eye a bloody void, the other glowing with hate.
Finally, Payne hurls him across the room. Mikey's body skids and collides with the far wall, coughing, broken, fighting for breath. The penthouse is nearly engulfed now, fire roaring, the ceiling collapsing in parts. His parents' bodies are almost ash, fragile outlines in flame. Payne steps through the smoke, framed by fire, a demon grinning through hell.
"You killed your parents, Michael. Not me." His voice is sharp, serrated. "Because you made it so damn easy! Amelia warned you about your father, and you still didn't listen! You're selfish!"
Mikey forces himself upright, daggers reclaimed, his back against the flames. Across from him, Payne stands with his back to the glass wall, the dining table beside him, fire circling them both. With a desperate growl, Mikey hurls one dagger. His arm trembles, his energy drained. The blade misses, embedding itself in the glass wall, cracks spiderwebbing across it.
"This is just sad, Michael…" Payne taunts, watching the glass splinter. "Already giving up? So weak."
Mikey hurls the second dagger. Again, Payne sidesteps, laughing. The blade buries itself into the glass beside the first, the fractures widening, lines zigzagging across the pane.
"Really?" Payne sneers, glancing at the cracks. "You thought you could do that again? So stupid—"
But Payne's words cut off. Mikey is already sprinting, head lowered, shoulder driving forward with every ounce of fury left in him. His scream rips out, primal, feral, born from everything Payne has ever taken.
He slams into Payne, tackling him backward. The already weakened glass shatters instantly under their combined weight, exploding outward in a rain of shards. And together, locked in rage, they plummet from the penthouse into the night air of the skyscraper.
They plummet through the night until their bodies crash down hard onto the steel shell of a delivery craft. The thud reverberates like thunder, the impact jolting through Mikey's bones. It is the same kind of craft he had once landed on, the morning of his graduation, back when everything still felt like it could be his—before Payne stripped it all away.
They slide across the surface, sparks flying where glass shards scatter from their fall. Mikey doesn't wait. He is already on top of Payne, his fists a storm, hammering down with pure, unrestrained fury.
"Die! You! Piece! Of! Shit!" Each word is punctuated by a blow, his knuckles splitting open, blood mixing with Payne's.
Payne only laughs. He smiles wide through broken, bloodied teeth, joy painted across his ruined face as if Mikey's rage is his lifeblood. He catches Mikey's throat mid-swing, his grip iron, eyes blazing with mockery.
"You will never be like your parents," he hisses, his voice low and cutting. "You weak bastard son."
The grin stays plastered across his face as he shoves Mikey off with monstrous strength. Payne rises, blood dripping down his chin, and swings a brutal kick. The heel connects with Mikey's face, snapping his head back, blood spraying from his mouth. Mikey hits the metal hard, chest heaving, ribs screaming. Payne steps forward, winding for another kick. But Mikey surges up in one desperate move, driving his skull into Payne's knee.
"Gahhh!" Payne's howl rips through the night as his leg buckles. He doubles over in pain, his laughter breaking into a ragged growl.
Mikey is already climbing to his feet, his body battered and screaming in protest. He launches upward, his head crashing into Payne's chin like a savage uppercut, snapping his head back with a sickening crack. Seizing the moment, Mikey drives his boot into Payne's chest, kicking him off the edge of the craft.
Payne's body spirals downward, swallowed by the wind and the neon night below. Mikey staggers, clutching at his ribs, breath hitching through clenched teeth. His body trembles, blood dripping from his mouth.
'It's over… finally… it's—'
But the night betrays him. Rising into view, carried by another delivery craft, is Payne. His laughter echoes up into the city sky as he ascends to Mikey's height, framed by rushing neon lights and the endless dark. His one ruined eye leaks blood down his face, his grin sharper than ever.
The wind whips around them, tugging at clothes and hair, carrying Payne's cackle into the night as the two crafts drift side by side, thirty feet apart, cutting through the veins of the city. The skyline rushes past—towering glass buildings, neon signs blazing like fire, bridges and scaffolds flying by. The night is alive with color and speed, and yet the only thing Mikey sees is Payne.
Gritting his teeth, fury burning hotter than the pain in his ribs, Mikey spits blood into the wind and roars, "Die, you sick bastard!"
Payne tilts his head, grin gleaming, voice cutting sharp against the roar of engines and rushing air. "Kill me, Michael. You weak, pathetic excuse of a son." His bloody teeth flash in the neon glow. "I'll kill your parents in hell too."
The crafts veer closer, nearly colliding, their steel frames rattling with every gust. Payne leans forward into the wind, his laughter rolling, unbroken. Mikey feels the last of his control slip, his soul consumed in fire. Every ounce of grief, every scar Payne carved into him, every moment stolen—it erupts inside him. His roar tears across the night, primal and desperate, his voice the echo of all the rage he has carried since that night.
"COME ON!!!"
Mikey smacks his own head repeatedly, his anger uncontainable.
"PAYNE!!!"