The world never broke James in a single day.
It ground him down piece by piece.
As a boy, he had known hunger.
He had known the sound of fists against flesh when his father returned home drunk, the smell of blood mixing with cheap alcohol in the air.
His mother’s screams were muffled by the walls, but they carved into him like knives.
Everywhere James looked, he saw humanity’s ugliness—neighbors who looked away, police who never came, teachers who smiled while ignoring the bruises.
The world wasn’t cruel by accident.
It was cruel by design.
The boy who would one day become a madman of chaos sat in silence, absorbing every lie of kindness and every display of hypocrisy.
His heart should have broken.
Instead, it twisted.
Years passed.
James grew.
The world didn’t get better.
On the streets, he saw the hungry eat the weak.
He saw men stab each other for coins, women sold like cattle, and children vanish in alleys no one dared to enter.
Every face he met was one more mask of desperation.
He tried to live honest—at first.
He worked, he struggled.
But every time he rose, the boot of society pressed him back down.
His first employer docked wages until nothing was left.
His landlord threw him out in the rain with no warning.
A friend he trusted sold him out for scraps.
And then came the night.
A night when his ribs ached from beatings, when his stomach was empty, when his soul was colder than the rain falling around him.
He saw it.
A man, laughing as he kicked a homeless beggar into the gutter, stealing the last piece of bread from his shaking hands.
Something broke inside James.
No… not broke.
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The world was a pit of beasts.
And beasts only respected one thing: violence.
That night, James killed for the first time.
The laughter of the cruel man ended in a wet choke.
Blood spilled into the gutter, mixing with the rain.
James stood over the body, staring at his trembling hands.
But there was no regret.
No horror.
Only… release.
A strange calm settled over him.
A whisper in his ear—his own voice, but twisted.
“The world wanted a monster.
So I will become one.”
From that night on, James lived for crime.
He rose quickly, faster than anyone imagined possible.
In the underground, his brilliance was unmatched.
He orchestrated gang wars, toppled rivals, and carved out empires of drugs, blood, and terror.
He didn’t just kill—he played with lives, twisting his enemies’ minds before their throats.
His charisma drew followers.
His cruelty broke opposition.
His madness became legend.
To the streets, he was a devil in human flesh.
To his men, he was a prophet of chaos.
But to James himself?
He was simply free.
A massive shipment, one that would secure his dominance for years.
Interpol had been hunting him, whispering his name like a curse.
Everyone said this was the trap that would finally end him.
They were right.
But not in the way they thought.
Because when the sirens wailed and the boots of lawmen stormed in, James didn’t flee.
He stood tall, hands raised, lips curling into a grin.
He let them catch him.
Chains clicked around his wrists.
Cameras flashed.
Reporters screamed about the fall of a king.
But James only smiled.
“Let’s see what I can do when I’m caged.”
Alcatraz.
The night of his arrival was silent.
The prison groaned like an old beast, metal bars rattling against the whispers of men who feared even to speak his name.
James sat in his cell, staring at the ceiling, his face lit by the pale glow of the moon cutting through the bars.
A guard passed, his footsteps hesitant.
The other prisoners whispered in terror.
But James only chuckled, his shoulders shaking with dark amusement.
His lips curled into words that seeped into the stone itself:
“Now… let me see if I can cause chaos in Tartarus.”
And then came the sound.
A laugh.
Low at first, then growing, echoing through the halls like the howl of something not quite human.
It rose higher, sharper, a symphony of madness that chilled every man who heard it.
A laugh that promised the world would burn.