Five minutes before the accident, the city was still alive with its usual pulse. The neon glow of street signs painted the wet asphalt in fractured color. Vendors called out with hollow voices, children tugged at their mothers' hands, and couples strolled hand in hand across the pavement. No one could have imagined how quickly peace would shatter into blood and chaos.
A polished black BMW tore through the evening traffic, its glossy surface reflecting distorted streaks of light. The machine itself was beautiful—sleek, sharp, elegant in design—but the men inside corroded that elegance with their darkness. They were guards, dressed formally, but their composure was fractured. Their driver, a young man barely twenty, had his jaw clenched tight around every curse that spewed from his lips. His name was John, and he was drowning in fury.
His voice reverberated through the cabin as he screamed into his phone. "You think you can tell me how to live? You think I'll ever put you first? You're nothing but a burden!" His girlfriend's voice crackled faintly through the speaker, but her sobs were quickly drowned out by his venom. "Whore! Pathetic excuse for a woman! I'll kill you, you hear me? I'll fucking kill you!"
His companions exchanged glances. The air inside the car had grown toxic, saturated with rage. Finally, the man beside him—a stocky guard with the stiff posture of a soldier—snapped. "John! What the hell are you doing, man? Are you in your right mind? We have a job to finish!"
John's eyes, bloodshot and wild, darted to his companion. His hand reached down, pulling free the heavy pistol holstered at his side. With one hand gripping the wheel, he shoved the cold barrel against the man's temple. His words dripped like acid. "You don't get to tell me what to do. Huh? You piece of shit. You think your wife misses you? Oh wait—she left, didn't she? Couldn't stand the sight of a useless bastard."
The insult detonated. The guard lunged at John, fists swinging, fingers clawing. The phone clattered to the floor. The BMW swerved. The men in the back shouted, grabbing at arms, trying to pull the two apart. Fists slammed against ribs, shoulders, jaws. The wheel jerked, pulling the car into a wild zigzag across the street.
Pedestrians screamed and scattered as the black machine sliced through stalls, smashing fruit carts, tearing through the thin wooden frames of storefronts. Tires shrieked against the asphalt, rubber burning with the stench of chaos. Behind them, two more BMWs followed, guards gripping radios with white knuckles as they called into the static.
"Sir! John's lost control! They're fighting inside the car!"
Far away, in a dimly lit room heavy with the smell of alcohol and roasted meat, Liu Xiang leaned forward. His iPhone glowed on the table, the tracker pulsing red. Plates of pork and beef sat untouched. His beer, still foaming at the rim, trembled as his fist slammed down.
"WHAT?" His voice ripped the air apart. He stood, his chair skittering backward. With a violent motion, he kicked the table, sending bottles toppling and food scattering across the floor. The beer bottle in his hand exploded against the tiles. Glass rained around him as he shouted into the phone. "Overtake them! Stop those bloody idiots! I've got money on the line, do you understand? If they fuck this up, I'll kill every last one of you!"
The guard on the other end stammered, "Y-Yes, sir!"
But it was already too late.
The BMW surged forward at maximum speed. The headlights carved twin spears of light through the evening. Ahead, two bright figures appeared—Amy and Oliver, a young couple holding hands, laughing at some private joke as they crossed the street.
They never saw it coming.
The impact was merciless. The car plowed through them like paper. Bones cracked, bodies folded, and the lovers were torn apart in an explosion of gore. Intestines spilled across the concrete, blood sprayed in crimson arcs against storefront glass, and severed limbs tumbled grotesquely onto the pavement. Their screams were cut short, replaced by the horrified shrieks of onlookers. Hunter and his sister Rachel, caught by the brutal force of the collision, were hurled into the air. Their bodies hit the ground and rolled across the pavement, scraping skin, breaking bones.
The city erupted in chaos.
Locals wailed, some collapsing to their knees in shock, others scrambling for cover as though the devil himself had driven into their midst. Mothers pulled children into their arms, stall owners screamed over shattered wood and broken wares. Fear saturated the streets.
The convoy of BMWs screeched to a halt. Guards spilled out like a swarm of black-clad insects, their faces pale with the weight of what had just occurred. Their orders were clear, though. They rushed Hunter and Rachel, dragging their bloodied bodies like ragdolls across the pavement. Hunter, dazed and semi-conscious, was thrown into the back of a car. Rachel screamed for her brother, but her voice was muffled as she was shoved into a different vehicle.
"Move!" a guard barked. "Get them out of here before the cops show!"
Engines roared. Tires screeched. The convoy vanished into the night, leaving behind a crime scene painted in red.
Liu Xiang paced like a caged beast when he heard the report. His face was crimson, his eyes bulging with veins. He hurled his phone against the floor, shattering it into fragments. His foot slammed repeatedly into the ground, as if violence against the floor could ease the inferno boiling inside him. "Fucking idiots!" he roared. "Can't even do one job properly! Worthless trash!" His voice cracked with rage, spittle flying from his lips. "I'll skin them alive myself!"
But in the cars rushing through the city, another fire was awakening.
Hunter sat slumped, his chest heaving. Blood painted his clothes, trickled down his temple, pooled beneath his fingers. The guards in the car laughed, their voices cruel and mocking.
"You're just a boy," one of them sneered. "Do you even understand what kind of people you've pissed off?"
Hunter's lips parted. His voice was low, a growl more than a whisper. "You've just awakened a monster… Do you even know what that means?"
The guards exchanged glances before erupting in raucous laughter. One stomped his boot against Hunter's leg. "Monster? You? You're nothing but meat for the dogs." They laughed harder, their cruelty echoing inside the confined metal space.
But Hunter's face was calm. His eyes, closed moments before, snapped open. A glow—deep, menacing red—burned within them. His lips curved into a slight, chilling smile.
Then came the sound.
Crack.
Hunter's fist slammed into the side of the car, caving in the door with brutal force. One of the guards was caught between fist and steel. His body was hurled through the door itself, shattering it free from its hinges. The guard flew into the night, his scream trailing behind him as his body disappeared beneath the screech of tires.
"What the—?!" Another guard lunged, but Hunter's leg shot out with inhuman speed. His boot collided with the man's chest, and the guard was sent flying through the opposite window. Glass rained across the road as the man tumbled into the darkness.
Panic exploded inside the car. The remaining guards scrambled, guns raised. The one in the passenger seat pulled his pistol, cocked it, and aimed at Hunter's head.
But the driver, eyes wide, slammed a hand against his wrist. "Are you insane? He's worth more alive! Liu Xiang will burn us alive if you kill him!"
The hesitation was fatal. Hunter's hand shot forward, gripping the pistol-wielder by the skull. His fingers dug in like claws. With one merciless jerk, he slammed the guard's head upward. Bone and steel crumpled together as the man's skull punched through the car roof. Blood splattered across the interior. Hunter didn't stop. He kept hammering the man's head against the torn metal until it was nothing but pulp, a crushed mess of bone shards and gore sliding down the seat.
The driver's hands trembled on the wheel. The car fishtailed across the bridge, tires screeching, sparks flying as metal scraped guardrails. Behind them, the other BMWs closed in, headlights flashing like predators' eyes. Gunshots erupted, bullets pinging against the road, whining off the car's frame.
In the backseat, Hunter sat drenched in blood, his eyes blazing with that otherworldly glow. The guards could see it now—this was no ordinary man. This was something else. Something monstrous.
The driver's voice broke the chaos. "It's me, Ryan," he said suddenly, turning to the surviving guard with a look that was almost manic. He pulled his pistol and without hesitation, fired. The bullet tore through his companion's skull, painting the windshield with blood. Ryan smirked. "Let's finish this job."