Abraham's phone buzzed, snapping him out of his haze. It was Daniel- a childhood friend, whom he grew up with and went to school with- his voice shaking over the line. "Hey, man. I need your help. Someone hacked your database. They're selling your app's user data... I think I know where they are."
The urgency in Daniel's voice lit a fire under him. Without a second thought, Abraham agreed to meet at an abandoned lot Daniel mentioned—a sprawling, dimly lit area littered with rusted shipping containers and overgrown weeds.
The moment he stepped into the shadows of the lot, he felt it. Something was wrong. His eyes scanned the area, but he couldn't see anything beyond the dim flicker of a streetlight in the distance. "Daniel?" he called, his voice echoing into the silence.
From the darkness, three figures emerged, masked and armed with bats and crowbars. A chill ran through Abraham's body as he instinctively reached for his phone.
"You're coming with us," one of the men growled, his grip tightening on a crowbar.
Abraham's chest tightened, but before he could react, Daniel stepped out from the shadows, hands raised in mock surrender. "Sorry, Abe," he muttered, not meeting Abraham's eyes. "I didn't have a choice. They—"
"You set me up," Abraham said, his voice low, disbelieving.
Daniel flinched. "It's not like that! I needed the money! I thought... I thought you'd be fine."
Anger boiled over in Abraham, his voice cold and venomous. "You thought I'd be fine?"
The first thug swung his bat. Abraham's instincts kicked in, enhanced reflexes saving him as he dodged to the side. The bat whistled past his ear, splintering against the edge of a rusted container. Another came at him from the left, swinging a crowbar. This time, he wasn't fast enough. Pain exploded in his ribs as the metal connected, sending him staggering.
The world blurred for a moment, and then Abraham felt it—a surge of raw energy. His vision sharpened, his heart pounding with a mix of fury and something darker.
The first thug came at him again, and this time Abraham was ready. His hand shot out, and with a thought, a shimmering barrier materialized in front of him. The man ran straight into it, the force of his charge slamming him back so hard his nose exploded in a spray of blood.
"Stop playing around!" one of the others shouted, lunging with his crowbar.
Abraham twisted, the barrier morphing in his mind. It lashed out like a battering ram, hitting the attacker in the chest. The man's ribs caved inward with a sickening crunch, his body folding as he crumpled to the ground.
The third thug hesitated, his courage wavering. Abraham turned to him, his glowing eyes locking on. "Run."
The man dropped his weapon and bolted into the night.
Abraham's breath came in ragged gasps as he turned to Daniel, who had backed up against a container. "I trusted you," Abraham said, his voice trembling with barely contained rage.
"I didn't think they'd actually hurt you!" Daniel stammered, his eyes wide with terror.
Abraham's powers flared again, unbidden. Chains of psychic energy coiled around Daniel, lifting him off the ground and slamming him into the side of the container. Daniel screamed, clawing at the invisible restraints as they tightened around his chest.
"You didn't think?" Abraham growled, stepping closer. "You sold me out for money, Daniel. You let them ambush me."
"I'm sorry! Please, Abe, I didn't know—"
The chains constricted further, and Daniel's cries turned into strangled gasps. For a moment, Abraham wanted to end it. Wanted to crush the life out of the man who had betrayed him. His fingers twitched, the chains trembling as they began to glow hotter, tighter.
But then he stopped.
He released the chains with a sharp exhale, and Daniel collapsed to the ground, coughing and wheezing. "Get out of my sight," Abraham spat. "If I ever see you again—"
Daniel scrambled to his feet, his face pale and tear-streaked. He didn't wait for Abraham to finish. He ran, disappearing into the darkness like the coward he was.
Alone in the lot, Abraham clenched his fists, his breathing still uneven. The scent of blood and sweat hung heavy in the air. His ribs throbbed, and his head buzzed with adrenaline and anger.
For the first time, he truly felt it: the divide between himself and the rest of the world. The power coursing through him, the darkness that lurked just beneath the surface—it wasn't human. And the more he used it, the less human he felt.
Abraham stood alone in the lot, the metallic taste of anger still fresh in his mouth. He stared at the spot where Daniel had disappeared, his chest heaving with the effort of reigning in the maelstrom inside him. His ribs throbbed where the crowbar had struck, but the pain felt distant—like a small ember compared to the inferno of betrayal burning within him.
The night pressed in, suffocatingly quiet. Blood pooled beneath the unconscious thugs, mixing with the filth and grime of the lot. One of them let out a weak groan, trying to crawl away despite his shattered ribs. Abraham turned, his glowing eyes narrowing.
"You don't get to crawl away," he muttered, his voice low and cold.
He stepped closer, his shadow stretching unnaturally in the dim light. The man whimpered, raising a trembling hand as if to ward off the inevitable. Abraham reached out with his powers, psychic energy unfurling like claws.
The air around the thug shimmered as Abraham's will took hold, lifting the man into the air. His limbs dangled uselessly, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. With a flick of Abraham's fingers, the man's body twisted, his joints bending at unnatural angles. The thug screamed, a sound that cut through the silence like a knife.
Abraham held him there, suspended like a puppet on strings. "You picked the wrong night," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
He didn't even have to think—his powers responded to the raw fury coursing through him. The man's body convulsed as psychic energy seeped into him, forcing him unconscious. Abraham let him drop like a sack of meat, the sound of the impact echoing through the lot.
He turned his attention to the other thug, still crumpled on the ground, his breaths ragged and wet. Blood bubbled at the corners of the man's mouth, and his eyes fluttered weakly. Abraham stared at him for a long moment, his fists clenching and unclenching.
"You don't matter," Abraham said finally, his voice flat. With a wave of his hand, the barrier that had slammed into the thug dissipated, leaving him sprawled and broken but alive.
The air crackled with residual energy as Abraham straightened, his body shaking slightly from the exertion. The fight had drained him, but it wasn't just physical fatigue—there was something deeper. A hollow ache that gnawed at the edges of his mind.
He turned back to where Daniel had been moments before, and a bitter laugh escaped his lips. "Some friend," he muttered, the words tasting like ash.
The walk home was slow, the adrenaline fading and leaving him acutely aware of his injuries. He moved through the empty streets like a phantom, his glowing eyes reflecting in darkened windows. The city around him felt distant, unreal.
The apartment was silent when he finally stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. Abraham leaned against it for a moment, his head resting on the cool wood. The events of the night played out in his mind, each moment sharper than the last. Daniel's betrayal. The thugs' brutal defeat. His own growing detachment.
He stumbled to the bathroom, flicking on the harsh fluorescent light. His reflection stared back at him, unrecognizable. His eyes glowed faintly, like twin embers in the dim room. His face was smeared with blood—some his, most not.
He turned on the faucet, letting the cold water run over his hands. It did little to calm him. The image of Daniel's terrified face wouldn't leave his mind. The way his former friend had clawed at the invisible chains, begging for mercy.
For the first time, Abraham felt sick. Not because of what he'd done—but because of how easy it had been.
He gripped the edge of the sink, his knuckles whitening. "I'm not a monster," he whispered, the words sounding hollow even to himself.
But wasn't he?
The power inside him was vast, limitless. He could feel it now, more acutely than ever. It pulsed in his veins, coiling in his chest like a living thing. It didn't care about morality, about right or wrong. It only wanted to be used.
Abraham straightened, his glowing eyes meeting his reflection's gaze. He looked at himself for a long moment, searching for some trace of the person he had been. A part of him wanted to weep for what he had lost—for the humanity slipping through his fingers like sand.
But another part of him, darker and colder, didn't care. That part whispered that Daniel had deserved it. That the thugs had deserved it. That anyone who stood against him would deserve whatever they got.
He clenched his fists, the faint glow of psychic energy flickering around them. "I'm not a monster," he said again, louder this time.
But the reflection in the mirror didn't believe him.
Abraham left the bathroom, the quiet of his apartment pressing down on him like a heavy weight. The digital clock on his bedside table blinked 3:14 AM in soft red light, but sleep wasn't an option. The events of the night still churned in his mind, threatening to pull him under.
He moved to the small desk near his window, the city lights twinkling in the distance. His phone buzzed faintly against the wooden surface. Abraham ignored it for a moment, his gaze fixed on the skyline. The world out there seemed so normal, so blissfully unaware of the monsters lurking just beneath the surface.
A soft chime drew his attention back to the phone. The notification came from the MF app—a new thread had been posted in one of the forums he frequented. Curious, he unlocked the device and opened the thread.
"Navigating Betrayal: How to Keep Moving Forward"
Abraham stared at the title for a moment, his jaw tightening. It felt too timely, too on the nose. Against his better judgment, he clicked on it.
The post was by someone named Umbra_Walker:
"The supernatural world is brutal. Betrayal isn't a possibility—it's a certainty. Whether it's friends, allies, or even yourself, there will come a time when trust shatters like glass. The question isn't how to prevent it but how to rise from the shards. Power is the only constant. Control it, master it, and let it define you, not them."
Below, comments ranged from agreement to vehement dissent. One user wrote, "What's the point of power if it costs you everything? We're human, not monsters."
Another responded, "If you want to stay human, you'll die like one. Power doesn't ask for permission—it takes. It's better to wield it than be crushed by it."
Abraham closed the app, his mind swirling. The words hit uncomfortably close to home. Was power the answer? Or was it just another weight dragging him further away from humanity?
The phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't a notification but a direct message.
Sender: Umbra_Walker
"Feeling lost? You're not alone. If you want clarity, I can help. But it'll cost you. Meet me at the Black Pines in two days. Midnight."
Abraham's heart skipped a beat. The Black Pines was a notorious location—an abandoned amusement park on the outskirts of the city. It was a haven for supernatural activity and a deathtrap for anyone unprepared.
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the message. Part of him wanted to ignore it, to stay home and bury himself in programming jobs until the world faded away. But another part, the part that had reveled in the power he'd wielded tonight, saw the invitation as an opportunity.
"Two days," he murmured, his fingers drumming against the desk. The choice had already been made, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
The next two days passed in a haze. Abraham spent his time experimenting with his abilities, testing their limits and pushing himself further than before.
He practiced combining his physical strikes with psychic force, delivering devastating blows to abandoned cars and concrete barriers in desolate lots. Each punch cracked metal, shattered stone, and sent shockwaves rippling through the air.
He refined his ability to create concussive blasts, shaping them with greater precision. Instead of indiscriminate explosions, he focused on targeting specific areas, imagining himself hurling psychic grenades that could cripple foes without collateral damage.
At night, he experimented with his barriers, reshaping them into weapons—bladed chains, spiked maces, and serrated shields. The constructs gleamed faintly in the darkness, solid and lethal.
Despite the progress, the weight of isolation grew heavier. The phone remained silent except for occasional messages from the MF. He didn't reach out to his remaining friends, unsure of how to explain what he was becoming.
The night of the meeting arrived too quickly. Abraham stood at the edge of the Black Pines, his breath misting in the cool night air. The amusement park loomed ahead, its rusted rides and decaying structures bathed in eerie moonlight.
He tightened his grip on the dagger tucked into his jacket and stepped forward, the ground crunching beneath his boots.
The carousel was the first thing he saw—a skeletal structure with faded horses frozen mid-gallop. The air smelled of damp wood and rust, and the faint creak of wind-blown metal added to the oppressive atmosphere.
"Abraham."
The voice came from the shadows, smooth and low. A figure stepped out from behind the carousel, their features obscured by a dark hood.
"You came," they said, their tone unreadable.
"Umbra_Walker," Abraham replied, his voice steady despite the unease prickling at the back of his neck.
The figure chuckled softly. "Names don't matter here. What matters is power. And whether you're ready to wield it."
Abraham's eyes narrowed. "And what exactly are you offering?"
The figure gestured around them. "Knowledge. Connections. Strength. But you already knew that, didn't you? Otherwise, you wouldn't be here."
The air between them crackled with tension. Abraham remained silent, his instincts screaming at him to be wary.
"I can see it in you," the figure continued, stepping closer. "You've already started down the path. But you're holding back. Still clinging to some illusion of humanity."
"I'm not a monster," Abraham said, his voice hard.
The figure tilted their head. "Aren't you? Tell me, how did it feel—when you used your power to crush someone who hurt you?"
Abraham's jaw tightened, the memory of Daniel's betrayal flashing in his mind.
The figure chuckled again. "You don't have to answer. I already know. That feeling, that rush—it's not weakness. It's freedom. And I can show you how to embrace it."
They extended a hand, a sleek black card appearing in their palm. "This is your key to the next level. Use it wisely."
Abraham took the card, his fingers brushing against its cold surface.
"Welcome to the Black Pines," the figure said, their voice fading as they stepped back into the shadows.
Abraham stood alone once more, the card in his hand and a storm brewing in his chest.