Part 3: Massacre Protocol
Summary:
Riven Dax breaks free — not with magic, not with mind, but with muscle and pain. He tears through Hydra's last stronghold with his fists, broken bones, and years of rage. His body is stronger than ever, but dulled by lingering sedatives. His telekinesis flickers here and there, but it's unreliable — so he does it the hard way. The kids don't cheer. They fear him. But they follow him because he's the only reason they're still alive.
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The first two guards shot him in the chest.
Three rounds.
Center mass.
He dropped to one knee.
Then got up.
Then crushed the first guard's throat with a steel pipe.
The second ran. Didn't make it.
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Riven moved like something half-awake, half-buried in pain.
He was strong.
Stronger than human.
But every step was slow.
Every punch burned.
The drugs were still in his system.
Dragging him. Slowing his breath. Dulling his eyes.
But not enough.
Not anymore.
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He didn't use his mind.
He didn't trust it.
Once, a door exploded inward when he screamed.
Once, a man's skull cracked when he thought about crushing it.
But that wasn't power.
That was panic.
The rest — he did with his hands.
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Steel bars.
Rusted bolts.
Broken knuckles.
One man tried to shoot a child as Riven entered the isolation wing.
He beat him to death with the guard's own sidearm.
Didn't fire a single shot.
Just bludgeoned.
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Children watched.
Some screamed.
Some backed into corners.
Blood soaked Riven's arms to the elbows.
One girl sobbed behind a shattered glass panel.
> "He's gonna kill us too…"
Another boy whispered:
> "No. He's here to kill them."
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He limped through hallway after hallway.
His shoulder torn open.
Three bullets still in his back.
One in his leg.
Didn't matter.
He tore a man's jaw off in the cryo chamber.
Snapped another's spine with a boot stomp.
He didn't scream anymore.
He just breathed. Slow. Quiet. Unstoppable.
---
They begged.
They tried to lie.
They tried to surrender.
Riven never said a word.
---
He reached the command level last.
There were four guards waiting.
One got a shot off — grazed his cheek.
Riven slammed him into the wall so hard his spine bent sideways.
The others hesitated.
Mistake.
He threw one over the railing, took a bullet to the thigh from another, and still charged through it like a bull.
Rage held him upright.
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When it was over—
He stood in the middle of the room.
Alone.
Bleeding.
Barely breathing.
His hands trembling.
He looked down at what he had done.
Dozens of men. Scientists. Guards. Monsters.
All dead.
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> "You made me this," he whispered.
"You made me this."
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Behind him, the children had gathered.
Frightened.
Eyes wide.
Some cried.
But none of them ran.
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Because in this blood-soaked hell—
He was the only one who came for them.
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And somewhere far above…
a team of heroes was about to land—
believing they were the ones coming to save the day.
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