After that day, Daniel kept trying to hang out with Wayne, even though Wayne clearly didn't want anything to do with him. Sometimes, Daniel tried to talk normally, but he always ended the conversation with something weird or crazy. Other times, he just did stupid things — like pretending to be a superhero or pouring water on himself and screaming, "I'm melting!" — which always annoyed Wayne so much that he ended up punching Daniel just to shut him up.
Daniel even tried to introduce Wayne to other weird, mentally unstable patients — people who mumbled to themselves, laughed without reason, or stared at walls like zombies. Wayne didn't care about any of them.
In the end, Daniel had made such a strong impression that every time Wayne saw him, his lips twitched in irritation, and for some strange reason, he always felt the urge to punch Daniel's face.
"He's the perfect rage baiter. Maybe that's what he wants," Wayne thought, his expression darkening.
It was late at night, and Wayne returned to his white, empty room. There was nothing to do — no books, no clocks, no noise, just blank walls and silence. Only one thing in this whole place ever stood out — that idiot Daniel and his ridiculous antics.
"He's probably just acting. Who cares what he really is? I'm not interested in his past anyway," Wayne muttered in his head as his heavy eyelids finally closed.
Slowly, he drifted off into sleep.
---
Kill…
Kill…kill…
Kill…kill…kill…Kill…Kill…kill…kill…kill…kill…
A creepy voice echoed inside Wayne's head — soft at first, but slowly growing louder and louder. It felt like it was scratching his brain from the inside, repeating the same dark word over and over.
Wayne's body started trembling in his sleep. His eyebrows twitched, and his breathing grew heavier. It looked like he was struggling — like he wanted to wake up but couldn't.
Then suddenly—
BAM!!
A punch hit his face, hard.
Wayne gasped and his eyes flew open wide.
"The fuck?!" he shouted, confused and dizzy.
He blinked a few times… and froze.
He wasn't in his bed.
He was standing up.
The hallway was pitch black. The power was out since it was night time— no lights, no buzzing sound, just darkness and the cold smell of blood.
And then… he saw it.
Corpses. Everywhere.
Nurses, doctors, and patients were lying on the ground — twisted, broken, and covered in blood. Some had been stabbed, others had their ribs torn open like paper. One man's eyeballs were popped out, still hanging by threads.
Wayne's stomach turned. He almost threw up.
"What the hell happened here…?" he whispered in horror.
That's when he saw him.
Daniel.
He stood there with a wide, sunny smile, holding a pair of bloody operation scissors in his hand like it was a toy.
Blood dripped from his clothes. There were bruises on his body and a small cut on his cheek — but he looked cheerful, as if this was all just a game to him.
Wayne quickly looked down at himself.
There was a crowbar in his hand. It was also covered in blood. His arms had some light bruises too — and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum.
"Did… did I fight him while I was still asleep?" he thought, confused and breathing hard.
It looked like he had defended himself without even knowing it. He didn't remember anything — no fighting, no screaming — yet there he was, standing in the middle of a massacre.
"Wait, what the hell happened to Daniel?! He was normal just yesterday! Why did he kill everyone?!"
His hands shook slightly as he tightened his grip on the crowbar.
Before Daniel or Wayne could say anything, a loud and heavy voice suddenly echoed in the room.
"Fucking idiot!"
The voice was deep and rough, like that of a middle-aged man. Wayne quickly turned his head toward the direction of the sound. What he saw made his whole body freeze.
A huge man stood there. He looked like he was once a bodybuilder, but now his body had grown slightly round and soft, like he had stopped training for some years. His skin was a bit dark, and his eyes were burning with anger. A large tattoo covered a long scar on his face, making him look terrifying—like someone you'd expect to see on a wanted poster or in the news for something horrible.
Wayne's eyes widened in shock. He remembered this man clearly.
That man looked around forty-five or forty-six years old. And Wayne had seen him a long time ago, when he was just a child—maybe around eight years old. It was the same day when the popular cartoon "Fable vs Child Emperor" got banned on television.
This man… he was the hitman who killed Turkey's president.
"No way… What is he doing here? Has he been hiding in this place all these years? He's definitely here to kill Daniel, right?" Wayne's thoughts raced as fear gripped his chest.
Maybe the hitman had gone into hiding here after committing the assassination. But now, because Daniel caused a scene and made such a loud mess, it must have ruined the hitman's cover.
Wayne's body shivered. "I need to escape while that guy kills Daniel," he quickly decided.
But then something strange happened.
The hitman's angry eyes turned—not toward Daniel—but toward Wayne.
"What…?" Wayne whispered, his whole body stiffening as the man began to walk toward him, step by heavy step.
"Fucking demon in human skin!" the man shouted with rage. Then, without any warning, he raised his big hand and—
BAM!
A strong punch landed right on Wayne's face. The blow was so powerful that it sent him flying across the room. His back slammed against the wall, and he gasped as all the air escaped from his lungs. He coughed hard, and a bit of spit flew from his mouth.
He struggled to get up, knees shaking and pain shooting through his chest.
"Don't tell me… it was actually me who did it?" he mumbled, confused and scared.
Daniel stood nearby and answered in a calm, casual voice, as if nothing serious was happening.
"So you don't remember, huh? You were kinda cool back then. You went kacha-kacha and smash-smash. I liked it. So I decided to help you and killed the ones who ran from you. But later… you started attacking me too."
Daniel spoke so carelessly, even with a dangerous hitman standing right next to them.
The hitman cracked his knuckles with a loud sound. His face twisted with anger as he growled, "Are you two done talking? Since everyone else is dead, I'll just kill you both and end this. Then I'll clean everything up with the help of the Continentals!"
Wayne's heart pounded in his chest. He knew he didn't stand a chance against a trained killer. And Daniel? He looked too carefree and insane to be trusted.
Still… Wayne needed help. He had no choice.
He turned toward Daniel with a nervous smile and asked, "Can we team up? Maybe we can fight him or at least escape together?"
But inside his mind, darker thoughts were forming fast.
"If I get the chance, I'll run and leave Daniel behind. He's crazy enough to actually try fighting this guy, so maybe he'll buy me enough time to get away," he thought, a sly smirk forming on his lips.
But then Daniel gave him a reply that crushed all his hope.
"Nope! Don't wanna."
Wayne's lips twitched as anger rushed to his face. "Why you…!" he growled. He clenched his fists tightly, really tempted to slap Daniel hard across the face.
But Daniel simply looked away, his voice calm but stubborn. "Because you're not my friend," he said. "Be my friend, and as friends, we'll protect each other." He looked at Wayne, waiting for a reply.
However, the hitman wasn't planning to wait around for their friendly talk. He charged straight at Wayne with fast punches. But Wayne, quick on his feet, backed away just in time and barely dodged the incoming attack.
"Not bad," the hitman grinned crazily. "Most kids shut their eyes when a punch comes flying at them!"
Wayne took a deep breath, trying to stay focused. "What can I say… I got beaten by my parents so much that punches don't scare me anymore," he thought bitterly as he kept dodging.
Realizing his attacks weren't working, the hitman turned his attention toward Daniel—and especially the sharp operation scissors in Daniel's hand.
The hitman swung his fist sideways, expecting Daniel to step back or dodge. But Daniel did something unexpected. He swung his own fist straight ahead, clashing directly with the hitman's punch.
A loud cracking sound echoed.
Daniel's fingers bent backward unnaturally, his bones snapping in a sickening way.
"Ahh—damn it!" Daniel cried out and jumped back, trying to hide the pain on his face.
The hitman let out a mocking laugh. "What were you even expecting?" Then, without wasting a second, he kicked Daniel hard in the face, almost knocking one of his teeth out.
Daniel collapsed on the floor, groaning. "This must be my unluckiest day ever…" he muttered.
Just then—bam!—Wayne suddenly attacked the hitman from behind. He swung a crowbar directly at the back of the hitman's head. But because Wayne was shorter, the blow only hit the man's neck. It wasn't strong enough to bring him down.
Slap!
The hitman turned around and gave Wayne a heavy slap with his big, rough hand. The blow knocked the crowbar out of Wayne's grip and sent him crashing to the floor right next to Daniel.
Wayne's vision spun. "That slap felt like getting hit with a hammer… Is this guy even human?" he thought while holding his cheek and groaning.
He glanced sideways at Daniel, who was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling without blinking.
"What are you doing?!" Wayne asked in frustration.
Daniel let out a long sigh. "Nothing… Just thinking about all the stuff I wanted to do before I die. Such a shame… so many regrets."
Wayne rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. "Cut it out! I know you're faking." Then, after a short pause and a deep sigh, he added, "Fine. I agree. We're friends. Let's team up already."
Daniel's eyes lit up with energy. His expression brightened like sunshine. "Awesome! But 'team' sounds kind of weak, right? Let's call it a foundation instead. Yeah! Foundation sounds better!" he said, already standing back up.
Wayne breathed heavily, then pushed himself off the ground and slowly stood up beside him.
Meanwhile, the hitman picked up the same crowbar Wayne had dropped earlier. He held it tightly, planning to kill both of them. Since most of the deaths were caused with a crowbar, using it again would make it look like they had been killed just like the other victims.
"What foundation?" the hitman scoffed. "Your foundation's already broken into pieces."
But Wayne, now standing tall, ran a hand through his messy hair and raised his fists in a boxer's stance. His eyes burned with determination.
"What can I say…" he said calmly, but his voice was firm.
"This foundation always reaches… twice!"