In this city where superpowers were as common as coffee shops, skyscrapers towered like they'd just stepped out of a sci-fi flick, glowing with a light that wasn't from this world. Some buildings were draped in a flowing, radiant curtain, with symbols and patterns so lively, they seemed to whisper secrets from another dimension. Others resembled colossal crystals, their surfaces casting a rainbow of colors against the night, turning the streets into something straight out of a fairy tale. Up in the sky, superhumans zipped around like they were on some cosmic expressway, their trails like neon comets that had everyone on the ground gawking.
Ian? He was just another schlub in this madhouse, bobbing along like a lone boat in the middle of the ocean. No powers, just a guy trying to keep his head above water, day by day. Life was a drag, and he knew he was just a speck in this grand scheme, always tiptoeing around, scared to stir up any trouble that might screw up his life even more.
Night had rolled in like a thick, black quilt, muffling the city's usual chatter with an eerie silence. Ian was all set to hightail it back to his tiny, cozy apartment, cutting through a dark alley that looked like the city's bad side. The place stank of decay, graffiti staring at you like some dark omen, and compared to the dazzling, power-lit streets outside, it felt like the world's forgotten corner, silent and creepy, where every step was a heartbeat in your ears.
But fate had a twisted sense of humor. Right in the middle of this alley, out popped Jack and his crew. Jack was the local thug, all about lounging and causing trouble, especially for the weak and the broke. There he was, swinging a stick like he was auditioning for a villain role, with Tom, David, and Mike, his goon squad, right behind him. They had Ian cornered, no way out.
"Gotcha, kid!" Jack sneered, his yellow teeth flashing menacingly under the dim light. His eyes screamed 'prey time.'
Ian's heart did a nosedive, his face paler than the moon. He was toast, no two ways about it. Fear had him shaking like a leaf, his back against the cold wall, seeking whatever safety it could offer. He felt like a caged bird, the bars too close for comfort.
"Jack, I... I haven't messed with you, right?" Ian's voice quivered, almost a whimper, his eyes begging for mercy.
"Cut the bullshit! Time to teach you a lesson, punk!" Jack stepped forward, the stick whooshing through the air like doom itself.
In that split second, a wild thought hit Ian. He fought back his panic, letting out a laugh so sudden and eerie it bounced off the alley walls. Jack and his boys froze, puzzled, like they were watching a horror movie.
"This dude, gone psycho?" Tom muttered, looking uneasy.
"Laugh? You think this is funny?" Jack's face twisted with confusion and rage. No one laughed at him. "I'll knock that smile right off you!"
Ian, faking insanity, kept his cool. He knew he needed to stall, to find an exit from this nightmare. His mind raced, eyes darting for a chance, knowing each move might be his last.
"Check this out, suddenly Mr. Tough Guy," David scoffed, with a sneer.
"Shut it and get him!" Jack, now steaming, charged at Ian, stick raised like a sword.
Ian ducked by instinct, the stick slamming into the wall, sending chunks flying. Using Jack's off-balance moment, Ian kicked at him. Jack, no stranger to a brawl, dodged and swung back.
Ian ducked again, feeling the air rush past his head. But now, Tom, David, and Mike were on him, attacking from all sides. Ian danced around, getting nicked here and there, blood starting to show, the situation spiraling out of control.
"Let's see how long you last!" Jack taunted, his face a mask of cruel joy, picturing Ian's defeat.
Ian knew he couldn't dodge forever; he needed their weak spots. When Mike tried a cheap shot from behind, Ian grabbed his wrist.
Weird stuff happened then; a flood of memories rushed into Ian's mind - Mike's life, their patterns, their weaknesses.
"So that's the deal..." Ian smirked, hope lighting up his eyes like the dawn.
Now, with this knowledge, Ian moved with purpose. He dodged effortlessly, countering when the moment was ripe. He sidestepped Tom's punch, twisted his arm, and snap - dislocated. Tom's scream echoed down the alley.
"What the hell? How'd he get so good?" Jack was stunned but not backing down. He figured it was luck. "Teach him a lesson!"
At Jack's command, David and Mike attacked. Ian, breathing deeply, scanned for openings. They were uncoordinated, easy pickings. David first.
"Come at me, bro!" Ian called out, his voice now strong, a far cry from his earlier fear.
David, fueled by rage, lunged. Ian waited, then kicked his knee, sending him down hard.
Next, Mike, who got an elbow to the face, blood spraying. Mike, in shock, cried out, his nose a mess.
Jack, watching his crew crumble, was both furious and scared. He swung wildly, his attacks a blur. Ian stayed sharp, waiting for Jack's tell - that little lift of the right foot.
"You think you can outrun me?" Jack yelled, swinging like mad.
Ian dodged, then, when Jack lifted his foot, he struck, kicking his knee hard. Jack collapsed with a crack, and Ian was on him, his fists flying, each punch a statement of defiance.
"Enough, man, please..." Jack pleaded, his face a bloody mess, eyes full of regret.
Ian stood, breathing hard, a wave of victory washing over him. He wasn't the underdog anymore.
"Remember this; don't mess with me again!" Ian declared, his voice echoing with newfound power.
But as he caught his breath, a torrent of alien memories slammed into his mind, pain shooting through his skull. He clutched his head, hitting the ground, writhing in agony.
"What... what's happening?" Ian groaned, his eyes wide with confusion and fear, not knowing what this new twist meant.
The alley was quiet now, save for Ian's pained gasps.