On a cold rainy night as thunder roared and lightning flashed, I was awakened from my slumber not because of the storm outside. My internal chaos in the form of a reoccurring nightmare forced a bold and strong 23-year-old man like me to wake up in an all-sweaty frenzy feeling very disoriented. I rose from my bed and went to my balcony to drench myself in the unforgiving rain hoping it would cool down the heat of my inner turmoil. The name is Daniel Forge, and you wouldn't believe how messed up my life was. From a distance, it looked like I was successful and had it all. I was the youngest and most successful detective in my city. I solved cases with almost zero clues like a real-life Sherlock Holmes with a supernatural upgrade. Being the best was supposed to make me feel better, right? How could the best live knowing full well that there was still one unsolved mystery? That mystery was my greatest tragedy. It was the first crime I witnessed, the reason I became a detective in the f

On Friday at precisely 2 pm, Samson Forge, a man with piercing dark eyes, full pink lips, a small, flat nose, and a chiseled jawline, walked into his favorite coffee shop. He moved with an air of confidence, his every step deliberate and graceful. As he sat down and ordered his usual diet, I watched him from the table behind, my eyes fixed on his every gesture. I seethed with anger at how serene he seemed, sipping his coffee with the elegance of a royal dinner. Each sip was a slow, deliberate movement, as if savoring a fine wine. He took his time, seemingly oblivious to the world around him, like he had all the time in the world.The atmosphere in the coffee shop was cozy, with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft hum of conversation filling the air. But for me, it was a torture chamber. Breathing the same air as Samson Forge repulsed me to my core. How could a man so refined, so graceful, be the same devil who had torn my family apart? He had disappeared with my mom's unco

I drove solo, the GPS leading me to the designated location. The silence in the car was deafening, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of the radio. I felt a pang of guilt for not confiding in Chris, my trusted partner and friend. But I couldn't bear the thought of putting him in harm's way, not when I suspected Samson was a psychotic serial killer with a penchant for violence.As I navigated the deserted roads, my mind raced with thoughts of revenge. I was no longer the calm, collected detective, but a son seeking justice for his mother's abduction. I was Daniel Forge, driven by a fierce determination to confront the monster who had destroyed my family.My heart raced with anticipation, my grip on the steering wheel tightening as I envisioned the impending showdown. I wanted our first encounter to be a bloody, brutal fight. I had murder on my mind, and I was ready to unleash my fury on Samson. I wasn't facing him as the best detective in the city;

I lay on the ground, silent and still, after hours of screaming and sobbing. The physical pain had subsided, but my mental and emotional state was likely scarred for life. All because of that monster of a man, Samson. At first, I hated him with every fiber of my being, but now, after being humbled and left for dead, unable to move, I realized I had underestimated him. My emotions and recklessness had led me into his trap. I needed to do better, become ruthless, and beat him at his own game. But those worries were for the distant future, as I was still paralyzed and alone in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere.A faint, sleep-like urge crept over me, and I feared it was death's silent call, beckoning me to take my final slumber. I fought to stay awake, but my eyes finally shut down, leaving me at the mercy of the unknown.The next day, I woke up in a hospital bed, groggily opening my eyes to find Chris sitting beside me, exhausted and lightly dozing off. I felt a mix of

As I jogged,my legs pounded the pavement. My jog turned into an all-out exercise as my feet barely touching the ground, I felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Without hesitation, I launched myself into a full-blown parkour display, my body moving with a fluid grace that defied human limits. The wind rushed past me, whipping my hair into a frenzy as I devoured the urban landscape. I leaped onto buildings, my legs coiling and uncoiling like springs as I propelled myself across impossible distances.Even seasoned parkour enthusiasts would deem my stunts suicidal, but I was born different. And I reveled in it. I continued to soar over fences, my legs tucking up effortlessly as I cleared each obstacle with ease. I flipped over rooftops too, my arms extending to absorb the impact as I landed with precision on the balls of my feet.I felt alive, my senses heightened as I scanned the urban landscape for my next move. I spotted the tallest fence on the block and sprinted