Mutant

In a simple warehouse tucked away in the slums, noisy sounds echoed through the grimy space. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the stench of drinks.

Four shirtless men with elaborate tattoos sprawled around a makeshift table, playing cards with dirty bills scattered between them. Their conversation was filled with curses and crude jokes that would make a karen blush.

On the other side of the warehouse, a man in a worn red leather jacket hunched over a game console, his fingers pressing buttons with increasing frustration. Jack's face contorted with each failed attempt.

"Fuck! I lost again!" Jack hurled the controller aside, the plastic clattering against the concrete floor.

"Hahaha, Boss Jack!" The man on the right—a thug with a spider tattoo crawling up his neck—grinned as he swept the 100 dollars from the table into his pile. "I told you that you couldn't pass this level. Easy money."

Jack's jaw clenched as he glared at his underling. "Damn it all. Can't do business because of Kingpin, can't even enjoy a simple game. What's the fucking point of hiding like rats?"

The frustration in his voice was bitter as burned coffee. He kicked an empty beer bottle across the floor, watching it shatter against the wall. "If you idiots have time to play cards, maybe use those brain cells to figure out our next move."

Under Jack's sharp reprimand, the men reluctantly threw down their cards. The spider-tattoo thug leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

"Boss Jack, it's a real shame that Kingpin's brat didn't die last time." His eyes gleamed with malicious intent. "If we'd managed to kill the kid, at least hiding out like this wouldn't feel so crap. If it wasn't for you, we'd already be feeding the fish courtesy of Kingpin's cleanup crew."

He paused, glancing around at his companions before continuing. "But here's the thing—I've been doing some digging. Found out which hospital the kid's recovering in."

The thug made a slow gesture across his throat, his smile turning predatory. "Should we pay him a little visit? Finish what we started?"

Jack snorted coldly. "You think Kingpin's just sitting there with his thumb up his ass? After the last attempt, security around that boy will be tighter than a virgin's—"

His nostrils flared suddenly, cutting off his crude comparison. Something was wrong. The scent in the air had changed—cleaner, fresher, cutting through the warehouse's stale atmosphere like a blade.

Jack's head snapped toward the entrance, his instincts screaming danger. "Who's there?"

The room was immediately filled with chills. Card games forgotten, his men grabbed their weapons with practiced efficiency. Four guns swung toward the shadowy doorway, safeties clicking off in rapid succession.

From the darkness, a figure emerged with relaxed air that set Jack's teeth on edge. The young man wore simple street clothes—jeans, a dark hoodie, sneakers that barely made a sound on the concrete. A simple mask to cover his face.

"Who the hell are you?" The spider-tattoo thug's voice cracked slightly, betraying his nervousness. "What are you doing in our territory?"

Rio's smiled behind his mask and slowly, he reached up and pulled back his hood and mask. When the men saw his face, they all got tense.

"Didn't you just say you wanted to visit me in the hospital?" Rio's voice was smooth, almost conversational. "Thought I'd save you the trip."

The thugs knew who he was right away. The guns that had been steady now shook in sweaty hands.

"Well, well." The spider-tattoo thug tried to laugh away his fear. "I thought Kingpin's son was supposed to be some naive brat, but here you are, walking into the lion's den all by yourself. Either you're incredibly stupid, or you've got balls the size of bowling balls."

Jack's face darkened even more, his enhanced senses telling him this wasn't some dumb teenager making a mistake. The kid's heartbeat was steady, his breathing was calm. Either he was too stupid to be scared, or he had a good reason not to be.

"Boss, what are you worried about?" Spider-tattoo's bravado was infectious, spreading to the other thugs. "Let's just kill him and dump the body. We were planning to relocate anyway. Time to show that fat bastard Kingpin what happens when you cut off people's livelihoods."

"Yeah, boss!" Another thug chimed in, his courage bolstered by group mentality. "Let's send Kingpin a message he won't forget. Maybe gift-wrap the kid's head for delivery."

"Let's kill him!" The chant started small but grew, fed by weeks of frustration and bottled rage.

Jack extended his senses to his limit and getting the feedback he completely relaxed his tense body and a cruel smile split Jack's features. "You've got guts, kid. Coming here alone, walking into a room full of armed men who want you dead." His voice dropped to a growl. "Either you're the bravest son of a bitch I've ever met, or the dumbest."

Rio's eyes got narrow as he studied Jack. The man realized too fast that he came alone and it's not even from someone else since he had already checked the surrounding before coming in. 

Interesting, Rio thought. No wonder he survived pissing off Dad. This isn't going to be as easy as I expected.

Jack mistook Rio's silence for fear and let his confidence build. After a week of hiding, of scraping by while Kingpin's underling turned the underworld upside down, the chance for revenge was intoxicating.

"Since you're here, can't say I didn't give you a choice." Jack's grin turned feral. "If you want to blame someone for what happens next, blame your bad luck in getting adopted by Kingpin."

He gestured sharply to his men. "Kill him."

Four automatic guns started firing at once. The flashes lit up the warehouse like deadly fireworks. The sound was so loud it hurt, and empty bullet cases fell like metal rain.

Rio could clearly see the trajectory of the bullets. So Rio just pulled a matrix move and Instead of moving away, Rio just raised his hand.

The bullets stopped.

Not slowed, not deflected—completely stopped, hanging in the air like raindrops frozen in time. Forty-plus rounds of hot lead suspended mere inches from Rio's extended palm, their rotation still visible in the dim warehouse lighting.

Jack's blood turned to ice water. The image burned itself into his memory—a young man standing calmly while bullets stopped at his command. He'd seen something like this before, in news videos of a man in a helmet who walked through battles like they were nice walks.

"Get down!" Jack roared, but his warning came too late.

Rio's smile turned predatory as he flicked his wrist. Every floating bullet turned around and flew back at the shooters twice as fast. The warehouse filled with the sound of destruction as hot metal found flesh and bone.

The bullets went back with perfect aim. Each bullet found the person who shot it. The spider-tattoo thug's eyes went wide with shock, his mouth opening to scream before three bullets punched through his chest. His friends died the same way, their guns hitting the floor as they fell like broken dolls.

Only Jack lived, his better reflexes letting him dive behind the warehouse's old couch just before the deadly turnaround. He pressed himself against the floor, his heart beating hard against his ribs as the sounds of killing echoed above him.

Rio looked at the scene without much feeling, it was no different from his first kills. Before coming here he already had to kill many to get Jack's whereabout. The more interesting thing was how Jack had moved—too fast, too smooth for normal human reflexes. What he thought before was right. This wasn't going to be a simple.

Definitely enhanced, Rio thought. Question is how much.

Jack living proved Rio was right, but it also gave him a chance. He'd come here for simple revenge, but finding another mutant was a nice surprise. It would be good outlet to test his new strength.

The couch suddenly flew through the air toward Rio with the force of a cannonball. Instead of moving away, Rio let his telekinesis catch it, holding the furniture in the air like a big paperweight.

From behind where the couch used to be, a figure came out that made Rio raise an eyebrow. Jack's form had... changed. His hair was longer, wilder, and his fingernails had grown into claws that shined in the warehouse's dim light. Most telling was his head which had turned into that of a wolf. A discount version of werewolf.

"Look, bro," Jack's voice tried to sound friendly but his body was tense. "We're both mutants here. I tried to kill you, you killed my boys. Let's call it even and walk away."

Rio's smile got bigger, showing teeth. "That makes sense."

Jack's mouth made what he thought was a nice smile. "That's right! We're both freaks in a world that hates us. No point in killing each other when there are plenty of normal humans who deserve it more."

"True," Rio nodded, his voice casual. "But here's the thing—I like to cut problems before they became a headache."

Jack's face changed from hopeful to angry as the bullets around the warehouse started to rise. Blood-covered bullets came out of corpses like gross magic tricks, floating in the air around Rio like a deadly cloud.

"Shit!" Jack's fake calm broke completely. "You think I'm just going to stand here and let you kill me? I've got news for you—telepathy don't mean shit if I'm fast enough to rip your throat out before you can use it!"

Rio's smile turned completely nasty. "Then try."

Originally, he just wanted to kill Jack and his gang and leave, but he didn't expect Jack to be a mutant and it would be good way to practice his powers.

Under Rio's control, the floating bullets started moving. They moved in hard patterns, some diving straight for Jack while others curved in ways that shouldn't be possible, designed to cut off escape routes and force the werewolf into worse and worse spots.

Jack proved he was quite enhanced by dodging the bullets. He jumped off walls, rolled under furniture, even used his claws to hit bullets away with showers of sparks.

But there were just too many bullets, and Rio's control was perfect. The first bullet caught Jack's shoulder, spinning him around. The second cut his leg, drawing a line of red across torn cloth. The third, fourth, and fifth followed fast.

Each hit sent pain through Jack's enhanced body, but it also made him more angry.

"Damn it!" Jack snarled. "If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me!"

Ignoring the bullets tearing into his flesh, Jack dropped his body lower and covering his face with his hand, he charged. His enhanced muscles shot him forward like a missile. The warehouse floor cracked under his feet as he built speed, getting to Rio in seconds.

"You bastard, I won!" Jack's roar filled the warehouse as his claws reached for Rio's throat. "Die!"

The red gleam in his eyes promised a messy, brutal death. Jack's claws were inches from Rio's face when he felt something that sent his world spinning.

The hit struck his stomach like a speeding train. Rio's enhanced leg muscles, backed by his superhuman strength, drove his foot into Jack's middle with enough force to crack the warehouse wall. 

Jack's enhanced form smashed through everything in its path. Dust and debris filled the air as the werewolf came to rest in a hole of his own making, his body twisted at angles that would have killed a normal human.

In his final moments of being awake, Jack's animal mind finally understood the truth that his human brain had missed. The bullets, the telekinesis—they had been a trick. Rio's real threat had never been his telepathy.

"Bastard," Jack wheezed through blood and broken ribs, his words barely heard. "You have other powers..."

"Correct."