Anger and Vengeance

Brendon leapt at Chimera X-Prime with the raw fury of a primal storm. His claws, now the length of daggers, raked across the creature's hardened chest with a wet, cracking sound. The monster stumbled back, thick dark blood spilling from the gashes torn into its hybrid flesh.

Dr. Grimm's mouth twitched into a grimace. His prized creation — the culmination of decades of planning and genetic manipulation — was being shredded like a toy in the jaws of a predator. The Mythriven form. Grimm had hoped to observe it. Control it. But now, it is loose and impossible to cage. A ferocious monster is on loose.

"Damn it... That's not what I wanted," he muttered through clenched teeth.

Brendon was relentless. His movements were too fast, too fluid, a blur of muscle and fury. He didn't think — he acted. Every fiber of his muscle screamed for destruction. For justice. For vengeance.

Chimera X-Prime tried to mount a defense, swinging its thick, lion-like paws and swiping with squid-like tendrils, but Brendon ducked and weaved through each strike like a ghost in the wind. His yellow, glowing eyes locked on with the hunger of an apex predator.

The beast roared in frustration and agony, and Brendon responded with a deafening snarl of his own, pouncing again. This time, he clamped his jaws down on the monster's shoulder, tearing through sinew and bone in a brutal snap. The creature howled and collapsed to one knee.

Dr. Grimm's eyes widened.

"No... no, no, no!" he hissed. "You were supposed to struggle!"

He reached into his coat and pulled out another syringe — glowing a pale blue with the Nightroot compound, enhanced with neural threading. If he could inject Brendon while his stamina is drained, he could still turn the tide. Brendon would be his. A new breed of Mythriven, bound to his command.

But something was wrong. Brendon isn't slowing down.

In fact, he is growing more feral. His breathing is steady till now, his muscles not faltering. His movements remained razor-sharp, full of terrifying energy. Grimm's eyes darted down to the syringe in his hand, trembling now.

"He should've been tired by now... why isn't he tired?" he whispered.

Brendon slammed the Chimera X-Prime onto the ground with enough force to crack the concrete. Then, with a grunt of finality, he rammed his claws into its chest and ripped through the heart. The monster gives a pitiful growl — more of a whimper — before going limp under Brendon's paw.

Silence fell in the chamber.

Breathing heavily, Brendon stood tall — seven feet of raw, bloodstained fury. His head slowly turned, eyes narrowing at Grimm, who was already taking a cautious step back.

Dr. Grimm clenched the syringe tighter. "You leave me no choice," he muttered. "Let's see how many of you I have to throw at you before you run dry, wolf."

He snapped his fingers.

The iron door at the far end burst open. Figures flooded in — a dozen at least. All of them were people, or had once been people. Now they were husks, veins darkened by Nightroot, their eyes blank, their motions mechanical. Mind-controlled servants. Dr. Grimm's disposable army.

They moved toward Brendon with rigid precision, blades and claws glinting under the facility's flickering lights.

Brendon bared his teeth. He crouched low and sprang into the fray.

The room exploded into chaos again.

Flesh tore, bones snapped, screams echoed — not from Brendon, but from those unfortunate enough to get close. He was a cyclone of death. Every limb that swung toward him was sliced off. Every figure that lunged met the end of his fangs or the arc of his claws.

Blood painted the floor in wide arcs.

Grimm watched in horror as the army he had meticulously crafted was decimated within seconds. Then, she stepped in.

Amelia Hudson.

Her frame moved slowly, jerking with unnatural stiffness. Her eyes were glassy, void of emotion. She had a cut across her brow. Her mouth twitched, and a low, robotic growl escaped her lips.

Brendon froze.

"No…" His voice, though low and rumbling in this form, carried a tremor of emotion.

He looked into her face. Somewhere, deep inside, he could still feel the Amelia for whom Mr. Hudson asked him to find. The defiant gutl. The fighter.

She raised a blade, her hands trembling.

He hesitated.

The others didn't. More husks leapt at him, and Brendon, in his rage and desperation, lashed out — claws slashing, muscles moving without conscious thought.

Amelia moved too, joining the mob.

"No… NO!" he roared.

But by the time he pushed the last corpse aside, Amelia's body lay crumpled beneath them, bloodied and broken. Her lifeless eyes stared up into nothingness. A red line across her throat painted the truth.

He had killed her.

Silence again. Deafening, final.

Brendon stood over her, unmoving. His breath came in heavy, animalistic heaves. The gore covering his claws and fur made his hands tremble. His yellow eyes, once full of fury, dimmed in shock.

Behind him, Dr. Grimm took a slow step back.

He could see it now — a glimpse of hesitation. Pain. Control wavering.

And then Brendon turned to face him again.

Grimm's heart dropped.

The look was different now. Not the controlled, balanced mind of a detective. Not the angry, righteous protector.

No.

This is the vengeance that has unbound. Against everything that Grimm had done.

Brendon dropped onto all fours and let out a howl that shook the very walls of the facility. Then he charged — a blur of gray and red.

Grimm turned and ran.

He sprinted through the dark corridors, past shattered equipment, overturned desks, broken lights flickering overhead. The beast was behind him, and he could feel the tremors of its pursuit with every second.

He turned corners blindly. Tried locking doors behind him. Nothing slowed the monster.

The once calculated doctor is now a panicking prey.

"I need to reach the exit… the outer hall…" he whispered breathlessly, panting hard.

But Brendon is faster.

He crashed through the corridor wall itself, smashing concrete and metal as he charged after Grimm with eyes burning like twin suns. Pipes burst, sparks flew — none of it slowed the rampaging wolf.

"Help…!" Grimm gasped, knowing full well no help was coming.

He reached a final hallway. Ahead was a freight elevator — half open, its power flickering. He dove in, slamming the button furiously.

"No… come on… come on!"

Too late.

Brendon appeared at the far end of the hall — a silhouette of death in a blood-soaked form. He snarled.

Grimm fell backward inside the elevator as the doors struggled to close.

"STAY AWAY!" he screamed.

Brendon's claws caught the doors just as they shut. Sparks exploded. Metal groaned.

And the elevator shook as the wolf tries to open it with force.