Quote:
Originally Posted by Azure
[Night Creatures story]
Spoiler for Night Creatures v. Coils of Nehushtan:
Show
Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified,
is not a crime.
-Ernest Hemingway
_____
Manny Ken was in a good mood. In fact, he was in more than just a good mood. He was in a great mood. Hell, why deny it? He was in a fantastic fucking mood. He looked over the contents of the letter once more, making sure to take in each and every word carefully. It had been written by a steady and careful hand, rather than simply printed off, adding on to his mood: it seemed to simply strengthen the event’s relevance and importance.
To Whomever Currently Heads the Night Creatures,
It has come to the attention of this board that there may be an organization which has prioritized your clan as being… pernicious. There have been reports from several areas in which gladiator battles are conducted, as well as from several of our offices, that they’ve not only shown prowess in combat, but that they’ve also infiltrated the gladiatorial system as well. For your own safety, and the safety of your clan, we will be providing you with an escort as we deliver yourself and your clan members to a secure facility, until such a time that proper actions can be taken to ensure that those who would seek to interfere with our program no longer have sufficient ability to do so.
Your cooperation in this matter would be much appreciated, and we thank you ahead of time for complying with our requests.
Though it was short, it told Manny all he needed to know. There were people who were fucking with the system, and these same people would likely be coming after the Night Creatures. Heading over to the conference room, he grabbed the black phone from the wall. Recently, just before the kid left, he’d convinced him to get a comm system installed so that everyone could be called up nice and easily. Placing the phone to his head, he paused a moment to grin to himself before speaking.
“Yo, everyone. Report upstairs to the conference room, ASAP. We’ve got something fun to talk about.” With that simple announcement, he hung up and proceeded to make his way to the head of the conference table, throwing himself into the chair as he kicks his feet up. The first to arrive, unsurprisingly, was Kizu. Her shiny mocha skin was always refreshing to see, and her piercing green gaze never failed to read his mind. Taking a seat beside him, she set her spear across her lap, brushing aside a few stray strands of hair.
“What have you done?” she asked in her soft but firm tone. Manny snickered lightly, not at the question, but at the answer, which he knew she wouldn’t believe.
“Abso-fucking-lutely nothing, doll.” He tosses her the letter, as well as the envelope with the official RHG System seal. She glances over the hand-scratched letters, before gently pushing it forward, folding her arms. It appeared Manny had managed to win this one easily enough. Just as he gloated internally over this small victory, the newest member of the clan, Kai Havoc, entered the room, looking bedraggled. It seemed he was still growing accustomed to living underground. His pale as cream skin seemed even paler somehow, his scars prominently on display as he let his two-sizes-too-large tunic try desperately to cling to his pale Asian frame. Manny couldn’t tell if his squinting was from the low light or his Ching-Chong heritage; Manny could tell, however, that it was pointed towards Kizu’s less than prude attire. “Oi, Lego. Stop looking at my lady and take a seat. I ain’t Leo; I’ll actually mess your shit up.”
“I wasn’t looking, I wasn’t looking,” Kai says, holding up his hands as he finds a seat. “Even if I did, she doesn’t have anything anyways.”
“Which makes you all the sadder for it,” Manny says. “Anyways, we just gotta wait for Mr. Drippy now, and we can get this little meeting underway. How’re you adjusting, anyways? I know you ain’t got any fights under your belt so far, but you’ve at least set up your room proper, right?” Almond Eyes scratches his hair, looking a bit embarrassed as he glances over to the side, though, he does try to hide it.
“As of now, not really. I’ve got a bed and junk, but I don’t really know what else to put in.” He casually forms a small blade from his palm, plucking it out, and begins to clean his fingernails with it. “But I’m pretty sure this isn’t about my room, so let’s just wait on the other guy.”
“Whatever floats your boat, Mr. Edgelord.” The wait for the last arrival wasn’t an overly long one. The Alien King slowly strode up the stairs, finding himself in the chair at the opposite end of the table from Manny, as though to place them on similar grounds. The gesture wasn’t lost on the puppet, but neither did he much care; after all, he knew that no matter how much Zalgo liked being on top, he wouldn’t go and try to take control of the clan. It would be too much of a bother, and wouldn’t benefit him in the long run.
”For what reason did you call us all here…?” the black creature asked them all mentally. Though he had a mouth… several mouths… it seemed that mental communication was still his preferred manner of speech. Ever since his loss at the hands of some other strange superhuman being, things had changed with him; not only in how he seemed to behave around others, but in his physical appearance as well. Before, he had been deceptively scrawny despite his impressive strength, he was now a hulking monster. The somewhat concealable massive mouth in his abdomen now constantly apparent and, though it couldn’t be proven, it appeared to be in a constant sneer of annoyance. Behaviorally, he seemed to be more withdrawn, as though he were plagued with thoughts upon thoughts upon thoughts. Sometimes, he seemed to lose focus to the physical world entirely, though he still never allowed himself to be taken off guard.
“Well you two, it seems like we’ve managed to attract us some attention. Some people have been messing with the RHG System, and it appears they’ve set their sights on us. They want us to change locations. Now, just based on how this system likes to behave, they’ll be coming for us pretty soon, so they can ‘take us someplace safe.’ Considering the fact that us gladiators are as we are, and these people managed to get into their system, I doubt it’ll be all that simple. Honestly, it’ll probably end up being a trap.” Manny’s grin returned even wider than before. “So, since they’re already looking to pick a fight with us, how’s about we go along with their little plan?”
“Wait, so you want us to play into the hands of guys who are after us?” Kai gives an apprehensive look. “Isn’t that kind of, I don’t know, retarded?”
“Not really,” Manny says. “Chances are they’d find us anyways, and while we could just say ‘Piss off!’ to the RHG people and wait for them here, this place isn’t exactly built for large scale battles. Better to take it someplace where we can go all out without risk of our shit getting destroyed. Besides, then we’ll be on equal grounds in regards to how well we know the terrain.”
“...I agree that this is the best course of action,” Zalgo states calmly, before Kai can attempt a rebuttal. “If they truly desire a confrontation with us, all of us, then there will be no hiding. There will be no fear. We shall meet their challenge head on, and we shall crush them underfoot.”
“I like that thinking,” Manny agrees. “So, all we gotta do is get nice and ready. Kizu, you’ll be in this too, so be sure to bring your A-game-” Before he can finish his sentence, he finds the point of her spear between his eyes. She casts her eye towards him slowly. The meaning was clear. “Got it, good to hear. Just bring some medical supplies for the kid, alright?”
“I can heal myself,” Kai grunts.
“Yeah, but I doubt you can heal fast enough to stop disembowelment.” Manny takes a small pleasure in his shutting up. “Alright then. So, go and get yourselves mentally prepared. Looks like we’ll be going to war.”
_____
Elsewhere, truly dark forces were at force, watching the clan’s meeting. When it concluded, the White Man turned off his screen. Leaning back in his throne, he brought up his feet, letting them rest softly on the slave’s back. Snapping twice, he counts the seconds until another slave arrives, this one bearing a pillow with a silver bell resting gently upon the center. “You were two seconds slow, Nadine. You wouldn’t want anything happening to that child of yours again, would you?”
The fear in her eyes was delicious, though she quickly cast them down. “I understand, Mr. Nightshade sir. I will be faster next time.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes as he takes the bell, lightly ringing it.
“See to it that you are. After all, I’m not sure how much longer she’d last in her condition.” He places the bell back and sends her off as his most loyal follower arrives. Clad in modified plate armor, the chocolate skinned young man, only but a few years younger than his current body’s age, kneeled before him. “You may rise, Grey.”
Grey rose slowly, spreading his legs shoulder length apart and holding his arms behind his back. Behind his silvery mop of hair, Nightshade could sense his fierce gaze, focused in on him. Grey had been a simple one to recruit; lost, alone, feelings of hatred and guilt swirling in his breast. It had taken little to make him into the perfect puppet, and his strength was one to be reckoned with. “What need do you have of me, sir?” His voice had grown deeper, more firm over the years. Still, the tones of loyalty never seemed to falter for even a moment. Nightshade knew he owned the boy, body, mind and soul.
“I’ve need of you and Bastet. It seems that a snake has reared its ugly head, and is looking to lash at my pet project. We can’t have that; Snakes, however, are but another creature, however. We’ll be using them to our advantage.”
“Will we be recruiting, sir?”
“No, no,” Nightshade dismisses with a wave of his hand. “With a group as broken as theirs, it would be pointless, to say the least. There would be nothing to achieve from it, as the only members who would be worth recruiting would be amidst their upper echelons. No, we’ll simply be planting seeds. Seeds that, upon taking root, will help spread my garden of madness across the land. And when the trees of the people’s suffering bear fruit…” He makes a snipping motion with his fingers. “...I shall cut away all without use, and the process begins anew. For now, however, Bastet will need to perform reconnaissance. While I’ve an idea of who this group has wrapped in their midst, I’d rather there be nothing to interfere with our plans.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll retrieve Bastet for briefing with haste.” With a curt nod, he heads off to speak with his compatriot. Nightshade calmly takes a goblet from beside his throne, drinking of the coppery red liquid within, losing himself in his mind. A faint aching came from the base of his skull, and he absently rubbed it. Though he had a new body, the phantom pains remained; Manny Ken. The one who had taken both his old body, and his place as leader of the Night Creatures. It had been some years ago, but he still remembered their fight as vividly as though it were yesterday. The events following had been pure chance. If the organization, now identifying itself as the M.A.C. Organization, hadn’t chanced upon his core and conducted their human experiments, it was uncertain where he’d be now. Their continued hunts for him, as well as the flame users Kasai and Adena, meant that his operations needed to be kept to a minimum. After all, they were likely the only ones who knew how to put him down permanently.
“It’s still a shame I don’t get to dirty my own hands anymore,” Nightshade mused to himself. “Those may have been some of the happiest days of my life. And looking through the records, the RHG system has some gladiators who may actually prove to be fun.” Thinking of the system, his thoughts drifted to one particular gladiator, whom he’d done some research upon, and whom he was sure would be the perfect target to strike at in order to poison the heart of Nehushtan.
_____
Altaer gritted slightly as he lowered the mug from his face, the unpleasantness and harsh bitter aftertaste of the coffee still lingering for a moment before dulling off his oral senses. It seemed that despite the food’s quality, the small diner couldn’t quite make a decent cup of joe. He glanced out of the booth window for a bit, the reds and violets of the late afternoon sky painting a picture, as if just for him. He looked over his appearance in the transparent reflection of the glass; dressed in black and crimson as per usual, instead of his typical attire, he’d instead chosen to dawn a more casual appearance. His striped polo, though not small, clung well to his form, accenting his olympian physique so that little was left to the imagination for how chiseled he was. His smoky black eyes held whisper of gold within them, the Shadowlight that made up his being seeming to have synchronized with his rebellious spirit. Perfect black curls frame his face, softening the sharp angles of his jaw, a dark halo. His dusky bronze skin seems to lightly glow as he taps on the table a touch impatiently with his calloused hand. Wearing a pair of black denim jeans, he pulls out a flip phone, checking the time, before looking back out the window.
“It’s no good to keep me waiting, Doc,” he lightly says to himself. “Especially when you’re the one who called me out here.” He casts a glance about the diner, checking to ensure there had been no changes since he’d arrived a while before. The same small crowd sat about: an older man, looking to be in his mid to late fifties and wearing an open flannel shirt with a trucker hat upon his head, still taking bites at a steak whilst conversing with a balding man in a suit and holding a briefcase about how the economy is bound to be hit once more under the current president’s “reign”; the same small blond woman cast glances towards him when she thought he wasn’t looking, wearing a navy blue sundress with a white sweater over her shoulders, sipping at another cup of the disgusting coffee, though, she’d added creamer; the same three kids were typing on their phones at the booth down the way a bit, sipping on milkshakes as they occasionally brought up topics about what they were doing for the summer, not loudly, but loud enough that one didn’t need eavesdrop to hear them. Altaer let out a quick huff of indignation. This was beginning to annoy him.
A few moments later, the door opened, the bell jingling to let all within know that there was yet another customer in this excuse for an establishment. Catching the eye of everyone there quite easily, the Doctor made his way over to where Altaer was sitting. Doctor David MacBeth was, in no mincing of words, a beautiful man. His fair auburn hair rested gently upon his shoulders, feathered and combed meticulously. His emerald pendant earrings dangled lightly from his ears, light catching in them to bring a shine about his face as though angels wept at his mere presence. His pale brown eyes had the wrinkles of many smiles on their sides, but within them, Altaer knew was a mind that rivalled his own in brilliance. Dressed in a white designer coat, an embroidered black vest over a cream colored dress shirt, and red dress pants he was sure was made from only the finest of imported Chinese silks, David was many times less inconspicuous than Altaer. That said, both of their presences made them the center of attention rather quickly; a waitress was at their table immediately.
“Af’ernoon sir,” she said with a not overly thick Southern accent as she places a menu down before the Doctor. “Is there anything I kin get for ya to drink?”
“Just a glass of water would be a delight dear,” David says, taking up the menu and looking over it as though it were a work of art. The waitress nods and is off within seconds. His eyes dart up to meet Altaer’s annoyed ones. “Come now, don’t give me that look. I’m only ten minutes late.”
“You’re usually thirty minutes early,” Altaer informs him. “So I’ve been stuck here for roughly an hour, with nothing to do but listen to these people talk about nothing, the news on their television ramble on about nothing, and get ogled by every woman who passes by.”
“You could always give yourself a less attractive appearance,” David says as he looks back to the menu and ignores Altaer’s scoff.
“Of course you say that, Mr. Pretty-Boy. Why’d you call me out here to the boonies, anyways? We could just have easily have met at one of your offices, and I wouldn’t have to worry about any of these people possibly being related to the system.”
“That is precisely why I called you here,” David says as he removes a sheet of paper from his short, sliding it over to Altaer. “This, Al, is a message I was sent recently from an unknown person or persons. Please, look it over and tell me what you think.” Al took the paper, the words on it looking as though they had been typed via typewriter rather than on a computer. He does as the Doctor asked, looking it over, his expression slowly darkening a tad as he reads over the words.
“To the Head of the Serpent
You would do well to consider carefully whom you make into an enemy. Do not think that the hydra can not die, when faced by the beast who fears not the snake’s bite. Do not think that relations between yourself and the Night Creatures may end in anything but bloodshed. Bring forth your Coils if you desire; their sacrifice will certainly work to someone’s greater good.
Do not think you can run.
Do not think you can hide.
None of you are safe.
I shall see you sooner than you see me.”
The letter ends with nothing to identify who may have written it, though considering who was mentioned in the letter itself…
“It was certainly not written by the Night Creatures,” David states simply. “They’re much too young, and have no way to have gained knowledge of our organization.”
“What about that abomination, Zalgo?” Altaer notes. “Though it turned against him, he was in my mind before. Could he be using his clan to get revenge against me by targeting Nehushtan overall?”
“I’d considered that a possibility; however, this does not play into the style of any of its members. Besides, there’s also this announcement that was sent to them from the RHG System itself.” He passes Altaer the same message that Manny had received. “Whoever or whatever sent this message is able to operate outside of the system’s sphere of influence. They likely do have some attachments to the Night Creatures, however, to bring them up. I’ve my suspicions, but…” He smiles to the waitress as he she returns with the glass of water, declining any food for the moment.
“But? But what?” The Lord of the Abyss didn’t take well to missing information. Already, he’d been formulating plans; any gaps in his knowledge would make them entirely useless.
“It’s simply something from the past, a rumor I’d heard of. Something to do with the founding of the Night Creatures. I’ve no idea how true it is, nor do I have all the details. However, according to the system’s records, the clan was founded in a less than traditional manner. It was apparently initially formed as a manner of tracking down highly dangerous and inhuman creatures which often went after gladiators. The RHG System would unsanctimoniously send Gladiators to pacify them, as well as keep their destructive habits to a minimum. Leadership was passed on through the leader’s defeat.”
“So, what does any of this have to do with who sent you the letter?” Altaer asks as he finishes reading the message. “And why does it seem as though we’ve been set up for a fight?”
“I’ll begin with your second question. It seems as though we’ve indeed been set up, as I’ve seen few reports of direct engagement between Serpents and the RHG System, and I myself have certainly sent no Coils to do so.” As he speaks, several customers leave, others entering. The waitress from before attends to them, though she does keep glancing towards the two. A few people sit closer to them, namely a couple seating themselves in the booth directly behind David, and he lowers his voice accordingly. “To answer your first question, however, many of those who originally formed the Night Creatures simply disappeared without a trace from the system. The only one who remains is the current temporary leader of the new Night Creatures, Manny Ken, and even his background is shaded in mystery. Whoever or whatever has arranged these events, more likely than not, had ties to the original Night Creatures; whether they were a member, an ally, or an enemy, I’m unsure. However, they’ve set their sights upon us, so no matter what their relationship, they are an enemy to justice.”
Altaer crushes the papers in hand, dropping the ball into his still unfinished coffee, a small grin appearing on his face. “And if they oppose justice, then they’re to be dealt with. So, how are we to handle the situation with the Night Creatures? They’re not likely to take this sitting down, and I’m sure that Zalgo in particular still feels the sting of defeat from our earlier encounter.”
“We’ll simply do as we always do. We begin peacefully, and if they refuse to stand down, then we’ll proceed with force. They’re indeed a clan in conflict with our ideals. Whether we’ve been forced into this encounter or not, we can use it to our own advantage, especially since you’ve already bested one of their members before. We can not compromise when it comes to what we believe in.” He drinks his water in a single gulp, setting the glass down with a clang as the cubes within bounce.
“I think I prefer it this way,” the Dark Lord chuckles. “Taking the passive route is no fun anyways. And lucky for me, ever since our fight, I’ve been able to track Zalgo quite easily. No matter where they hide, we’ll certainly be able to find them.”
“That will most definitely be a great asset. I’ve contacted the Coils; we’ll be changing locations to meet with them in the next hour or so.”
“That reminds me,” Altaer says as he leans back, dropping off his discarded coffee with a passing waitress. “What exactly held you up? You’re not exactly the ‘tardy type.’ Did something happen that I should know about?”
“Nothing too serious,” David answers, though his eyes betray him. “A patient just arrived at the clinic is all, and they needed my attention.”
“If they needed your attention,” Al says, raising an eyebrow, “then something must’ve been pretty wrong with them. Spill it.”
MacBeth prepares to put up an argument, then resigns himself. “Fine. When they arrived, they’d been nearly torn apart. Young girl, no more than nineteen. I could only tell from the size of her body, as there was nothing left that could be used as identification. Aside from the obvious damage, such as the violent abdominal hysterectomy, missing left arm and the compound fractures to both kneecaps, it appeared there’d been damage within her as well. I’m unsure how, but her organs had been forcibly rearranged within her, different medical instruments had been implanted within her body to constantly apply pressure to several nerves, and she was given a near lethal drug cocktail consisting of morphine, methamphetamines, and GHB. I found her tossed on the curb when I was coming originally, and had to provide immediate attention. I have my doubts that it relates to all of this, but with how thoroughly she was harmed, as well as the timing, I can’t help but worry this was meant to be further provocation. While I managed to stabilize her, it will take several days of careful surgery for there to be any chance of her survival, and it’s minimal at that.”
Altaer tightened his hand into a fist slowly, his eyes growing hard. “Well, consider me provoked. Somebody’s dragging innocents into this. I will not let that sort of thing stand. Call the Coils again; we’re going to meet right now.”
-----
Dante slowly ran his hands through his hair as he finished getting the last of the shampoo from his silken black locks. Turning off the water, he wraps a vibrant green towel around his waist as he steps out and onto the tan shower mat, wiggling his toes a bit. It had been a pretty nice morning for the beautiful man, and as he walked past the mirror, he had to double back just to reaffirm his own good looks with his lovely seafoam green eyes. Though there was light scarring across his athletic six foot frame, it in no way distracted from the well defined muscles he’d managed to attain from his years of “jogging.” Droplets of water glistened as they dripped down his somewhat broad shoulders onto his six-pack, and he grinned to himself as he flexed his pectorals in a small display of skill and finesse.
The towel, which he’d obtained in Peru, left little to the imagination as it hung around his waist, and he found he couldn’t help but pose a bit, flexing his arms and kissing his biceps. The image was essentially brought together by the bright yellow gloves he’d had specially made for his cybernetics, travelling up his forearms with a pattern of ducks cheerfully smiling on them. He gave his arm a quick pinch. “Quack, quack,” he said playfully, as he slowly peeled them off and set them on the counter. Exiting the bathroom into his bedroom, he looked wistfully to his bed, where two forms lay hidden beneath the sheets, thoughts of last night’s fun times coming back. It took all of his efforts not to make a lumberjack joke in regards to a steadily growing desire that his towel was having trouble containing.
Just as he prepared to get back in bed and see if either of his dates wanted sausage with their dinner, his cell phone rang. He groaned, heading over to pick it up before it woke either girl up. “Dante here, service hours ended at seven.” He listened as there were sounds of shuffling in the bed behind him, and he turned to get a peek at what actions were occurring, the voice on the other side of the line being ignored just a tad. “Uh huh, uh huh…”
A young lady slowly slithered her way free of the comforter, stretching like a cat as she rubs her eyes, letting them adapt to the low lighting in the room. She glances over at Dante with a smile, before moving to wake her companion, her long golden hair bouncing as she moves. The other form slowly stirs, a brown-eyed brunette lad slowly finding his way out. He glances from the girl to Dante, before a smile appears on his face as well. Slowly, he and the girl begin to make out, and Dante’s focus falters more and more.
“DELTA. FOCUS.” Hearing his old moniker snapped him back to attention, and he focused back on the voice on the line.
“Ok, ok, I’m listening. What do you want?”
“I’ll repeat myself then. This is Doctor David MacBeth, and I’m calling because the meeting of the Coils is going to take place sooner rather than later. As soon as you can, I need you to report to the Healing Hands Clinic. Be sure that you’re not followed. Is that understood, Delta?”
“Got it,” he replies, more than a touch annoyed. “And I go by Dante. Or Big Daddy D. Do not call me Delta.” He ends the call with a click, before turning back to the currently ongoing gladiator match of tongues. “Sorry you two, but I’ve got to actually get some clothes on. I’ve got your digits though, so I’ll be sure to keep in touch.”
“Alright,” the girl says, pulling away to give him a pout. “Tell that roommate of yours we said hello, though.”
“And make sure to show that neat trick with vibrating again,” the boy adds. “It’s for, ah, science.” Dante simply smirks as he helps the two gather up their things and get dressed, giving them both a kiss as he leads them on their way. Once they’re out of the apartment, he heads back to his room, his demeanor shifting to match the situation. Whatever had happened to change the meeting time likely wasn’t something to take unseriously. Grabbing his phone as he put on some boxers, he dials up Sencarn. After a few rings, there’s an answer.
“What is it, Dante?” Sencarn asks. Judging by his voice, he hadn’t been close to sleeping yet, despite the time.
“The Doctor is calling for the Coils sooner,” he informs him, now attempting to put his pants on both legs at a time. “It seems something has happened; any ideas from your side?”
“Nothing that we know about or that we’ve done. Aside from the information we received in regards to the Night Creatures being moved and some facilities being attacked, we’ve gotten no reads on anything that would make Nehushtan act strangely.”
“Yeah, I was worried about that. I’ll be sure to keep you up to date on things. It was smart to send me into their midst though. After all, even if our goals are similar, they’re too close-minded. I’m lucky they need talent among them, otherwise who knows how difficult they’d be to keep track of.”
“Just be sure to keep whatever sins you commit in their name to a minimum. You may be a member of Sanctuary, but a sinner is a sinner.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” Dante says as he rolls his eyes, hanging up the cell and tossing it on his bed as he pulls on a shirt. Both groups had been simple enough to get into, and both lacking stronger members. They were so desperate that they’d place their faith in anyone with above average skill with a gun. It played out well in his favor; after all, both sides had money, and lots of it, and both had a chance to take down the RHG System, which had become so closely tied to the government that bringing it down meant bringing down half of the nation’s governing body with it. And no matter who took their place on the throne, he would be there, a loyal troop until the end. Carefully smoothing out some wrinkles, he grabbed his coat and his diamond-edged butterfly knives, placing them within the hidden pockets of the coat, before heading out to the meeting place.
-----
Doctor MacBeth looked over his Coils with dreary eyes from his position at the round table. He’d preferred having a circular table as, despite being the head of Nehushtan, amongst the Coils, he wished to be viewed closer as an equal. They were his closest supporters, almost like a family. The Coils had only been together a short time, but they’d formed a strong bond within that time. Aside from Valera, who was rarely brought in for such discussions, all but one Coil had arrived. To his immediate right sat Altaer, a grim expression on his face as he taps on the table’s finish, small sparks of shadowlight belying his true frustrations. Next to him, sitting somewhat awkwardly, was the black sheep of the group; though, “blue dragon” would be more accurate.
Dracustos had been an unorthodox addition to the Coils. Though humanoid in shape, he was a dragon, and likely of European descent if the myths of man were to be believed. Coated in an armor of scales the color of the deep sea, the blood gem centered in his forehead stood out plainly. Despite Dracustos’ explanation of the apparent “teleportation organ,” MacBeth had difficulties understanding how such a mutation was possible; naturally, due to the nature of their world as well as well as gladiators within the system, he could at least accept it, especially after witnessing it firsthand. He stood well above everyone else, which, in addition to his tail and wings, led to having to provide a special seat for him. A black cloak lay about his shoulders, a somewhat futile method of disguising his form as he made his way over.The dark fabric had helped in blending him into the night sky at least. He’d been fiddling with one of his swords, not particularly interested in making small talk in the current mood of the room.
To MacBeth’s left sat Zoe, the young girl taking a silent sip from her can of pepsi. She looked a touch uncomfortable; it hadn’t occurred to MacBeth that a group could be so quiet. She idly glanced from the group to the door with her piercing blue eyes, as if expecting the last member to arrive at any moment. Wearing a camo tank top, she had on her favorite black trench coat, some black denim capris and some dark green high tops. It seemed she’d been preparing to go out anyways when he’d called her, leading to her being the first to arrive. Her choice in drink when offered belied her youth. Throwing her raven hair over her shoulder, she began to absently comb through it with one hand as she glances back at the Doctor. It seemed she was going to say something when a knock came to the door.
“It seems Dante is finally with us,” David said, moving his seat back. “I’ll fetch him, and we can begin our discussion.” Making his way over to the door, he opened it to find the green-clad agent casually spinning a knife about his fingers.
“Nice place,” Dante says. “Always good when a clinic is having slow days.”
“I’d agree, if not for the circumstances.” He leads the last Coil in, where Dante takes a seat between Zoe and Dracustos, his weapon somehow disappearing in the transition. David leaves the room for a moment, before returning with a manila folder. He places it on the table, hesitating to open it. “Now that we’re all here, allow me to open with the purpose of this meeting: we will likely engage in hostilities with the Night Creatures in a week’s time.”
The already moody atmosphere grows even more morose. Despite his late arrival, Dante was the first to speak. “I get that we’re on bad terms with them, what with them being anarchists and all, but any particular reason why we’re going directly onto the violence route? I thought we preferred talking things out, try to bring people to our cause.”
“Typically, this is the case, yes, and I do believe the usual leader of the Night Creatures, Leoncio Cardozo, is a young man who can be reasoned with. However, the man currently leading it, or mannequin to be precise, is not the type who settles things with words.” He pulls a picture from the folder, tossing it onto the table. It reveals Manny Ken, smiling face covered in blood as he strikes down some gangbanger of indeterminate race. “Manny Ken, age indeterminate. He’s violent, crass, and temperamental. Despite his looks, he’s proven on several occasions to be more dangerous than he leads on. If sources are to be believed, and I’ve no reason to doubt them, his original purpose was that of a demon hunter.”
“So this… doll… was made to hunt demons?” Zoe asks, setting her can down. “Do you think that’ll be a problem for me?”
“I’m not entirely sure. Due to your angelic descent, your demonic nature may be diluted enough so as not to bring out any unknown latent talents he may possess. Still, if possible, I’d prefer you not engage him yourself. Though you’re strong, he has experience on his side, and he was able to escape the system’s detection for years. He’s back now of his own volition; due to this, he can be classified as a considerable threat. His ‘girlfriend’ is another issue.” MacBeth now tosses a picture of Kizu, her sitting solemnly on a statue, grinding her spearhead with a whetstone. “How long she’s been together with Manny is unknown, her origins are unknown, and her combat skill is unknown. She’s an anomaly; because of her relationship to Manny Ken, however, we can assume she is highly dangerous. Do not underestimate this pair under any circumstance.”
“Fighting toys,” Altaer says through his teeth. “I’ll be next to useless since they probably don’t have souls. Annoying.”
“Next, we have the most powerful of their team, as far as we’re aware. At the least, we’ve the most information in regards to his abilities.” He tosses a picture of Zalgo, though, it’s older; his body is still slender, shorter. “High strength, high durability, telepathic and able to break minds, and able to churn out oil which he can manipulate. Zalgo is extremely dangerous; the battle will very likely begin before we’ve arrived. Dracustos, I’ll be looking to you to keep a telepathic link between everyone, to help defend against his mental attacks.”
Dracustos gives a slight nod. “Understood. I must ask, however, what I should do lest he focuses on me. If I were to go Feral, all of you would be at risk.”
“Don’t worry; Altaer here has bested him before, and gained an immunity. Likely, at least some of this should transfer to you, and then to everyone. Once we’ve overcome it, we’ll be able to go without worry for the rest of the conflict. If you should succumb to your feral nature, however, I will have sedatives on my person to neutralize you until such a time that you return to your senses.” He gives a comforting smile. “We’ll all make it through this, I can promise you that.”
“That’s definitely a relief,” Dante exhales. “I was almost worried for a moment, considering you called all three of them very dangerous.” He casually glances away from David’s look. “Hey, I’m being serious here. This isn’t really all that good for morale.”
“While your point may be valid, Delta, I ask that you keep such comments to yourself.” Now it was his turn to ignore the glare cast towards him. “The last member of the Night Creatures who will be relocated is Kai Havoc. Though we’ve little information on him, he is a relatively new gladiator, and is young. He’s highly inexperienced, and is certain to be their weak link. If we bring down the other three, he will likely yield and can be reasoned with.”
“Since introductions to our opponents are over and done with, let’s get to the main reason we’re all here.” Altaer leaves his seat, heading towards the door. “Doc, you going to be ok?”
“It’s not as though it’s the first atrocity I’ve seen in my time,” David responds, his tone seeming heavier. “Fetch her and return as soon as possible.” Altaer nods and leaves, heading for the clinic below. Meanwhile, the Doctor drops the folder, letting the rest of its contents spill free. The documents he showed Altaer earlier were among them, as well as other reports. Of note, several were of attacks on RHG facilities were Serpents had been located, which were seemingly destroyed in the name of Nehushtan. “The primary reason we’ll be going directly into battle against the Night Creatures lies here. It seems that someone or something is starting an open conflict with the RHG System using our name, and is killing Serpents as they do so. The attacks are timed with our own, and rather than ensure the destruction of the location with minimal if any loss of life, their own turn into pure bloodbaths. This provocation seems an invitation to test ourselves against the Night Creatures so that our name, which I’d hoped to keep from the public eye, may be cleared.”
“So somebody’s starting a war with us,” Zoe states. “But why? What is there to gain from this? We just want peace, justice.”
“It’s for that very reason, I suspect. They’re hoping to destabilize the organization, and promote widespread anarchy. Without either the RHG System or Nehushtan to maintain any semblance of control and law, the country, possibly even the world, would fall into chaos.” David cuts himself off as the door reopens, Altaer coming forth with something wrapped tightly in blankets. As he makes his way back to the table, it becomes apparent that what he cradles in his arms is a body. He gently sets it down in the center of the table.
“I’m sure the Doc already gave you most of the technical details,” the Abyssal Lord says in a voice barely containing his anger. “However, this here is the personal reason for the fight.” He unwraps the blankets, revealing the barely reconstructed face of a young girl. Her dirty blond hair looks freshly washed, and calmly streams around her shoulders and down her back into the covers. Her skin, likely once coppery and glimmering, now lay dull, the shade of death. Her lips are a pale blue, blood no longer flowing through her still body. Altaer hardens his jaw as Zoe looks away, and a fire burns in Dracustos’ eyes. Dante slams his hand on the table.
“Ok, excuse me for asking, but why the fuck did you bring a body up here?! We see this kind of thing enough when we have to deal with the system; we don’t need to see it during a meeting you pushed up.”
“This is the reason,” MacBeth says as Altaer lowers the blanket further, revealing the top of her breasts. What’s revealed makes everyone’s blood run hot and cold at the same time. Like a tattoo from the inside, the words Night Creatures appear, the text spidery and formed through blood vessels beneath the skin. “Terri Mayweather, age nineteen. She was a Serpent who was recruited because she shared in our ideals of justice. She was reported missing by her single mother two weeks ago after having never returned from a date. When she arrived at this clinic earlier tonight… the acts that had been performed against her were things no person could do to their fellow man. Though there’s a chance that this was done by some outside party, I believe this is the true face of the Night Creatures. We must remove their poison from this system; not only for ourselves, not only for ideology, not even for Nehushtan itself. We must remove them so that no more may they harm innocents like this, whom have done no harm to anyone, so that no more tears will be shed over loved ones lost at their vile hands.”
Each Coil nods their head, eyes fixed on the girl before them. After a few somber moments, Altaer rewraps her, picking her back up and once more cradling her in his arms. Doctor MacBeth clears his throat, reclaiming their attention. He raises a single finger.
“One week. Prepare yourselves.”
-----
Manny slowly tapped his chin, staring at the television without an expression. The news report was talking about some random act of cop violence, though this time it was a black cop killing a white guy. Everybody was losing their minds over what was happening with society and if this was to be expected. After about twenty minutes of their idiotic dribble, he smashed the screen to pieces with his pickaxe. He pressed the buzzer on the table beside him, speaking into the attached intercom.
“TV’s busted again.”
A woman, Carol, replies in an annoyed tone. “That’s the fifth television that’s been busted since you’ve gotten here.”
“Not my fault that there’s nothing on and they’re not sturdy.”
“You’ve been here three days, sir. Though we have the funding to continue replacing the televisions, it’s really quite an annoyance having to do so with such frequency, along with the other expenses you and your clan have managed to incur. Shall I read it off for you?”
“No thanks, Carol,” Manny answers. “As much as I thoroughly enjoy listening to you drone on about finances and how much you hate your job, I have literally a thousand better things to do with my time. An immediate one that comes to mind is sticking my head into an open flame until eventually it manages to burn its way through my fire-proofing. But tell ya what; get some interesting shows going, or some gladiator matches or something, and I’ll consider not having to put in yet another maintenance request. Deal? Deal.” And he hangs up before she manages to get in a word edgewise. He hears a door open behind him, and glances back.
Kai continued drying his hair with a towel, dressed in some new clothes the RHG System had provided when they kindly escorted them to this “Safe House.” The outfit didn’t exactly look all that new anymore, considering all the holes in it from the boy forming swords. Had to “make it fit his style” or some nonsense. “Manny, when do you think those guys are gonna come and attack us?”
“No idea, kid, but I hope to that big nonexistent asshole in the sky that they get here soon. I think Carol may actually consider not sending me more televisions soon.” He gets up and grabs his pickaxe from the screen, giving it a quick spin. “If they decide to puss out though, I’m definitely hunting their asses down. I don’t get stood up when it comes to a fight.”
“Don’t think you or the organization may have overreacted, huh?”
“That would be admitting I was wrong. I’m never wrong.” Kizu enters the room, glancing at Manny with her lone eye. He brings his hand up, chuckling. “Ok, ok. I’m only wrong when Kizu’s in the right.”
“Correct.” Kizu heads off in the direction of the training room. Kai gets a nice laugh in when she disappears from sight.
“Looks like your lady has you on a short leash. Are you sure you’re fit to be leader with Leoncio gone? As much of a bitch as you’re acting, I’d say I could take you on easily-” He gets smacked in the face immediately by the top of a pickaxe, before being tackled to the ground, the shaft now pressed to his throat. Manny looks down at him, still expressionless.
“Kid, listen, and listen carefully. I may just be a mannequin, but I’ve seen more action, faced more trials, and taken more lives than you could likely imagine possible. If you think some greener-than-grass piece of newbie shit has a chance against me just because I’m not some super powered demonic overlord who can shit out destruction on a whim, then you’ve got a rough journey ahead of you.” He removes his pickaxe, standing up and moving back to his seat. Kai brings his hand to his throat, his breaths rapid and shallow. For a moment, he’d seen a different side of Manny; he’d seen what had made him a Clan Leader.
After an hour, the locked door to the safehouse opens, several men dressed all in white and wearing masks entering, two carrying a new television. They get to work fixing the damage, whilst one goes over to Manny, a pen and pad in hand. “We’ll need your signature yet again, sir.” His voice, filtered through the mask, was impossible to place. The RHG worked hard to preserve identities it seemed. Well, identities aside from Carol’s; of course, it was very likely that wasn’t her real name.
Manny signs it, not really all that focused. “How long did you all say you were keeping us again?”
“Until we’re sure of your safety, sir.”
“Cut the bullshit,” Manny says firmly. The man moves back a slight bit. Though he was unable to see them, Manny met his eyes. The painted on black marks seemed to burrow through the blank mask and see into the man’s very essence. “We’re gladiators. The only exception is Kizu, and she’s more than capable of being a gladiator herself, otherwise you all wouldn’t have allowed her here. Being gladiators, the RHG System makes money from us signing away our safety so you all can reap in the profits of your blood money. Some threat targeting their gladiators, who I know for a fact you all can bring back from death, shouldn’t be more than a temporary nuisance at worst, and an advanced pay-per-view event normally. So I’ll ask you again, because we’ve been here for days, and nothing has happened, and I’m starting to get bored and annoyed: how long are you bastards keeping us here?”
The man backs away, and brings up his cufflink, seeming to speak into a hidden microphone. Moments later, the group moves out, leaving Manny without an answer. He prepares for yet another “accident,” when the television flickers to life on its own. A silver-haired man in a dark blue suit with cold grey-blue eyes stares from it. Manny slowly lowers his pickaxe as the man begins to speak. “Good day, Mr. Ken. I am Nathan Wilde, one of the CEOs of the RHG Organization, and very often, I’m in charge of any matters concerning the group’s interests. I may be considered a final say in many matters, if it’s more convenient to think of me that way. Now, I understand your concerns, and you’re correct to assume that your safety is not our primary concern. I’ve no reason to lie to you; I’m a businessman first and foremost. There’s no purpose in lying to you, since it would cause problems further down the line.”
“Alright then,” Manny says, leaning back on the couch. “Spill it, then. If you’re the CEO, you’ve probably got your hands on all kinds of records about me.”
“You’re correct of course. Ever since temporary leadership of the Night Creatures clan was passed to you, or should I say, returned, I’ve been looking into you. It’s rather intriguing to find somebody from so far back in the organization’s history return. Or have left in the first place. But enough of that, having looked into your past, I’ve found that you’re surprisingly adept at seeing through deceptions. Allow me to reassure you that what I’m telling you now is entirely honest. You Night Creatures are being used as a trap. It is as simple as that.” Wilde adjusts his tie slightly, before continuing. “It is abundantly clear to us that your group is quite powerful and quite talented when it comes to eliminating high-risk targets. For this reason, coupled with this mysterious group’s interest in you, we’ve used you as bait to bring them to this location, where they shall be taken and either eliminated or tortured until we have all the information we need from them.”
Manny remains silent, the expression on his face unbroken, until he breaks out into a smile, snickering to himself before entirely cracking up. “Oh god, this is rich. Heh, listen up, Mr. Wilde. You and your men? Yeah, you’re going to do nothing.”
Nick Wilde raises a single eyebrow, but he remains silent. His eyes meet Manny’s easily enough, and the mannequin feels an iota of respect in his breast. It seemed the organization wasn’t full of weaklings after all.
“You’ve kept us locked up for days now. I don’t much care for it. So, here’s what’s going to happen; I’ll be sure to spell it out for you slowly so that you don’t have a chance to misinterpret anything. Whatever defenses you’ve got set up? You’re going to drop them. Leave some guards if you like, I don’t care. They’re not going to do shit against these guys, we both know it. I want a good fight, so keep from interfering. When we’ve had our fun, if they’ve not found some way to escape, you can have what’s left. Understood, Mr. CEO?”
Nick Wilde silently stares at the puppet, his eyes unwavering, before he gives a firm nod. “Alright. I accept your proposal. However, do know that, to ensure that profit is gained from this, we’ll be sure to record everything that occurs.” His tone suggests much, and Manny’s grin only spreads wider in response. It seemed they were on the same page.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
-----
Grey glanced over at his partner with slight hesitation. Bastet had always left him uncomfortable. She sat beside him, dressed in a strange kimono. Made of a silk and cotton blend, while it ended just below her waist, the sleeves of the Japanese dress went well past her hands, obscuring them from sight. A blood-red flower pattern decorated it, going well with the deep violet coloring. Thin white padded slippers covered her feet, and she wore faded pink knee-high socks. The most curious thing about her, however, was the mask she wore. White as a snow-covered grave, it bore but a simple design upon it; a cat-like smile, four slits where eyes might lie, and in the center, a painting of an eye the same blood-red as the flowers that dotted her. Her purple locks gently flowed along the side of the mask in the gentle breeze atop the truck they’d been assigned to transport them to where the Night Creature clan lie in wait for their upcoming battle. The pixie cut and bangs suited her, as did the cat-ear like protrusions of hair atop her head, though he’d never admit it. Mostly, it was out of fear. He’d never seen her face; as far as he could tell, no living man had.
She turned her head towards him, and he looked away. It would be a long mission; hopefully, things would run smoothly. Nightshade’s orders had been clear: remain out of sight, and out of detection as much as possible. If the situation became troublesome for them, then the two were to step in. Aside from that, however, Bastet was to handle a majority of setting things up so that Nightshade’s plans could progress. All that needed to occur was the defeat of the Nehushtan Coils, and everything would proceed without issue. Bastet types on her phone, Siri’s voice reading out her message.
“What is it, Grey?” Siri asked in Bastet’s stead. “Are you having cold feet?”
“No,” the dragonkin replies. “I’m simply thinking is all. Are we certain these… false Night Creatures will be able to handle these Coils? From what’s been gathered of them, they’re quite the force to be reckoned with.”
“They shall prevail. We shall ensure it, though there will be little need for our assistance.” She pulls out a small handheld device, which Grey had seen in use before. It was a powerful EMP device of unknown origin; one of its more notable features being that it could recharge itself after use. “The main priority is isolating them from the RHG Organization’s eyes. What happens next simply happens.”
-----
Dante gave his equipment one final check. The Protech FAV LV SM02 Level IIIA Vest was firmly strapped in place, hidden beneath a dark camo tank top. The vest had been slightly modified from its original design; aside from the increased ballistics and piercing resistance, he’d also gotten some help from Rhami to make it even lighter, so that his movements were barely restricted. The black bomber jacket at his side contained his prized diamond-edged butterfly knife, as well as its twin, and a pair of S&W M&P .40s, modified to have red dot sightings. Typically, he didn’t dual-wield the guns for practical reasons, but being able to swap between the two was faster at least once versus changing the mag. He had two extra mags on him, giving him a grand total of sixty-four shots between the handguns.
To his side, awaiting assembly, was an M&P 15-22 Sport, a rifle using .22lr ammunition. While it could only fit ten bullets at a time, it was a powerful weapon, and he’d gotten thirty additional shots for it. It would likely be his primary weapon for the skirmish; he was dealing with dangerous psychopaths with deadly abilities; range would be his ally as he supported his fellow Coils. After ensuring the rest of his gear was in check, he dropped out of the van and met up with the others, forming a quick huddle. Dracustos was the only one missing at the moment, as he had chosen to perform reconnaissance from the air. David held the walkie talkie out for everyone to hear.
“It seems there are a total of fifteen men guarding the facility,” they hear crystal clear through the device. “Five on the roof at each corner with one in the center, two groups of four making rounds, and two guarding the entrance.” David gives Dante a nod, handing him the modified Daisy PowerLine BB gun, which he’d upped the CO2 pressure allowance on, and adjusted to shoot tranqs rather than the usual metal balls.
“Dracustos, please neutralize the targets on the roof. We’ll break into two teams and take out the roaming parties, before taking the men guarding the entrance.”
“Understood, Doctor.” The radio goes silent, and David motions to the group. He and Zoe would head right, Dante and Altaer would take the left. The two men nod, moving out. As they stalk the men, Altaer speaks silently to Dante from behind his mask.
“Zalgo’s been still for some time now in there. It has me somewhat concerned; he may be setting up a trap with his oil. Do you have any defenses against it aside from your guns?”
“Well, I can’t say for sure, but possibly.” He needed to keep up his bluff in regards to his arms’ strength. “It’s sort of a… untested, highly dangerous, possibly cataclysmic move on my part. It’d be better for me to hang back…” He lines up the shots, marks them in his head mentally, then fires four tranqs in rapid succession, the white-clad bodies soon falling to the ground. “...and provide fire support for you guys. After all, you all are the ones with powers. I’m just a normal guy who’s good with weapons.” He heads over to the men and places his fingers to each of their necks, checking for pulses. All of them were still alive; good, no need to spill unneeded blood.
“You’re pretty good, y’know that?”
“You flatter me, Mr. Fixer. Almost reminds me of back when we were handling Orecho-” And suddenly, he woke up in bed. “What the hell…?” He felt something grinding against his left thigh wetly.
“Mmm, baby, what’s got you in such a mood?” The female voice was heavenly, though he couldn’t recall ever having met anyone with that voice. Still trying to figure out why he was suddenly in bed when he was just talking to Altaer, he was greeted by a horrifying sight: it was Zalgo, dressed in skimpy lingerie, long black tongue playing with his leg uncomfortably close to his sensitive parts. The mouth on Zalgo’s face seems to turn into a contorted grin as it spoke once more. “What’s wrong, lover boy? Cat got your tongue?”
And as Dante screamed, he was awoken by Rhami shaking him, Astor watching him from his headboard, his form that of a peregrine falcon. “Dante, Dante, calm down! It was only a dream.” He sits up immediately, holding his chest as a cold sweat pours down his brow.
“A terrifying dream,” he says. “There was a monster in my bed, licking my thigh, staring at me with those beady black eyes…” He puts his hands to his face, trying to let the memory fade away. “But… it doesn’t make sense. I was just outside of an RHG safehouse; now I’m in bed. What is going on here?” He felt something drip onto his head, and looking up, he saw oil pouring from Astor’s mouth, his eyes the same inky black that Zalgo’s had been.
“Don’t worry,” Rhami said, and as he turned to look at her, the same affliction had befallen her. “Just let it all go. You’re in bed after all. Just rest, Dante. Rest.” As she spoke, the sheets began to wrap around him, growing thick and moist as a tongue. Around him, teeth seemed to rise from beneath the frame, slowly closing around the three. The mattress falls away from beneath him, and he felt a rhythmic pulse come from somewhere behind him. The tongue slowly turns him around, showing a black heart; however, it was no normal heart. As he continued staring at it, the details slowly became more defined.
It was him. Dante stared at himself, curled into a ball, pulsating as black fluids flowed through tubes into him. Slowly, Heart-Dante opened his eyes, and darkness flowed out of them. Something within him twisted, looking at this abominable recreation of himself. He was being toyed with, viewed as someone easy to manipulate. He wouldn’t accept it. Calming his breathing, he let his mind empty, revolve around himself and himself only. As he did, an easiness filled him. This place had no power over him; Zalgo had no power over him. This was his mind, and here, he was in control. Slowly, he reached into his pocket; he was dressed now, no longer feeling the slimy, disgusting appendage about him. Taking Chance’s gift from his pocket, he rips apart the tongue, remaining aloft in the air of his own volition. Very slowly, he moved over to the dark shadow of himself, staring into its empty eyes.
“You are not me, and I’m not afraid of you.” Pulling back, he let his pent up anger unleash itself in the heart. As the blade hilted, his eyes opened, and he looked into the eyes of Altaer, who was tearing his shirt off. “Wha… what the hell are you doing?”
“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Altaer says, “you’re currently bleeding quite a bit.” Removing the armor, he grimaces slightly. “That’s a deep wound. Puncture, like from a sharp blade. Doesn’t look like it hit anything too vital, but this bleeding will likely be a serious issue. Dammit, we don’t have the materials to properly dress this. Looks like Zalgo got to you; his range has grown.”
Dante looked down at himself; though he could see the wound, see the blood bubbling out, he couldn’t feel it. Memories of what happened came back; had that been the monster’s plan? Rather than attack himself, have Dante do it for him? He cursed himself for his foolishness. He’d been training his mind specifically to counter Zalgo, and had fallen directly into his trap instead. Taking his shirt, he tore several strips from it, measuring them to make sure they’d be long enough. Then, he took drastic measures. Shooting off one of his M&P’s, he grit his teeth as he pinched the wound closed and pressed the hot metal to it. It wasn’t the best way to cauterize a wound, but it would have to do; the pain was excruciating, though. As he suffered in silence, the radio came alive. MacBeth sounded… very unhappy.
“Dante, Al. Zalgo got to Zoe. I’m unsure what exactly happened, but wounds started appearing on her body, and she began to transform into her demonic form. I had to tranquilize her; if I hadn’t, there was a good chance she’d not only kill the humans around here, but she’d critically injure several of us as well. Is everyone else alright?”
“Dante got a bad wound to the stomach,” the Abyssal Lord said. “He’ll need first aid; this may be a bust.” The walkie-talkie is snatched from his hand. Dante gives him a glare to rival any of the impris