The collision of their fists echoed like a gunshot.
545's knuckles crashed into his father's jaw. Blood sprayed under the flickering lights as the old man reeled back, wiping the blood from his mouth before flashing a wide grin with blood-stained teeth.
Father:"That's your strongest punch? Feels like the swing of a runt. Exactly what I expected from my defective spawn."
545 shook out his hand, blood dripping from the torn skin on his knuckles. His breathing stayed steady—far calmer than ever before.
He mocked his father with a cold smirk.
Experiment 545:"You're hilarious, old man. You talk like a god, but you bleed like the rest of us. Not as perfect as you always claimed, are you?"
The father's face twisted, deep wrinkles cutting across his expression from pure rage.
He drove his fist into 545's ribs. The crack echoed through the hall like shattering glass.
545 stumbled back from the pain, clutching his bleeding side. His body curled in agony, his balance faltering—but he refused to fall. His crooked smirk never faded.
Experiment 545:"That's it? You broke my bones. But since I'm your so-called perfect offspring—your creation—that means yours will break too. You're just another bag of bones waiting to snap."
His father's face contorted beyond words, consumed by fury.
He lunged forward, seizing 545 by the throat. His nails dug into the skin, cutting deep. The crushing pressure cut off the air from 545's lungs.
Father:"Never forget who gave you life in this world, you ungrateful defective son. I can erase you from it without lifting a finger."
545 clawed at his father's arm, nails digging into flesh as his vision began to fade. But instead of fear, he laughed. Blood trickled through his teeth as he spat blood into his father's face.
Experiment 545:"Erase me? You couldn't even erase your failures. That's why I exist—because I stand at the pinnacle of your so-called experiments."
With a roar, 545 drove his hand into his father's ribs. Flesh tore. Bone cracked.
Experiment 545:"Surprisingly fragile… just like the rest of your defectives. You're no different from them after all."
His father's eyes widened in shock. He hadn't expected his son's hand to pierce his body. Gasping, he wrenched free, hurling 545 across the hall. The younger man slammed into the watching experiments, scattering them like rag dolls.
Both men steadied themselves, circling once more. Their breaths were ragged, each inhale deep, each exhale heavy. Blood dripped steadily from their wounds, staining the broken floor red.
545 tilted his head, a bloody grin twisting across his lips.
Experiment 545:"Come on then… show me. Show me if the so-called original masterpiece can really beat his defective copy."
The old man smirked, spitting blood onto the floor.
Father: "Take the throne if you want… but it will be the death of you."
Their shadows clashed again, silhouettes colliding beneath the stuttering lights. The sound of cracking bone and tearing flesh filled the dark hallway.
Then suddenly the lights stopped flickering.
And when the lights steadied, one of them was already on the floor.