Cote: Elite in Action

Kayden - Part 11

The rain fell violently, like an incessant cloak drowning the city in its melancholic fury. The rumble of the thunder intertwined with the irregular drumming of the raindrops against the pavement, creating a chaotic symphony that enveloped every corner. However, even this relentless roar could not silence the brutal sound of fists crashing into flesh, nor the cries of pain that escaped throats broken by fear.

There, in the heart of a dark alley barely lit by the flickering light of a broken streetlamp, lay the scattered members of a gang feared by all. Their white jackets, so characteristic and symbolic of their dominance in the area, were now soaked with rain and stained with blood. Twisted, gasping bodies tried to rise, swaying like broken puppets, only to be struck down again by the relentless fist descending upon them like a sentence.

Before them stood a shadowy figure, wrapped in the darkness as if it were part of the very night. A young man with a slender but solid build, dressed completely in black, with the hood of his sweatshirt partially covering his face. His eyes, cold and unperturbed, glowed like fragments of obsidian under the dim light. There was no rage in his expression, nor the slightest hint of emotion. Only a disturbing serenity, almost terrifying, as he observed the surroundings as if the bodies on the ground were mere detritus of no consequence.

One of the gang members, bolder or perhaps more desperate than the others, staggered toward him with a knife in hand, trying to hide the tremor in his fingers. The boy in black looked at him with indifference, allowing the other to make a clumsy attack. With a precise and calculated movement, the young man's fist sank into the attacker's stomach, expelling all the air from his lungs and leaving him kneeling in a puddle of dirty water.

The storm continued to roar, indifferent to the violent scene unfolding under its cover. The few witnesses who dared peek from nearby windows did so in silence, holding their breath and feeling fear constricting their chests. No one knew who the boy was or why he had faced the gang, but one thing was clear: he was the true predator in that place.

Kayden stood still for a moment, letting the rain wash away the blood that had splattered his knuckles. The cold water trickled down his face, soaking his dark hair that fell in disorder over his forehead. Without bothering to look back, he took a steady step out of the alley, as if nothing that had happened mattered in the slightest to him.

His footsteps echoed softly against the wet pavement as he crossed the deserted street. The air was thick with the characteristic smell of damp earth, mixed with the faint scent of blood that the storm tried to erase. Kayden didn't even bother to shake the water off his clothes; he seemed indifferent to the cold that chilled him to the bone.

He found an empty bench under the dim light of another streetlamp, one that still withstood the rain's assault. With the same calmness he had shown during the fight, he sat down, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his head lean forward. The water dripped from his hood, forming small puddles at his feet.

For a moment, silence reigned, broken only by the pattering of rain hitting the metal of the bench. His breathing was calm, as though the confrontation from moments ago had never happened. He closed his eyes, letting himself be enveloped by the sound of the storm, seeking in the chaotic water a sort of refuge.

A vague feeling of melancholy crossed his mind, fleeting like the flash of a lightning bolt in the night sky. It wasn't the first time he had been involved in fights, and it probably wouldn't be the last. But for some reason, this time the emptiness felt deeper, denser, as if the deafening noise of the rain were drowning something more than just physical pain.

The boy remained there, motionless under the storm, like a solitary and distant figure, oblivious to the world around him. The distant light of passing cars barely touched his silhouette, and no one seemed to notice his presence. As always, he was alone in the middle of the crowd.