Third person POV
The hum of city lights flickered in the distance as Franz and Orion pulled up to a small convenience store, their motorcycles rumbling to a stop. The ride had been exhilarating—casual racing, laughter, and a rare sense of normalcy that Franz hadn't felt in a long time. Orion was grinning, stretching his arms as he took off his helmet.
"Man, that was fun," Orion chuckled, running a hand through his windswept hair. "You're crazy on those turns, though. Almost thought you'd fuck up"
Franz merely exhaled, pulling off his helmet with a small smirk. "Almost."
They walked inside, grabbing snacks and drinks, the night air still buzzing with the adrenaline of their ride. But as they exited, the atmosphere shifted. A deep, instinctual tension settled in Franz's gut.
Footsteps of four people. Shadows converging.
The moment Orion stepped forward, two men pressed guns against their backs.
"Not a sound. Walk."
The carefree night shattered instantly. Orion's body stiffened beside him, his breath hitching. Franz, however, remained calm .
They were led into a dark alleyway, deeper and deeper until the streetlights no longer reached them. The men surrounding them were rough, scarred, eyes filled with murderous intent. This wasn't a simple mugging.
One of them stepped forward, his sneer curling under a jagged scar. "Orion Kane, right? Thought you could run? Should've known we'd find you. Your family pissed off the wrong people."
Orion clenched his fists, his jaw tight.
Time stopped.
The world around Franz froze. The flickering neon light from a distant sign stilled mid-blink. Orion stood motionless, lips slightly parted, trapped in the moment before fear could settle fully on his face. The men surrounding them became statues, frozen in the act of leading them to their execution.
A message appeared before Franz, stark and absolute.
Connection Established.
A familiar presence seeped into the world around him, suffocating and divine.
"Greetings, our dear Adreian or shall we say Franz Kafka."
The voices overlapped, speaking in unison, carrying a tone both mocking and amused.
"We have been watching."
"Straight to the point, You thought your revenge was complete. That those responsible for the deaths of your father and brothers were wiped from existence."
"But you were wrong."
The air around him grew heavy, an unseen weight pressing down on his mind.
"The true culprits still breathe. Still walk free. Your vengeance is unfinished."
The words echoed in the frozen world
"And we have a proposition that profit both you and us ."
Time resumed.
The second the stillness broke, Franz moved.
Before the thug holding the gun to his back could react, Franz swung his arm backward. His open palm smashed into the man's skull with sickening force. Bone crunched. The man's head snapped back violently, slamming into the brick wall behind him with an audible splatter. Red streaks painted the concrete.
Before the second thug could even register what was happening, Franz wrenched the gun from the first man's dying grip and turned it on him.
Bang!
The bullet struck the man's crotch, ripping through flesh and bone. A scream of agony tore from his throat, raw and inhuman. He crumpled, hands trembling as he reached for the wound, his breath coming in wet gasps.
Franz looked at corpse, checking the gun's magazine and said "One bullet? Seriously?you think you johnwick"
Annoyed, he threw the weapon aside. The remaining thugs, witnessing the sheer savagery, drew their knives in a panic. One lunged.
Franz caught his wrist mid-swing, twisting it until the blade pointed inward. Without hesitation, he rammed it into the man's eyeball. A grotesque squelch echoed. The thug shrieked, staggering back. Franz didn't let go. Instead, he yanked the blade out, blood and viscera trailing from the socket. He gripped the man's trembling hand and shoved it into his own throat.
The man gurgled, his body spasming as Franz pressed him to the ground and kept stabbing, over and over, his arm a blur of motion. The head nearly separated from the body by the time he was done.
The man he had shot in the crotch was still alive, whimpering, his face twisted in agony. But he had stopped moving. Drool mixed with blood dribbled down his chin.
The last thug standing, witnessing this nightmare, pissed himself.
Franz turned to him, his blood-soaked glasses glinting under the dim alley light. He stepped forward, crouching in front of the trembling man, his smile eerily gentle.
"Would you be kind enough to tell me who ordered this?" His voice was soft, almost kind. "And where they are now?"
The thug was sobbing, barely able to speak. "I-It was Vince Morreno! He's at the w-warehouse by the docks! P-Please—"
Franz patted his head. "Good boy. Here is your reward"
Then, in one fluid motion, he shoved both hands into the man's mouth. Fingers curled around the upper and lower jaw—
And pulled.
The jawbone cracked, splitting apart. Skin, muscle, and teeth gave way as Franz tore his head open. A grotesque wet snap. The man convulsed before collapsing, a shredded mess where his face once was.
Franz straightened, his face and clothes drenched in blood. He exhaled deeply, then ran a crimson-streaked hand through his hair, pushing it back. His glasses, too drenched to be useful, were discarded.
He reached into his pocket for a cigarette, but paused. No lighter.
Annoyed, he crouched, rummaging through one of the corpses' pockets. Finding a lighter, he flicked it open, lighting the cigarette with bloodied fingers. He took a deep drag, the smoke curling from his lips, mixing with the scent of iron.
"Man... that felt good."
Orion's POV
Orion stood frozen. His lungs burned, screaming for air, but he couldn't breathe. He couldn't move.
His entire body was locked in place, paralyzed by the sheer horror before him.
He had seen death before. He had been raised in the underworld, knowing the brutality of men. His older brother handled most of their gang's work, but Orion had seen enough to understand violence.
But this wasn't violence.
It was carnage. A massacre.
Franz hadn't just killed them—he had butchered them.
Orion had invited him on a ride. Just a fun night out. And now, he stood in an alley surrounded by torn flesh and broken bodies, the air thick with blood and death.
His stomach twisted violently. He turned to the side and vomited.
Franz, unfazed, exhaled another breath of smoke before turning to him.
"Let's go." His voice was eerily calm. "We have a warehouse to visit."
Orion couldn't respond. He could only follow, legs trembling beneath him.
And for the first time in his life, he felt true, suffocating fear.