Escanor(Marvel)

Hell's Kitchen

A regular bar, indistinguishable from dozens of others in the neighborhood, stayed open late into the night, drawing in weary patrons looking for a moment of peace over a pint of beer.

"Leon, two more pints!" a loud voice called out from one of the regulars. The man, swaying slightly, raised his hand to get the attention of the red-haired waiter.

"On it," Leon replied with a strained smile.

He walked to the bar, poured two pints with practiced ease, and carried them over to the table.

"That's more like it!" the customer said with satisfaction, taking the first sip.

Meanwhile, Leon deftly gathered empty glasses from the neighboring tables. He carried them to the kitchen, dumped them into the sink, and immediately returned to the main hall.

The noise in the bar gradually died down. Less than an hour remained until closing, and one by one, the patrons staggered out, some barely able to stay on their feet.

When the last customer finally stumbled out the door, Leon flipped the sign at the entrance to "Closed."

Gathering the dirty dishes, he took them to the sink, exhaling noisily.

"Good work today, Leon. Here's your pay," the bar owner said, placing a few bills on the counter. His voice was tired but kind.

"Thanks," Leon replied with a curt nod. He grabbed the money, stuffed it into his pocket, and pulled on his hoodie.

Stepping outside, he walked around the building, avoiding looking at the empty streets, and began climbing the narrow metal staircase. The night air was cold, and the distant hum of passing cars echoed through the city.

On his floor, Leon made his way down the dimly lit hallway, stopped in front of his door, pulled out a key, and unlocked it. The room greeted him with silence and the faint scent of old furniture.

Tossing his keys onto the nightstand, he collapsed onto the bed but soon forced himself to get up. He headed to the bathroom and flicked on the light blindingly bright after the bar's dim glow.

Pulling off his shirt, he paused in front of the mirror. A tattoo stood out on his back a lion with a burning gaze. Leon ran a hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion and the thoughts that refused to let him rest.

After washing up, he returned to the room and fell onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The soft glow of a streetlamp seeped through the curtains, casting strange shadows across the ceiling.

POV Escanor

I barely remember what happened after the explosion. Darkness swallowed everything, and my mind faded into oblivion. When I came to, I was lying on the ground under the bright rays of the sun. But instead of warmth and comfort the sensations the sun had always granted me I felt only cold. As if something inside me had forever lost its connection to that celestial light.

I was still near the ruined factory. Finding my bag, half-buried in the dirt nearby, I hurried to get out of there. Later, I saw news footage of the incident. But one question wouldn't let me rest how did I survive? And why could I no longer feel the power that had once been part of me?

I had to start over from scratch. Paranoia wouldn't let me go, making me flinch at every stray sound. I was no longer the man I used to be, and that realization stripped me of my confidence. For a year, I wandered, scraping by on odd jobs, until I finally found work that brought me some semblance of peace.

I became a waiter in a bar. The clientele was mostly quiet, no brawls, no shouting. I suppose I was lucky.

The bar's owner, John, was a good man. He hired me without too many questions, and for that, I was grateful. But even in this calm environment, I could never fully relax. The fear of being found still lingered.

And then… there was something else. My appearance had changed. My hair had turned red. I had no idea why. But every time I looked in the mirror, I saw a completely different person staring back at me. I had to take on a new name Leon. Yes, maybe it was a faint link to my past, but there were plenty of Leons in the world, making it difficult to trace back to who I once was.

To my surprise, after a year, the power of the sun slowly started returning to me. But it was nothing like the strength I had before. My body grew slightly tougher, a little stronger, but those incredible abilities I once wielded were gone. It seemed my power had burned itself out to keep me alive. Now, all I could do was wait and hope it would fully return.

But I wasn't just sitting around. My earnings were barely enough to cover my basic needs, yet I kept moving forward. I trained, spending hours at a dojo honing my self-defense skills. At the same time, I dug for information, seeking out people who might know something useful.

Over time, a pattern emerged. There was one particular gang connected to those responsible for experimenting on mutants. And I knew exactly who to ask to get some real answers.

Only one problem remained how was I supposed to make them talk? Despite my training, I was still lean and physically weak. I looked about seventeen, but compared to a grown man, I was clearly at a disadvantage at least, unless it was daytime. The only upside to my condition was how quickly I matured.

Giving myself a bit of time to prepare, I decided to go on a scouting mission. This wasn't my first time doing something like this, so I already had everything I needed.

I packed my backpack and checked its contents. Pulling on dark clothes, I added a simple fabric mask to cover my face. After making sure everything was in place, I quietly slipped out of my room and vanished into the night.

The group I was tracking wasn't a major organization. They controlled just a single street, but their influence spread throughout the city. Their primary operation was finding and delivering mutants for further experimentation. It was a network of sorts a system designed to capture victims and hand them over to those running the experiments. Most of the information I'd gathered led back to them.

But one question remained: why had an entire squad been sent after me? The answer seemed simple they didn't trust anyone else with their most valuable targets and preferred to hunt them down themselves. Since that squad had been wiped out, that left only this gang.

I picked my vantage point a rooftop across from their base. As usual, I slipped into an alley, tossed a rope to catch onto the hanging fire escape, and pulled myself up. From there, I ran and leaped across two more rooftops before settling into a spot with a clear view. Lying low at the edge, I pulled out my binoculars and started watching the building where, according to my intel, they were based.

Once, I had gotten lucky. I managed to capture one of their men. He had been partying in a local club, too drunk to notice he was being followed. I used him, plain and simple. But compared to what they were doing, my actions were nothing. They were human traffickers, and nothing could justify that.

I tracked him, cornered him, and forced him to talk. Once I had all the information I needed, I realized I couldn't let him go. The decision didn't come easily, but in the end, I injected him with a lethal dose of drugs. His death raised no alarms, no questions he was already a known user, and when they found his body, the reaction was nothing more than a shrug. "Serves him right."

That was a week ago. Now, I was considering more drastic action, but I had no real plan. I didn't have the money to buy weapons, and I couldn't pull them out of thin air. My entire arsenal consisted of a small knife, a taser, and a couple of gas canisters. Hardly enough against a gang that almost certainly had firearms.

In truth, I did have a plan one that was brutal but effective. I had noticed that the building's ventilation system was conveniently located at the back, where few people passed. If I could get my hands on the right chemicals, I might be able to knock everyone inside unconscious. But I wasn't a chemist, and if I miscalculated the dose, I could end up killing them all.

There was, of course, another option going to the police. But that would get me nowhere. I wouldn't get the information I needed, and the cops wouldn't even come here. Even if, by some miracle, I got their attention, the gang would just relocate and continue their business elsewhere, leaving me empty-handed.

Enough watching for tonight. I hadn't seen anything new. I needed some sleep before heading out for my morning training. Then, maybe, I could actually rest for real.

I heard the faintest rustle behind me.

And in the next moment, I felt cold steel press against my neck.

"Easy, kid. Turn around slowly. One wrong move, and you're dead," a calm but threatening voice said from behind me.