The air crackled with tension.
Ray's gaze, fixed on the scorpion tattoo etched into Krell's forearm, burned with a cold fury.
The crimson ink seemed to pulse against the man's skin, a stark reminder of a past he'd desperately tried to bury.
The man, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, puffed out his chest, a pathetic attempt to regain control
"You got a problem, kid?" he sneered, shoving Ray with the heel of his hand. It was a calculated insult, meant to belittle. "You think you're tough, huh?"
Ray's reaction was lightning fast. Before the man could even blink, Ray's hand shot out, clamping down on his wrist like a vise.
The force of the grip surprised even Ray himself. He could feel his muscles tensing beneath his fingers, but the man couldn't break free. The memory of the knife, searing his own flesh and removing his nails, flashed through his mind. The man's sneer morphed into the cruel face of the blonde man who had orchestrated his torture.
"Whoa!" Kael exclaimed, his eyes widening. "Ray, easy!"
The porter eyes widened in disbelief. He tugged his arm, trying to wrench it free, but Ray's grip remained unshakeable.
"Let go of me, you little punk!" he snarled, his face reddening with anger and a flicker of fear.
He hadn't expected such strength from the seemingly unassuming boy. He'd pegged him as just another newbie, fresh meat for the AA.
"You're going to regret this," he grunted, trying to twist his body for leverage. "I'm going to…"
"Going to what?" Ray's voice was low, laced with a dangerous edge. The memories were surging, the pain so raw it felt like an open wound. He could feel the rage building inside him, a primal urge to retaliate, to inflict the same agony he had endured.
Before he could utter another threat, two figures stepped between them.
Zorain's voice, sharp and authoritative, sliced through the air.
"That's enough!" he barked, his eyes blazing. Kael moved to stand beside Zorain, his broad shoulders and imposing frame a clear warning.
He's with us," Zorain continued, his gaze fixed on this hulking instigator.
"So I suggest you mind your own business and… back off."
The man's bravado crumbled. He glanced from Zorain's stern face to Kael's intimidating presence, then back at Ray, whose eyes still burned with an icy rage.
He was outmatched, not just physically, but by the sheer intensity radiating from the boy. He could feel the collective gaze of the trio on him, their united front a solid wall he couldn't breach.
"Fine," he grumbled, shooting one last venomous look at Ray.
"But this ain't over." He stalked away, muttering under his breath. He'd remember this kid. He'd make him pay.
Zorain turned to Ray, his brow furrowed with concern.
"Ray, what was that all about?" he asked, his voice softer now.
"You looked like you were about to… well, I don't know what you were about to do, but it didn't look good."
Kael nodded, his expression mirroring Zorain's concern.
"Was it something he said?"
Ray took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. He knew he couldn't tell them the truth, not yet.
The memories were too raw, too painful. He forced a casual shrug.
"He was being a jerk," he mumbled, trying to downplay the intensity of his reaction.
"Just being disrespectful."
"Disrespectful enough to make you look like you were ready to kill him?"
Kael raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"Seriously, Ray, what gives?"
Ray avoided their gazes.
"Look, it's been a long day," he said, changing the subject.
"I'm just tired. Let's just drop it, okay?"
He glanced around the cafeteria, trying to appear nonchalant.
"Hey, how did the scorpion gang even get into the AA in the first place?"
He hoped the question would distract them, steer the conversation away from his near-explosion.
He needed time to process what had happened, to understand the resurgence of these painful memories. He needed to figure out what he was going to do. He couldn't let this go. Not this time.
He would definetly have his revenge that much was certain.
Zorain and Kael exchanged a look. They knew Ray was hiding something, but they weren't that close to get him to spill.
"That's a long story," Zorain said, deciding to play along.
"We can talk about it later. Right now, I think we all need to relax and grab some food."
He clapped Ray on the shoulder. "Come on. Let's eat. That stew smells amazing."
Kael nodded.
"Yeah, and you look like you could eat a horse. Seriously, what happened to you today? You seem… different."
He studied Ray, noticing the subtle changes in his posture, the almost imperceptible shift in his demeanor. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was definitely different about Ray.
Ray forced a smile. "Just a good rest after the dungeon raid,"
he lied, his stomach growling in agreement. He was starving, but the hunger was more than just physical. It was a gnawing emptiness, a void that he hoped food could fill, even if only temporarily.
He needed to get away from the memory of that scorpion tattoo, to push it back down into the darkness where it belonged. But he knew, deep down, that it wouldn't stay there. It was a brand on his soul, and it would haunt him until he had his revenge.
Meanwhile, the porter from earlier, seething with resentment, made his way to a table in the corner of the cafeteria.
He was surrounded by a group of men, all bearing the same distinctive scorpion tattoo on their forearms.
They were a rough bunch, their faces etched with the harsh lines of hard living and their eyes glinting with a mixture of cunning and menace.
"Krell, what's up?" one of the men asked, noticing the dark look on his face.
He was a hulking figure with a shaved head and a network of tattoos covering his arms.
"That little punk gave me some lip," Krell growled, gesturing in the direction of Ray's table, while pointng at his clothes, still drnched with the dark murky liquid that spilled on him earlier.
"Thinks he's tough, just because he's found some new friends".
Another man, leaner and wirier than the first, chuckled. "Friends or not, he's still just newbies. We could take him anytime....your call"
"That's not the point,"
Krell snapped.
"The point is, that kid disrespected me. In front of everyone."
He slammed his fist on the table, making the other men jump.
"And nobody disrespects me and gets away with it."
"So, what do you want us to do, Krell?" the hulking man asked, cracking his knuckles. "You want us to teach him a lesson?"
Krell nodded slowly, a cruel smile spreading across his face.
"That's exactly what I want. But," he added, lowering his voice, "I want it done right. I don't want any witnesses. I want it to be… a message." He looked around the table, his eyes meeting each of theirs.
"Understood?"
"Loud and clear, Krell," one of the men replied, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
"We'll make sure he understands," another added, his voice low and menacing.
Krell leaned back in his chair, satisfied. "Good.
Now, remember," he said, his gaze sweeping over the group.
"We wait. We wait until he's alone, away from his...new friends. We don't want to start a war with them, not yet. We'll take him when he's vulnerable, when he's least expecting it."
He tapped his fingers on the table, a slow, deliberate rhythm.
"Then, we'll teach him what happens to those who dare to cross the scorpion gang. We'll make him regret ever lookeing at me the wrong way."
He paused, his eyes narrowing. "And make sure he remembers why he's being punished. Make it… personal."