Random Street – Midnight
A small computer store sat in eerie silence, its security shutters pried open and alarm wires cut. Inside, ten men were tearing through the place, shoving electronics into duffel bags with practiced speed.
"Come on, take everything! Hurry up before someone calls the cops!" the leader hissed, glancing toward the entrance.
The rest of the crew nodded and moved even faster, stuffing laptops, keyboards, and other expensive hardware into their bags. The entire heist had to be done in under five minutes—standard procedure.
Unfortunately for them, they'd already been noticed.
"Too late for that."
The calm yet firm voice came from the entrance.
The gang leader's head snapped toward the front door, eyes narrowing at the sight of a lone figure standing in the dimly lit store. He wore black pants and a hoodie with the hood pulled up, obscuring most of his face. Only his sharp green eyes were visible under the shadow.
"Who the fu—"
Before the leader could finish, the figure moved.
Fast.
Luke's fist connected with the leader's chest in a blur of motion, sending the man flying backward into a shelf with a loud crash. The impact knocked over several boxes, their contents spilling onto the floor.
The remaining nine gang members froze for a split second before instinct took over.
"Shoot him!" one of them shouted.
Gunfire erupted, but Luke was already in motion.
His body weaved between the bullets with inhuman agility, his movements enhanced by the wind. Some shots came dangerously close, but the moment they entered his immediate range, a countercurrent of wind blasted them slightly off course. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to keep him untouched. It's Wind draft a technique that helps with dodging
Luke lunged forward.
He shoved one guy hard with a burst of wind-enhanced strength, sending him crashing into a display stand. As another robber tried to raise his weapon, Luke leaped into the air and flipped over him, bringing his heel down in a brutal front flip kick. The man attempted to block, but the sheer force of the impact broke through his guard, knocking him unconscious on the spot.
Eight left.
Without hesitation, Luke turned, flicking his wrist. A sharp gust of wind shot out, slamming another thug into the wall like a ragdoll. He barely had time to groan before he crumpled to the ground.
Seven.
Luke's eyes scanned the room, locking onto another target. This time, he didn't send a wind blast—he did something new.
He moved his hand in a sweeping motion, and instead of pushing the man away, the wind dragged him toward Luke at high speed.
The thug barely had time to react before Luke's fist met his jaw. His head snapped back, and he collapsed, completely unconscious.
Six.
The remaining robbers hesitated for just a second, but that was all Luke needed.
He dashed forward, fists flying. Two quick punches to the ribs sent two men doubling over in pain, gasping for air as they collapsed. Another tried to attack from behind, but Luke instinctively dodged, twisting his body and driving his elbow into the man's face with a sickening crack.
Three left.
The last trio exchanged nervous glances before making a desperate move, rushing him all at once.
Luke didn't hesitate.
He stepped forward, unleashing a burst of wind that blasted two of them backward, slamming them into a row of shelves. The final thug barely had time to raise his arms before Luke's foot shot up, connecting with his chin in a sharp kick that lifted him off his feet. The man hit the floor, out cold.
Silence filled the store.
Luke exhaled, shaking his hand slightly. That last hit had sent a bit of a jolt through his arm. He was still getting used to this level of force.
His gaze shifted to the store counter. A teenager, no older than sixteen, was standing there, phone still raised—he'd been recording the entire fight. His eyes were wide with shock.
Luke sighed.
"Quit standing there and call the cops," he said.
The kid snapped out of his daze and quickly scrambled to dial the authorities.
Luke didn't wait around. With one last glance at the unconscious robbers, he turned and slipped out the door, vanishing into the night.
The next morning, the news was buzzing about what had happened the night before.
"Last night, ten armed men attempted to rob a computer store before being stopped by a masked vigilante," the anchor reported. "Witnesses have started calling him 'Windwalker' due to claims that he can control the wind. These rumors were unconfirmed—until now."
The screen cut to a shaky phone recording taken inside the store, showing Luke in action. The video quality wasn't great, but it was enough for people to clearly see him dodging bullets and using blasts of wind to send criminals flying.
"Wow," Henry said, watching the clip on his phone. "You actually took down ten guys. I never knew you could fight like that."
Luke, who was sitting across from him, smirked. "I always could. You just never saw me in an actual fight."
That part was technically true. In his past life, he'd been in more than enough fights—gang fights, street fights, brawls where losing could mean getting left in a ditch somewhere. The way he fought now wasn't just instinct. It was years of experience.
Henry kept scrolling. "Man, you really made a name for yourself in just two weeks. The media's all over you, especially because of your powers. People are debating whether you're a mutant or not." He glanced up, suddenly more serious. "Are you? I mean, I don't care either way. Just wondering."
Luke shook his head. "No, I'm not a mutant."
He was relieved about that, honestly. If he were a mutant, someone from the X-Men or even the government would've shown up by now. Mutants in this world weren't just ignored—they were tracked, categorized, and sometimes even hunted. At least as a random powered individual, he had more freedom.
Henry grinned. "Well, good news for you—most people don't think you're a mutant either. Some people are already talking about other powered individuals showing up, so the idea that all superhumans are mutants is kinda fading. Your reputation's actually solid so far."
Luke nodded, but something about what Henry said made him pause.
His reputation. His fame.
He was enjoying it. A little too much.
At first, he told himself he was doing this to make up for his past life. To do something good. But now he found himself caught up in the excitement—people talking about him, praising him, treating him like some kind of rising hero. And if he wasn't careful, he'd start losing sight of why he was doing this in the first place.
He needed to remind himself why he started this.
Crime was bad all over the city, but there were places where it was worse. Hell's Kitchen, for example. He'd heard stories—organized crime, gangs running the streets, entire neighborhoods practically owned by the underworld. If he was serious about this hero thing, he couldn't just stop petty robberies. He had to go where people really needed help.
Henry snapped his fingers in front of Luke's face, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Yo, you good?"
"Yeah," Luke said, shaking his head. "Just thinking."
"About what?"
Luke hesitated, then smirked. "That it's about time I got a real super suit. If I keep going out like this, people are gonna think black pants and a hoodie is my actual uniform."
Henry snorted. "Yeah, 'Windwalker' is cool and all, but you look like you're about to rob a store instead of stop a robbery."
Luke rolled his eyes. "Well, if I need a suit, I might as well get one soon."
"Don't worry about it," Henry said, leaning back smugly. "It's already in progress."
Luke frowned. "Wait—what?"
"I told you, didn't I? I'm making you a suit."
Luke stared at him. "Hold up, you were actually serious?"
"Of course I was." Henry grinned. "And don't worry, it's not gonna be some cheap cosplay outfit. I'm making you a real suit."
Luke raised an eyebrow. "Can I see it?"
"Nope," Henry said immediately.
"Come on, just a peek—"
"Nope."
"What's the harm?"
"I want it to be a surprise."
Luke groaned, but Henry just laughed. The two of them kept talking for the rest of the day, arguing over what made a good super suit, debating whether capes were worth the hassle, and just enjoying the moment.
Because soon enough, Luke would be heading somewhere much darker. And he'd need all the help he could get.