The Healing Fist: Richard Walter

Chapter 3 — The Echo in the Rain

The night swallowed him whole.

Richard burst from the alley mouth and into the sleepless veins of the city. Sirens echoed somewhere behind him, thunder above.

His hospital gown flapped against cold skin, the bandages on his arms already soaked through. He didn’t know how far he’d run. He only knew he had to.

“Keep moving,” a voice whispered, not from the street, but inside his head. Richard froze. “Who said that?” You did. The words vibrated behind his eyes like a pulse.

“No. No, not again.” He pressed a hand to his temple and stumbled into the shadow of a convenience store awning.

A flicker in the glass door, his reflection stared back, eyes faintly glowing gold.  A pair of headlights swept across the intersection. A black sedan slowed. Men in dark coats stepped out. One raised a comm-link.

“Target sighted near block seven. Containment protocol” Richard didn’t wait. He bolted.

Bullets tore the rain apart. He dove behind a delivery truck, breath ragged. His hand hit the wet pavement, energy sparked, sizzling water to steam.

He whispered to himself, “Control it… come on, control it”

The ground beneath the sedan buckled. Tires shrieked; metal folded like paper. The men hit the asphalt, unconscious or worse.

Richard stared at what he’d done. “God…” Necessary, the voice murmured. They would have taken you back.

“Who are you?”

A memory that refuses to die. He didn’t understand, but he ran anyway.

The Stranger

He ducked into the subway just as the last train shrieked into motion. The platform was empty except for a woman leaning against a vending machine, earbuds in, hood up.

She looked up as he passed. “You planning to bleed out on the floor, or do you want a bandage?”

Her voice was sharp, street-born. “I’m fine,” he lied. 

“You’re not.” She tossed him a roll of gauze from her bag. “Name’s Lina.”

The name hit him a memory from the hospital database he’d glimpsed: Lina Moreau, combat trauma volunteer.

He hesitated. “Do I… know you?”

“Not yet.” Her gaze narrowed. “But I know them. The ones chasing you.”

Richard froze. “How?”

“I used to fight for them.”

The train roared by. Wind whipped her hood back, revealing a faint scar across her cheek, shaped almost like a lightning bolt.

“They called it the Genesis Program,” she said. “You’re their newest miracle, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“None of us did.”

He stared at the tracks. “They’ll come for you, too, if you help me.”

“They already did.” Her smile was small, bitter. “That’s why I left.”

The platform lights flickered. Somewhere above, the city’s sirens blended with thunder.

“You can stay here and wait for them,” Lina said, “or follow me to somewhere they won’t look.”

Richard hesitated. The voice inside whispered, Trust her. He took a breath. “Lead the way.”

The Hideout

They surfaced blocks away, through a service tunnel and into an abandoned dojo wedged between derelict warehouses. Tatami mats rotted on the floor, mirrors cracked like spiderwebs.

Lina flicked a breaker. A single bulb buzzed to life. “This place used to belong to my sensei,” she said. “Before Genesis took him.”

“Another experiment?”

“Another corpse,” she corrected.

Richard wandered to a faded calligraphy banner: Balance through motion. He traced the characters with his fingers. “I don’t even know what this power is.”

“Qi distortion,” Lina said. “Healing and destruction on the same frequency. You’re a living paradox.”

“Then teach me how to stop being one.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “You don’t stop it. You shape it.”

The Training Begins

They stood opposite each other on the cracked mats.

“Focus,” she said. “Find your center.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Then start with pain. Everyone does.”

He exhaled. The glow returned soft gold around his hands.

“Now channel it,” Lina said. “Think of healing.”

He thought of the paramedic, of wanting to save him. The glow steadied.

“Good. Now flip it.”

He hesitated. “You mean?”

“Yes. The opposite intent.”

Dark veins crawled across the light, twisting black. A nearby mirror cracked.

“Stop!” she ordered.

He did. The glow vanished, leaving smoke in the air.

Lina lowered her guard. “You really are both.”

Richard sank to his knees, exhausted. “If I can heal and kill with the same hand, what does that make me?”

“Human,” she said quietly. “Just… weaponized.”

Whispers

As she turned to fetch water, the voice returned louder this time.

She’s hiding something.

Richard looked up sharply.

“What?” Lina asked.

“Nothing.”

Ask her about the chip.

His pulse jumped. “What chip?”

Lina froze mid-step. “You heard that?”

“Answer me.”

Her jaw tightened. “They implanted a tracker in every subject. Including me. I cut mine out.”

He stared. “Where?”

“Under the collarbone.” She touched the scar. “Yours is newer. They’ll find you soon unless we remove it.”

“How long?”

“Hours.”

The rain outside intensified, rattling the windows.

“Then do it,” he said.

Lina nodded grimly. “You’ll wish you hadn’t said that.”

Extraction

She spread instruments across a table sterilized blades, alcohol, trembling hands.

“No anesthetic,” she warned.

“Do it.”

She pressed the blade in. He bit down hard, fists glowing faintly as pain and energy collided. The metal in her hand trembled; sparks leapt.

“Almost there…” A flash of blue, then a small disc clattered onto the tray, sizzling. Lina crushed it under her heel. “Done.”

Richard exhaled. His aura flared once, then calmed.

“You’re free,” she said softly.

“Am I?”

The voice murmured again: For now.

Epilogue of the Night

Outside, distant sirens grew louder. Lina looked toward the window. “They’re triangulating the signal we destroyed. They’ll be here soon.”

Richard stood, swaying. “Then we move.”

“To where?”

“The truth.”

Lina met his gaze. “You’re not ready for that yet.”

He stepped closer, gold light faint around his fists. “Try me.”

Lightning flared across the skyline, framing them both in pale fire.

Somewhere deep below the city, Dr. Frost watched their blurry images on a cracked monitor. She whispered to the man beside her, “Phase Two begins.”