2025-09-08 05:45:09
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WAREHOUSE 17
The Morning AfterMarvin didn’t sleep that night.He tried—God, he tried. He rolled on the couch, stared at the ceiling, poured another glass of wine, even cut another line. But nothing drowned out the voice in his head.You killed my son. You killed my wife.It kept hammering, louder than the bass, sharper than the cocaine burn. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw faces. His step mother’s kind eyes. His half brother’s smile. Fire. Blood. Screams.By dawn, his body finally gave up, dragging him into a shallow, twisted sleep. He woke a few hours later drenched in sweat, the folded paper with the warehouse address still lying on the nightstand like it was waiting to mock him.He stared at it. His throat dried. His hands trembled. And then he reached for his phone.“Hello?”The voice on the other end was steady, calm. It was Uncle Christopher. Always steady, always calm.“It’s me,” Marvin said. His voice cracked. “Uncle, I… I need to talk.”“What’s wrong, son?”Marvin swallowed hard. T
THE CURSE OF BLOOD
Marvin blinked.The lights smeared into halos, the bass throbbed like a second heartbeat, and the cocaine still clawed at his sinuses. But the man across from him—sitting like he owned the whole damn world—wasn’t a hallucination. The face was too familiar, too sharp, too heavy with judgment.His throat tightened, and the word fell from his lips before he could stop it.“Dad.”The syllable carried weight he hated—reluctance, disbelief, a child’s shame tucked inside a man’s voice.Mr. Richmond leaned back against the booth, his expression was carved from stone. His eyes flicked over the bottles, the powder, the women circling like vultures. Disgust pulled his mouth into a line.“For all the years I’ve known you,” his father said, voice low but slicing through the noise, “I would’ve bet a billion dollars you’d never set foot in a strip club—let alone be sniffing cocaine. Your dead mother would be disappointed. She would have believed she trained you right.”Marvin flinched, shoulders cur
MARVIN IN THE ABYSS
Marvin hadn’t given Alicia an answer.Not yes. Not no.Just silence, heavy as stone, stretching between them until it felt like it might break her composure. When she finally left, her heels clicking away like a gavel striking judgment, Marvin sank deeper into the bottle. He let her words claw at his mind but refused to let them take root. He wasn’t ready to choose—throne or ash, power or oblivion.So he chose neither. He chose the void.And the void led him to the strip club.The place was alive with sin. Neon reds and purples pulsed across the walls, drowning the room in a fever-dream glow. Bass rumbled through the floor, vibrating in his ribs. Onstage, women twisted around chrome poles, sweat gleaming on bare skin under strobe lights. Their bodies bent in impossible arcs, legs hooked high, hair whipping through the air.Around him, men howled and whistled, bills flashing in hands like prayers to the gods of lust. The air stank of perfume, smoke, and spilled liquor.Marvin sat in
THE FORGOTTEN SON
About five days later, the city was alive outside his window, but inside Orion Dynamics, Marvin sat in a silence so thick it pressed against his skull.His office looked more like a battlefield than a workspace. Papers littered the floor, contracts half-signed, memos ignored. Beer cans rolled aimlessly against the leg of his desk when he shifted his feet. The lamp on his desk flickered, its weak yellow glow bouncing off glass bottles stacked like fortifications around him. Some were empty, some half-full, but all testified to the same truth: Marvin Richmond was drowning himself.His shirt was undone at the collar, his tie was long discarded. His hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his face, unshaven, seemed older than his years. His glowing aura, once like a storm that shook rooms, now lingered faintly around him in broken flashes, the embers of a fire trying to cling to life.He raised the beer bottle again, tilting it back. The liquid burned his throat but left the weight in
THE HOLLOW VICTORY
Dana’s chest rose and fell unevenly, blood was soaking through the fine silk of her gown. Her hand trembled as it stretched weakly toward her son. Her eyes were wide, filled with despair, but her lips no longer carried the power to speak.Marvin stood over her, his storm-like aura circling tighter, making the air vibrate with its weight. He did not blink. He did not flinch. He simply watched.And then, with one final, broken gasp, Dana Orion’s hand dropped. Her eyes rolled lifeless, fixed on nothing. The matriarch of the Richmond family—the woman who had made his father banish him and his mother into shame—was gone.The chamber was silent except for the ringing in Marvin’s ears and the faint crackle of his aura.“Mother!” Daniel’s scream shattered that silence.He pushed himself off the ground, blood dripping from his head. His arms shook as he tried to stand. His whole body trembled like a collapsing wall, but he still forced himself forward. His eyes were wide, wild, filled with rag
THE FERALITY OF VENGEANCE
The heavy steel door creaked open.“Daniel, what—”The voice was sharp, steady, the kind of voice that carried command without effort. Dana Orion, proud matriarch of the Richmond family, stepped into the chamber.Her eyes swept the room quickly, landing on her son first, then shifting to the figure cloaked in a storm of sky-blue aura.Her lips parted. She froze.The sight of Marvin, battered but blazing with raw Synapticore energy, stripped the air from her lungs. He was no longer the faceless rider she had dismissed. He was a storm given flesh, his aura was a living weapon.And though his disguise shielded his face, the fury—the weight of it—spoke volumes.Dana staggered back a step, her chest was tightening with dread.Marvin turned slowly, his glowing eyes fixing on her. For a moment, the world grew quiet. His breath was ragged, his aura pulsed like thunder, but his mind was sharp, cruel, steady.Seeing her ripped open memories he had buried under years of pain.He saw himself as a
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