The room smelled of pressure.
Not the kind you feel
the kind that watches you back.
"I'm getting sick of this… day by day."
The Crime Minister's voice didn't rise.
It didn't need to.
It was cut.
Around him, decorated officers stood frozen uniforms perfect, spines straight, minds empty.
"What are you people even doing?" he continued, quieter now.
Worse.
"You can't find one man. One. And you call yourselves special forces?"
Silence.
No one dared to breathe too loudly.
Maharan stepped forward.
"Sir… Do you remember Project Z?"
The air shifted.
Even the Minister's expression flickered just for a second.
"…Yeah," he said slowly. "Why bring that up now?"
Maharan didn't blink.
"I believe… he can help us."
A mistake.
A dangerous one.
The Minister stepped closer, his shadow swallowing Maharan whole.
"Are you out of your mind?" he whispered.
"He's not an asset. He's a catastrophe."
A pause.
"Do you remember what he did?"
Maharan said nothing.
The Minister leaned in.
"Ten thousand gangsters," he said softly. "Gone. Not a trace of mercy. Not a second of hesitation."
Maharan nodded once.
"That's exactly why we need him."
Silence again.
But this time, it felt like something was deciding.
"Don't make a mistake you can't undo," the Minister murmured.
"Or I'll make sure you regret it… in ways you won't survive."
Maharan smiled faintly.
"As you say, sir… if we succeed."
Ring… Ring… Ring…
"…Speak."
The voice on the other end was calm.
Too calm.
"You've been assigned to a new mission."
"I'm done working for you."
A pause.
Then
"It's about Damion."
Silence.
No hesitation.
Recognition.
"…I'll be there in five minutes."
The call ended.
KRISH
The ceiling above him felt endless.
Like it was waiting for him to fall into it.
"I wish you'd become someone great… someone I can be proud of."
His mother's voice didn't fade.
It never did.
It lived inside him soft… warm… and suffocating.
Krish blinked.
All I remember is pain.
Everything else felt like it belonged to someone else. "She was the only one I had…"
His fingers tightened slowly.
"And I lost her too."
"Hey, Krish!"
"How do you pull all the girls, man?" someone laughed. "Teach us!"
More laughter.
Krish forced a smirk.
"I don't do anything. Not my fault."
"Yeah? Careful," another voice added. "Vanisha's boyfriend's looking for you. Boxer, apparently."
Krish shrugged.
"Let him be."
LATER THAT DAY
The sky was wrong.
Too calm.
Like it knew something he didn't.
Krish stepped outside, stretching his arms.
"Maybe I should take a break—"
"HEY."
The word wasn't loud.
But it hit.
Hard.
"Who's Krish?"
Fifteen men.
Not random.
Not confused.
Waiting.
Watching.
Anthony stepped forward, rolling his shoulders.
"There you are…"
A grin spread across his face slow, cruel.
"…you son of a bitch."
A Vanisha rushed forward. "Anthony, stop please"
He shoved her aside like she weighed nothing.
Krish's pulse started to climb.
Fifteen.
Too many.
No way out.
Not here.
Not like this.
Still
"…Yeah," Krish said, voice thinner than he expected.
"I'm Krish. What do you want?"
The punch came before the question finished existing.
CRACK.
The world snapped sideways.
Sound vanished
then returned all at once.
Blood filled his mouth. Warm. Metallic.
"You think you can mess with my girl?" Anthony's voice echoed.
Another punch.
Then another.
Krish fell.
Boots followed.
From everywhere.
No rhythm.
No mercy.
Just impact.
"Stop please"
"Pathetic."
"This is him?"
"Seriously?"
Laughter.
Each word heavier than the kicks.
Krish curled into himself.
Smaller.
Smaller.
Smaller.
Why…?
Why am I like this…?
Why can't I
A boot slammed into his ribs.
Air disappeared.
So did the rest of him.
THAT NIGHT
The tea trembled in his hands.
Or maybe it was him.
"Drink," his friend said quietly. "It's over."
Over.
Krish stared into the cup.
"They saw…" he whispered.
His voice sounded distant.
Like it wasn't his.
"Everyone saw."
Silence.
"I was nothing."
The words didn't hurt.
That was worse.
A long pause.
Then
"I need to get stronger."
Not emotional.
Not desperate.
Just… decided.
UNDERGROUND MARKET
The air smelled like rust and secrets.
People avoided eye contact.
Because here
Eye contact meant questions.
And questions meant danger.
"Where are we?" Krish asked.
"Underground market," his friend muttered. "Don't talk."
A figure leaned forward from the shadows.
"Whatcha lookin' for?"
"I need… Xektor Z2."
A pause.
Then a quiet chuckle.
"You sure you're in the right place, kid?"
"I know exactly where I am."
"Eighty-two thousand."
Silence.
His heartbeat slowed.
"…I'll take it."
How do you know all of this man Krish asked his friend. Just go to the spine row and you will find him good luck my boy. A smile that he never felt happy.
SPINES ROW
"Eighty-two… eighty-three…"
Anthony's voice echoed in the empty gym.
Sweat hit the floor like a ticking clock.
"Eighty-four"
"Hey… bastard."
Anthony looked up.
And smiled.
"Well… if it isn't the punching bag."
Krish stood still.
The vial in his hand felt heavier than it should.
Just one sip.
His reflection stared back at him
Broken.
Small.
Forgettable.
He twisted the cap.
Drank.
TRANSFORMATION
Pain didn't describe it.
Pain had limits.
This didn't.
It felt like his body was rejecting itself
like something inside him was waking up…
…and tearing everything else apart to make space.
"GHH WHAT IS THIS?!"
His vision fractured.
Then sharpened.
Too sharp.
He could hear everything.
Breathing.
Heartbeats.
Fear.
Anthony laughed.
"Taking drugs now? You really are"
CRACK.
Silence.
Anthony didn't finish.
Because he wasn't there anymore.
He was across the room.
Broken.
Krish blinked.
"…What?"
Someone charged him.
"GET HIM!"
That's when it happened.
Something slipped.
Not outside.
Inside.
Krish didn't fight.
He let go.
MASSACRE
Movement became instinct.
No thought.
No hesitation.
Just execution.
Bones didn't sound real when they broke.
They sounded… hollow.
Screams filled the air
then disappeared.
Too quickly.
Too easily.
Krish moved through them like they weren't people.
Like they were already gone.
One by one
They fell.
Until only Anthony remained.
Crawling.
Bleeding.
Small.
"P-please…"
Krish walked toward him.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Not angry.
Not emotional.
Just… inevitable.
"You're not human…" Anthony whispered.
Krish grabbed him.
And for a moment
just one
something flickered.
A voice.
"I wish you'd become someone great…"
His mother.
Warm.
Soft.
Gone.
"I… didn't want this…"
Darkness answered.
And this time
he didn't resist.
MORNING
Cold.
Metal.
Weight.
Krish opened his eyes.
Handcuffs.
Voices.
Too many.
"…monster…"
"…inhuman…"
"…his own mother…"
His heart stopped.
"What…?"
An officer stepped forward.
Disgust carved into his face.
"How could you kill your own mother?"
The words didn't register.
Not at first.
"You ripped her apart."
The world tilted.
Cracked.
"No…"
Images flashed
Blood.
Screams.
A face
Her face.
"No… that's not real…"
But his hands
They were shaking.
"…Where is my mom?"
Silence.
"You killed her."
Krish closed his eyes.
And something inside him finally broke.
Not loudly.
Not violently.
Quietly.
Completely.
And for the first time
He didn't wonder what the monster was.
Only
whether it had ever been separate from him at all.