“Our attitudes are fostered by a society built on ideas of dominance, where the solution to crises are force and action, rather than reflection and compromise.” ~Frankie Boyle

In 2326, Anthropolis had forgotten how to die quietly. I heard the city scream even when nobody else did. It groaned through broken towers and cracked skybridges, through sewer grates coughing black steam, through neon signs flickering over streets full of ash and teeth. Every sound felt alive, like the city wasn’t just falling apart, it was resisting death, clawing to stay awake long after it should’ve collapsed.

The old world called this place progress. I called it a warning. I dominated and destroyed Byson Kaliban and now, I feel unstoppable. And right then, standing in the middle of the rundown street with blood drying on my face and rain sliding down my neck, I felt like the only thing in the city louder than the screams. And Anthropolis was about to learn it the hard way.

Thirty men stood in front of me, blocking the street like they thought numbers meant something. Behind me, Chris leaned against a burned-out hover bus, arms folded, calm as ever like we weren’t seconds away from turning another gang into a memory.

“You know,” Chris said, voice low, almost bored, “they still have time to apologize.”

I smirked, rolling my jaw as the ache settled in. “You ever notice nobody ever picks that option?”

“People hate good ideas.”

Figures.

One of them stepped forward—the leader, I assumed. Tall, silver teeth, coat stitched together like he’d robbed three different closets and called it style.

“This district belongs to the Hollow Saints,” he said.

I laughed. Not loud. Not forced. Just enough. That name alone told me everything I needed to know. Anthropolis was full of groups like this—people who thought giving themselves a dramatic title made them dangerous. Like the name did the work for them. Like fear could be outsourced. Just like those stupid Amoralists that brought me here.

I stepped closer.

“You ever hear something so stupid it makes your day better?” I asked Chris.

“Just now, actually.”

Silver Teeth frowned. “You walk through our territory, you pay tribute.”

That word hit something in me. Not because of what it meant, but because of how familiar it felt. And just like that, for a split second, Anthropolis wasn’t there anymore. I was back in my hometown.

Smithville, TN, Summer 2025.

The feeling of warm air along with the quiet roads. That soft orange sky stretching over hills that didn’t look like they wanted to kill you. Chris and I were standing outside a gas station, leaning on my car, watching some guy lose his mind over nothing.

I remember the way Chris had said it:

“Some people wake up and think the whole world belongs to them.”

And I remember my answer.

“Yeah. Until somebody reminds them it doesn’t.”

Back then, that kind of thinking felt like attitude. Now, it felt like survival. It had rained earlier that day…one of those steady spring rains that soaked into everything instead of just passing through. The roads still glistened under the streetlights, and the air had that smell… wet pavement mixed with fresh grass and something clean you don’t appreciate until it’s gone.

Chris and I were sitting on the hood of my car behind the high school, feet resting on the bumper, watching the last of the clouds drift apart.

“You ever notice,” Chris said, tossing a pebble into the lot, “how nothing ever really happens here?”

I snorted. “Depends on what you’re looking for.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “Same roads. Same people. Same arguments. It’s like the whole town’s stuck on repeat.”

I leaned back on my hands, looking up at the sky. Back then, the sky didn’t feel like it was watching you.

“It’s not stuck,” I said. “It’s just… steady.”

Chris glanced at me. “You hate steady.”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I do.”

He smiled a little. “Figures.”

There was a pause. Just the hum of distant traffic and the soft drip of water off the edge of the building. Then he said it.

"You’re gonna leave one day.”

Not a question.

I didn’t answer right away.

Because the truth was…I already knew. The memory snapped away, replaced by rain, rust, and thirty bad decisions standing in front of me.

Anthropolis, April 2326

I looked Silver Teeth dead in the eyes.

“Tribute?” I said. “Yeah. I got something for you.”

The first one rushed me. Big mistake. I moved before he finished committing it. Grabbed his wrist, twisted until I felt something give, and drove my head straight into his face. Bone cracked. He dropped like the city owed him gravity. Everything after that blurred into instinct. Chain swung, duck, step in, body shot.

Another came high…block, elbow, drop him. I grabbed Silver Teeth by the front of his coat and slammed him into the hover bus hard enough to rattle the frame.

Once.

Twice.

Third time…

“Dan.”

Chris’s voice cut through me just enough.

I stopped. Silver Teeth slid down, leaving a smear behind like the city had signed off on him being done. I turned back to the others. Slow. Deliberate. Rain hitting my shoulders, mixing with the blood on my hands.

“This,” I said, holding up my fists, “is the tribute.”

They hesitated which is a good thing. Fear spreads faster than confidence ever could. One dropped his weapon, while another ran. The rest made their choice, so I made mine. The fight wasn’t clean. It never is.

They came at me like desperation could fix bad instincts. I met them with everything I had left in me…knees, elbows, fists, whatever landed first. One clipped me across the cheek, and I tasted blood. I smiled anyway.

Chris stepped in when needed, quiet and precise, taking people apart like he was solving a problem instead of fighting one. That’s how we worked. I was the storm and he was the edge inside it.

When it was over, the street was quiet again. Or as quiet as Anthropolis ever got. I crouched in front of Silver Teeth, still breathing, barely.

“You tell everyone,” I said, voice low, steady, “Dan walked through here. And your territory didn’t stop him.”

I stood up and walked away before he could answer. Chris fell in beside me.

“You really going to do this?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Take the whole city personally.”

“Someone already does,” I said. “I just don’t like who it is.”

Smithville, TN; Summer 2025

We were at Center Hill Lake, sitting near the water where the rocks met the edge. The sun was high, warm but not brutal, and the lake stretched out smooth except for the ripples from passing boats. Chris was skipping stones. I was throwing them. Hard. Straight down.

“You ever try not destroying everything you touch?” he asked without looking at me.

“It’s a rock.”

“It’s a pattern.”

I picked up another one, weighed it in my hand.

“You analyzing me now?”

“Somebody has to.”

I threw it harder than the last. It sank immediately. Chris sighed. “You don’t always have to prove something.”

I looked at him. “Yeah? Then why does it feel like I do?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just watched the water. Then…

“Because you think if you don’t, people will walk over you.”

That hit closer than I liked. I scoffed anyway. “That happens.”

“Sometimes,” he said. “But not always.”

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees.

“You don’t get it.”

Chris smiled faintly. “I get it more than you think.”

Another pause. Then he added, quieter…

“I just don’t let it run me.”

Anthropolos, 2326

The memory fades as we kept moving. Anthropolis shifted around us, like it was paying attention now. The Dead Market came into view, glowing under broken lights and bad intentions. People watched us. Then they didn’t. That’s how respect worked here…eye contact, then survival instincts kicking in. We found who we were looking for. His name is Voss. Funny, how I’ve been in this damn city and timeline for only a couple of months, but it seems like I know everyone and everything here. I hate it here and want to be home with my kid and family, but I have to make the best of the bad situation.

Voss has the same twitchy energy. Same wires running into his head like he’d plugged himself into secrets and couldn’t unplug.

“You’re making noise,” he said.

“Good,” I answered. “Where’s the Spire access?”

He hesitated. Chris didn’t say anything. Neither did I. That silence did more work than threats ever could. Eventually, Voss handed over the disc.

“East transit ruins,” he said. “It’ll get you under it. After that… you’re on your own.”

“Always are,” I muttered.

We didn’t make it ten steps before the world exploded. Fire tore through the market. People screamed. And then the voice came. Cold. Clean. Controlled.

“Daniel.”

I looked up to see drones and figures. I could tell they were sent by someone from the Amoralists. I didn’t quite know who sent them, but it was as if I knew the name and everything about the figure. The figure spoke.

“I’ve been watching you,” he said. “You mistake destruction for dominance.”

I wiped blood from my mouth.

“Come down here and tell me that.”

“I prefer observation.”

Of course he did. Shots fired. Blue-white energy ripping through everything. Chris grabbed someone out of the way. I flipped a table and took the hits head-on, the shock rattling through my arms.

“Move!” Chris shouted.

We ran. Alleys blurred past. Smoke, fire, screams—Anthropolis showing off again. And somewhere in the chaos, another memory hit me.

Smithville-2025.

It’s pitch-black dark and the storm was rolling in. We were driving with the windows down, letting the wind rush through the car while thunder built in the distance. Chris had his arm resting on the door, staring out at the fields as lightning lit them up in flashes.

“You ever think about what you’d do if everything just… disappeared?” he asked.

“Like what?”

“Everything. Town. People. Life as you know it. Gone.”

I laughed. “That’s dramatic.”

“Answer it.”

I thought for a second. Then I shrugged.

“I’d survive.”

Chris nodded slowly.

“I know you would.”

Something in his tone made me glance over.

“That’s not the question,” he added.

I frowned. “Then what is?”

Lightning flashed again, bright enough to turn the road white for a split second. Chris looked straight ahead.

“Who would you be after?”

Anthropolis, 2326

I didn’t really answer him then nor did I now either. But the thought stayed with me as we dropped into the dark and quiet tunnel. It was just the two of us. We walked a bit before Chris stopped me.

“This thing you’re doing,” he said, “you sure it’s about survival?”

I exhaled.

“Partly.”

“And the rest?”

I hesitated which didn’t happen often.

“I don’t know how to lose everything,” I admitted. “So, I fight it instead.”

Chris nodded.

“Just don’t lose yourself doing it.”

We climbed into the Spire. And everything after that felt inevitable. The Amoralists, The Figure, the fight, the pain. The moment where I had him in my hands and could’ve ended it but didn’t because Chris was right. Because Smithville still existed somewhere inside me. Because dominance isn’t about doing whatever you want. It’s about choosing what you don’t become.

When I broadcast across the city, standing over Voss, blood on my face, Chris at my side…I meant every word.

“This city doesn’t belong to fear anymore.”

And for the first time since I woke up in 2326…I believed it.

When we stepped outside, the sun was starting to rise. It wasn’t much, but just a weak light cutting through broken towers. However, it was enough. Chris bumped my shoulder.

“What now?”

I looked out over Anthropolis. I looked out over everything that tried to break us, and I smiled.

“Now?” I said. “We run it.”

And this time…The city didn’t argue. I am the Paramount champion. And as long as I’m here, Anthropolis is my bitch.

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“Last week… you all saw it. No rumors. No “he said, he said.” No excuses left to hide behind. You watched me walk into that ring with Byson Kaliban one last time—and you watched me walk out still the Paramount Champion. Not by luck. Not by some fluke moment. I beat him the way I always said I would… straight on, no escape, no doubt. I broke whatever illusion he had left that he belonged in my shadow. I destroyed and ended him once and for all…

Byson, you kept crawling back, talking like you were inevitable. Like you were some kind of plague that couldn’t be wiped out. But last week? That was the cure. That was the moment the story ended for you. I didn’t just beat you—I closed the book, slammed it shut, and threw it into the fire. You gave me everything you had left. I’ll give you that. You fought like a man who knew this was his last shot. But that’s the difference between us—I don’t have “last shots.” I don’t run out. I don’t fade. I don’t disappear when the lights get too bright and the pressure gets too real. I rise every time. And when you stepped across from me, Byson, you weren’t facing a rival anymore—you were standing in front of the standard. The line nobody crosses. The wall nobody breaks. And you hit it. Hard. I sent you packing and never to be heard or seen from again. I told you I would end you and I did exactly that. Now you’re behind me. Exactly where you belong…

But the funny thing about being at the top? There’s always somebody waiting, thinking they’ve got the angle, thinking they’ve found the moment…

Yuri.

Yeah… I felt that. You didn’t come out and say it with words—you said it with your hands. You waited until the war was over, until I’d already gone through hell, and then you struck. You thought catching me off guard would shake me. Thought it would rattle me. Thought it would make you look dangerous…

Let me make something clear. All you did…was wake me up. Because now I know exactly who you are. You’re not chaos. You’re not some unstoppable force. You’re somebody who needed a shortcut to get noticed—and you picked the worst possible target. You picked me. And now you don’t get to fade back into the background. You don’t get to hide behind that sneak attack and pretend it was just a moment. No. Now it’s a problem. My problem. And I solve problems one way…

You want to make your name off me? Then you better be ready to stand in front of me, look me in the eye, and deal with everything that comes with it. Because I don’t deal with half-measures. I don’t forget. And I don’t let things slide just because somebody thought they were clever for five seconds…

You took your shot. Now I will take mine. And when I do, it’s not going to be from behind. It’s not going to be cheap. It’s going to be right there in the open where everybody can see exactly what happens when you step into my world without understanding the cost. I’m going to tear through that confidence you’re walking around with. I’m going to strip away that illusion you’ve built around yourself, piece by piece, until all that’s left is the truth…

And the truth is simple. You’re not ready for me. Not for this. Not for what it takes to stand across from someone who has already proven—week after week, fight after fight—that this championship isn’t something I hold. It’s something I am. This title doesn’t make me. I make it. And last week was just another reminder of that…

Byson Kaliban found out the hard way what happens when you refuse to accept your place. He found out what it feels like to give everything you’ve got and still come up short when it matters most. He found out that no matter how many times he got back up, he was still stepping into my ending. And Yuri? You’re next in line. You don’t get the worn-down version of me. You don’t get the aftermath. You don’t get a shortcut through somebody else’s fight. You get me. Focused. Ready. And fully aware of exactly what you tried to do…

So, when we meet—when there’s nowhere left to run, nowhere left to hide behind surprise or timing—you’re going to understand something really quick. There’s a difference between making noise and becoming the storm. You wanted attention. Now you’ve got it. You wanted to step into this spotlight. Now you’re going to feel the heat that comes with it. Because I’m still here. Still standing. Still champion. Still the one name this whole place revolves around whether they like it or not…

Byson’s gone. His chapter is over. Yuri’s just beginning. And I promise you this…It’s not going to end the way you think it will. The ENDD is near, Yuri. Can you feel it?”

“The effect of dominance is not always the result of an intention to dominate.” ~ Deborah Tannen