His parents, owing nearly the most on the entire list.
If the police got this, he’d be suspect number one regardless of whether he’d gotten rid of the other evidence.
He couldn’t help but feel anger surge through his body, his parents were liabilities, but never had they come so close to ruining him.
They would have to be dealt with.
“Degenerates,” he whispered, the word laced with quiet venom.
*Creak*
He tensed suddenly, ears picking up the soft creak of footsteps in the hallway outside.
Someone entering the apartment.
Ethan pocketed the list swiftly and melted into the shadows behind the kitchen door.
The man muttered to himself as he walked inside, his footsteps heavy on the creaky floorboards, the door swinging shut behind him though not closing fully due to Ethan breaking it.
Ethan watched from his hiding spot as the man paused in the living room, his broad frame silhouetted against the faint moonlight filtering through the window, his head turning slowly as he scanned the overturned furniture and scattered trash.
“Filthy,” the man growled, kicking aside a pile of empty vials that clattered across the floor, his voice rising in disgust.
“Creedence, you sinner, you disgusting parasite, wallowing in your own rot like a pig in mud, you should’ve been cleansed long ago, I should’ve done it myself, burned the sin right out of you before it spread.”
He paced now, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he looked up at the ceiling, tears starting to well in his eyes.
“Oh Lord,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he dropped to one knee, clasping his hands together in prayer, the tears spilling down his cheeks.
“I know how disappointed you are in me, I failed to see the corruption in him sooner, I let him linger in this world like a plague, forgive me, please forgive your servant, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
He sobbed then, his shoulders shaking violently, mucus dripping from his nose as he rocked back and forth, his cries filling the apartment like a wounded animal’s wail.
Ethan shifted silently, seeing his chance while the man was distracted, slipping out from behind the door with wuiet steps toward the exit, his boots avoiding the creaks in the floor as he edged closer to the door.
The sobbing stopped abruptly, the man’s head snapping up, his eyes wide and unblinking as he stared into the darknness.
“Someone is here,” he said softly, almost to himself, then tilted his head as if listening to a distant voice.
“Aren’t they, my Lord?”
Ethan froze for a split second, then turned around slowly, deciding in that moment to deal with the threat now rather than risk being followed, his hand dipping into his jacket to pull out the Glock, leveling it at the man’s head and squeezing the trigger without hesitation.
The gun clicked uselessly, jammed, the slide refusing to cycle, and Ethan felt a surge of anger, his mind flashing to the bartender who had sold him the defective piece of junk, the man probably laughing now at ripping off another fool.
He dropped the Glock to the floor with a clatter and reached for the .38 revolver he had found in the bedroom, yanking it from his pocket and aiming again, but the man had already turned around fully, his arm lifting in a swift motion, and a plume of flames erupted from his palm, roaring toward Ethan.
Ethan twisted his body at the last second and dove sideways into the adjacent bedroom, the flames licking the edge of his hoodie as they scorched the doorframe, the heat intense enough to singe the air itself.
He slapped at the burning fabric on his shoulder, patting it out quickly before the fire could spread, then rolled forward onto his feet in one motion and pressed himself against the wall, slipping behind a half-toppled dresser for cover.
“Who are you who comes to this place,” the man’s voice boomed from the living room, his footsteps approaching slowly.
He twitched then, his head jerking to the side like a puppet on strings, his eyes glazing over for a moment.
“Do you think he’s involved, my Lord,” he murmured, pausing as if awaiting a response.
“You do,” he said after a beat, nodding to himself.
“Could he be the sinner who killed Creedence,” he continued, stepping closer to the bedroom doorway, his shadow stretching across the threshold.
“What should I do with him, my Lord,” he asked, tilting his head again, listening intently to the silence.
“Yes… Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
yes…
kill him…
yes, that would be the way,” he concluded as he burst through the doorway, his palm flaring with light once more.
“Sinner…
prepare to be cleansed by the Lords divine light, channeled through me his humble apostle!”
Ethan leaned out from behind the dresser and fired the .38, the shot cracking loudly in the confined space, it hit the wooden frame next to the man, but before he could fire off another shot, the man swept his hand in an arc and a shimmering wave seemed to rush towards Ethan, the gun’s barrel suddenly hissing as an invisible corrosion ate at the metal, rendering it useless in seconds.
Ethan tossed the ruined revolver aside and ducked as another blast of flames scorched the top of the dresser, forcing him to roll sideways across the floor to avoid the heat, coming up in a crouch behind the bed frame while the man advanced slowly.
“And the Lord said, let there be light, and there was light,” the man spoke, his voice booming as he thrust his palm forward again, sending a radiant burst that illuminated the room in blinding white, forcing Ethan to shield his eyes and sidestep blindly to avoid the searing wave that charred the mattress edge.
Ethan circled the room, keeping furniture between them, his dagger drawn now as he feinted left and darted right, but the man anticipated and released a plume of invisible force, knocking Ethan off balance and slamming him into the wall, the impact jarring his ribs even through the Kevlar vest.
The man pressed the advantage, stepping closer with his hand extended, and murmured, “For our God is a consuming fire,” as flames licked from his fingers, forcing Ethan to vault over the bed and land on the other side, the heat singeing his pants leg as he rolled away.
Ethan countered by grabbing a loose floor lamp and swinging it like a staff, the base cracking against the man’s arm with a thud, but the man barely flinched and retaliated with a sweep of his hand, as a controlled blaze erupted along the lamp’s length, forcing Ethan to drop it before it burned him.
The man lunged then, his free hand grabbing for Ethan’s throat, but Ethan sidestepped and drove his elbow into the man’s side, feeling ribs give slightly under the blow, then followed with a knee to the thigh that buckled the man’s leg momentarily.
The man recovered quickly and backhanded Ethan across the chest, the impact carrying an unnatural heat that seared through the fabric despite the vest, sending Ethan retreating back into the kitchen doorway.
“And they shall know that I am the Lord, when I have executed judgments in her,” the man intoned, advancing again with his palm glowing, releasing a focused beam of light that Ethan barely avoided by dropping low and sweeping his leg out, tripping the man forward.
The man caught himself on the counter and spun, his other hand flicking out with a burst of radiance that illuminated Ethan’s hiding spot, forcing him to charge in close, dagger slashing toward the man’s arm.
The man blocked with his forearm, the blade glancing off as if meeting resistance from some sort of body armour he wore, then countered by grabbing Ethan’s wrist, his grip burning hot like divine wrath, quoting, “The Lord will smite thee with the botch of Egypt, and with the emerods, and with the scab, and with the itch, whereof thou canst not be healed,” as a corrosive warmth spread from his touch, eating at his skin making him drop the dagger.
Ethan wrenched free and headbutted the man in the nose, blood spraying as cartilage crunched, then drove his fist into the man’s gut twice in quick succession, each punch landing with a meaty thud that doubled him over.
The man gasped and swung wildly, his fist connecting with Ethan’s shoulder and sending a burst of fire at him, but Ethan grabbed the man’s extended arm and yanked him forward into a knee strike to the face, the impact lifting him off his feet slightly before slamming him back against the wall.
The man slid down but pushed off the floor with surprising strength, tackling Ethan around the waist and driving him through the doorway into the living room, both crashing onto the coffee table that splintered under their weight.
Ethan rolled away as the man climbed to his knees, his hand flaring again with light, but Ethan kicked him in the chest, sending him sprawling back, then pounced, pinning one arm and raining punches down on his face, each blow splitting skin and drawing blood.
The man bucked and freed his arm, grabbing Ethan’s throat with a burning grip, the heat intensified, forcing Ethan to break the hold with a punch to the elbow and retreat a step.
Ethan pressed again, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him into the ground, the impact shaking the floor, then lifted him slightly and drove his knee into the man’s sternum, feeling bones creak under the pressure.
The man wheezed and rolled away, coming up with his palm extended, but Ethan sidestepped the burst of light and countered with a grab to the man’s wrist, twisting it behind his back and slamming him face-first into the wall, the plaster cracking from the force.
Ethan pounced again, mounting him and grabbing his throat while punching the solar plexus repeatedly, the blows compressing the diaphragm until the man convulsed.
Ethan quickly realized the “divine” displays were not supernatural at all but a clear emission and manipulation of various gassed.
The clues had begun clicking together from the revolting chemical smell during the burns, the way the gun had corroded as if exposed to acidic vapors, and the brief glint of a lighter in the man’s sleeve during one of the flares, meaning he was emitting flammable or corrosive gases and igniting them for the effects, which explained the resistance to his own gases but not the subsequent flames, the sscarred skin he could see all over the man’s body confirmed that.
Though it was possible he did have at least a partial resistance, as the scars would be worse if he used his ability heavily.
With that understanding, Ethan spotted the the rusted gas pipe running along the wall near the kitchen, its valve slightly leaking from years of neglect, and he realized he could use the environment to turn the man’s power against him by forcing a mix of his emitted gases with the natural gas in the room, creating a volatile buildup that would ignite on the man’s next flare and overwhelm his partial resistance.
Ethan snapped the pipe open and backed away, baiting the man to rise, and as the man staggered up, blood dripping from his mouth, Ethan feinted a charge to draw him toward the pipe, then dodged as the man thrust his palm forward again, the gases emitting in a plume that mingled with the leaking natural gas.
The man twitched and prepared another attack, but Ethan grabbed a loose floorboard he had noticed earlier and swung it like a bat, cracking it across the man’s lighter-holding arm to force the ignition early, the spark catching the mixed gases and triggering a contained explosion that engulfed the man in his own flames, charring his skin further as he screamed.
Ethan then closed the distance.
He was annoyed that he’d taken so long to do this.
It seemed that hyperadrenal was a rather finicky ability; due to his body already being flooded with adrenaline, it interfered slightly with him activating it.
Annoying.
Focusing inward he activated his hyperadrenalism, his heart rate spiking suddenly as sweat beaded on his forehead and pupils dilated, every muscle coiling with amplified power that surged through his veins like fire.
He launched into a vicious combo, starting with a grab to the man’s collar that lifted him off the ground before slamming him down onto the floor with bone-jarring force, the impact cracking ribs audibly as the man gasped.
Ethan followed by hauling him up again and driving a punch into the already damaged jaw, the blow snapping the man’s head sideways with a spray of blood and teeth, then grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back while delivering a knee to the spine that arched the man’s body in pain.
He released the arm and spun the man around, slamming him chest-first into the wall where the plaster gave way in a cloud of dust and he went through the wall.
Ethan walked through the hole in the wall then yanked him back by the hair and punched the same rib area three times in rapid succession, each strike deepening the breakages until the man wheezed blood.
Ethan then lifted him overhead with both hands and hurled him toward the ceiling, the man’s back hitting the exposed beams with a thud that rained debris down, before he crashed to the floor in a heap, and Ethan pounced again, mounting him and grabbing his throat while punching the solar plexus repeatedly, the blows compressing the diaphragm until the man convulsed.
A sharp pain stabbed through Ethan’s chest then, his heart fluttering irregularly like it was skipping beats, the hyperadrenalism’s surge straining his cardiovascular system beyond its limits after the prolonged usage of it, and a deep ache spread through his muscles, forcing him to deactivate the power with a gasp, the rush fading abruptly and leaving him vulnerable for a split second.
The man seized the moment and bucked hard, freeing himself enough to thrust his palm up, quoting through bloody lips, “For the day of the Lord cometh, for it is nigh at hand,” as he channeled his remaining strength, his body emitting a massive buildup of methane and acetylene that filled the room, then sparked it with his lighter despite the damaged arm, unleashing a roaring inferno that exploded outward, flames engulfing everything in a blinding wave.
Ethan flipped backward over the nearby couch in one fluid motion, grabbing its edge mid-flip and pulling it down with him as a shield, the heavy frame crashing back and absorbing the blast’s force, the fabric charring and smoking but holding long enough to protect him from the worst of the heat.
Ethan stood up slowly, brushing off embers from his singed clothes, and looked at Eric, whose skin looked charred in patches, fresh burns mixing with old scars that covered his body like a map.
Ethan stood over Eric with his fingers still flexed.
The man’s body lay twisted on the floor and his chest rose and fell in shallow gasps.
Ethan felt the pull of the power inside Eric stronger now and it caused him to step closer while his own heart throbbed with a dull ache from the earlier surge.
The apartment smelled of charred flesh and smoke which made his eyes water slightly.
He reached out toward Eric’s chest, the energy leaked like heat from a fire and he needed to grab it before it faded.
Another meta-ability would be added to his collection.
*CRACK*
The door crashed open behind him and wood splintered from the frame.
Renee Montoya stepped through with her gun drawn and her boots scraping on debris.
She swept the room with her eyes and locked on Ethan which caused her to plant her feet wide.
“Hands up!
Now!” she shouted, while she heaved, making her shirt pull tight across her breasts.
Ethan paused his reach and turned his head toward her slowly, the sudden noise pulleing his attention.
He kept his hands down and assessed her stance, it was clear she was ready to fire—he’d need to be careful.
She squeezed the trigger once and the shot cracked into the wall beside him causing plaster to explode in a cloud of dust that rained down on his shoulders and stung his eyes.
His head snapped fully to her.
She met his gaze and her expression shifted slightly as recognition hit her which made her frown slightly.
That wasn’t good…
he’d need to deal with her if she recognised him, but killing a detective would only make the situation worse.
“Put your hands up now!” she commanded, her finger tightened on the trigger again.
(AN: Not really happy with this fight I tried to make it exciting while making sense but I’m not sure I did that too well.
Anyway hope you enjoyed it.)
Support if ya want.