WONWOO

There was going to be blood tonight.

That was what came into mind as Wonwoo stared at the abomination infront of him, a man whose body was covered in raging muscles, threatening to burst out of his skin. The criminal was screaming hard as muscles continued to pop-out in different parts of his already muscular frame, the vial he took a sip from moments ago shattered in his hand.

Wonwoo could feel the sudden change of emotions in the air. The familiar feel of anger, frustration, fear was replaced with confidence, the urge to kill and strangely, pleasure.

Why would he sense pleasure?

"You're dead meat boy" The older man said to him, his tone almost guttural. He threw the pieces of glass right at Wonwoo, the force in his throw was enough to make the shards as deadly and efficient as a normal dagger. Wonwoo quickly dodged.

That weird looking liquid the man took; it must've been something freaky that allowed the normal looking felon to turn into an unrecognizable muscle-filled psycho.

Could it be a power amplifying potion of some sort? He’d heard of those types of things before and knew that some people used them to strengthen and develop the gifts they have. But what type of concoction could turn a man into a monster?

Wonwoo eyed his opponent. There was still a tiny amount of fear in him and anger, Wonwoo sensed it. In all his years fighting crime, Wonwoo has discovered that anger was the easiest emotion to influence. Sometimes, all it needs is a little push.

"Big words for someone who was half my size a few moments ago” Wonwoo replied, his right hand already creeping towards his gun holster.

It hit a nerve in the man, annoyance visible in his face. Wonwoo could feel his emotions, anger, jolt as if it was still water disturbed by a pebble, sending ripples of irritation throughout his being.

The man grabbed the metal trash dumpster beside him and hauled it over his head.

“Who’s the tiny one now punk!” The man said, his voice guttural as he threw the metal waste container right at Wonwoo.

Wonwoo ducked ever so quickly as the metal object flew right past him and pulled out his gun. But before he could fire, the man was already infront of him, fist clenched.

Wonwoo did what he always did best, dodge. He wasn’t like his friends; whose powers were competent during fights and battles or useful in healing others. His was the ability to sense and, sometimes, manipulate feeling and emotions. At a young age, this made him realize that he shouldn’t only rely on his power if he wanted to become a hero. He had to rely on himself, his own strength.

“Even with that power-up, you’re still too slow” Wonwoo taunted.

His opponent roared in rage as he threw punch after punch, kick after kick. Wonwoo held his ground, gripping hard on his hand gun as he avoided every assault. Compared to his opponent, Wonwoo’s movements were slower, a little sluggish, his past mentors would say. But what he lacked in speed and raw power, he made up with good reflexes and intelligence.

Wonwoo saw the next