Steel vs Strength

The street was quiet.

Harry walked with hands in his hoodie pockets, hood halfway pulled over his face. It had just rained, and the wet pavement shimmered beneath the city lights. His body still ached, but his heart was pounding with victory.

He had won.

Three fights. One night. Back-to-back.

[Strength Level: 8]

Harry smirked.

"Level eight... Still not enough. But it's a start."

His fists were heavier now. Stronger. His muscles were denser, his movement faster. He could feel it he wasn't the same guy who got knocked around two days ago.

He pulled out his phone and checked his bank account.

$15,000.

"Not bad," he whispered.

Each fight had paid him five grand. Good for groceries and his mom's meds, but still not enough for what he really wanted an apartment of their own. A place without leaks or peeling walls. A place where Anna could visit without stepping over broken tiles.

He slid the phone back into his pocket and exhaled slowly.

"I'll need more wins."

Just then, something cracked in the distance.

A sharp twang, like steel snapping under pressure.

Harry paused, turned slowly...

WHOOSH!

A freaking car came flying at him, spinning through the air like a toy.

His eyes widened, but his body moved faster than his thoughts. His arms came up, crossed like a shield.

BOOM!

The car slammed into his forearms and was deflected at an angle. It flew past him, crashing into the wall of a nearby building with a thunderous crack. Bricks fell. Dust rose.

Harry skidded backward on the pavement, knees bent, hands throbbing.

"What the..."

A metallic stomp echoed across the street.

Then another.

And another.

Out from the alley emerged a towering figure chrome armor glinting under the streetlights, with deep red lights pulsing across his chest and helmet.

Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Vector."

The armored man stopped in the middle of the road. His voice was deeper now distorted through a mask.

"This is your last day, boy. I'm taking the formula from your corpse."

Harry cracked his neck and smirked.

"New armor? Trying to look taller?"

Vector didn't answer. Instead, his right arm shifted, folding inward and transforming into a plasma cannon.

Click. HUUUUMMMM.

A pulse of red light charged up inside the barrel.

Harry's body tensed.

The cannon fired.

ZZZZHHHHHHRR!

But Harry was already gone.

He sidestepped at lightning speed, landing behind a street pole.

The blast scorched the concrete where he had just been.

"Damn…" Harry muttered. "Okay. That was close."

He shot forward.

Vector turned, slamming his metal fist toward Harry's head.

CLANG!

Harry ducked and threw an uppercut to Vector's abdomen. His fist connected hard, cracking the armor plating slightly.

Vector stumbled back a step.

Harry charged again, weaving around the next blast and slamming a kick into Vector's side.

The armored man grunted.

"You think your little street fights prepared you for this?"

Harry wiped blood from his nose.

"No. But they sure made me enjoy it."

They clashed.

Fist against armor. Speed versus firepower.

Harry ducked, dodged, countered his movements precise. His body bled, but he didn't stop.

Vector grabbed him mid-punch and slammed him into a nearby car.

The vehicle crumpled under the impact.

Harry coughed blood.

"Still think... you're scary?" he growled.

He planted his feet against the car, pushed off, and headbutted Vector directly in the helmet.

CRACK!

The faceplate of the armor shattered slightly. Sparks flew.

Harry followed with a barrage of punches, each blow denting the armor further.

Vector shouted, trying to swing back, but Harry twisted and landed behind him.

One clean strike to the back of the knee. Another to the spine.

Vector dropped to one knee.

"You're done," Harry growled.

He charged forward with everything he had.

One last punch fueled by pain, anger, and the need to protect what he loved.

BOOOOOM!

His fist crashed into Vector's chest.

The red light on the armor flickered.

Then went dark.

Vector collapsed on the street, smoke rising from his chestplate.

Harry stood over him, chest heaving, body trembling.

Blood trickled down his chin. His knuckles were raw. His legs wobbled.

But he had won.

Again.

Slowly, Harry turned and walked away, limping slightly. The crowd that had started forming kept their distance, whispering in awe.

Somebody recorded it.

Someone always did.

As he reached the other end of the street, the red hologram flickered in front of his eyes.

[VisionOS: activated]

[Strength Level: 9]

[Congratulations, you defeated Vector. You are evolving.]

Harry took a shaky breath and smiled faintly.

The doorbell rang.

Once.

Then again.

And again.

Loud. Urgent. Relentless.

The clock blinked 2:47 AM. Most of the apartment was dark, bathed only in the blue glow from streetlights outside. Somewhere on the fourth floor of Maplewood Apartments, a light flicked on.

Barefoot and half-asleep, Anna rubbed her eyes and walked toward the door.

She checked the peephole. Her eyes widened.

"H-Harry?"

She yanked the door open.

There he stood.

Barely.

His body leaned against the doorframe, clothes soaked in blood, face cut open, lips bruised, and breathing heavy. One eye was nearly swollen shut. His hoodie—ripped at the shoulder—was stained dark red. He looked like he'd been through a war.

"Jesus Harry! What happened to you?!"

He didn't answer. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.

Then, his legs gave out.

"Harry!"

Anna caught him as he collapsed. His weight was heavy, like a bag of bricks muscle and blood and pain.

She struggled, dragging him inside, locking the door behind them.

"Stay with me! Hey! HARRY!"

He grunted. Just barely. His eyes fluttered open for a second, then shut again.

With effort, she pulled him into her bedroom and helped him onto the bed. She turned on the bedside lamp. The light revealed just how bad it was.

Bruises.

A long cut across his ribs.

A deep gash on his arm that looked like a metal blade had sliced through.

His knuckles were shredded. Like he had punched concrete.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"Oh my god…"

She rushed to the bathroom, grabbed a towel, alcohol, bandages anything she could find. Her hands trembled as she cleaned his wounds. When she touched the cut on his shoulder, he winced and groaned.

"Sorry! I'm sorry I have to clean it!"

His blood soaked the towel. She blinked back tears.

"You idiot," she whispered, voice cracking. "What did you do to yourself?"

He didn't answer. He just lay there, jaw tight, eyes shut.

And that made her even more scared.

The night dragged.

Anna sat next to the bed the entire time, switching out towels, wiping sweat from his forehead, pressing cold compresses on his bruised arm.

She didn't sleep.

She just kept watching him.

Making sure he was breathing.

Wondering who or what could have done this to him.

The morning sun slipped through the curtains.

The room felt warmer, brighter, safer.

But Harry still hadn't moved.

Anna leaned back in the chair, her neck stiff. Her body exhausted.

She must've dozed off for a moment.

Because when she opened her eyes, she heard a soft voice.

"…Anna?"

She blinked.

Harry was awake.

His eyes, though bloodshot, were open. He looked dazed but alive.

"You're awake," she whispered, rushing to his side. "Don't move! You're still hurt."

"I'm fine," he said, trying to sit up.

"No, you're not," she said, gently pushing his chest. "Stay down."

He obeyed. His body was sore anyway.

Anna sat on the edge of the bed and stared at him. Her eyes filled with concern, fear… and something else. Something deeper.

"I thought you were gonna die last night."

Harry looked away.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Sorry? That's all you have to say?"

She stood and paced.

"You show up in the middle of the night, covered in blood, looking like you got hit by a truck no, like ten trucks and all you say is sorry?"

"I didn't know where else to go."

"I'm glad you came to me," she said, turning back toward him. "But what happened, Harry? Seriously. Where were you?"

He looked up at her, silent.

"I want the truth."

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

What could he say?

That he fought three underground street fighters in a cage match?

That after that, some metal-suited psycho launched a car at him and tried to kill him?

That his body could now lift taxis, and he could hear systems in his mind like some sci-fi game?

He couldn't tell her that.

He couldn't drag her into this.

"I just got into a fight," he said finally, voice low.

"That much is obvious," she snapped. "But with who? Why?"

"I can't explain," he said.

"Try me."

He hesitated.

Anna's eyes softened a little. She took a breath and knelt beside the bed again.

"Harry… I'm scared. Last night, when you showed up like that bleeding all over my doorstep I thought I was going to lose you. Just tell me what's going on."

He stared at the ceiling for a moment.

"I'm being hunted," he said, almost too quiet to hear.

"What?"

Before he could answer.

THUD!

A sound came from the hallway outside.

Harry tensed.

Anna noticed.

Another sound closer this time. Like a boot stepping on the wooden floor.

Harry sat up.

"No. No, not now…"

"Harry what is it?"

His eyes narrowed.

He clenched his fists.

And then...

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Someone was at the door.

Anna froze.

"Stay here," Harry said, swinging his legs off the bed.

"You're not going out there! You're still hurt!"

"I said stay."

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

She backed up as he moved to the door, his body still stiff, his bandaged arm flexing.

Harry opened the door slowly.

The hallway was empty.

Silent.

Except…

On the floor, a single black feather.

A chill ran through him.

Then a voice whispered from the end of the corridor...

"This isn't over."

[VisionOS: Activated]

[Strength Level: 9]

[Alert: Unknown surveillance detected. Stay alert.]

Harry's jaw tightened.

So they'd found him again.

But this time… he was ready.