Gang Hideout, Evening, Present

  Ryuga approaches the building again. The barn doors are still open from this morning, swinging slightly in the wind.

  He pushes through.

  The blood’s been cleaned. New faces everywhere. The ground floor is packed, more than before. Forty, maybe fifty shifters now. They turn as one when he enters, but this time there's no surprise. They were expecting him.

  A shifter near the front, built like a tank and covered in scars, steps forward. "Who the hell are you?"

  Ryuga doesn't respond. Just walks further in, scanning.

  She's not here, Ryuga thinks. Smart. Sent the replacements to test me while she watches from somewhere safe.

  "Hey." The scarred shifter moves closer. "I'm talking to you."

  "I heard you."

  "Then answer. What are you doing here?"

  Ryuga stops walking. Looks at him. "Finishing what I started."

  The shifter laughs. "What the hell are you talking about? There’s sixty of us. You think—"

  The shifter unexpectedly lunges at Ryuga.

  He’s fast. Faster than the others this morning. His fist comes at Ryuga's face with enough force to crater concrete.

  Ryuga doesn't move.

  The shifter's fist stops inches away. He freezes mid-punch, confusion flashing across his face. Then, his ears start bleeding.

  "What—" He staggers back, hands flying to his head. Blood pours from both ears, streaming down his neck. "What did you—"

  "Sound," Ryuga says, voice flat. Bored, almost. "Normal sound. Everywhere, every day. But amplified, and straight into your ear." He gestures vaguely. "It does things."

  The shifter drops to his knees, screaming. But no sound comes out, just his mouth open, veins bulging in his neck.

  "First stage," Ryuga continues, like he's explaining math homework. "Moderate amplification. The eardrums rupture. Blood vessels in the inner ear burst. You're deaf now. Permanently, probably."

  The shifter's hands claw at his head, fighting the internal, invisible enemy, trying to stop the bleeding. The other gang members watch, frozen.

  "Second stage." Ryuga's tone doesn't change. Still that same bored monotone. "Increased pressure."

  The shifter's eyes bulge. Then burst.

  Blood and vitreous fluid spray across the concrete. He screams again, his hands moving from his ears to his face, finding only wet sockets where his eyes used to be.

  "Eyes are softer than most people think," Ryuga says. "High water content. Vulnerable to pressure changes."

  The shifter is crawling now, blind and deaf, leaving a trail of blood. The other gang members step back. Some reach for weapons. None move forward.

  "Third stage." Still that flat delivery. Like he's reading a grocery list. "Hair follicles are next. They're anchored, but not deeply."

  The shifter's hair starts falling out in clumps. First a few strands, then entire patches. Within seconds, he's completely bald, bloody scalp exposed.

  "Fourth stage. Skin."

  Cracks appear, small at first, like dried clay. Then they spread, deepening. The shifter's skin splits along stress lines: forehead, cheeks, arms. Blood seeps through the fractures.

  Then it ruptures.

  Not explosively. Just...peels. Separates from the muscle underneath. The shifter collapses completely now, convulsing on the ground in a spreading pool of blood and tissue.

  "Fifth stage," Ryuga says. "Organs."

  The shifter's body swells slightly. His remaining screams cut off as his lungs liquefy. His heart ruptures. Kidneys, liver, stomach, all of it turning to fluid inside him.

  "Sound vibrates matter," Ryuga continues, looking at the corpse dispassionately. "Increase the frequency enough, and matter breaks down. Cells rupture. Organs fail. Eventually..."

  The shifter's head explodes.

  Not dramatically. Just a wet crack, and then there's nothing above the neck except a crater of gore.

  Silence.

  Ryuga looks up at the rest of the gang. They're all staring, some at him, some at the body, some at the ground like they can't bear to look at either.

  "That took about ten seconds," Ryuga says. "I can do it faster if needed. Actually, I’d prefer to, as it would reduce the suffering you feel and allow me to use my power less meticulously."

  For a moment, nobody moves.

  Then someone in the back – probably stupider or braver than the others – shouts, “RUSH HIM! ALL AT ONCE!”

  They come from every direction. Over forty shifters, weapons raised, desperation overriding common sense.

  Ryuga doesn't even shift his stance.

  The sound hits them all simultaneously.

  No progression this time. No stages. Just maximum output across every frequency.

  They collapse as one. A wave of bodies hits the ground, most dead before they land. A few still twitch, but even that stops within seconds. The gore is minimal this time, as the immense output simply shuts down their bodies, and the shifters experience minimal suffering.

  Forty-seven shifters. All dead in under a second.

  Ryuga stands in the center of it all, completely clean. The sound was so focused it didn't even disturb his clothes.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  He looks around at the carnage. Bodies stacked like broken dolls, blood pooling across the concrete, mixing with the old stains from this morning.

  “Fools will never learn,” Ryuga says, staring at the bodies with a hint of sympathy.

  Then—

  A fist punches through his chest from behind. Rips his heart out completely.

  Ryuga goes still. Completely still. His body sways slightly but doesn't fall.

  The shifter behind him grins, holding the beating organ. Blood drips from his knuckles. "Got you."

  For three seconds, nothing moves. Ryuga just stands there, a gaping hole in his chest, heart in someone else's hand.

  Dead.

  Wait, Ryuga thinks distantly. This one wasn't with the others. He was hiding. Waiting for an opening. Jumped me from behind while I was distracted.

  Ryuga spits blood. Staggers forward one step.

  Then stands up straight.

  He turns around slowly, looking at the shifter holding his heart. Blood pours from the wound in his chest, but he's still standing. Still moving.

  "You never learn, do you?" His voice is steady despite the missing organ. "Shit, this'll cost so much to recreate.” Ryuga continues, talking mainly to himself. “Fuck you."

  The shifter's grin falters. "What—"

  His head detonates. Brain matter everywhere.

  Ryuga's heart drops to the floor with a wet thud. He looks down at the hole in his chest, still there, still bleeding, and not closing.

  The plus mark. Can't die. But can't heal either, Ryuga thinks. He presses his hand against the wound. Blood seeps between his fingers. Yuna's going to have to build me a new one. This is going to be expensive.

  He turns back toward the center of the room, blood trailing behind him—

  Then stops.

  The barn doors are opening. Not from him leaving. From people entering.

  Shifters. Dozens of them. Filing through the main entrance in a steady stream. Fresh faces. New recruits. They spread out across the ground floor, stepping over the bodies of their predecessors without flinching.

  They keep coming. More and more. Like ants, Ryuga thinks, pissed.

  Ryuga speaks up, talking to the whole group with irritation in his voice that send a shiver down the shifters’ spines. "Let's do this properly. No funny business. Whoever dies leaves forever. When you all die, don't come back." He wipes blood from his mouth with his free hand, the other still pressed against the hole in his chest. "Why is this place so special anyway? You're like ants returning to the same crushed anthill."

  The new shifters exchange glances. Then, as one, they rush forward.

  Ryuga doesn't move. He just stands there, hand still on his chest wound.

  The first wave reaches him. Knives, pipes, bare fists all aim at his head.

  The sound pulse hits the group mid-charge.

  They just...drop.

  No explosions. They collapse like puppets with cut strings, blood pooling beneath them as their internal organs fail silently. Five down. Ten. Fifteen.

  The ones behind them keep coming, stepping over the bodies.

  They're not stopping, Ryuga notes. Fear isn't working anymore.

  Another wave. Ryuga releases another pulse, this time lower frequency, intending more penetration. They fall mid-step. Blood leaks from their noses and ears, spreading across the concrete.

  He moves through them methodically. Not fast, not dramatic. Just walking. Anyone who gets close drops. No screaming, no theatrics. Just bodies hitting the ground and blood pooling.

  It's not that I’m afraid to die, Ryuga thinks as another group collapses around him. It's the time aspect. If this takes too long, Yuna will be pissed. Because my incompetent group bailed, she’s depending solely on me for this job.

  He glances toward the entrance. More shifters are still filing in. Slower now, more cautious, but still coming.

  But they keep coming back. Every time I kill them, new ones appear. Similar to that pyramid structure, Ryuga thinks. Many fodder at the bottom, one boss at the top controlling everything. Kill the head, body dies. But who? Where? They wouldn't be here on the front lines. I need bait. Something to draw them out. Or...

  He grabs a surviving shifter by the shirt: one of the few still standing, trembling, clearly reconsidering his life choices.

  "Where is he? Your boss? Where?" Ryuga interrogates the man.

  Silence.

  "I said SPEAK!" Ryuga commands.

  The shifter screams.

  Ryuga thinks.

  As Ryuga drops the scared shifter, he hears laughter from behind him, echoing from across the room.

  "What kind of dumbass shirt is that?" the voice calls down, cutting through the silence. "Got a fucking plus sign on your chest like you're proud of being marked." She laughs. "You look pathetic."

  Ryuga turns around and looks up at the voice. It’s a woman sitting on the ledge of the mezzanine, legs swinging, smirking down at him.

  His hands clench at his sides. The rage builds – hot and immediate – and he starts walking toward the stairs. Slow. Deliberate. Each step echoes across the blood-slicked floor.

  The woman's smirk widens as she watches him approach. "Ooh, scary."

  Then something shifts in Ryuga's expression. The anger drains away, replaced by something colder. Ryuga memorizes the sound of the woman’s legs swinging as he calmly makes his way towards her.

  She’s still too weak to be the boss, Ryuga thinks, but could be middle management. She’s worth tracking.

  Before Ryuga reaches the stairs, the woman hops off the ledge and lands lightly near the back exit.

  Giving Ryuga a little wave, she calls out "Bye!” before she's through the doors, gone.

  Ryuga breaks into a run, his shoes pounding across the concrete. He bursts through the same doors into the alley –

  It’s empty; there’s no sign of her anywhere.

  The night air is crisp, cold against his skin. He stands there breathing steady, scanning the darkness. Streetlights flicker weakly overhead, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement.

  He stands there, breathing steady despite the sprint, scanning the empty space.

  Too fast. She's already blocks away, Ryuga thinks, frustrated.

  He closes his eyes and listens.

  Past the distant hum of traffic. Past a TV playing in an apartment somewhere. Past wind rattling old chain-link fences. He filters through it all until he finds what he's looking for.

  There. Faint but distinct. The sound of her legs swinging, not from nerves this time but from movement. She's running but her gait has that same rhythm, that same pattern he memorized.

  Ryuga opens his eyes and starts walking, following the sound like a thread through the city. He doesn't run. Doesn't need to. As long as she's making noise, he can track her.

  The sound leads him through side streets, past closed shops and dark windows. District 7 at night is different; it’s quieter, emptier. The kind of place where people know to stay inside after dark.

  Still moving, Ryuga notes. Taking the residential route. Smart. Harder to follow visually.

  But sound doesn't care about visual cover. Every footstep, every breath, every time her jacket rustles; it all reaches him.

  He turns a corner and the sound changes. Slowing. She's reaching her destination.

  Ryuga stops at the edge of a residential block. Small apartment buildings, most lights off. He listens again, pinpointing which one.

  Third building. Fourth floor. The sound of an elevator door opening. Then footsteps inside the halls – slower now, relieved. She thinks she's safe.

  Ryuga looks up at the building. Most windows are dark except for a few scattered ones. Fourth floor, east side – that’s hers. The light's still off. She hasn’t gotten to the door yet.

  Ryuga climbs to the roof of her building.

  District 7, Apartment Building Rooftop, Present

  The access door was unlocked – sloppy security. He positions himself near the edge, directly above her apartment on the fourth floor.

  The wind up here is stronger than on the ground. It cuts through his shirt, makes him shiver; he ignores it.

  Her apartment light finally turns on below. She's home.

  Ryuga closes his eyes and focuses. His ability extends downward, through concrete and rebar, picking up everything happening in her apartment.

  Footsteps. Pacing. She's moving around quickly, agitated. The sound of her jacket hitting something – thrown onto furniture, probably. A sharp exhale.

  "Fucking psycho with that plus sign... killed everyone..." Her voice carries up through the walls, shaky. Scared but trying to hide it. "What should I do now? Should I rally up some more again, or -"

  She stops. The pacing stops. Heavy sound of her sitting down.

  Silence lingers for a while. Just her breathing, gradually steadying. She's sitting there, thinking. Probably trying to figure out what to do after he tore through half the gang.

  Then, sharp ringing. A phone.

  She moves fast.

  "Hello?" the woman says.

  Pause. Ryuga chooses not to listen to the voice on the other side.

  "What? When?" she asks.

  Another pause, this time shorter.

  Her voice spikes. "Shit. Okay. I'm coming now."

  More movement. Rushed. Keys jangling. "I'll be there in ten minutes. Just—just keep her stable, okay?"

  The call ends. Fast footsteps. The apartment door slams. The lights remain on.

  Ryuga opens his eyes. Below, the building's front entrance opens, and the woman runs out towards the street.

  Ryuga stands, the wind still whipping around him, and heads for the fire escape.