Chapter 6. Torture and a Friendship from Afar

Clank.
Clank.
Clank.

“Hey, kid… are you sure you don’t have powers?”

Clank.

“I don’t,” I snapped. “Lady—can you just leave me alone?”

Her name was Katerina, and everything about her screamed mercenary.
The way she swung a machete.
The way she tossed grenades like they were toys.
The way she fired a gun without hesitation or mercy.

But that was only the surface.

Her real essence—the thing the Flash had dragged into the open—was adrenaline.

She was an adrenaline junkie to the core.

“Hey, Powerless!” she shouted gleefully.
“You’re kind of cute—want to die for me?”

She launched herself through the air and slammed a kick straight toward me. I barely dodged. She crashed into a parked car, denting the metal completely.

She didn’t flinch.

Didn’t slow down.

If anything—she moved faster.

Her pupils dilated.
Veins bulged.
Muscles tightened.

She could regulate her adrenaline with frightening precision.

Daggers flew at me in rapid succession. This wasn’t a fight—this was her playground. Her battlefield. She was waiting for what she called the god’s blessing—the rush that came only when someone broke under her hands.

Every time she missed a strike, I tried to counter with my batons.

She deflected every blow with elegant contempt.

This was getting dangerous.

I raised my riot shield and rushed her—slamming her against a wall with everything I had.

Metal groaned.

She was pinned.

And then—

She moaned.
Laughed.
Cried.

All at once.

That’s when it hit me.

She wasn’t just a sadist.

She was a sadomasochist.

My stomach twisted.

I forced my focus back. No more hesitation. I pulled my pistol, slid it past the edge of the shield, and aimed at her head.

Bang.
Bang.

She ducked.

Swept my legs.

I fell forward—caught myself in a push-up position. She swept again. I pushed off the ground, barely avoiding the second strike.

We locked eyes.

Blood roaring.
Breath heavy.
Both of us smiling in that unhinged, pre-impact way.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t running.

I was fighting.

She pulled out an Uzi and sprayed wildly.

I grabbed the riot shield, blocked the first barrage—then hurled it straight at her. The impact staggered her just long enough.

I fired.

A pepper round exploded against her gas mask.

I rushed her.

Batons raised.

“Self-improvement series,” I muttered. “Finish the enemy with everything you’ve got.”

I aimed for her liver.

At the last second, dread washed over me.

She had another dagger.

And she smiled.

We collided.

Her blade slammed into my side.

My baton missed completely.

I hit the ground hard.

Thud.
Thud.
Thud.

“Still alive, kid?” she laughed.
“I’m not done playing yet!”

“Feel that?”
“Poison hitting your bloodstream?”

She hugged herself, shuddering in delight—then flipped backward into a series of cartwheels before charging again.

An axe kick came down toward my head.

I shifted—just barely.

Blocked with my hands—

Crack.

Her shin snapped clean in half.

She screamed.

Even with her adrenaline control, she hadn’t expected that.

Then—

A voice drifted in from the shadows.

“Have you ever heard of the breaking wheel?”
“The boot?”
“The brodequin?”

A figure stepped forward, clapping softly.

“How does your leg feel, exactly?”
“A clean fracture… exquisite pain, isn’t it?”

He walked with a strange, almost clownish sway—shivering as if savoring her agony.

“I really wanted to admire him from afar,” he sighed.
“And yet—you made me come out.”

He rubbed his face, embarrassed.

“Such a pain… now he knows who I am. I actually have to talk to him.”

He looked at me.

“My name is Kuroshi,” he said shyly.
“I’m your secret admirer.”

Katerina writhed on the ground, clutching her broken leg.

I stared at him, bleeding, confused, furious.

“Uh… thanks for the save,” I said through clenched teeth.
“But what the hell are you talking about?”