The city didn't care about weak kids.And in Southside Chicago, Shaquille Jordan knew that better than anyone.
Seventeen years old, six feet tall but still scrawny in all the wrong places. Bullied at school, beaten in the streets, ignored by teachers. Every alley he walked down was a gamble. Every glance from older kids was a threat.
Tonight, the gamble came due.
"Move, man. Ain't got all night."
A sneaker slammed into his ribs. Pain shot through his chest. Blood mixed with rainwater in his mouth. Three local punks circled him, grinning like predators.
"You really think you're tough?" one sneered. "You can't even stand on your own."
Shaquille tried to lift his head. His body refused. He had never fought back. Every attempt in the past ended the same: bruises, humiliation, broken pride.
They laughed as they shoved him into a wall. One of them grabbed his backpack and emptied it on the wet street. Bills, notebooks, even his old phone—gone.
"You're nothing, man. Don't ever think this changes," another mocked, kicking his side.
Shaquille's vision blurred with pain and rain. The weight of every failure, every insult, every beatdown crushed him.
Then—
DING.
System Notification
SYSTEM LOGIN SUCCESSFULWelcome, User #54211Newbie Login Reward AvailableReward: [Gene Vial: Prototype B-13]Do you wish to claim? [Y/N]
Shaquille froze.
A floating window appeared above him, glowing faintly in the dark alley. His heart pounded. What the hell is this? A joke? Some new app?
He stared at it, skeptical. "System? What… who's this for?"
The punks laughed again, noticing his hesitation. "What, you staring at your imaginary iPad now?"
Shaquille's hands shook as he reached toward the glowing icon.He thought about it. Permanent alteration? Violent behavior? Loss of sanity?It sounded like a trap. Some sick joke the universe was playing on him.
Another kick to his ribs stole his breath. Pain exploded in his chest. He wheezed, helpless.
I can't… I can't keep doing this.
Blood dripped from his lip. Rainwater mixed with it in rivulets down his face. The alley felt colder, darker. He could feel every failure in his bones, every ounce of humiliation crushing him further.
And then—without thinking, without hope, without a second thought—he clicked Y.
The vial materialized in his hand: black steel, red liquid glowing faintly inside.
Maybe this is it. Maybe this is the end. Maybe… maybe it's something else entirely.
He popped the cap and swallowed.
The Transformation
At first, nothing. Then fire.
Veins burned black as molten pain ripped through his body. Bones cracked, reshaped, twisted. Muscles coiled like steel cables ready to snap. Shaquille screamed, clawing at the wet asphalt as if the city itself had reached inside and torn him apart.
"GAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"
His nails split. His jaw popped wider than it should have. Every nerve in his body lit up in pain, and yet… he felt alive.
Then silence.
He opened his eyes.
The reflection staring back wasn't human anymore.Eyes burning crimson red. Hollow. Soulless.A grin split across his face—unnatural, wide, hungry.
System Notification
GENE SEQUENCE: ACTIVATEDPath: Beast MutationFighting Mode Unlocked: Bloodjaw Style – Sadistic PredatorPassive Skill Gained: "Predator's Instinct"Description: Smell fear. Sense killing intent. React like an animal.
Shaquille laughed—a low, broken sound that echoed in the alley.
The punks had returned, thinking he was still their scared little victim. One grabbed him. He twisted the man's arm until it snapped like dry wood. Another charged. He slammed him into the wall, teeth scattering across the wet pavement.
The system chimed again:
Quest Complete: "Retaliation"Reward: Skill Fragment – [Blood Frenzy]
Shaquille stood over them, chest heaving, crimson eyes glowing.
For the first time in his life, he wasn't prey.
He was the predator.