Pending Death

In Underground Shelter 22—one of the Human Union's darkest dens...

Darkness reigned supreme.

Not just the absence of light—but a mirror to the souls of those who called it home.

Two hundred meters beneath the surface, men and women had long since stopped dreaming.

Hope had vanished, replaced by a brutal routine of survival.

The weak lost their minds.

The others clung—desperately—to the illusion of a better tomorrow.

This place…

It was hell.

Theft, murder, rape—everything was allowed.

Justice was dead.

Money meant nothing.

Here, a man carrying food wasn't a person—he was a target on borrowed time.

And in that chaos, during a night even more hostile than usual, a man walked.

Calmly.

A filthy canvas bag slung over his shoulder.

His clothes were torn, barely hidden beneath a dark hood.

Tall, but hunched—he seemed fragile… at least, at first glance.

His presence didn't go unnoticed.

Predators of this world crept out quickly.

Five men.

Knives.

Sadistic grins.

They cornered the stranger in a half-lit alleyway.

Thug #1 (spinning his blade):

—Well, well... lost your way, stranger?

The Man (calmly):

—No. I'm looking for someone.

Thug #2 (cocky):

—That's perfect. We can help... for a small price.

The Man (not lifting his head):

—I don't need your help. Thanks.

Thug #1 (menacing):

—You don't refuse help down here.

Give us the bag—and maybe we let you walk away.

The Man:

—That deal doesn't work for me. I refuse.

They laughed.

A harsh, nervous laugh.

Thug #3:

—Wrong answer...

One of them lunged.

The blade sank into the man's shoulder.

Silence.

The man raised his head slowly.

His eyes—two frozen abysses—met theirs.

And something in them... broke.

Gang Leader (to his guy):

—What are you waiting for, Leroy? Finish him!

Too late.

The man caught his attacker with one hand and slammed him against the wall.

The impact shook the ground.

He threw off his hood.

A giant. 6'5.

Fists like cinder blocks.

The Man (with a frozen tone):

—I was supposed to stay low.

Guess that ship's sailed.

But now that you've drawn blood...

You'll pay for it.

He glanced at the wound.

His face showed no pain.

—Renegade.

The word fell like a sentence.

A promise of death.

Two minutes.

That's all it took.

Four bodies hit the floor.

Eyes frozen in terror.

Only the leader survived.

On his knees. Crying.

Gang Leader:

—Please… they forced me, I swear...

The Man:

—Blaming others for your own filth? Pathetic.

But first… a question.

Gang Leader (panicking):

—Anything! Ask anything!

The Man:

—Do you know someone named Myckaël?

Gang Leader:

—No… but I know someone who might find him. Hakami. South Sector. District 5B.

The Man:

—That all?

Gang Leader:

—Yes! I swear!

The Man (cold):

—Then you're no longer of use.

A sickening snap.

Silence returned.

The Man (to himself):

—They're all disgusting…

But can you blame them?

Still… that rat was useful.

Finding Myckaël won't be easy.

But I will find him—

No matter what it takes.

He pulled his hood back on—

and melted into the dark.

Meanwhile… back at the base.

JOVANY:

—What the hell, Myck? It's your turn for chores!

MYCK:

—I know, I know… I'm coming.

JOVANY:

—And today it's boot cleaning plus the noon drills.

MYCK:

—Thanks for rubbing it in...

Back then, I had no idea...

That a man was already walking toward us—

A man who'd turn my past… and future… upside down.

To be continued...