WHEN THEY ALL LAUNCHED I BECAME THEIR GOD

Chapter 5

Without being told Damian could tell just by looking at Derek's face that he had no idea what really happened. Derek knew about the divorce - Megan probably called him the second she stepped onto that private jet - but he didn't know about the warehouse. Didn't know his sister had ordered Damian beaten to death, didn't know about the sledgehammer or the crushed hands or the blood pooling on concrete.

Derek thought this was just another day of pushing around someone weaker than him.

“I don't have time for this.” Damian's voice was calm. “Turn around and leave. I'm having a quiet time with my daughter.”

Derek's face went red. “Quiet evening? With that bastard?” He pointed past Damian into the apartment. 

“That mistake the Cross family will never accept into the bloodline? You're still calling her your daughter?” His voice climbed higher. “Leave this place now before I throw you out myself.”

“Or else what?”

Derek stepped right up to the doorway, invading Damian's space. “Or else what? You want to die? Is that what you're asking for?” His breath smelled like whiskey. “I'm not going easy on you. You're not welcome here. You're not needed. So leave.”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

The words hung in the air between them.

Derek froze, his eyes scanning Damian's face like he was looking at a stranger. This wasn't the Damian who'd spent three years taking every insult without a word, who'd worked himself sick to pay for things that weren't his responsibility, who'd apologized for existing.

“You want to fight?” Derek's laugh came out forced. “You're not even awakened. You know what I can do, right?” He glanced back at his two friends. “And even if I hold back, Marcus won't. So watch your mouth.”

From inside the apartment, Emma's small voice drifted out. “Daddy? Why are those people so scary?”

Damian kept his eyes on Derek, but his voice softened when he answered. “Scary? They're not scary, baby. Don't worry. They can't do anything.”

Marcus - the bigger one with the buzz cut and the neck tattoos - went stiff. “What the hell did you just say?”

His body blurred.

One second he was standing next to Derek, the next he was right in Damian's face, already swinging. “I'm going to teach you a lesson!”

The punch came in fast and heavy, all of Marcus's weight behind it. His fist connected with Damian's jaw with a crack that echoed down the hallway.

Derek burst out laughing. “Well, I warned you! Should've listened when you had the chance. Now you've thrown your life away for nothing.”

But his laughter died in his throat.

Damian was still standing. His head had turned slightly from the impact, but his feet hadn't moved. No stumble, no blood dripping from his mouth, no broken teeth scattering across the floor.

He just stood there, taking the hit like it was nothing.

Slowly, Damian turned his head back to face Marcus. A red mark was blooming on his jaw, but that was all. Just a mark.

Marcus staggered back, shaking out his hand. “What the hell?”

Marcus didn't even have time to pull his fist back before the crack echoed through the hallway.

His hand shattered.

Not just broke - shattered. The bones in his fingers, knuckles, and wrist splintered like glass hitting concrete. The sound was wet and sharp at the same time, like someone snapping celery stalks wrapped in meat.

Marcus screamed. “My hand! My hand! What the hell? What did you—”

He stumbled backward, cradling his ruined hand against his chest. Blood was already seeping between his fingers where bone fragments had torn through skin.

Derek stood frozen, his mouth hanging open. 

“That's... that's not possible. You were supposed to be the one hurt. You're supposed to be on the ground bleeding, not him!” His voice climbed higher with every word. “You're nobody! You're just some worthless guy with no ability, no power, nothing! What the hell is going on? What did you do to him?”

His whole body was shaking now, his expensive watch rattling against his wrist.

Damian looked at Marcus, who was still whimpering and staring at his destroyed hand in disbelief. “You see what happens when you look down on people?” Damian's voice stayed calm, almost conversational. “You got cocky. Thought you could walk into my home and throw your weight around because I didn't have an ability.” He took a step forward. “I'm not taking it lightly with you.”

His hand moved.

The slap caught Marcus across the face with a sound like a gunshot. Marcus's head snapped sideways so hard his neck popped. His feet left the ground - actually lifted off the floor - and his body flew backward through the air like someone had hit him with a baseball bat.

Teeth scattered. Not one or two, but a spray of them, white fragments bouncing off the hallway walls and skittering across the floor. Blood followed in thick droplets.

Marcus hit the ground ten feet away and didn't move. Just lay there in a heap, unconscious before his body even stopped sliding.

Derek made a sound - not quite a scream, more like a choked gasp. His legs gave out and he dropped onto his ass, his back slamming against the hallway wall. 

“This isn't real.” His voice came out in a whisper. “I'm dreaming. This has to be a dream. When did you—” He swallowed hard. “When did you awaken? What the hell are you?”

Damian turned to face him fully.

Derek scrambled backward on his hands and feet like a crab, his designer shoes squeaking on the floor. “Stay back! Stay the hell back!”

His other friend - the quiet one who'd been standing there the whole time - was already halfway down the hall, running for the stairs.

“Marcus is stronger than me,” Derek babbled. His voice cracked. “His punch can break concrete. If he couldn't touch you, then I—” He cut himself off, chest heaving. 

Damian walked forward slowly. Not rushing, not threatening. Just walking. But each step made Derek flinch like he'd been hit.

“Listen to me very carefully,” Damian said. He stopped a few feet away from Derek, looking down at him. “Go. And never come back. This is your last warning.”