Ethan descended from the catwalk to get closer to the door Olivia had indicated. It was a steel slab surrounded by thick bricks, but despite them, he could hear laughter from behind. He could discern two voices: Olivia's father and a man with a thick, eastern accent.

"What about the garage doors?" Ethan asked, nodding towards the car-sized, automatic sliding doors.

"Locked, … and loud," Olivia answered.

"And the cars?" Ethan asked. Beside what little remained of his, there were four intact-looking vehicles. "Can they run? Where are the keys?"

"It's his and his friends' cars. They have the keys," Olivia explained.

Ethan scanned the sliding doors to find the switches controlling them. A keyhole was at the electrical box's side; it looked simple enough. "Loud might just be what we need."

Olivia stared in silence as Ethan fiddled with the lock using the reshaped hairpin.

He tried to rack the pins to no avail before painfully setting them one at a time. A click came with the shift of his tensioning tool as the lock turned. Green LEDs inside the translucent buttons lit up, indicating that they could be pressed.

"You can't fight four of them," Olivia stated as she stared at the control panel.

"No, I can't," Ethan confirmed. He looked back at the steel door on the catwalk. Had the kids had a little more courage, they could all have flown together. Four of them may have been caught, but the rest could have given the alarm. But he didn't even see a pair of eyes through the gap he had left; they were still holed up in the dorm room.

"What are you doing?" she pushed.

Ethan looked at her, still making up his plan. "Soon, they'll realize that their accomplice isn't coming back. If we open the doors, they'll think someone escaped; some of them will go outside, and some will go upstairs. All we need is to isolate one of them, take his keys, and flee in his car. We can't go on foot, or they could catch up."

"But you'll have to fight one of them," Olivia said. The fear she felt grew, showing in her expression and posture. The metallic roof above them echoed the loud click of a bird walking on it, and she flinched.

"I can take one," Ethan retorted. He realized that he was eager to fight again. The thrill stirred at the surface of his mind, hungry for more. It gave him a taste of the pain-smothering haze that awaited him, the promise of peace. Yearning for it, he realized too late that his finger had pressing the lifting command.

The metal sliding door whined and shook as it rose. letting in a waft of cold, polluted city air.

Ethan and Olivia moved behind an overturned pallet behind a stack of tires. For a second they crouch there in silence.

Footsteps echoed, followed by the door slamming against the bricks.

"The fuck?!" Olivia's father cursed. He ran up the stairs to the catwalk, followed by another man.

Another ran outside through the opening sliding door.

"Kurwa!" the last man let out. He remained in the doorframe leading to a corridor at the end of which lay a door.

Ethan's pulse spiked. He surged from behind the pallet, his mind drowned beneath the rush he felt.

The Russian turned, just in time to raise his arm.

Ethan hit him shoulder-first, driving him back into the steel doorframe with a clang that shook dust off the wall.

The Russian's hand fell down on Ethan, aimed at his throat.

Ethan's hand found the handle of the blade tucked in his belt and drew it in a wide arc. The steel knife moved through the man's fingers as if they were twigs and sent them flying alongside sprays of blood.

The Russian recoiled, holding his mangled hand as he screamed in pain. He fell back and hit his back against a rolling tool cart. He yelled in his language, words Ethan couldn't understand but whose meaning transcended languages – he begged for mercy.

Ethan stepped over his fallen opponent, blade in hand. The weapon almost felt alive, pulsating in his hand. The thrill wanted more than this mockery of a fight. It didn't want the man to beg but to fight, or at least, it wanted his life.

Ethan stood there, immobile for a moment, stopping himself in his murderous rage. For a beat, the small part of him that still had restraint begged him to stop, to just flee. But the pain made itself clear. It came like a hot spear striking between his ribs where his wound had reopened, accompanied by the stinging cold of azote on his bloodied knuckles.

Anger slid back under Ethan's skin. It did what he needed; it strangled his pain and tunneled his mind onto the one thing that mattered: survive. The thrill raged to life as a relief that made the present cleaner, sharper, and devoid of pain. Ethan felt it rise like a tide, and with it, a small, terrified part of him acknowledged that it was all he had left to save himself.

Ethan moved before his mind could catch up. A mechanical strike buried the blade into the man's chest. The body went still. The chemical hush that followed rolled through Ethan like a balm that eased his heartbeat and cleared his head. He dug into the man's pocket to find a keychain on which was a Toyota's key.

The catwalk's door slammed open to reveal Olivia's father as he barged through. He glared at Ethan and then at Olivia, who was stunned against a wall, terrified.

Ethan looked at the white truck the key belonged to and realized he would have no chance of reaching it before Olivia's father intercepted him. Despite knowing the foulness of fleeing on foot, he saw it as the only escape left and grabbed Olivia's arm.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

She recoiled at his touch, but with the thrill empowering Ethan, there was little her childish strength could do to oppose him. In an instant they were at the door. He pulled down the handle and slammed the metal door open.

The night was as deserted as when Ethan arrived. The industrial buildings surrounding them were dark and devoid of sounds. The few apartment complexes he could see were as inactive, their occupants probably already asleep.

Olivia wrenched her arm free of Ethan's grasp and ran away, away from him. He realized that despite the pain-numbing thrill, his strength was failing him.

Olivia's father exited the door to come face-to-face with his daughter. She flinched and tried to move away, to run in yet another direction, but his hand grabbed her neck. The size difference was too colossal for her to do anything, even though she tried to scratch and kick her way out. "I swear to God, Olivia, how have you not learned–"

"I'm not a believer, but it feels wrong hearing a … man like you mentioning God," Ethan cut. He knew that if he left her with him, if he fled, he would doom her. He tore the loose bandages off his torso to bind the knife to his hand, making sure it wouldn't fall from his weakening grasp.

"I should have killed you!" the man barked. He threw his daughter back into the building. She crashed into the poker table, breaking it in her fall. He drew his own knife from his belt and lunged at Ethan.

Ethan met him halfway. His focus narrowed to the metallic clangs as knives met and slid. The man tried to punch Ethan with his free hand but had to refrain at Ethan's quick slash at the approaching fist.

They fell into a rhythm that Ethan controlled. To his surprise the man was unskilled, relying only on his strength and wide attacks meant to break Ethan's guard. The knife Ethan held was nothing like the fencing rapier he was used to, but the techniques engraved into his mind held his opponent at bay.

Olivia's father began to breathe heavily. His ample movements, inebriated body, and general bulk were dragging him down and putting a toll on his endurance.

Ethan's blade found his opponent's armed arm, drawing blood in an arc that painted the building's wall. He followed up with a thrust at the throat but fell short, only scratching the man's skin with the blade's tip.

From the corner of his eyes, Ethan saw Olivia staring at the fight. Her right arm was hanging at her side, dislocated at the shoulder. She wore the same look of shock as during her father's and Ethan's previous fight, unable to do anything but watch.

Ethan lunged at an opening, striking the man's stomach. His blade dug into guts, drawing out gulps of blood.

Olivia's father recoiled, pointlessly trying to stop the blood loss with his hand.

Ethan stepped into his opponent's reach and capitalized with a strike at the man's chest. It slashed his pectorals, drawing more blood and forcing him to recoil some more. Olivia's father dropped his blade, and it clattered to the ground. In an instant, Ethan had gained the upper hand in the fight and was a slash away from finishing it.

"No," Olivia whimpered. It was low, but the pain in her voice stunned Ethan.

Olivia's father lunged at Ethan and crashed his fist into Ethan's face. It sent buzzing lights into Ethan's mind, and before he could refocus, another fist came crashing down. He couldn't react; he didn't have any respite. But the punches became weaker; each of them felt less painful until they stopped.

Ethan drew back the knife that had struck Olivia's father in the heart as he had lunged at him, and stared at the blood cascading off his chest. For Olivia's sake, he felt that he shouldn't inflict upon her what his monster did to him, but fate had decided otherwise. It was almost an accident, but from her point of view it could look nothing but intentional.

Before Ethan could say anything, she ran back inside the building without a word.

Ethan dragged himself out from under her father's corpse and ran after her. There were still one of them inside, and Olivia wouldn't be able to escape him.

Inside, the Russian was lying dead, but his head was pierced on the brow and spread on the rolling tool cart he had collapsed against. Ethan didn't leave him like that; it was a gun wound that happened after he fought him.

A giant, shadowed figure held Olivia by the face, pressing a cloth against her nose and mouth. Her limbs dropped as she fell unconscious.

Ethan lunged at him, thinking, in the darkness, that it was the men that had gone to the dorms. As he neared, he realized that it couldn't have been. That man was taller, way taller than anyone he'd seen in his life. He was like one of these athlete celebrities, towering over him by tens of centimeters.

The giant's left hand descended onto Ethan. It grabbed his wrist, pushing the knife back. "That's all you get," he growled, crushing Ethan's wrist in his bestial grip. The force alone spread Ethan's fingers and tore the bandages; he dropped the blade; it clattered on the ground. A drop of blood stained the tip – the goliath's blood.

"You are getting sloppy; a child wounded you," another voice mocked. It came from the shadows in Ethan's peripheral vision. "Or are some fencing classes enough to match all your years of training?"

"No," the giant denied. "Look into his eyes."

The shadowed figure stepped into the moonlight to reveal herself as a woman in military fatigues with a pistol holstered at her hip. Her face was still hidden by the darkness, revealing only its outline. An earpiece was chittering noises Ethan couldn't understand. "He wants to kill you."

Ethan tried to break free and take the gun, but the giant held him in place.

"No," the giant denied again.

The woman looked behind the goliath and back at Ethan. "Kid, your friend is the one who hired us. We are only making sure she isn't a plant, and then we'll let her go."

A third figure entered through the catwalk's door, an older man in the same, dark military fatigues. "We need to go; police in five. Locations echo and golf are dealt with, but we still have India for ourselves."

"Understood," the woman confirmed. She turned to the giant. "Knock him out; police will find him when they arrive."

The giant growled an agreement, and the woman walked away through the opened sliding door.

Ethan tried to regain control over his own arm, but the giant's strength held him immobile.

"I know your pain," the giant began, whispering to Ethan with a somber tone. "I see your burning desire for vengeance that's already consuming you. I can give you the tools to enact it, so you may find peace again. You can try to forget, to live in a world that will brand you a monster. Or you can come with us."

Ethan's breath came shallow and fast. The world narrowed to the rasp in the giant's voice. He tasted ash – all the memories of his burning life.

"We are alike, you and I," the giant continued. "There is nothing left for you here. Your legacy has been taken from you; will you let him get away with it?"

It was all so sudden. This man had barely appeared before Ethan, and he made him promises Ethan barely understood. But the thrill was convinced; it drew Ethan to the goliath's words and wouldn't take no for an answer.

The giant's eyes softened. He let go of Ethan and stepped into the darkness, walking towards the exit his comrade had taken.

Heat crawled up Ethan's arm. It didn't hurt the way a wound should; it slid into him like an extra heartbeat. The world around him thinned to a high, resonant note. He looked down at his palms, where blood had settled into a dark coating. He looked at Olivia as she was carried off by the giant, and the last part of him, the protective shard that refused to flee for her sake, was convinced to follow.

"The next time I dream, I want to remember that I am dreaming," Ethan hears himself think. He disassociates with his younger self and steps into the garage in his current body. He looks down at what he was – bloodied, wounded, exhausted, weak, small. 'I wonder what would have been had Tombstone not hired them. I could have made it out, but after that, how could I have returned to a normal life? Lucian was right about me; I had realized it even before he put words on it.'

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.