Dead Gang Members

At the front of the house, Daniel found that the door had been busted in, the wood of the frame cracked open and splintered. He quickly drew his 9mm pistol and approached the open entrance with caution.

Peeking into the house, he was able to see numerous still bodies layed out on the floor of the interior. Each were young men of hispanic descent, all of them wearing red and white clothing. He saw no signs of gunshot wounds, though there were plenty of guns splayed out next to the bodies. Instead, the men looked like they had been beaten to ****, each of them showing massive bruising and obvious broken bones.

Daniel cautiously entered the domicile and, with weapon drawn, began to search. The walls of the house were covered in bullet holes, like the gangbangers were trying to shoot at something, but it was very obvious with all the corpses in the various rooms that they missed. One unfortunate young man looked like his skull had been caved in with a sledge hammer.

Eventually, the detective entered one of the bedrooms and found a young man wearing similar colors and tied to a chair. Although he was bruised and bloody like the others, there was a distinct difference between him and the rest of the corpses in the house. He was still alive.

"P-please...help..." the boy gasped, one of his eyes swollen shut whilst the other stared helplessly at him through all the blood.

"Jesus," Daniel muttered. He rushed towards the boy and attempted to untie his bonds, but they proved too tight.

"B-b-behind you..." the young man muttered.

Daniel whirled around, gun swiftly drawn up, but his movement was stopped when a strong grip grabbed onto his right wrist. He suddenly felt a powerful blow slam into his chest, the **** strong enough to send him flying backwards and crashing against a wall. Because of the rubber band, he remained uninjured. Despite this the punch had been so powerful that it managed to knock the wind out of him. His body slid down to the floor as he gasped and tried to regain his breath. His gun had fallen out of his hand and rolled under a nearby dresser.

"Well, ain't you a tough Chinaman," said a gruff voice. Dan looked up and saw that it belonged to a tall white man with a shaved head. He was bare chested, and all the exposed skin was covered in numerous tattoos. Most were of swastikas and other Aryan Brotherhood symbols. He also had various gold chains and pendants around his neck, which all-in-all made him look like a white, bald, racist Mr. T.

"I'm... Vietnamese..." Daniel coughed as he tried to stand.

The man laughed. "Well, shit. Gook, chink, don't care. You gonna die either way." The man laughed and walked over, grabbing Daniel by his neck and lifting. With the ease of lifting a child, the man hefted him up like he weighed nothing. "Still, gotta admit. You're tough. One punch from me killed these stupid wetbacks real good!"

"We aint... Mexican you stupid... fuck!" Cursed out the wounded boy.

"Hey, shut up!" The white man screamed. "I ain't talkin to ya!"

"Stanley Buchman, I presume?" Daniel managed to gasp out from the large man's tight grip.

"Yeah, how'd you know my name?"

"Lucky guess," Daniel stated before ramming his knee up into Buchman's chest.

Despite having super strength, Buchman was hardly invincible. So when the knee met his solar plexus, he gasped out in pain and stumbled back, releasing Daniel who fell to the floor. The detective followed up his attack with several quick punches to the gut as well as an uppercut to the jaw. Although the blows didn't have the power behind them of Buchman's punches, they did come from Daniel's immoveable, impenetrable flesh. Each blow felt like whaps from a metal baseball bat, and caused the tall man to stagger backwards several feet.

"You little fuck!" Buchman cursed through bleeding lips as he charged towards Daniel again, intent on smashing his skull in.

The detective didn't give him the chance, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the paperclip. With a wave of his hand, the chains around Buchman's neck suddenly tightened, causing the big man to stop in his charge and grasp at his throat. He struggled fiercely, his fingers pulling at the jewelry that was throttling him, trying desperately to get them off himself.

Daniel stood up straighter and waved the paperclip again, causing the chains to tighten even more. The detective gritted his teeth in fury as he waved his hand numerous times, each wave causing the chains to constrict even tighter. Bachman's face was red as a beet, his fingers now clawing at both skin and metal, desperately trying to get the ever tightening chains off. His eyes were wide and his mouth gasped out for air, but no mercy came. Daniel then flicked his wrist up, and the chains moved upwards, carrying the struggling Bachman up into the air only to stop when his head met the hard ceiling above. Daniel did this several more times, causing the big man to fly up and slam his skull into the ceiling, until eventually both the skull and ceiling cracked open.

With Bachman dead, Daniel allowed his control over the chains to fail. The large man's body collapsed into a heap, blood and brain leaking from his shattered face. The body began convulsing, arms and legs twitching in its final **** throes.

The detective merely watched as the red haze of the fury that had overtaken him faded. He looked down, shocked at the man he had just killed. True, it had been in self defense, but he thought that killing someone would have been harder. Everyone always told him that when you killed, it took something out of you. Daniel though... he felt calm. A bit shocked, yes, but calm. The fact that he had just killed this man did not bother him one bit. It felt... right, somehow.

The gurlgling cough brought Daniel out of his musings, and he looked over to the boy that was still tied up. Before rushing over to help him, though, Daniel searched Bachman's body for the ring. He found it, worn on the corpse's left middle finger. There was no doubt in his mind that this was the source of Bachman's unusual strength.

Daniel then went over to the young man and managed to untie his bonds. The boy thanked him profusely, and he helped him over to a nearby mattress to lie down. After making sure that he was still alive, Daniel quickly left the room. He found a telephone in the living room and dialed 911. When he heard the operator answer, he calmly wiped off his fingerprints from the phone's receiver before laying it down on the coffee table and rushing out the front door. He quickly hopped into Jim's car, then pushed the petal to the metal as he booked it.

He eventually slowed his speed once he got to the highway. The adrenaline, which had been pumping through him throughout the ordeal in the **** house, had finally worn off. It left him with an eerie sense of calm. Daniel looked up into the rear view mirror and saw his reflection. Despite the beating he took from Bachman, his face was completely unscratched. His suit had seen better days, sure, but his body was uninjured. He had survived.

He also looked down at his right hand. Around the index finger was the College Football Ring. It gleamed brightly in the setting sun. It was his. He had done it.

A small, almost demented smile appeared on the detective's face. Soon he'll have the complete set.