**The year 2760, Earth**
On the busy freeway in the Outer City, where automated cars and bikes raced across the streets, a barely adult young man walked with his head hung low along the foot traffic, lost in his own thoughts. Clad in the common black hooded garb paired with trendy loose trousers, he was practically indistinguishable in the similarly dressed crowd.
A common techno-mask covered his face—an essential part of clothing nowadays to filter the toxic fumes and harmful grains from the Outer City atmosphere, a consequence of its proximity to the Wastelands. Along with this mask, he also wore a small earpiece, an ID watch, and airtight goggles—all maintaining the current fashion sense of the city. For him, like every inhabitant of the Outer City, these things were must-haves to survive here.
Crey Morgan strode at a slow, unhurried pace, keeping with the flow of the crowd as he was in no particular hurry to reach his destination. Actually, he was on his way home (or shop, as both were pretty much the same) after a quick delivery of a gadget they had repaired. With evening setting in, the bright neon signs of the stores along the street began to glow, shimmering to attract the attention of potential customers.
He strolled forward, lost in his thoughts, when suddenly a fight broke out ahead, shattering the relative calm of the surroundings. Commotion erupted as curses and whistles ignited the atmosphere, and the crowd parted to give the aggressors space to duke it out between themselves. Still, the eager audience pressed in to form an outer ring just a few meters away, eager to enjoy this crass duel.
*"Beat him, Jim…"*
*"Ooohhh…."*
*"Kill! Kill! Kill!"*
*"Pfff, babe! I can beat him in two seconds...huh..."*
Random jeers and shouts floated amid the loud din of incoherent voices and noises. Though the surrounding mob was interested in the scuffle, the young man—who, by chance, had been pushed into the inner band of the audience due to random shoving—was not the least bit interested in watching a street fight.
He halted himself forcefully, pushing against the current to avoid being shoved to the center. Crey cursed under his breath, but as he was about to turn back to disappear into the crowd, he suddenly realized it was too late. The stage and audience were already set. He was now practically in the middle of the bordering ring of these transient spectators, and getting out would be more hassle than just waiting for the fight to end.
*"Ah! Come on… I don't want to watch some cockfight. I'm getting late for dinner."*
Crey grumbled, but his complaint went unheard by the adrenaline-fueled crowd. Thus, as a victim of the sentient prehistoric urge to revel in violence, he was doomed to wait until either the two men finished their fight or the audience lost interest.
Fights like these were common in the outlawed Outer Cities, where law and order were as fleeting as smog clouds in the sky. Because any fight that broke out had a ninety percent chance of ending in blood and gore, they contributed to their massive popularity among crude audiences. Though it was the 28th century now, people were still as eager to witness murder as they had been in ancient times.
*'F*ck! I'm tired of these already. I swear…'*
The lanky youngster thought but stayed put, careful not to get pushed into the middle of the fight by some chaos-lovers. But suddenly, the fistfight happening a few meters away turned into something else. The bald man howled in anger and grew sharp, bony claws from his fingers, popping them out with a splash of blood and tissue. He pounced forward and ripped apart the throat of his opponent, who had already pissed his pants upon seeing his normal rival suddenly turn into an *'Evolved.'*
*Evolved Humans* were those who had taken the expensive, regulated (or non-regulated), and rare military-grade gene recombination drug, which enabled the modification of human genes toward their peak potential. Unlocking such potential often led to mutations in the human body, bestowing superhuman abilities upon Evolved humans, along with enhanced strength, durability, and speed.
*"...Level 2 Evolved?"* Crey raised his brows in confusion.
But alas, the activation of this drug was not a pleasant occasion, as it often led to temporary loss of sanity—just like in this case. The sudden disruption and panic that broke out in the crowd drowned Crey's barely audible whisper as the onlookers grew terrified upon realizing one of the quarreling men was actually an Evolved. And if he was here… in the Outer City, that could only mean three things—and none of them were good.
Therefore, reasonably fearing for their lives, the audience—who had earlier encouraged the fight—began fleeing like headless chickens in all directions, praying not to be chased by the Evolved devil. Of course, such an abrupt stampede led to one or two onlookers being crushed in the crowd. The young man, stuck too close to the fight, had no chance to run at the first opportunity.
*"Damn! And that's why I was hoping not to get caught up in this mess. Now y'all are going nuts after seeing red. I hate these street fights. F*cking nuisance!"*
The boy cursed while trying to follow the mad crowd in a random direction. Maybe because he was the only one with a cool head among the panicked mob, he managed to escape the chaos without being trampled—or trampling anyone else. As for helping people—come on! His own life was in jeopardy. Who had time to play hero?
The furious Evolved, his mind lost to the awakening, chased the crowd, slashing wildly with his claws to rip them apart. Right now, he was nothing more than an enraged beast with no rationality. And in such circumstances, nothing but relentless slaughter or a brutal brawl could calm this *'human with one hand of the devil'* down.
Acting purely on instinct, as fate would have it, he chose to chase in the direction where the young man was. In one fast dash, he was among the staggering group, slashing widely to slaughter the defenseless people.
Amid the cries of pain, terror, and a frantic shower of blood and gore, the Evolved lunged for Crey, who now found himself the next victim in line to be chopped down by the monster.
Crey, however, didn't lose his mind in horror like the others. Instead, he just sighed at his bad luck and stopped running to confront the Evolved.
*"Ugh… I'm surely going to be late."*