Laurel stood in the dim light of the forest, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon as the echoes of the previous night's battle with Monkey Man faded. The air was thick with tension, a mix of fear and anticipation that clung to him like the damp mist settling over the trees. He hadn't slept well, not that sleep had ever come easy to him.
But this night had been different. This night had dredged up memories he'd long tried to bury—memories that tore through him like the lasers he could shoot from his eyes.
In his dream, he was back in that cramped apartment, the walls too close, the air too heavy with the stench of cheap whiskey. His mother's voice, usually so strong and soothing, was cracked and pleading. His father's silhouette loomed over her, fists clenched, eyes wild with rage.
"Please, Danny, don't!" his mother begged.
Laurel, just nine years old at the time, had cowered in the corner of the living room, too scared to intervene but unable to look away. His father's anger had always been like a storm—unpredictable, violent, and impossible to escape. That night, the storm broke. His father's fists had rained down like boulders, and before Laurel could scream, it was too late. The life had drained from his mother's eyes, leaving her crumpled on the floor, silent and still.
Laurel had fled that night, running through the streets until his legs burned, vowing to never stop until he had avenged her. But no matter how far he ran, he could never outrun the guilt, the anger, the helplessness. And now, it seemed, he couldn't outrun his father either.
In the dream, the scene shifted, and he was no longer that terrified child. He was older, hardened, his mother's blood still fresh in his memory. But this time, there was something new. A name, floating in the air like a specter: Danny Benigine. And then he saw it, clear as day—a list of names. His father's name, bold and unmistakable, was on the roster for Power Royale. Ten spots remained, and his father had taken one.
Laurel woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest. The fire of vengeance burned hotter than ever, threatening to consume him whole. His eyes, glowing faintly in the dark, narrowed as he clenched his fists. He knew now that his father was out there, somewhere on this cursed island, and he would find him. He would make him pay.
The morning came with grim news. The announcers' voices crackled through the air, cutting through the stillness with their usual mix of excitement and morbidity.
Announcer 1: "Good morning, folks! What a night it's been! The war boars have done their job, thinning out the competition. Fifteen competitors have fallen, leaving us with a clean seventy! How's that for a little nighttime culling?"
Announcer 2: "Indeed, the numbers are dropping fast, and it's only going to get more intense from here. Remember, folks, in this game, it's not just about power, but strategy and survival."
Laurel barely heard them. His mind was already racing, plotting his next move. Somewhere out there, Danny Benigine was waiting. Laurel's fingers itched with the urge to unleash the power he'd been gifted, to make sure that this time, when the storm broke, it would be his father who was left in pieces.
The chapter ended with a heavy silence, the weight of what was to come pressing down on Laurel's shoulders. As the sun climbed higher into the sky, he knew one thing for certain: his time for revenge was drawing near.
---
**To be continued...**
YOU ARE READING
Lr stories part 1: Power royale
Action*Power Royale* is a high-stakes battle royale set in a sprawling, shrinking arena the size of Rhode Island. Contestants, each endowed with a unique superpower, fight for a $1 billion prize. As the arena contracts, the pressure mounts. The story foll...
