Rule 7 : Rage

CHAPTER 23: Sepertine Intricacies.

In the Shaque's dimly lit gym, a chilling sanctuary filled with modern equipment, Zayn faced a formidable punch bag with determined vigor.

The room, suffused with the ominous hum of cutting-edge machinery, set the stage for his agressive workout. Shadows flickered menacingly along the walls, casting ghostly reflections of the equipment, intensifying the eerie atmosphere.

Dressed in comfortable attire—shorts, joggers, and a snug singlet—Zayn's silhouette highlighted the sculpted contours of his chest and muscles, an attestation to his resilience.

A hand towel, casually draped around his neck, absorbed the traces of his exertion, a quiet witness to the intensity of his efforts.

Each punch seemed to carry the weight of his past struggles and the echo of her expressions and voice, imprinting them deeper into his consciousness. The rhythmic sound of his breath accompanied the swift movements.

Beads of sweat traced the tattoos on his chest and head, glistening as they followed the contours of his skin. His breath came fast as he immersed himself in a torrent of memories, unable to shake the images of Imogen from his mind.

He paused, taking a moment to adjust the boxing gloves snugly onto his hands.

Zayn glimpsed a man donned in trousers, a red suit, and a black hat—it was DNA. Zayn's forehead furrowed at this mysterious sight, his thoughts momentarily disrupted.

While Zayn persisted in his punching routine, DNA approached with a smirk, gracefully circling him. Observing Zayn's strength, the rhythmic sound of punches reverberated in the air.

DNA's grey eyes squinted, locking onto Zayn's sweat drops as they descended onto the porcelain tiles.

He uttered, "Zayn," tilting his head to inspect the new, mysterious tattoo on his head.

Zayn turned to him, thinking, "How does he know my name? He looks intimidating."

DNA paused his circling and approached, continuing, "I can sense your strength already resonating with the Shaque," he declared with concern.

Suddenly, Zayn halted, taking the towel from around his neck to wipe his face and chest before hanging it back. "It's not tingling, it's scorching," he asserted, his deep voice echoing through the gym room.

DNA started, "Impressive! By the way, Zayn, your confidence is quite admirable." He smirked, scrutinizing Zayn, then added, "And those tattoos of yours, looks like you have a thing for reptiles."

Zayn's fists clenched as he prepared for another punch, but his heart skipped a beat when he noticed DNA reaching into his pocket. Time seemed to stand still as fear coursed through Zayn's veins, triggering a flood of haunting memories.

His trembling lips betrayed his terror as DNA inched closer, the cold barrel of the gun tracing a chilling path from Zayn's head down to his spine. He thought with fear, "So, this was all part of Lord Maximus' plan to distract and kill me."

In that moment, Zayn resigned himself to the possibility of imminent death, unable to bring himself to look back at DNA, realizing that perhaps Shaque's ominous promise had come back to haunt him.

"Pull the trigger," Zayn uttered, his voice filled with a seal of fate.

DNA's laughter echoed through the gym, blending with the rhythmic thuds of Zayn's heartbeat and the metallic tang of sweat in the air.

"I'm not here to end you, nor to play the villain. I'm here to reveal your strength," DNA retorted, his words lacing in the tension that hung like a heavy fog.

Zayn turned to him, sweat pearls tracing a path down his spine. He met DNA's gaze, the glint of the gun creating a sharp contrast against the muted gym lights.

"The barrel is still pointed at me," Zayn admitted, a tremor in his voice, the fear in the room thickening.

"Oh, feeling scared? Fear doesn't have a place in the Shaque." He cocks the gun. Zayn doesn't flinch this time; he stands his ground.

DNA meets his gaze, just an inch between them, a spark of fervor in Zayn's eyes. Zayn responds, "But I exist here."

DNA is briefly taken aback by his boldness; he slowly lowers the gun and steps back. "Lord Maximus is on vacation," he gestures.

"I wasn't informed," he uttered with a husky voice.

"You don't need to be in the loop, Zayn. Besides, he hasn't reached his destination yet."

"Any specific reasons kept under wraps?" Zayn probed with curiosity.

"Fair question, Zayn. He passed his judgment before departing," DNA declared.

"And what might that judgment be?" Zayn inquired, his eyes narrowing.

He smirked, observing Zayn intently. "From now onwards, I will be your master, guiding you through the intricacies of the Shaque and shaping your role here." DNA declared, producing a cigarette and lighter from his outer pockets.

Zayn's perplexity echoed in his words, "My master... my intricacies?" he asked.

"I'm Lord Dante Nyx Argent," he chuckled, a mysterious edge to his tone. "Call me DNA, not master." He raised the cigarette to his lips, igniting it with a deliberate flair, inhaling deeply, and exhaling wisps of smoke that curled  spookily in the air.

Zayn's gaze lingered in indecision, a subtle frown furrowing his brow. DNA, perceptive to the unspoken message, continued, "This was the decree he pronounced before embarking on his vacation. Are you prepared? Because, my dear, you have no choice." He devilishly smiled, the smoke twirling around him.

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