A wave of air blasted outwards from the point of impact, kicking up dust and debris.
The members of Iron Fist's crew stumbled back, their eyes wide with disbelief.
Even Gray's crew was shocked; they knew Gray was strong, but they didn't know he was this strong.
Iron Fist's face was a mask of pure, unadulterated horror.
His punch, his pride, his very identity, had been caught effortlessly by a kid half his size.
He tried to pull his fist back, but it was trapped in a grip of unbreakable steel.
"A decent punch," Gray commented, his voice flat. His fingers tightened around Iron Fist's knuckles.
A sickening crunch echoed in the sudden silence.
"… by a normal person's standards."
With his other hand, Gray delivered a short, sharp jab to Iron Fist's jaw. It didn't look like much. There was no wind-up or dramatic motion.
Just a quick flick of the wrist.
But the impact lifted the hulking delinquent clean off his feet.
Iron Fist's eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed onto the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, completely and utterly unconscious.
The garbage dump fell silent once more.
All that could be heard was the faint evening breeze whistling through the unfinished building frames.
Gray shook his hand, a bored expression on his face.
"That was almost a warm-up."
Rat slowly crawled out from his hiding spot, his jaw hanging open. "G-Gray you... you caught it! You caught the Iron Breaker! With one hand!"
Gray glanced at the trembling Rat.
"It wasn't that impressive."
Rat finally scrambled to his feet, hurrying to keep up as Gray turned and started walking away, hands back in his pockets.
"Not impressive?! Gray, the guy punched through a steel door last week! Everyone was terrified! But you just... caught it!"
"Muscle-heads rely too much on raw power," Gray said dismissively, kicking a loose piece of gravel.
"So when they meet someone stronger, they suddenly have no idea what to do. Really makes them predictable."
"Predictably gonna break your whole arm, maybe!" Rat countered, still buzzing.
"Oh man, Knuckles and Leo are gonna flip when they hear about this! Specs is probably gonna want to analyze the kinetic force involved or something." Rat excitedly added.
Gray just smiled. "Let's get back. I'm starving."
They left the garbage dump behind, the sounds of Iron Fist's crew trying to figure out how to un-pretzel their leader fading into the distance.
Gray and Rat walked through the darkening streets, heading towards the industrial district.
Their destination was Warehouse 9.
From the outside, it looked like any other abandoned building, rusted metal doors, boarded-up windows, graffiti scarring its brick walls.
But to Gray, this was home.
He and Rat entered Warehouse 9 through a loose panel which served as a secret entrance.
The vast, echoey warehouse smelled faintly of dust, old grease, and instant noodles.
Several old couches and chairs were arranged around a low table made from stacked wooden pallets.
String lights dangled across some support beams, casting a warm, cozy glow.
On one wall, someone had spray-painted a stylized, slightly lopsided crown.
In the center of this makeshift living room, the scene was pure chaos.
"Die! Die! Die! Why won't you die?!" Knuckles, the big brawler, roared, furiously mashing buttons on an ancient game console controller.
He was hunched over a tiny, flickering portable TV screen, his face inches away, sweat beading on his forehead.
"This stupid final boss is cheating! I swear he's cheating!"
Leo, Gray's second-in-command, sat calmly on a lumpy couch nearby, engrossed in a worn paperback novel.
Without looking up, he said dryly, "Perhaps if you varied your attack pattern instead of just spamming the punch button, you might achieve a different outcome."
"Shut up, Leo! You don't understand high-level strategy!"
Knuckles shot back, immediately getting hit by a boss attack on screen. "Argh! See?! I lost because you distracted me!"
Meanwhile, Specs, the brains of the crew, was meticulously poking at the sputtering generator in the corner with a screwdriver, muttering to himself.
"Okay, the capacitor seems stable... maybe it's the voltage regulator? Or is the impedance just completely mismatched with this ancient power converter...? Damn it, Knuckles, stop yelling, your vibrations are messing with my readings!"
The air was filled with the frantic sounds of button mashing, Knuckles's enraged shouts, Leo's calm page-turning, Specs's frustrated technical mumbling, and the undeniable, comforting aroma of beef-flavored instant noodles simmering on a portable burner.
This was home. Gray was an orphan, his parents died when he was five.
Knuckles had run away from an abusive home.
Leo's family had disowned him.
Specs just... sort of showed up one day, declared their wiring inefficient, and started fixing things.
Rat's family didn't care where he was as long as he wasn't causing trouble at home.
They were a motley crew of strays, misfits who had found their own dysfunctional but fiercely loyal family here, in this rundown warehouse.
Gray's intelligence was his ticket out, the scholarship was his path to his dream—a "normal" future.
But this place, these guys, the fights… this was his real life.
"We're back!" Rat announced loudly as they stepped into the warehouse.
Knuckles didn't even look up from his game. "Did he win? Arghh! I almost had him! That stupid final boss..."
Leo marked his page with a finger and looked up, a calm smile on his face. "Judging by the fact that neither of you is being carried back in pieces, I assume it went well?"
"Went well?" Rat practically exploded.
"Leo, you should have seen it! Iron Fist used his ultimate move, the Iron Breaker! And Gray just—" He mimed catching something. "—caught it! With one hand! Then crunch! Broke his knuckles! Then bam! Knocked him out cold!"
Specs stopped tinkering, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Interesting. The estimated force calculation for the Iron Breaker technique suggested a high probability of fractured metacarpals upon direct interception. How did you do it, Gray?"
Gray just rolled his eyes and walked towards the steaming pot of noodles sitting on a portable burner. "Nah. He just hits like a girl."
He grabbed a bowl and started ladling noodles. "Anyone save me any?"
"Hey!" Knuckles finally paused his game, looking indignant. "I made those! And no, go cook your own!" He quickly went back to mashing buttons.
Leo chuckled. "There's another packet left, Gray. Help yourself."
Gray nodded his thanks and sat down on an old beanbag chair that leaked styrofoam beads whenever he moved.
He started slurping his noodles, the MSG-filled broth tasting like victory.
Rat excitedly recounted the entire fight, complete with sound effects.
Just as Rat finished his dramatic retelling, Leo looked up from his book again, his expression thoughtful. "Iron Fist was never really a threat," he stated calmly. "The one we should be worried about is the final boss."
The atmosphere in the warehouse shifted instantly.
Knuckles paused his game mid-jump. Specs stopped fiddling with a wire. Rat stopped bouncing.
All eyes turned to Gray, who was still casually slurping his noodles.
"Grandmaster Dan," Leo continued, a rare hint of excitement in his calm voice. "Beat him, Gray, and you'll finally be the King of Delinquents. The undisputed top dog of the entire district."
Specs adjusted his glasses, a small, calculating smile appearing. "Statistically, Grandmaster Dan commands the largest network. Defeating him would consolidate control over all major territories. A strategically sound objective."
Rat just looked at Gray with pure, unadulterated hero-worship. "King Gray..." he whispered in awe.
Knuckles slammed his controller down. "Hell yeah! Once you become the King Of Delinquents, we'll be considered as the strongest crew!"
The mention of being the strongest crew brought a smile to their faces, it was their dream to reach the top together!
Gray finished his noodles, set the bowl down, and leaned back in the leaky beanbag chair.
He looked at his friends, at their eager, expectant faces.
A slow, confident smirk spread across his face.
"Schedule the fight for next week." he said.
"Alright, I'll see what I can do." Leo nodded.
The brief moment of focus passed. Knuckles immediately picked his controller back up, yelling at the TV again.
Leo went back to reading his novel.
Specs went back to arguing with the generator's faulty wiring.
Rat started asking Gray for more details about the fight.
It was perfectly chaotic.
Gray's dual life was exhausting, but moments like these, surrounded by his loyal, idiotic friends in their ridiculous warehouse home... it made it all worth it.
…
A few weeks had passed since the fall of Iron Fist.
The name 'Gray' was now spoken in hushed, fearful tones throughout the district's back alleys.
Gray had systematically crushed every notable challenger, his reputation for unstoppable strength growing with each victory.
For him, however, it was just a prelude.
What he wanted was the title of 'King of Delinquents' which he would gain once he defeated the top dog of their district.
The final exams had been, as usual, a trivial affair.
He handed in his last paper, Advanced Thermodynamics, a full hour before the bell rang, ignoring the desperate, pleading looks from his classmates.
He'd aced it, of course. Maintaining his perfect academic record was crucial for his dream future.
…
As he was packing his bag, the classroom door opened. It was Mrs. Davison, the principal's secretary.
"Gray?" she called out, peering over her glasses. "Principal Thornton would like to see you in his office, please."
Gray paused.
A call to the principal's office usually meant trouble, but he knew his record was spotless. 'Probably just the standard 'congratulations on being a genius' speech,' he thought with an internal sigh.
"Okay, thank you, Mrs. Davison. I'll head right over."
He walked through the quiet, polished hallways towards the administrative wing.
Principal Thornton's office was large and intimidating, filled with dark wood furniture, imposing bookshelves, and awards the school had won.
The principal himself, a dignified man with sharp eyes, sat behind a massive desk.
"Ah, Gray! Come in, come in! Sit down!" Principal Thornton boomed, gesturing enthusiastically towards one of the plush chairs facing his desk.
"Good afternoon, Principal Thornton," Gray said politely, sitting down and adopting his usual quiet, respectful student persona. "You wanted to see me?"