[ Abandoned Building]
The abandoned building sat eerily in the center of the construction site, its once promising structure now a silent, decaying monument. The skeletal remains of unfinished floors and crumbling walls stood tall, surrounded by scattered piles of building materials—rusted metal beams, cracked concrete blocks, and stacks of wood rotting from neglect. Various construction tools, long abandoned, lay scattered across the ground, half-buried in dirt and debris. Rust had overtaken most of the machinery, rendering them mere relics of a forgotten project.
For three years, the building had stood untouched, a project halted for reasons no one seemed to care about anymore. During that time, the site became a makeshift shelter for the homeless, offering them some respite from the elements within the empty rooms and hollow corridors. Old, tattered blankets and remnants of fires used for warmth were scattered inside, evidence of lives lived in the shadows of society.
However, the peace they found here didn't last. A group of teenagers had recently claimed the structure for themselves, turning the desolate building into their own hidden hangout. Graffiti now adorned the walls—vivid, chaotic splashes of color defacing the concrete surfaces. The air was thick with the smell of spray paint, and remnants of their mischief were left behind in the form of broken bottles and cigarette butts. The building, once a refuge, now stood as a symbol of both neglect and youthful rebellion, its echoing halls filled with the sound of laughter and occasional mischief under the cover of night.
Inside the abandoned building, Jack lounged on a worn-out couch, his eyes fixed on the cracked, water-stained ceiling. The sweet, pungent smell of flavored hookah smoke curled around him in lazy tendrils, dissipating into the stale air. He exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, frustration evident in his every movement.
"I'm so bored," he muttered, taking another drag from the hookah pipe. "Why the hell did Kyle have to leave me stuck with you losers?" he grumbled, his voice heavy with annoyance.
Around the room, ten members of the Deadz were scattered across the dimly lit space, each one occupied with their own boredom-fueled activities. Some leaned against the walls, staring blankly at their phones, while others fiddled with old, broken tools or flipped through the torn pages of forgotten magazines. A couple of them were playing cards on the floor, but even that seemed lackluster, their half-hearted shuffling only adding to the oppressive air of monotony.
Today was supposed to be a free day—no missions, no trouble to stir up, nothing but time to kill. For some people, a day off might be a blessing, a chance to relax. But for these delinquents, the lack of chaos was suffocating. They thrived on action, and this stillness was driving them mad. The air was thick with a restless tension, the kind that promised trouble if something didn't change soon.
Jack, with his eyes still glued to the ceiling, sighed heavily, feeling the weight of boredom pressing down on him like a stone. "This day sucks," he muttered under his breath, flicking the ash off the hookah's coal as he glared at nothing in particular.
Jack felt his phone vibrate and sighed in annoyance as he pulled it out, glancing at the screen to see Ryan's name flashing.
'What the hell does he want now?' he thought before answering the call. Immediately, Ryan's frantic shouting filled his ear.
"Senpai! Travis is on his way there!!" Ryan yelled, forcing Jack to pull the phone away from his ear with a grimace.
"Man, you talk too much," Jack muttered, irritated. "And what? Am I supposed to start shaking in my boots now? Fuck off!!" He hung up, tossing his phone aside with a scoff.
*Bang!*
The door to the site was blasted off its hinges, flying across the floor and crashing with a deafening echo that reverberated throughout the entire building. Jack lazily glanced over at the entrance, where Travis strolled in with a confident smirk plastered across his face.
"Yo, Jack. How about we finish what we started?" Travis called out, his eyes locked on Jack.
Jack chuckled, rising from the couch with a cocky grin. "Finish? I already won. If we fight again, it's round two for me, hah!"
"Keep telling yourself that," Travis shot back, his smirk never wavering. "Maybe you'll start believing it."
Jack's grin faltered, his expression darkening as he turned toward his gang. "Take care of this clown. He's not even worth my time," he ordered, settling back down on the couch, dismissing Travis with a wave of his hand.
The gang members, though all unawakened, were a formidable force when working together. They grabbed makeshift weapons—pipes, wrenches, and blunt objects—and charged at Travis in a coordinated assault.
The first attacker swung a rusty pipe at Travis's head. With a swift sidestep, Travis dodged the blow and countered with a powerful right hook.
*Thud!*
The impact sent the gang member sprawling to the ground, clutching his jaw in pain.
Without missing a beat, Travis ducked under a swinging wrench and spun around to deliver a spinning kick to another assailant's midsection.
*Wham!*
The gang member flew backward, crashing into a stack of wooden crates with a groan.
Two more rushed at him, swinging pipes in tandem. Travis ducked and weaved between their attacks with a blend of agility and precision. He grabbed one pipe mid-swing, yanked it from the attacker's grasp, and used it to deflect the other's strike. With a powerful sweep, he sent both attackers sprawling.
The remaining gang members hesitated, but their leader, Jack, urged them on. "Get him! Don't let up!"
Travis's eyes narrowed. He dodged another swing, grabbed the attacker's arm, and twisted it behind his back.
*Crack!*
A loud snap echoed as the assailant dropped to his knees, howling in pain.
Another gang member tried to tackle Travis from behind. With a deft roll, Travis evaded the tackle and brought his elbow down hard on the attacker's back.
*Thud!*
The impact was followed by a pained grunt as the gang member crumpled to the floor.
As Travis continued his relentless assault, each movement was precise and calculated. He disarmed a gang member with a sharp jab to the gut, causing him to drop his wrench. With a quick kick, Travis sent the wrench flying across the room.
In a final flurry of movement, Travis delivered a series of rapid punches and kicks.
*Smack!* *Whack!* *Pow!*
Each strike landed with perfect accuracy, leaving the remaining gang members dazed and defeated.
Breathing heavily but with a victorious grin, Travis surveyed the wreckage of the fight. The once-aggressive gang members were now sprawled out across the floor, groaning in defeat. Jack, watching from his couch, was visibly irritated but remained seated, his expression a mix of frustration and grudging respect.
"Alright Jack. Its your turn?" Travis called out, his voice echoing through the abandoned building.
Jack glared at Travis but said nothing,
' How could he grow so strong in a day?'
TO BE CONTINUED