Except for Clarke.

Clarke tore through the metal, breaking his way through like a ship in an ice floe. In the end, still technically inside the warehouse, he looked back and nodded at the destruction, confident that no one could have survived something like that. He turned to leave to find a place to sleep for the night, when he heard a metal pipe fall to the floor from just around the corner. Perhaps another thug had survived, Clarke wondered, as he moved in to investigate.

Clarence had seen the whole fight from the shadows, if one could call the one-sided slaughter a fight. He knew that this man wasn’t ordinary and could easily kill him. Clarence had tried to get away after the roof collapsed, but had slipped over an iron pipe and now watched as the homeless man stood over him. Clarence tried to cover himself with an arm as tears of fear streaked down his face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he shouted quickly between sobs. “I didn’t hurt anyone! I’ve only been in the gang for a month! I swear, I haven’t done anything! Please don’t kill meee!!”

Clarke looked at the small man, thinking that it would just be cruel to kill someone so pathetic. Still, even the frail could be molded into dangerous criminals, as he had seen in the past. Wiping this one out wouldn’t be too harsh a loss for society. Clarke reached down and grabbed Clarence by the neck, lifting him easily.

Clarence grabbed onto Clarke’s wrists, holding himself up as best he could. He struggled, giving himself just enough room to talk. “What do you want?!” he begged. “I’ll do anything!!”

“Could you give back the money you stole from your victims?” Clarke asked. “Their property? Their lives?”

“I haven’t taken anything!” Clarence shouted quickly. “Yesterday was the first time they had me do anything and you stopped us at the hospital! I was just their punching bag. I had to join or else they would’ve killed me and my parents!”

Reading his expression, Clarke could tell the young man wasn’t lying. He had bruises along his arms that seemed to confirm his story. He probably had matching bruises along his legs and chest. Clarke decided to drop the man, but kept him well within his radius, just in case the little punk tried to run off. Clarence landed on his rear, too surprised to run off.

“You… are you going to spare me?” Clarence asked.

“Hardly,” Clarke said. “By giving in to the gang and joining them, you’ve only helped strengthen their numbers and domination. You should have fought them.”

“Are you kidding?!” Clarence shouted. “They would have killed me!”

“Better to die on one’s feet than live on one’s knees.”

Clarence was in huge trouble. He had seen what this guy was capable of, and yet, he hadn’t killed him yet. He was careful not to make any sudden movements, until Clarke lowered himself to one knee, looking at Clarence at eye level.