One Punch to the Head
Eason stepped off to the side, out of the battle zone. He just stood there, watching. A few meters ahead, Dave and Dark Benson faced each other—eyes locked, dead silent.
The air felt heavy. Like something was about to snap.
And then, just a few blocks away, on top of a five-story building, a man stood alone. He had put everything he owned into the stock market—and lost. Worse, he owed the loan sharks a small fortune.
He didn’t leave a note.
He just jumped.
A loud, wet thud echoed through the street.
That was the signal.
Dave launched forward—no warning, no buildup. Left hook, right hook, fast and hard.
Dark Benson didn’t flinch. He just tilted his body, slipping past the punches like it was nothing. Then he raised a finger, waggled it slowly, and said:
“No, no, no. Too slow, man. You’re not hitting me like that.”
Dave didn’t say a word. He just threw a straight punch.
Dark Benson stepped back, smug.
But Dave reached.
Arm fully extended—
and landed a clean shot right to his face.
Dark Benson’s head exploded like a watermelon.
Blood splashed everywhere.
Somehow, the only thing left was his mouth, jaw, and a chunk of neck.
But the mouth kept talking.
“Not bad,” it said. “Didn’t think you had that kind of reach.
You do yoga or something?”
Underwear Man
Dark Benson’s body stood upright—headless, but still moving.
He slowly backed away, like nothing had happened.
The blood and chunks of flesh that had splattered across the ground suddenly started wriggling—
then shot back toward his neck like they were being pulled by magnets.
Within seconds, his head was fully restored.
Good as new.
Dave saw it happen, and weirdly, it fired him up.
This guy really lived up to the hype.
His regeneration wasn’t just strong—it was godlike.
Dave charged forward, shouting:
“Fine! Then I’ll beat you until there’s nothing left to regenerate!”
Dark Benson smiled.
“That’s not gonna happen,” he said, calm as ever.
Dave threw another flurry of punches, fast and wild.
Dark Benson dodged them effortlessly—just a few lazy sways of his body, like he wasn’t even trying.
Then he paused.
Glanced down at his right shoe.
The shoelace had come undone.
He crouched down to tie it.
While he was tying his shoelace, Dave kept attacking—kicks, punches, the whole arsenal.
But none of it landed.
Dark Benson just kept tying his shoe, dodging every hit with casual little shifts of his body.
It was like he was bored.
It took him a full minute.
Finally, he finished tying the knot and slowly stood up.
Dave was still swinging.
Dark Benson dodged every strike as he rose—like he was brushing away flies.
Then he gave a low chuckle.
“Underwear Man,” he said,
“My turn.”
Claws and Blood
Dark Benson suddenly lunged forward, slashing the air in front of Dave with his claws.
The strike tore through the wind like invisible blades.
Dave quickly brought up his arms, crossed over his chest.
His forearms were dense with muscle—hard as steel.
The claws scraped against them with a metallic hiss, but barely left a scratch.
Just a few light marks.
No real damage.
Dark Benson sucked in a cold breath.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered. “Who the hell has a body that hard?”
Then he vanished.
Instantly—gone from sight.
That was one of his other abilities: teleportation.
And just a second later, he reappeared behind Dave.
Dave looked around, spinning in every direction—but couldn’t see him anywhere.
It was like he disappeared into thin air.
Right then, behind him—
Dark Benson gathered all his energy into his claws.
He slashed straight into Dave’s back.
Three deep lines ripped across his skin.
Shallow, but sharp enough to sting.
Dave screamed.
“Holy fuck!”
It hurt.
Even with a body like iron, the pain shot through him.
Dark Benson grinned quietly to himself.
You keep this up five more times… maybe ten, he thought.
I’ll take him down.
Dave spun around, catching a glimpse of Dark Benson—
but just as he did, the bastard disappeared again.
A second later—
another slash.
Same place.
Same three claw marks, but deeper.
This time, the skin split open.
Blood poured down his back.
Dave screamed again, louder this time.
“Holy FUCK! That one hurts more!”
Dark Benson didn’t say a word.
But in his head, he was already counting down.
Five more times… maybe ten…
The Stretch of Justice
But just before he could disappear again—
Dave twisted his waist with impossible speed.
His upper body spun 180 degrees—
legs still facing forward, spine bent like rubber.
His flexibility was completely insane.
In one smooth motion, he reached back—
and caught Dark Benson’s wrist.
Firm grip. Solid hold.
Dark Benson froze, shocked.
“How the hell did you react that fast?” he said.
Dave grinned.
“You disappear, then show up behind me. Every. Single. Time.
Even a dumbass like me can see the pattern.”
He tilted his head.
“Next time, try switching it up, yeah?”
Dark Benson tried to yank his arm free—
but before he could teleport again,
Dave’s other arm shot forward.
And kept going.
Two meters.
Three.
His arm stretched out like a rope.
Then Dave shouted:
“In the name of my dead teacher, Moonley—
I use the sacred stretching technique he taught me in yoga class…
to bind you here and now!”
His elongated arm wrapped around Dark Benson like a snake.
One loop. Two.
It circled his arms, his legs—tightening every time.
Locking him in place.
Dark Benson couldn’t move.
And far away, in a hospital bed on the other side of the city,
a man in a coma suddenly sneezed.
His name was Moonley.
And inside his mind, a groggy thought floated up:
WTF? They said I was dead?
I’m literally still alive.
A Nod, A Slash, A Goodbye
Dark Benson struggled in place for a full minute.
He twisted, jerked, and tried to break free from Dave’s stretchy grip—
but it was no use.
Eventually, he sighed.
“…I give up.”
That was it.
Dave had won.
He slowly released his hold, letting his arm coil back to normal, dropping Dark Benson to the ground.
At that moment, Eason walked over.
“All right,” he said. “Fight’s over. That was… honestly, kind of impressive.”
Dave nodded.
Still catching his breath.
He looked over at Eason.
“Your cousin’s strong. That fight actually taught me a lot.”
Eason smiled.
“Yeah, you’re both pretty insane.
But we’ve got something to take care of—me and my cousin.”
Then—
just as Dave let his guard down—
Dark Benson spun around and clawed him across the face.
Three sharp lines.
A flash of pain.
Blood.
Dave stumbled back.
“What the hell was that for!?”
Dark Benson replied calmly, “That was for the punch you gave me earlier.”
Dave was clearly pissed.
The fight was over, and he still pulled that crap?
Eason stepped in again.
“Easy,” he said. “Let it go.”
He turned to Dave.
“We’ve got to go.
Catch you next time.”
And just like that, the three of them parted ways.
The two cousins walked off in one direction.
Dave walked off alone, in the other.
Karl’s Lab
Eason and Dark Benson walked side by side down a quiet road.
The fight was over, but the silence between them lingered.
Eventually, Dark Benson glanced sideways.
“So… what now?”
Eason exhaled slowly.
“I’m taking you to someone.”
“Friend of yours?”
“Not exactly,” Eason said. “He’s my boss. Name’s Karl. He runs a company called Deepsuck.”
Dark Benson raised an eyebrow.
“Deepsuck? That some kind of cult?”
“Feels like one,” Eason muttered. “But no—it’s a biotech lab. Karl’s the CEO. Rich, smart… and dying.”
They kept walking.
Eason continued, “He’s got a neurodegenerative disease—same kind Stephen Hawking had. Body shutting down, voice fading, everything going bit by bit. But his brain’s still sharp. Sharp enough to realize he doesn’t have much time left.”
“And you think I can help him?”
“Karl thinks so. He wants to study your genetics. Says your body’s unique. High-speed regeneration, impossible flexibility, whatever it is—you’re not normal. He believes there might be something in your biology that could help him… maybe even reverse his condition.”
Dark Benson didn’t answer right away.
Eason added, “He’s not trying to hurt you. No cutting, no crazy experiments. Just scans, data, maybe a few samples. Non-invasive stuff. And…”
He looked over.
“…he’s willing to pay. Millions. If you help him, we both walk away rich.”
Dark Benson kept walking.
After a long pause, he said,
“…If it helps someone, and it doesn’t kill me…
Fine.”
Eason nodded.
Up ahead, the road stretched toward the horizon.
Somewhere in that direction, inside a cold white lab, Karl was waiting.
Would this meeting change anything?
Could a dying man find hope in the DNA of a monster?
We’ll find out next time.