The fluorescent lights flickered against the cold concrete walls of the maximum-security prison. Marco Valenti sat on his steel bunk, his 6-foot frame folded into a posture of absolute weariness. His muscles, toned like tempered steel, remained hidden beneath a loose gray prison uniform that concealed a network of scars accumulated through years of violent encounters.
"Life is such a drag," he muttered, his voice a low, monotonous drawl that seemed to absorb the ambient sound of the prison block.
A guard approached, sliding an envelope through the narrow slot in his cell door. Marco's eyes, typically dull and disinterested, suddenly sharpened with an almost imperceptible intensity as he picked up the letter.
His fingers, scarred and powerful, carefully unfolded the paper. As his eyes scanned the contents, something shifted in the atmosphere. A subtle tension began to build, like a coiled spring ready to unleash its potential.
"When will I be at rest?" Marco whispered, a phrase that carried more weight than a simple question.
In one fluid motion, he stood and kicked the cell door. The metal frame didn't just break—it exploded outward, the hinges disintegrating under the sheer force of his leg. The sound was like a thunderclap in the silent prison corridor.
Prison guards stared in shock, their mouths agape as Marco stepped through the destroyed doorway. His movement was casual, almost bored, as if destroying a maximum-security cell was no more challenging than walking through an open door.
"Prisoner escaping!" The first alarm pierced the air, followed by a cacophony of sirens and shouting.
Guards drew their weapons, a dozen gun barrels pointed directly at Marco. The first volley of bullets erupted, a storm of metal designed to stop any escapee.
But these bullets met something unexpected.
As they struck Marco's body, they scattered like rain against stone, twisting and deforming, falling to the ground harmlessly. Not a single mark appeared on his skin. His muscles, hardened beyond human comprehension, simply repelled the assault.
Marco yawned. "Life is such a drag," he repeated, walking forward with an almost leisurely pace.
When a particularly brave guard attempted to block his path, Marco's light punch—a movement so casual it seemed almost accidental—sent the massive concrete wall beside them exploding into dust and fragments. Chunks of reinforced wall blasted away, revealing corridors and more cells beyond.
More guards converged, their tactics shifting from shooting to attempting physical restraint. Marco moved through them like water through a sieve, not attacking, simply... passing through. Each touch, each slight movement caused infrastructure to crumble, walls to crack, barriers to disintegrate.
This wasn't just strength. This was something beyond human capability.
The most secure prison in the world watched in stunned silence as Marco Valenti walked out, leaving nothing but destruction in his wake, his only commentary a weary observation that life was, indeed, such a drag.