["You in hell.." The young man growled in a broken english with a thick accent.
He spat on the ground, grabbing him by the hair and yanking his head back. His face inches from his.
"And I'm the devil" He snarled balling his fist and swinging it straight at Erik's guts.]
---
Erik felt the familiar tingling warning him of danger, but choose to ignore it.
BAM!
The punch landed squarely. But he didn't feel a thing. Still, he played along.
He dropped to one knee, one hand scraping against the rough, frozen dirt. His gaze flicking discreetly toward the guards. None were looking. Good.
The onlookers chuckled darkly, convinced that Erik was finished.
But he just smirked.
There was a glint in his eye now.. Sharp, dangerous, almost feral.
"Nah" He whispered, his voice low and steady laced with quiet menace. "You ain't the devil... You're just practice."
WHAM!
In a lightning-fast move, Erik swung his leg up and drove a vicious kick right into the man's groin.
CRACK! BURST!
The chief's face twisted in agony, his knees buckling instantly. He doubled over, letting out a gut-wrenching scream.
"Aaaarrrrghhh!"
The man howled, clutching his burst balls as he fell on the ground, his breath ragged and pained.
The crowd froze, stunned.
"Bet you won't be havin' kids, no more." He muttered with a smirk.
The group leader crumpled to the ground, still clutching his bloodied groin, face contorted in atrocious pain.
The crowd of prisoners stirred, and Erik's senses flared up. It was like a sharp tingle in the back of his head
Spider-Sense.
Without thinking, he ducked low a fist whistling through the space where his head had just been.
He came up quick, eyes locking on the attacker.
In one fluid motion, Erik snatched his old cellmate's cup of steaming soup from his hand and flung the liquid straight into the person face.
The man screamed, stumbling back, hands clawing at his eyes in panic. Blinded and disoriented, he dropped to his knees, howling in pain.
Erik didn't hesitate.
He stepped forward and drove his foot down the back of his head with brutal force.
Crack.
The sound of his nose shattering against the frozen dirt echoed across the yard. Blood sprayed out in a sudden burst, spattering the ground—and Erik's boot.
The man groaned, barely conscious, his breath ragged as it fought past a mess of blood and shattered cartilage.
Erik lifted his gaze and locked eyes on the two who were still standing.
One of them charged, letting out a rough yell as he threw a wild overhand punch toward his face. The blow came clumsy and desperate. Telegraphed from a mile away.
He didn't even need his Spider-Sense to see it coming.
He weaved to the inside effortlessly, disgust flashing across his face, the wooden cup still gripped loosely in his hand.
Then he surged upward with a brutal uppercut, driving the rim of the cup under the man's chin.
BAAM!
Teeth scattered like loose gravel. The man's jaw crumpled, his body going limp before he even hit the ground.
Erik stood over him, calm, not even winded.
He glanced down at the splintered remains of the wooden cup still in his hand.
Didn't need it. He thought, lips curling into the faintest smirk. But it sells the story.
Let 'em think I needed to fight dirty.
He turned his gaze toward the last one. The teenager had terror written all over his face.
He slipped as he tried to backpedal, falling hard on his ass before scrambling to his feet and bolting without another word.
Erik turned and walked calmly toward the leader of the little group. The one who'd started all this.
The man lay sprawled on the frozen ground, groaning. Blood soaking through his pants at the groin.
Erik crouched down, planting one knee firmly on the man's chest, pinning him in place.
"Tryna beat on a kid, huh?" Erik muttered, voice low and cold.
Then his fists began to fall.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Each punch landed with a sickening, wet thud. Deliberate, unhurried, and brutal.
The man's face contorted under the assault, swelling and splitting with each impact.
"P… Please…" The young man whimpered, barely able to form the word.
Then—
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Gunshots rang out across the yard, sharp and deafening.
Erik's punches halted mid-swing. The yard went silent except for the ringing in his ears.
He glanced up, noticing several guards rushing toward him rifles raised and shouting orders in Mandarin.
He caught their sharp, urgent tones but didn't understand a word.
"Get off!" One barked in broken English as they surrounded him.
Erik slowly stood up, raising his hands to show he wasn't resisting, though his eyes were still burning with adrenaline.
He looked down at the man beneath him. His face was a bloodied, pulpy mess, barely recognizable.
Before he could think to react, two guards grabbed him by the arms, yanking him roughly off the ground.
They twisted his arms behind his back and started dragging him through the mud.
"Solitary!" One of them yelled in English.
"WHY?" Erik shouted back annoyed. "I ain't the one who started this!"
"For protection!" One of the guards responded curtly, barely looking at him as they dragged him toward a more secluded area of the camp.
"I don't need protection!" Erik spat, his voice filled with defiance. He shot a glare toward the man who had spoken, daring him to explain further.
"Not for you.." The guard replied with a cold smirk, glancing back over his shoulder. "For them."
Erik followed his gaze, and his eyes fell on the three men lying crumpled in the mud behind him.
Blood streaked the dirt, their groans and gasps of pain echoing faintly in the air.
Some lay motionless others faces swollen and smeared with blood.
A low chuckle escaped Erik's lips, despite himself.
"For them, huh?" He muttered under his breath, feeling the rush of satisfaction mingling with his frustration.
He glanced at the guards dragging him toward isolation, their grip still firm on his arms.
"Guess I didn't hold back enough." He whispered to himself, smirking at the chaos he had left in his wake.
His feet dug into the cold earth, and he felt the slick, wet dirt soak into his clothes as they hauled him away.
He didn't struggle. He let them drag him.
The guards thinking they had subdued the boy pulled him harshly across the yard away from the scattered bodies of the men he had just wrecked.