The city of Thalmoor had never known silence.
Not truly.
Even in the dead of night, it breathed with a thousand quiet evils—whispers behind locked doors, the crack of glass under desperate feet, and the low hum of filth that never really slept.
But the sky, oh the sky…
It remained beautiful. Cruel, in its indifference.
Stars shimmered like scattered jewels across obsidian silk, and the moon hung high above—full, silver, almost divine. A spotlight over sins it chose not to stop.
Then—A scream.Raw. Real. Cut short.
"HELP! PLEASE—mmmpff!!"
A harsh slap. A sharp gasp.
"Shut her up," one of them barked.
The woman struggled, wrists bleeding against zip-tied restraints. Her mouth gagged with a piece of her own torn blouse. Her eyes burned—not with tears, but with rage and terror.
One of the thugs—a gaunt man with yellow teeth and breath that reeked of rot—ran a filthy hand down her cheek. He grinned, leaning in too close.
"Well, well… what do we have here?" he murmured, voice dripping with mockery. "A flower walking the streets after dark?"
Another man chuckled, the larger one holding her arms twisted behind her back. "Didn't anyone tell you, sweetheart? This city eats girls like you alive."
"She's got perfume on her," the first thug said, inhaling near her neck with a perverted smirk. "Expensive. Soft skin, too. You rich?"
The woman kicked—connected with someone's shin. A growl. A punch to her stomach doubled her over.
"Feisty," the third one muttered, stepping out from the shadows. "I like that. Let's break her in slow."
The woman screamed again—but it was muffled. Trapped.
The alley swallowed the sound.
Then A voice.
It didn't echo like sound.It crawled through the alley.Low. Cold. Final.
"I am vengeance…"
The third thug froze. "What the fuck was that?"
Another whisper, deeper now.
"I am the night…"
The first thug spun around, knife drawn, eyes wide and searching the darkness above. "We ain't alone."
"I don't like this," muttered the second. "Who's there?! SHOW YOURSELF!"
Silence.
A breath.
"I am..."
A shape dropped from the rooftop above like a meteor wrapped in shadow.
It hit the ground without a sound.
Only the glint of moonlight revealed the figure. Lean. Armored in layers of matte-black tactical gear—dusted with ash, stitched with claw marks and vengeance.
His voice exploded into the alley.
"JAX-MAN!!"
The big thug barely had time to blink.
CRACK.
Jax's right hand blurred—five fingers lancing forward like spears.
They punched clean through the thug's face—shattering cartilage, bone, and skull.
His nose caved in. His eyes rolled back. And Jax's hand didn't stop.
He lifted the body—still twitching—one-handed, arm buried up to the wrist in meat and bone.
Then—BOOM!
He slammed the man into the concrete like a war hammer.
The thug's head burst open like a crushed melon, blood spraying across the alley walls in a sick arc.
"WHAT THE HELL—!" screamed the first thug, lunging with his knife in desperation.
Too slow.
Jax twisted, snatched the thug's wrist mid-swing—And unleashed fury.
THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!
Four rapid-fire punches collapsed the thug's facial structure—cheekbones cracking inward, upper jaw dislocating, zygomatic arches snapping under the blows. His head whipped backward with each strike like it was nailed to a rubber hinge.
Then the fifth came—an uppercut straight to the base of the jaw.
The force snapped the man's mandible upward, crushing the hyoid bone, rupturing the cervical vertebrae, and severing spinal connections in the C1-C2 region.
His head didn't fly off—but it hung at a grotesque angle, attached only by skin and shreds of muscle.
Only one left.
The final thug stared, legs shaking uncontrollably, eyes locked on Jax like a man staring down God's punishment.
"P-Plea—!"
Too late.
Jax's body compressed low—then snapped upward like a coiled spring.
BAM!
A devastating dropkick—both boots slamming into the thug's sternum—drove the air from his lungs in a wheeze of blood and spit. Ribs caved inward, several snapping like dry twigs under pressure.
The man's body launched backward—
CRASH!
—through the wall. Masonry cracked and shattered as his back hit the concrete with enough force to rupture the thoracic spine, likely compressing a lung.
He screamed—
"AAAAAGGHHH—!"
But it was cut short.
Jax appeared before the dust even settled.
One blurred step. A blur of speed.
His fist coiled.
WHAM!
He drove it forward with the precision of a railgun—straight into the thug's stomach, just below the sternum.
The fist sank deep, piercing skin, rupturing through abdominal muscles, splitting the transverse colon, tearing through the mesentery, and pulverizing organs in its path.
Jax's fist tore clean through the thug's torso, erupting from his back in a geyser of blood and bone. The wall behind him cracked from the sheer force, crumbling as bits of concrete and shredded flesh rained across the alley.
The thug convulsed once—then went limp, hanging off Jax's forearm like a broken puppet.
Jax leaned in close, his breath steady, controlled. Icy.
"You picked the wrong night."
With a wet, schlkt, he ripped his arm free.
The body slumped down the wall, leaving a long, red smear as it hit the ground like meat tossed from a butcher's block.
The alley fell quiet again. No more screams. Just the soft hiss of blood hitting cold pavement.
Behind him, the woman trembled—hands still bound, mouth gagged. Her eyes wide not with terror, but disbelief. She had witnessed monsters before.
But nothing like this.
Jax turned slowly, his eyes glowing dim behind his visor.
With a flick of his wrist, he accessed his inventory—an interface only visible to him. A soft hum as something materialized in his hand.
A small glass vial, glowing faint blue—the shimmer of a basic healing elixir. The cork was still sealed.
He tossed it at her feet. It rolled once, stopping near her shaking hands.
"Go home little bitch"
Her eyes flared. But Jax was already gone.
FWMP.
One crouch. One leap.
He launched himself upward—boots thudding against the alley wall as he ran vertically, then kicked off into a spiraling arc. His body twisted midair, flipping onto the rooftop with fluid, predatory grace.
He bolted across the skyline with the rhythm of a monster and the precision of a machine.
Sliding across rain-slick rooftops. Vaulting air vents. Leaping alley gaps.
Every motion was efficient. Brutal. Beautiful.
Jax wasn't just running.
He was hunting.
A shadow on the move. The wind howled behind him like it was afraid to keep up.
Below, the city of Thalmoor continued to breathe—choking on its own filth. Muggers in alleys. Traffickers behind shuttered windows. Corrupt guards counting bribes in candlelight.
But they all paused tonight. Just for a moment.
As if something had shifted in the dark.
Somewhere in the slums, a kid stared out their broken window at the rooftops and whispered—
"...Jax-Man."
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
📱Group Chat: JIGGLYPUFFS
🟢 Status: Active
👥 Members: Jax, Alex, Riley, Kael, Dane (recently unbanned)
Jax:
🦇 Just finished another vigilante arc.
No sword girl with unresolved trauma yet.
Getting real tired of false sidequests.
📹 [Attached Video: alley fight cam — POV footage, thermal overlays, visceral crunches, pixelated blood spatter]
Dane:
💀 Bro...You punched a man through his soul.
Stomach → wall → next plane of existence.😩🔥🔥🔥
Also—LMAO "go home little bitch"??You got villain one-liners on tap.
Alex:
[Pauses video]...
You used a healing potion.
And still called her a bitch.
What alignment are we running this week again?
Riley:
Confirmed: Jax plays Dark Souls morality.
Does good things. Feels bad about it.
Also: alley fight cam is LOOTED.📊 Blood velocity chart loading... 💉🧪Uploading to killcomp.exe...
Kael:
YOOOOO 😱That dropkick through the WALL?!I felt that in my soul's soul, bro.
🏅 RIBS? Evaporated.
🏅 VERTEBRAE? Deleted from canon.
🏅 DIGNITY? Never existed.10/10 spinal murder. Would recommend.
Dane:
Whole man's digestive system looked like it rage quit.
CSI: Internal Organs
Detective Jax, reporting live from Lower Intestine.
Jax:
They tried to jump a civvie.
Didn't work out for them.
I don't do warnings. I do closure.
Dane:
LMAO okay, Batman-with-body-count. What's next, you become Thalmoor's boogeyman? Urban legend?
Me and Kael are chilling in Eldermoor this week, btw. Alex put us on passive cooldown no fireballs, no structural collapse. Meeting back at the Minecraft base after.
Jax:
Yeah. I'm basically running a one-man purge arc here. Think Batman but with kill permissions enabled. Call me JAX-MAN. I'm vengeance, judgment, AND public sanitation.
Riley:
💻 Installing "Morality Patch 2.1"...🗨 Notes:
Less "die screaming," more "due process"
Buff empathy
Nerf dropkick force by 30%Patch failed. Too much edge detected. ☠️
Alex:
Fine. Just don't make us clean up when the local news starts calling you a cryptid. "The Shadow Slasher of Thalmoor" or whatever. Also: we're low on healing elixirs. Stop throwing them
Jax:
🦇 Healing elixirs are like karma checks — gotta throw a few to keep the scales balanced. Besides, if I'm handing out freebies, who cleans up the mess? Not me. But don't worry, I'm not running a clinic here. Just keeping the streets a little less shitty. Next batch's on Alex — you're the tactician, you handle logistics.
Kael:
🤣 Logistics? Bruh, that sounds like a fancy word for "buy more potions. "I'm just here to smash stuff and maybe catch a healing splash if I'm lucky.
Riley:
Reminder: Jax's inventory is basically a mobile pharmacy… with a body count.💀 Can someone remind him that medicine doesn't excuse mass destruction?
Dane:
Mass destruction = target practice.
I say we get Jax a cape and a theme song. Something dark, angry, with heavy guitar riffs.
Jax:
Caped crusader's got nothing on me. Maybe I'll compose my own theme call it "The Sound of Broken Bones."🎸👊
Now, who's ready for the next target? Because Thalmoor's filth isn't going to clean itself.
Alex:
Also, collect some intel if you run into anything interesting.
Jax:
Aye aye, Captain.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Jax strode to the edge of the rooftop, exhaling slowly.
"Hell, this is fun. Wonder what's next after I finish purging the scum from this city."
Unbeknownst to him, from the shadows beyond the flickering streetlamp, a pair of eyes watched—cold, calculating.
A low, amused voice whispered through the darkness: "Jax-Man… sounds intriguing. My Lady would like to meet him."