Night Party Arrival
Vote and get this novel to the top for faster chapter updates.
###############
The rusty gates of the scrapyard creaked ominously as the fading sun cast long shadows across a sea of dilapidated cars.
It was the kind of place forgotten by time, where broken things came to rest. Yet, tonight, it was anything but quiet. The revving of engines and harsh laughter shattered the silence, surrounding a figure far too young to face such cruelty.
Eighteen-year-old Mike, with his slight build and fear-stricken eyes, stood defiantly though his body trembled. Clad in a worn-out jacket and jeans that had seen better days, he tried to steel himself against the imminent pain.
"Mike, you said you wanted to be one of us, well here's our answer," sneered a burly biker, his voice rough like gravel.
With a malicious grin, he swung a bat straight at Mike's face, setting off a cruel game among the group.
The bikers, each adorned in leather jackets emblazoned with their gang's insignia, circled like vultures.
One after another, they took turns lashing out with bats, batons, and even spanners, each strike followed by bursts of savage laughter. Mike, overwhelmed and outnumbered, could barely raise his arms in defense against the brutal onslaught.
The twisted game was abruptly interrupted by a thunderous noise like the sound of a freight train barreling through the scrapyard.
All heads turned in alarm toward a large, burly figure over seven feet tall emerging from the shadows.
He wore a mask that obscured his features, adding to his intimidating presence.
Muscles bulging under his outfit, he moved with a purpose that spelled trouble for the bikers.
One of the bikers swung his bat at the newcomer, but the masked man caught it effortlessly.
With a fierce yank, he pulled, sending the biker flying off his motorcycle and into the air. The biker crashed into a pile of scrap metal over twenty feet away, the impact echoing through the yard.
The remaining bikers, shocked and enraged, charged at the masked figure. Their attacks, however, seemed futile as punches and kicks bounced off his muscular physique. With swift and precise movements, the masked man retaliated, delivering punishing blows that sent each biker sprawling to the ground.
Mike, still reeling from his beatings, watched in awe as his tormentors were subdued with such overpowering force.
One by one, the masked man grabbed the dazed bikers and shoved them into an old, rusty car. Seizing the rear of the vehicle, he began spinning it with an ease that defied belief.
The car whirled around, turning faster with each pass, until the screams from inside morphed into groans of nausea. When he finally stopped, the bikers stumbled out, visibly sick and thoroughly beaten.
Some of them began throwing up.
Leaning close to the pile of defeated men, the masked figure issued a stern warning in a deep, resonant voice that brooked no argument. "If I ever hear of you pulling a stunt like this again, I'll be back, and next time, I won't be so gentle."
With that, he turned to Mike, who was trying to steady himself, and gave him a reassuring nod. "Take care of yourself, kid," he said before walking away, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.
As the figure retreated deeper into the scrapyard, he reached a secluded spot surrounded by towering stacks of crushed cars.
The mask came off, revealing Miles, his face set in a determined grimace. Checking the timer on his Bane's Heightened Physical Strength ability, he noted he still had some time left. Miles seized the opportunity to turn the scrapyard into his personal training ground.
Approaching a large, abandoned vehicle, he planted his feet firmly on the ground and gripped the undercarriage. With a grunt, he lifted, using the car as a makeshift weight. Each lift sent ripples across his muscles.
'Bane is pretty strong... too bad using his strength also affects my physique. It's not something I'll be able to explain if I use it on a random without hiding my identity.'
[ Hidden Task Completed: Get Into A Group Fight ]
< Reward: +15 Points >
...
After the day of the robbery and rescue, Miles returned to the store.The atmosphere was tense, the air still thick with the remnants of fear. His female colleague, Janet, who had been with him during the robbery, shot him a scathing look as he approached the counter.
"You ran off, Miles! Just bolted. I couldn't believe it," she hissed, her words sharp with accusation.
Miles felt a pang of guilt but maintained his composure. "I... I'm sorry, Janet. Anyone would be scared, you know?" he offered, knowing full well he had not fled in fear but to change his fate and theirs.
"If it wasn't for that big man I would have been done for!"
Janet scoffed and turned away, her disappointment clear.
The security guard had been taken to the hospital, and while Miles knew he was stable and would recover, the guilt of his perceived cowardice weighed on him.
He didn't attempt to correct the narrative; some actions needed to remain hidden, especially those of a burgeoning superhero.
Despite the tension, Miles wasn't reprimanded formally and was allowed to finish his shift.
The remainder of the week passed in a blur, filled with classes and quiet contemplations of that night, until Friday finally arrived.
Ron was buzzing with excitement as the evening approached. "This party is going to be epic, Miles! You ready to change up from Mr. Invisible to Mr. Incredible tonight?" he joked as they prepared in their dorm room.
Miles managed a smile, feeling the anticipation build. "As ready as I'll ever be."
Ron, ever the fashion guru among them, had taken it upon himself to ensure Miles looked the part. He handed Miles a sleek, dark ensemble that seemed to bridge the gap between casual and outright dapper. "Here, try this on. Trust me, you'll fit right in, or stand out just enough," Ron winked.
Miles changed into a charcoal gray button-down shirt that clung just right to his toned physique, paired with dark jeans that were a perfect blend of comfort and style. The outfit was completed with a pair of black leather boots that gave him an extra inch of height and a subtle edge.
Standing before the mirror, Miles examined his reflection. His dark hair was styled neatly, a few strands deliberately tousled to give a more carefree appearance.
His blue eyes seemed to catch the light, and his slightly tanned skin complemented the dark tones of his outfit. He had to admit, he looked good, and the confidence that outfit inspired was palpable.
"Man, look at you! Who's this guy?" Ron teased, clapping him on the back as they grabbed their wallets and keys.
The party was in full swing when they arrived, the bass from the DJ's speakers thumping through the ground and into the soles of their feet.
Ron was immediately recognized and greeted enthusiastically, his popularity undeniable as he navigated through the crowd with ease, often stopping to chat or laugh with another attendee.
Miles followed, slightly in awe of the ease with which Ron moved through the social waters. The party was a whirlwind of faces and voices.
Among the crowd, several students stood out: there was Tara, the campus belle, radiant in a shimmering gold mini dress that caught the light with every movement. Her laugh was musical, drawing admirers like moths to a flame.
Another notable figure was Chad, the quarterback, whose athletic build was hard to miss. He wore a simple fitted tee that showcased his muscular arms and jeans that spoke of casual comfort mixed with an air of 'just thrown on' that only those truly confident in their attractiveness can achieve.
As Ron got pulled into a conversation with a group of fellow class leaders, Miles decided to explore on his own. He meandered through the crowd, taking in the sights and sounds of college life at its most exuberant.
'Now to decide which beautiful lady will have my first interaction this night...' Miles eyes darted around.
Lost in observation, he accidentally bumped into someone, a drink splashing over both of them. "Hey, watch it, doofus!" the person yelled, a scowl forming on a face that was previously masked in enjoyment.