Bubbling heat spurred from my chest to ricochet to every cell in my body, the burst of energy barely subsiding when I couldn’t find my golden girl amongst them.
All heads lifted at my entry, having hardly enough time to process my presence before an animalistic roar tore from my throat. “MICAHHHHH!!”
The guards shook off their initial shock and charged, their previous victims left trembling in the corner.
I growled as the first guard lifted his fist to land a blow to my ribs. I dodged it easily, using his momentum against him and grabbing his outstretched arm in two places, snapping it clean in half. Two more barrelled forward without hesitation. I parried and dodged round the room, trying to locate Micah while fending off the encroaching Ludus guards.
“Stop, or she dies!” a rough voice shouted. My immediate opponents ceased their onslaught, bathing in their perceived glory at the scene.
My head snapped to the man who dared speak, who dared make commands. The ugly fucker’s crooked smile was lopsided, his scar discoloured from his reddening face. He held one of the girls up to his chest, a knife digging into her side. “Now here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get on your fucking knees with your hands raised. Got it?” Like I gave a fuck about some random bitch. Still, I bristled at his tone. The brazen disrespect.
I couldn’t feel anything. I couldn’t even feel myself breathing, my Variant pounding in my bloodstream, overflowing with violent intent.
Of its own accord, my mouth lifted into a predatory grin, all my shining white teeth on display. In an eerily quiet voice that sounded the furthest from my own, I said, “Psycho only gets on his knees for one person…and that ain’t you.”
The space pitched with wired tension as soon as my name released from my lips, the guards suddenly hesitant on what to do or how to proceed. I soaked myself in their dwindling egos, as they slowly seeped into unadulterated panic.
Until the dumb one opened his mouth again. “I don’t give a fuck if you're Psycho or fucking God himself. Who’re you looking for? Your whore’s missing, right? Brown hair, golden eyes, a killer fucking body.” He licked his lips and my vision filtered over with red. “Well, guess what? I fucked her! I fucked her so hard, she couldn’t take it. The dumb whore is dead. So, if you don’t want to join her, get. On. Your. Knees.”
The demand thrummed in my mind as if from far away, at the end of a darkened tunnel I couldn’t reach.
A thick cloud of ominous peril suffocated the atmosphere as my vision transitioned from red to straight black, my beast finally unleashed.
My mind clicked into autopilot, nerves and muscles following through in perfect synchronisation.
Before he could even twitch, I removed and lifted my gun from its holster, firing a bullet straight through his shoulder. He collapsed to the ground in a dramatic flair, clasping his weeping wound and releasing agonised whimpers.
The rest came out of their stupor, opting to fight for their survival. They swarmed, attempting to work as a single unit to take me down.
It wouldn’t help them. No one could help them.
I used the gym equipment to my advantage, cutting off the group to alienate one or two on their own. Their muffled screams and pained grunts bled into my awareness, my beast growling in hunger, demanding more. Always demanding more.
Grasping a stray skipping rope hanging from the wall, I whipped it like a lasso, the metal handle hitting a guard in the face and smashing his nose inward. His knees hit the ground, blood pouring down his front.
A tall, lean guard managed to dodge the next whip, landing a solid blow to my temple. It was hard enough to blur my vision for half a second. I chuckled with mirth, the game more interesting now that there was a worthy opponent. Disturbed by my expressed delight, his step faltered. His ultimate downfall.
I kneed him in the gut, causing him to keel over with a grunt. Looping the sturdy skipping rope tight around his throat, I grasped the two handles and pulled on each end with a sharp tug. His neck snapped, giving a resounding crack, head tilting at an obscure angle as I let his limp body fall to the ground at my feet.
A gruff yell called from behind. Turning, I flipped a barbell from the rack and twirled it around my body as if it were as light as a spear. I pushed all my strength into throwing the barbell directly into the incoming guard with innate force. Even with the blunt end, the hunk of metal tore straight through his abdomen, piercing out his back to stab into the wall behind him. The barbell vibrated violently from the impact. The guard looked down at the thick cylinder protruding from his gut, blood gushing from his mouth, before his chin hung to his chest in eternal sleep.
The rest blurred together, my bloodlust salivating for more carnage, more violence, more surrender.
When I finally came to, I was shirtless, thick, warm blood stuck to every inch of my exposed chest, lungs heaving from exertion as sweat ran down my face.
One guard remained, his whimpers growing in volume as I stalked him like the prey he was. He remained on his back, shuffling for the exit and holding onto his injured shoulder. The bullet wasn’t lethal. I didn’t want him to have the easy way out.
I craved a hands-on death, lived for the close kill, hungered for the warmth of fresh blood slipping through my fingers. Only the worst of us recognised the desperate yearning for the slowing thumps of a dying heart. And like the others, I’d get that from him.
“Get on your knees,” I commanded him, my voice raspy from misuse.
When he finally stumbled to a kneeled position, he looked up at me with all the fear in the world shining in his eyes. My heart lifted at the expression.
Without ceremony, I lifted a 10kg dumbbell and repeatedly concaved it into his skull, the resounding cracks of his thick bone harmonising with the screeching female screams that filled the air.
Everything eclipsed into the background when a slow, singular clap arose, tumbling into an enthusiastic applause. I lifted my gaze to Spencer, still in her disguise, leaning against the threshold with a mask of total glee. Not a single hair on her head was out of place and not a fleck of dirt marked her pristine orange gown.
She swaggered forward, no hesitation in her step whatsoever, releasing a low whistle.
I lifted a brow at her unblemished appearance. “Why does it look like you simply stood there and watched?”
Spencer chuckled. “As if you needed my help, Mr 10%.” She veered past me and crouched in front of the terrified cowering women in the corner, the stench of urine heavy, as potent as their fear. “Where is Rose?” Spencer asked gently.
When no one answered, Spencer bolted upright, the fast movement causing them all to flinch. “Like he said,” she pointed to the heap of mangled flesh that lay before me, completely unrecognisable. “Brown hair, golden eyes, a killer fucking body. She’s been here, so WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?!” her shrill voice exploded.
One girl with a lily stitched over her front lifted her chin—the only one who wasn’t whimpering in fear—her eyes direct and clear. “She’s down the corridor in the end room. She was taken there and hasn’t returned.”
Spencer eyed her off and looked on the verge of shredding her to pieces. I pulled on her arm. “Let’s go.”
Spencer hit my hand off, a bright red handprint staining the fabric. Her eyes narrowed, orange irises transitioning ruby red to match. Literally.
I rolled my eyes. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
She didn’t reply, although from her expression, I realised this wouldn’t be the end.
Instead, we turned in unison and stormed towards the room in question, the door tearing from its hinges as we shoved through the tiny archway.
There was Micah, her wrists tied above her as her tight thighs constricted the neck of a guard. His face was purple, eyes bulging out of their sockets from the pressured chokehold. We were able to catch a glimpse of his last remaining seconds of life before she released her tense muscles and he flopped forward, dead.
