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    Summary

    The boy stared back at him, and Dynamight was used to seeing the fear in constricted pupils, feeling the quaking terror of his victims before he finished them. He knew he cut a grotesque figure: a halo of black spikes protecting his exposed brain; the steel muzzle that completely obscured the lower half of his face; the tubes embedded into his arms and back, feeding into his muzzle and embedded beneath his skin, running frigid, purple, luminescent liquid that acted as a fuel and coolant to his augmentations.

    The most common word humans prescribed to him was monster, but he’d been called by every name given to freakish, malformed creatures language had created.

    There was no struggle. Now on the ground, the boy lay there, watching him with an eerie stillness. This boy looked at him with nothing. Well, not nothing. Dynamight could read his expression clearly.

     

    Do it. Kill me.

    A boy with nothing wants to live. A boy with everything wants to die. They find each other somewhere in the middle.

    Language:
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