Cal's regenerated arm pulsed with raw power, his body trembling as he stood, eyes locked on Brutus. Every muscle fiber screamed in pain, his bones still mending, but he didn't care. All that mattered was the fight in front of him—the towering brute who'd just killed Ryan.
He charged forward, faster than before, his wrath fueling his movements. Each punch he threw carried more weight, more force. His fist connected with Brutus's jaw, the impact sending shockwaves through his own arm, more bones snapping under the strain. But even as the pain shot through him, his healing kicked in, repairing the damage stronger and more resilient.
Brutus staggered back, genuine surprise crossing his face. He swung a massive fist, but Cal ducked under it, driving his elbow into Brutus's ribs. The giant grunted, stumbling, his grin faltering as he realized he was starting to take real damage.
Cal didn't let up. He moved like a man possessed, each blow more brutal than the last. His bones cracked with every punch, his muscles tearing and repairing almost instantly, stronger every time. Brutus's invulnerability was faltering, his defense breaking down as he tried to block the relentless onslaught.
"You're going to kill me at this rate," Brutus managed to rasp between blows, his voice strained. "Not very hero-like, huh?"
Cal hesitated, the words cutting through his rage like a knife. For a split second, doubt flickered in his eyes. Brutus saw his opening and lunged, his hand closing around Cal's face. He lifted him off the ground and slammed him into the concrete, the impact echoing through the lot like a gunshot.
Cal crumpled, his body limp and lifeless. Brutus relaxed, breathing heavily, but before he could step back, Cal's eyes snapped open once again, burning with fury. His hand shot up, clasping Brutus's wrist, and with a guttural snarl, he pried the massive hand off his face despite Brutus's strength.
Cal's legs snapped up, locking around Brutus's arm in a vice grip. He twisted violently, the sickening sound of bone snapping filling the air as Brutus howled in pain. Cal rolled away, rising from the ground like a creature from the grave, his eyes never leaving Brutus.
Brutus staggered back, cradling his broken arm, disbelief and fear flashing in his eyes. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a gun, the barrel aimed squarely at Cal's head.
"Stop right there," Brutus growled, his voice shaking with pain and desperation. "Or the kid you're fighting so hard to protect gets a bullet to the brain."
Cal froze, his chest heaving with every breath, blood dripping from his wounds. His eyes flicked to Ryan, who lay on the pavement, still and barely breathing. The rage simmered inside him, but he forced himself to stand down, his fists unclenching.
"Didn't even realize the kid was still alive, Didya?" He grinned.
Brutus kept the gun trained on Cal, his gaze unwavering. For a moment, the parking lot was filled only with the sound of Brutus's labored breathing and Ryan's ragged gasps. The other men still had their weapons aimed at Cal, but they looked uneasy, glancing at each other as if unsure of what to do.
"Pack it up," Brutus ordered, his voice harsh. "We're done here."
The men hesitated, their eyes darting between Brutus and Cal. One of them started to protest, but a look from Brutus silenced him. Slowly, they began to back away, retrieving their gear, their footsteps echoing in the tense silence. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance, growing louder with each passing second.
Cal spoke from deep within his gut. "If you pull that trigger, I will kill you."
Brutus's eyes flicked back to Cal, his expression tired. "Enough with the hero talk, alright? You've won."
He paused, his gaze shifting to Ryan for a moment before returning to Cal. "The man you're looking for, his name's Henry Mire. Even with how strong you are, kid, I don't think you could beat 'im"
The words hit Cal like a punch to the gut. Someone even more powerful than Brutus? He could barely process it, his mind reeling from the implications.
"Why are you telling me this? Think I'm going to walk into another trap?", Cal hissed.
One of Brutus's men, a younger guy with wide eyes, spoke up, his voice trembling. "Are you insane? Henry will kill us all now that you've—"
"Shut up," Brutus snapped, cutting him off. He looked back at Cal, his expression unreadable. "I'm done working for Henry. Not interested anymore."
Cal's eyes narrowed. "I'm not letting you walk away."
Brutus gestured to Ryan's unconscious body, the boy's chest barely rising and falling. "You've got more important things to worry about than chasing me, hero."
Brutus backed away slowly, the gun still aimed at Cal. He didn't turn his back until he was sure his men were far enough. Then, with a final glance at Cal, he disappeared into the shadows.
The night was silent again, save for the sound of Ryan's labored breathing and the approaching sirens. Cal rushed over, his heart in his throat. He ripped Ryan's shirt open, his breath catching at the sight of the grotesque, bloody wound. The shotgun blast had torn through his side, the skin and muscle shredded, dangerously close to his spine.
Panic surged through Cal. He was scared to move Ryan, terrified he'd do more harm than good. Ryan was pale, his skin clammy, his eyes half-closed and unfocused.
"No, no, no," Cal whispered, his mind racing. There was only one thing he could think of. He bit into his wrist, his teeth slicing through the skin, blood welling up. He let it flow onto Ryan's wound, the crimson liquid seeping into the torn flesh. He even tried to get some into Ryan's mouth, hoping, praying it would work.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the wound began to shift, the flesh knitting together as if alive. Cal exhaled shakily, relief washing over him as the gaping hole began to close.
The sirens were getting closer now. He had to move. He scooped Ryan up, cradling him carefully against his chest. The boy was still frighteningly pale, but he was breathing more steadily. Cal took a deep breath and ran, disappearing into the night as the first police cars pulled into the lot.
Cal's regenerated arm pulsed with raw power, his body trembling as he stood, eyes locked on Brutus. Every muscle fiber screamed in pain, his bones still mending, but he didn't care. All that mattered was the fight in front of him—the towering brute who'd just killed Ryan.
He charged forward, faster than before, his wrath fueling his movements. Each punch he threw carried more weight, more force. His fist connected with Brutus's jaw, the impact sending shockwaves through his own arm, more bones snapping under the strain. But even as the pain shot through him, his healing kicked in, repairing the damage stronger and more resilient.
Brutus staggered back, genuine surprise crossing his face. He swung a massive fist, but Cal ducked under it, driving his elbow into Brutus's ribs. The giant grunted, stumbling, his grin faltering as he realized he was starting to take real damage.
Cal didn't let up. He moved like a man possessed, each blow more brutal than the last. His bones cracked with every punch, his muscles tearing and repairing almost instantly, stronger every time. Brutus's invulnerability was faltering, his defense breaking down as he tried to block the relentless onslaught.
"You're going to kill me at this rate," Brutus managed to rasp between blows, his voice strained. "Not very hero-like, huh?"
Cal hesitated, the words cutting through his rage like a knife. For a split second, doubt flickered in his eyes. Brutus saw his opening and lunged, his hand closing around Cal's face. He lifted him off the ground and slammed him into the concrete, the impact echoing through the lot like a gunshot.
Cal crumpled, his body limp and lifeless. Brutus relaxed, breathing heavily, but before he could step back, Cal's eyes snapped open once again, burning with fury. His hand shot up, clasping Brutus's wrist, and with a guttural snarl, he pried the massive hand off his face despite Brutus's strength.
Cal's legs snapped up, locking around Brutus's arm in a vice grip. He twisted violently, the sickening sound of bone snapping filling the air as Brutus howled in pain. Cal rolled away, rising from the ground like a creature from the grave, his eyes never leaving Brutus.
Brutus staggered back, cradling his broken arm, disbelief and fear flashing in his eyes. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a gun, the barrel aimed squarely at Cal's head.
"Stop right there," Brutus growled, his voice shaking with pain and desperation. "Or the kid you're fighting so hard to protect gets a bullet to the brain."
Cal froze, his chest heaving with every breath, blood dripping from his wounds. His eyes flicked to Ryan, who lay on the pavement, still and barely breathing. The rage simmered inside him, but he forced himself to stand down, his fists unclenching.
"Didn't even realize the kid was still alive, Didya?" He grinned.
Brutus kept the gun trained on Cal, his gaze unwavering. For a moment, the parking lot was filled only with the sound of Brutus's labored breathing and Ryan's ragged gasps. The other men still had their weapons aimed at Cal, but they looked uneasy, glancing at each other as if unsure of what to do.
"Pack it up," Brutus ordered, his voice harsh. "We're done here."
The men hesitated, their eyes darting between Brutus and Cal. One of them started to protest, but a look from Brutus silenced him. Slowly, they began to back away, retrieving their gear, their footsteps echoing in the tense silence. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance, growing louder with each passing second.
Cal spoke from deep within his gut. "If you pull that trigger, I will kill you."
Brutus's eyes flicked back to Cal, his expression tired. "Enough with the hero talk, alright? You've won."
He paused, his gaze shifting to Ryan for a moment before returning to Cal. "The man you're looking for, his name's Henry Mire. Even with how strong you are, kid, I don't think you could beat 'im"
The words hit Cal like a punch to the gut. Someone even more powerful than Brutus? He could barely process it, his mind reeling from the implications.
"Why are you telling me this? Think I'm going to walk into another trap?", Cal hissed.
One of Brutus's men, a younger guy with wide eyes, spoke up, his voice trembling. "Are you insane? Henry will kill us all now that you've—"
"Shut up," Brutus snapped, cutting him off. He looked back at Cal, his expression unreadable. "I'm done working for Henry. Not interested anymore."
Cal's eyes narrowed. "I'm not letting you walk away."
Brutus gestured to Ryan's unconscious body, the boy's chest barely rising and falling. "You've got more important things to worry about than chasing me, hero."
Brutus backed away slowly, the gun still aimed at Cal. He didn't turn his back until he was sure his men were far enough. Then, with a final glance at Cal, he disappeared into the shadows.
The night was silent again, save for the sound of Ryan's labored breathing and the approaching sirens. Cal rushed over, his heart in his throat. He ripped Ryan's shirt open, his breath catching at the sight of the grotesque, bloody wound. The shotgun blast had torn through his side, the skin and muscle shredded, dangerously close to his spine.
Panic surged through Cal. He was scared to move Ryan, terrified he'd do more harm than good. Ryan was pale, his skin clammy, his eyes half-closed and unfocused.
"No, no, no," Cal whispered, his mind racing. There was only one thing he could think of. He bit into his wrist, his teeth slicing through the skin, blood welling up. He let it flow onto Ryan's wound, the crimson liquid seeping into the torn flesh. He even tried to get some into Ryan's mouth, hoping, praying it would work.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the wound began to shift, the flesh knitting together as if alive. Cal exhaled shakily, relief washing over him as the gaping hole began to close.
The sirens were getting closer now. He had to move. He scooped Ryan up, cradling him carefully against his chest. The boy was still frighteningly pale, but he was breathing more steadily. Cal took a deep breath and ran, disappearing into the night as the first police cars pulled into the lot.