The evening shadows stretched long across the school grounds as Ethan cut through the empty football field toward the back alley. The wind howled low, carrying the distant hum of traffic and the faint stink of garbage from the dumpsters. His boots crunched on gravel, each step deliberate, his new body moving with a predator's grace—muscles flexing under the hoodie, heart steady as a drum. The text had come during last period: "Alley. Now. Or we hunt your ass down." No name, but Ethan knew. Marcus wanted to reclaim his throne, crush the freak who'd stared him down all day.
He turned the corner into the alley. Narrow, dim, lit by a single buzzing sodium lamp that cast everything in sickly yellow. Marcus leaned against the graffiti-scarred brick wall, arms crossed over his massive chest, gold chain glinting. His four boys spread out like a pack of hyenas: Tank One and Tank Two, the linemen, each pushing three hundred pounds of steroid-fueled beef; Speedy, the wide receiver with quick hands and a mean jab; and Junior, the scrawny wannabe with a knife scar on his cheek, trying too hard to look tough.
Marcus straightened when Ethan stepped fully into the light, his eyes raking over the broader frame, the thicker arms, the way Ethan stood now—like he owned the fucking ground. The smirk twisted Marcus's lips, but there was a flicker underneath. Uncertainty.
"Look who showed," Marcus drawled, voice thick with fake bravado. "Thought you'd hide behind that math bitch Tabu all day. What, she suck your dick for protection? Nah, you're still the same pussy. Just bulked up like you think it matters."
Ethan said nothing. Rolled his neck once, slow. Felt the power coil.
Marcus laughed, loud and forced, glancing at his crew. "Five on one, Harper. We gonna paint this alley with your blood. Again."
Tank One cracked his knuckles, grinning wide. "I'mma break his legs first."
Speedy bounced on his toes. "Save the face for me. Wanna see him cry."
Junior just nodded, eyes darting, hand twitching like he had something in his pocket.
Marcus nodded sharp. "Fuck him up."
They exploded forward.
Tank One led, roaring as he swung a massive haymaker aimed to cave Ethan's skull. Ethan slipped left, the fist whistling past his ear. He countered with a short, savage uppercut straight into the gut—his knuckles sinking deep through fat and muscle, twisting on impact. Tank One's eyes bulged, a guttural "Ughhh!" ripping from his throat as his diaphragm spasmed. Vomit sprayed—bile and lunch chunks hitting the concrete. Ethan yanked his fist back hard, feeling tissue tear. The big man dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach, wheezing, "Can't... breathe... fuck..."
Tank Two charged in low, arms wide for a bear hug tackle. "Got you, bitch!" he bellowed. Ethan met him head-on, planted his feet, and drove both hands into the guy's shoulders. Pivoted hard, using the momentum to slam Tank Two face-first into the brick. The impact echoed—crunch of nose flattening, cheekbone shattering. Blood exploded in a red arc. "Ahhh! My face!" Tank Two screamed, voice muffled. Ethan didn't stop; grabbed the back of the head and smashed it forward again. Once—teeth grating on mortar. Twice—skull thudding dull. The body went limp, sliding down the wall in a bloody streak, moaning incoherently, "Stop... please..."
Speedy darted in from the side, fists blurring in quick combos. "You motherfucker!" he snarled, landing a glancing jab to Ethan's cheek—skin splitting, hot blood trickling. Ethan absorbed it, pain a distant buzz. Speedy pressed, throwing a hook. Ethan caught the wrist mid-swing, squeezed until bones ground and popped like popcorn. Speedy's eyes went wide. "What the—arghhh!" Ethan headbutted him full force, forehead to nose—cartilage exploding in a wet burst, blood flooding down. "My nose! You broke my—" Ethan cut him off with a knee to the balls, lifting him off the ground. Nuts crushed like grapes. Speedy howled, high-pitched, then Ethan finished with an elbow across the temple—crack of skull on bone. The body crumpled, twitching, piss darkening his jeans.
Junior bolted then, feet scrambling on gravel. "Fuck this! I'm out!" Ethan was faster—two strides and he had the kid by the collar, spinning him around. Junior's eyes were wild, panicked. "Wait, man, I didn't—please!" Ethan drove a straight right into the mouth—teeth shattering like glass, shards flying with blood. "Ahh! My teeth!" Junior wailed, hands over his ruined grin. Ethan grabbed the throat, squeezed just enough to collapse the windpipe with a gurgle. Junior clawed at his arm, nails drawing blood, gasping, "Can't... air..." Ethan released, let him drop choking, body convulsing on the ground.
Ten seconds. Four wrecks bleeding out.
Marcus hadn't moved. His fists were up now, but shaking. The alley reeked of blood and piss. "What the fuck are you?" he whispered, voice cracking. No more smirk. Just fear.
Ethan walked forward slow, boots splashing in a growing puddle.
Marcus threw a desperate right hook. "Stay back!" Ethan caught the arm at the elbow, twisted vicious—joint hyperextending with a wet pop, ligaments snapping like rubber bands. Marcus howled, "My arm! You broke my fucking arm!" Ethan hammered a left hook into the ribs—crack, crack—two bones giving way. Marcus staggered, clutching his side, "Oh God, it hurts..."
Ethan fisted the dreads, yanked the head down hard. "Remember me now?" he growled. Drove his knee into the face—once, nose exploding in a red fountain, "Fuck! My nose!" Marcus screamed. Twice—lips splitting to the gums, teeth loosening. "Stop! Please, man!" Third—orbital bone caving with a sick crunch, eye swelling shut instantly. "I can't see! Ahhh!"
Marcus swung blind with his good arm, weak and wild. "I'll kill you!" Ethan sidestepped easy, hooked an arm around the neck from behind, locked the rear choke. Marcus thrashed like a bull, huge body bucking, free hand clawing at Ethan's forearm. "Get off! Get the fuck off me!" Veins bulged in his forehead, face turning beet red, then purple. Spit flew from his lips.
Ethan leaned in close, breath hot on the ear. "Remember putting me down? Threatening my mom? This is what payback feels like."
Marcus gurgled, eyes rolling back. "Please... can't... breathe..."
Ethan released just before blackout. Marcus collapsed to his knees, gasping, coughing up thick blood clots onto the concrete. He sobbed now, broken, "Why... why you doing this..."
Ethan crouched, grabbed the hair again, forced the ruined face up. Blood poured from every opening—nose, mouth, split eyebrow. One eye swollen shut, the other wide with terror.
"Listen," Ethan said, voice ice calm. "Tonight, after you crawl home and try to explain this to your mommy, I'm coming to your house. Walking right through the front door. And I've got a surprise for you."
Marcus whimpered, blood bubbling. "What... what surprise?"
Ethan patted the cheek hard—skin splitting further, fresh red welling. "You'll see. And you'll beg for it to end."
He stood, surveyed the alley: bodies scattered like discarded trash, moans echoing off the walls. Tank One is still puking weakly. Speedy twitching in his own piss. Junior is gasping shallow. Tank Two is silent, maybe out cold.