Evan stood in front of the massive, cold walls of his workshop, hands trembling as he adjusted the final bolts of the suit. His eyes were bloodshot. The lack of sleep was getting to him. He hadn't slept for weeks now, ever since the design had fully come together in his mind.
The suit was perfect. It was everything he had dreamed of. A brutal, unstoppable machine, designed to make the world see what it was becoming. His mind had raced with ideas: mass violence, destruction, chaos.
But it wasn't just the violence that excited him. It was the way people would finally understand, finally feel. The world had grown corrupt. It was teetering on the edge of decay. And Evan, with his brilliance, had the answer.
He could fix it. He just needed to break it first.
The suit—he called it "Aegis"—was more than armor. It was a monster, a weapon, and an embodiment of all his contempt for humanity. Crafted from the finest alloys and wired with circuits that made his own brain seem primitive, the suit's design was meant to incapacitate and destroy without remorse. It was a thing of his creation, shaped from his hatred of a world that didn't deserve his genius.
As he pulled the helmet onto his head, the suit powered on with a mechanical hiss, its weight settling on his body like a second skin. Every joint, every piece of armor clicked into place. He could feel the energy coursing through the veins of the suit, synchronized with the pounding of his heart.
The world outside the workshop felt distant, even as his eyes adjusted to the enhanced vision the suit provided. His senses sharpened. His thoughts became clearer. He could hear the ticking of a clock in the corner of the room—nothing could escape his awareness now.
For a moment, he stood there, his thoughts swirling. He thought of the billions of lives he'd crush. He thought of how the streets would burn. His fingers flexed around the suit's gauntlet, and the very idea of it sent a jolt of power down his spine.
The world would have to change. He would make them see.
And he would do it by making them feel.
Evan stepped out of the workshop, the door slamming shut behind him. The city stretched before him like a spiderweb of glass and steel, everything so small from the towering heights of his invention.
He could feel the city's pulse, the undercurrent of its frantic energy. It was all so familiar to him—so sickeningly familiar. People walking to and fro, blind to the rot eating away at the foundations of society. Corruption. Greed. Fear. Everything he had been forced to witness, to endure.
It was time to fix it.
His first stop was a hospital.
The people inside were sick. Their bodies rotting away from diseases they couldn't afford to fight. The rich could get treatment, but not the ones who needed it the most. The doctors were complicit, the system broken.
When he entered the emergency room, he did not need to say a word. The nurses screamed, running for cover as he stalked through the white-tiled halls. His footsteps echoed like the sound of a hammer, slow and deliberate, striking with force.
They couldn't hide from him. No one could. They had all chosen their lives, their systems, and now it was time to pay.
He could hear them scrambling, shouting into phones, calling for security. But it was too late. The doors were locked, and the armor responded to his commands, responding like an obedient servant. He raised his fist, feeling the surge of power within him as the suit's built-in weapons charged.
The first man to approach was struck down in an instant—his body crumpling under the weight of Evan's armored fist. The others froze. They could do nothing. Fear washed over them in waves, and Evan felt satisfaction. They hadn't seen it coming. They never would.
The next few minutes blurred. He moved like a phantom, swift and merciless. No one was spared. The quiet of the hospital was shattered by screams, the crash of bodies against walls, and the frantic ringing of telephones.
When it was over, the place was a tomb. A quiet, haunting tomb. Evan stood in the center, his heart racing not from exertion, but from the cold thrill of knowing he had made the world feel something. Something real. Pain. Fear. The anguish of a world that had long ago lost its way.
As he exited the building, stepping over bodies, he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. But it didn't matter. He could carry it. He was invincible now.
The next city was no different. He moved through it like a plague, tearing through everything in his path. Businesses. Homes. Streets. It didn't matter. He wanted them all to know what it was like to suffer. To be small and helpless. To know that there was no escape.
He could see their faces. Some screamed. Some cried. Some begged. But none of it mattered. He felt nothing but the cold thrill of his power. They were ants beneath his feet, squirming and dying. And he would burn it all.
The news traveled fast. Reports came in from across the world—sightings of a massive armored figure wreaking havoc wherever he went. People didn't know who he was. They didn't need to. His message was clear.
Destroy it all.
Months passed. Evan had seen the devastation he'd caused, the chaos he'd brought. The cities were crumbling, the world slowly bending to his will. Governments had tried to fight back, but they were powerless. They couldn't even touch him.
Yet, the closer Evan came to his goal, the more he started to question himself. It was subtle at first—just a passing thought as he stood on the ruins of a city, watching the smoldering remains of what was once a thriving place.
The chaos was all-encompassing, but there was no satisfaction anymore. The thrill he had once felt began to fade. What had it all meant? Was this really the change he had been looking for?
The answer came too late.
He arrived in a small town on the outskirts of the world. A place untouched by his previous actions, quiet and unsuspecting. He thought it would be an easy target, a way to relive the feeling of destruction one last time.
But something was wrong. As soon as he entered, he felt it—a strange dissonance, like an off-key note in an otherwise harmonious chord.
It was a trap.
The suit reacted too late. Evan was already surrounded, his vision starting to blur. Something was inside his mind. A virus, a system breach. His hands trembled, his legs buckling beneath him. The suit, once a tool of domination, now turned on him, its systems malfunctioning.
He could feel the pressure building inside him, his pulse hammering in his chest as the suit locked him in place, unable to move. Panic rose within him, his brilliant mind unable to process what was happening.
And then the darkness came—not the kind of darkness that suffocates the senses, but something far worse. The kind that knows no escape. The kind that slowly, methodically, begins to unravel everything you've ever known.
The system was compromised. And Evan, the genius who had built an empire from nothing but his hatred, was now at the mercy of the very thing he had created.
The world had not been changed by him. It had simply left him behind.
The last thing he felt was the cold steel of his own creation pressing against his chest, crushing him from within.