Chapter 24: Claws in the night

The city was alive, but only in its shadows. Neon signs flickered weakly against the drizzle-soaked streets. Derek moved silently, hood up, leather jacket tight against his chest, every step calculated. He had been tracking this one for weeks—Crim Talon, the side villain with claws sharp enough to tear through steel. Tonight, the trail led him here, to the industrial district on the east side of the city.

From a rooftop, he observed a group of masked figures ransacking a warehouse. One stood out. Tall. Muscular. Hands flexing in unnatural ways. Derek whispered under his breath, teeth gritted: “That’s him. Crim Talon.”

The villain turned suddenly, like he sensed a predator nearby. “Finally,” a low, menacing voice carried across the alley. “The so-called Cold Genius decides to show his face.”

Derek stepped out of the shadows, landing silently on the wet asphalt. “Claw-boy,” he said, voice calm but dangerous. “You’re done tonight.”

Talon’s smirk was almost human. “I’ve been waiting for this. You think you can stop me? You’ve got a brain, but I’ve got claws. Let’s see which wins.”

They circled each other like two predators in a cage. Derek’s eyes scanned Talon’s movements, noting how his claws glinted under the dim streetlight. Short, sharp movements. Quick, precise. A hunter’s rhythm.

Then Talon lunged. The first strike came fast, claws slicing through the air. Derek ducked just in time, rolling to the side, boots skidding on the wet pavement. “Too predictable,” he muttered.

“You’re fast,” Talon hissed, his claws slashing again. “But not fast enough.”

Derek’s eyes narrowed. “Confidence isn’t enough to save you.”

The fight spilled into the streets. Cars screeched, lights shattered. Derek flipped off a dumpster, kicked off a wall, and landed behind Talon. He swung low, aiming for the villain’s knees. Talon twisted, slicing the asphalt with his claws, and countered with a spinning attack. Sparks flew as claws met concrete.

“Watch your left!” Derek shouted, sidestepping a deadly swipe.

“You don’t get to shout,” Talon taunted, lunging again.

The two clashed over and over, each attack punctuated by taunts and threats. Derek found satisfaction in the flow of combat—he could read Talon’s intent, anticipate, and counter. But the villain was vicious, unpredictable. Every strike carried lethal force. Derek had to be precise. One mistake and it could be over.

“I’ve got more than claws,” Derek muttered, ducking under a swipe, delivering a sharp punch to Talon’s ribs.

Talon staggered back but recovered quickly. “Good. I like it when you fight back.”

The battle moved through the industrial district, past crates, over dumpsters, and under scaffolding. Derek flipped through the air, landing on his feet, fists ready. Talon slashed, slicing through a metal pipe and swinging it toward Derek. The pipe clanged against the wall as Derek rolled, then spun to kick Talon in the chest.

“You’re good,” Talon admitted between labored breaths. “But not good enough.”

“Neither are you,” Derek replied, launching a rapid sequence of punches and kicks, each strike precise. The villain was forced to retreat.

A sudden thought struck Derek. Use the environment. He kicked a nearby crate, sending it sliding toward Talon, forcing him to dodge. Derek seized the opening, leaping over a chain-link fence and slamming his shoulder into Talon, sending him crashing into a lamppost. Sparks flew.

“You’ll regret that,” Talon growled, staggering but not defeated.

“You already do,” Derek said, moving in. His fists struck, claws clashed, boots kicked, each impact making the villain stagger.

The fight became a blur. Derek slammed Talon into cars, sent him sliding across wet streets, and twisted to avoid lethal swipes. Short, medium, and long sentences sped up the pace, keeping the tension high.

“Why are you so persistent?” Talon demanded, breathless.

“Because someone has to stop you before more people get hurt,” Derek said, locking eyes with him.

Talon lunged one last time. Derek sidestepped, grabbed him, and launched him into a stack of crates. They toppled like dominos. Talon hit the ground with a grunt but scrambled back up.

“You can’t stop me!” Talon shouted, claws poised.

“I already have,” Derek said, delivering a series of precise, brutal strikes. He twisted Talon’s arm, sending him crashing through a warehouse door, and pinned him to the ground. Rainwater dripped from his hood onto the villain’s face.

“Not… done…” Talon whispered, bloodied and bruised.

“I am,” Derek said firmly. “And you’re not going anywhere tonight.”

He lifted Talon effortlessly, carrying him to a nearby bridge. “This is where your reign ends,” Derek muttered, gripping Talon’s jacket.

“You… can’t!” Talon spat.

“I just did.” Derek let go. Talon plummeted, hitting the river below with a deafening splash. Silence followed.

Derek exhaled, looking over the railing. “One down,” he whispered, voice steady. “Many more to go.”

As he walked back toward the city, sirens blared in the distance. He disappeared into the shadows, battered but victorious. The night had been won, but the war was far from over.

To be continued…