13 years ago...

A cold wind howled through the cracked windows of the orphanage, chilling the bone-thin children huddled together on threadbare mattresses. Among them, a 4-year-old Strikerz sat alone in a corner, his mismatched eyes reflecting the dim, flickering light of a single bulb hanging from the ceiling.

The orphanage was a grim place, filled with neglected children and overseen by cruel caretakers. The walls were stained with mold and grime, the floors creaked with every step, and the air always carried the scent of dampness and decay.

Strikerz was no stranger to hardship, even at his young age. The other children avoided him, unnerved by his heterochromia and his silent, piercing stare. The caretakers were no better, often targeting him for their frustrations and taking out their anger on him with little provocation.

He had learned early on to stay out of sight, to blend into the shadows, and to never show weakness. The beatings were frequent, and the food was scarce. Survival in the orphanage meant being smarter and tougher than the other kids, and Strikerz had already mastered that art.

On this particular night, the caretaker, a mean-spirited woman named Mrs. Clay, stormed into the room, her face twisted with rage. She was a hulking figure, her eyes glinting with cruelty as she scanned the room for any sign of disobedience.

"Who's been messing with my things?" she screeched, her voice echoing through the room. The children cowered, shrinking away from her wrath. Mrs. Clay's belongings were a collection of trinkets and useless junk, but she guarded them as if they were treasures.

Strikerz watched her silently from his corner, his eyes narrowing as she grabbed a boy by the collar and shook him roughly. "Was it you, you little rat?"

The boy whimpered, shaking his head frantically, but Mrs. Clay was relentless. She threw him to the floor and turned her attention to the other children, her gaze eventually landing on Strikerz.

"You!" she barked, pointing a finger at him. "You did it, didn't you?"

Strikerz didn't flinch, meeting her gaze with a defiant stare. Mrs. Clay hated that look, that unyielding strength in his eyes, and it fueled her anger even more.

"You think you're tough, don't you?" she snarled, striding over to him and yanking him to his feet. "We'll see how tough you are after this!"

With a swift motion, she slapped him across the face, the sound echoing through the silent room. Strikerz didn't cry out, didn't shed a tear. He simply glared at her, his eyes burning with a quiet fury.

Mrs. Clay's face twisted with rage as she raised her hand again, but before she could strike, Strikerz grabbed her wrist, his tiny hand surprisingly strong. He had endured enough. He wasn't going to let her hurt him anymore.

"You little shit!" she spat, trying to pull her hand free, but Strikerz held on, his grip like iron.

"You won't hurt me," he said quietly, his voice steady despite his young age. "Not anymore."

Mrs. Clay's eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, fear flickered in her gaze. She yanked her hand away and stumbled back, glaring at him with a mix of anger and fear.

"You'll regret this," she hissed, but Strikerz didn't flinch. He simply stood there, his gaze unwavering, as she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

The other children stared at him in awe and fear, but Strikerz ignored them. He returned to his corner, his mind already working on a plan. He knew he couldn't stay in the orphanage much longer. He had to get out, to find a place where he could be free from the cruelty and pain.

That night, as the other children slept, Strikerz slipped out of the room and crept through the dark, silent halls of the orphanage. He moved like a shadow, his small form barely making a sound as he navigated the familiar pathways.

He reached the back door and carefully picked the lock with a piece of wire he had found in the yard. The door creaked open, and he slipped outside, the cold night air biting at his skin.

For the first time in his life, he was free. The world stretched out before him, filled with dangers and uncertainties, but Strikerz didn't hesitate. He walked away from the orphanage without looking back, his mind set on surviving no matter what.

As he disappeared into the night, he knew that his journey was just beginning. He would face many challenges and endure many hardships, but he was determined to survive and become stronger. No one would ever hurt him again.