Elias stood before the cracked bathroom mirror, the hum of the city's data still vibrating in his teeth. He pulled a heavy, charcoal-grey hoodie over his head, the fabric worn thin at the elbows. His jet-black hair was a tangled, messy nest over his forehead, nearly shadowing his eyes.
'Blue. They're still blue.'
He stared at his reflection. Those eyes had spent years watching heroes save the day on glossy screens. Now, they looked back with a cold, hollow light. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black tactical mask, stretching the fabric over his nose and mouth until only those piercing blue eyes remained visible under the shadow of his hood.
The transition was seamless. he moved with the precision of a predator, his Adoptive Muscle Memory pulling from a thousand hours of recorded combat footage. He slipped out the window, his feet hitting the fire escape without a sound.
Two blocks away, the alley was bathed in the flickering blue light of the hero, Pulse. The hero was laughing, tossing a ball of kinetic energy between his hands like a toy.
"Run again," Pulse sneered at the kid cowering against the brick. "I need the target practice."
Elias stepped into the mouth of the alley. The air around him turned heavy. The ticking of a nearby clock slowed, then groaned, and then stopped. Silence swallowed the city.
Pulse blinked, his glowing hands dimming as he realized the shadows were moving toward him. "Who the hell are you? Some wannabe vigilante? You're in the wrong neighborhood, kid."
Elias didn't speak.
With Super Speed he hadn't even practiced, Elias was suddenly inside Pulse's guard. He delivered a palm strike to the hero's chest—a move he'd seen a master martial artist use to collapse a lung. Pulse gasped, the air leaving him in a wheeze, but he swung back with a desperate, kinetic-charged fist.
The blow caught Elias square in the jaw. The force was enough to shatter a normal man's skull. Elias spun, hitting the brick wall hard, the sound of his own bones snapping echoing in the quiet.
But he didn't fall.
His Super Healing kicked in instantly. The bone fused, the bruise vanished, and the pain... the pain felt like fuel. Elias slowly turned his head back toward Pulse. A low, guttural sound began to vibrate in his throat. It wasn't a sob. It was a laugh.
Elias pulled his lips back behind the mask, a devil-like grin stretching so wide it felt like it would tear his skin. His eyes were wide, manic, and bright with a terrifying joy.
"Is that all?" Elias rasped.
He lunged. Every time Pulse landed a hit, Elias just laughed harder, the sound bouncing off the alley walls like a nightmare. He was a whirlwind of stolen techniques—a kick from one hero, a grapple from another—all executed with lethal perfection.
He grabbed Pulse by the throat, hoisting the "hero" off the ground. The kinetic energy died out in the hero's hands as fear finally replaced his arrogance.
"Please—" Pulse choked out.
Elias didn't hesitate. He leaned in close, his laughter rising into a jagged, hysterical peak that drowned out the hero's plea. He felt the life leave Pulse's body, the "Guardian" turning into nothing more than a broken doll in his grip.
He stood over the corpse, chest heaving, the blood on his knuckles already being absorbed back into his regenerating skin. He felt alive. For the first time since he was ten, he felt right.