CHAPTER : 21 DANCE IN THE DARK …

There is no sane man who could ever think the darkness could be tamed. But we are not sane. How is it that man became so delusional to ever think to conquer the dark, and succeed in such an endeavor? Irrationality is our core trait, and irrationality leads to ambition, and ambition brings results.

There was a saying from where he came from. A saying that Michael wanted to steal for himself and add it to his biography, which he has yet to write but plans to if he ever survives. ‘A true warrior does not haunt the dark, but become the dark.’

Silence is a compliment, speed is crucial. He is running, and on his way he made it to the main electrical component of the region of underground he was in, putting effort to remember that map from earlier unexpectedly found its crucial use. All it took was some simple swipes using his knife to turn the entirety facility into his domain. Wires were cut, and so was electricity. He adjusts the settings of his lenses, setting it to its 100% darkness configuration. A mix of thermal, infrared and something else, he didn't need to understand how it worked, all he cared about was if it did work, and it didn't disappoint.

The electrical room was small, open and vulnerable. He did not want to stay here for more than necessary, especially to an opponent with explosives. The darkness made him escape to a more spacious location. He checked his radio and tried to use it, but it just produced a strange sound and halted.

““It’s broken?””

There was no time for cursing, he then heard laughter, was he fighting some sort of purple-suited clown? A flash of light had entered his vision, curving, going from side to side yet the shelf he was hiding behind was still unexposed. He was in a massive spacious part of the underground facility, a mostly square room filled with pillars, walls and hundreds of tall storage containers. It was a warehouse, the best place for hide and seek.

“Hey!” The voice still screamed. “I won't let you just run away y'know?!” The woman said, her tone a gentle mix of playfulness and wrath. Silence is his first answer. His second is a rolling metal tube.

…

W followed the intruder as he tried to escape. She was sure of it. This person was the folktale of legends itself.

““Ghosts of Chernobog.””

She chuckled at herself, recalling that name. But she would be lying if she said their appearance didn't play the part. The intruder was clad in midnight black, with four protruding lenses as his eyes, coming from his headgear. The decals of a skull were seen in his mask, giving him the appearance of death itself. But W had faced death multiple times before, and she always won. This time would be no exception.

Apart from his attire, the intruder himself was interesting. No tail, no horn, no halo. That leaves his race as either a durin, aegir, some sort of rare race or mutation, or the person had his horns trimmed. But all of those options were all extremely unlikely, and she was dying to know which one was correct. She had to capture him. Yes, killing someone like him would be a complete waste of information.

W had already memorized and put into her bones the general layout of Chernobog's underground maintenance facilities, she roughly estimated the possible routes where he could have gone, and will go. But she didn't expect the man to locate and destroy and disconnect the power control panel of the sector they were in.

A flashlight was now strapped onto her trusty explosive launcher, she didn't care for the fact that using explosives underground might not be wise. Something else bothered her, and that was her mercenary-born instinct. This entire situation was risky, she had an entire plan for observing the soldier using cameras in the facility, but that was thrown into the shitter quite quickly. Her home advantage immediately turned to nothing with one unexpected counter.

She hated fighting like this. The enemy was unknown. His weapons, tactics, temperament, mindset, capabilities and even motive are unknown, and now he even threw away major portions of her advantages and plans to the trash, throwing her out of her element. This was an extremely dangerous situation and her gut was screaming, clawing at her back trying to convince her to retreat and replan, but what was she supposed to do? Let him get away and lose the only chance she has on exposing what this cryptic organization is? No. That would not happen. She's a mercenary, battlefields evolve and change, and every practitioner of war must know how to adapt with it.

Her flashlight terminated the dark as she slowly moved from room to room, the underground was a challenging environment, walking as carefully as she possibly could. She reached one of the many storehouses of the Chernobog underground, with boxes and shelves that reached as high to touch the ceiling as they curved, turned in different directions, forming a mini labyrinth in the room. She entered, looking in all directions. Nothing. She took this opportunity to install a failsafe.

She continued her search, surveying the room whilst sticking herself to the walls and cover. The place was dead silent and W had doubts if he even entered this room, she considered leaving, until she heard something roll on the floor.

“What the-”

Thick, dark smoke filled the room in an instant and clouded the hallways of shelves with it. W coughed, trying to ward the smoke away but not even a second later, flashes of light came penetrating the dark smog, all aimed at her direction. W’s eyes widened.

Her leg immediately sprang into motion as the spirit of experience and instinct moved her lightning fast reflexes and automatically hid herself behind a pillar as the bullets singed, chipping the edges of the pillar as they passed. The bullets stopped, but before she could attack back, red dripped to the ground. She felt a sting coming from her left shoulder, one lucky bullet grazed her skin, leaving behind an all too familiar scent, the scent of her blood.

“Tch!”

She prepared for a fight like this, bullet proof vests were rare in supply in Terra, as the most popular types of defense were either general purpose or arts. Bullet proofs do exist, but even then they weren't even 100% effective, but her connections managed a simple plate carrier originating from Blacksteel, that reminded her of what she wore in the past. Unfortunately it had its obvious limitations, only protecting her chest and abdomen.

W maddeningly fired volleys of raging explosions aimed at the direction of the smoke with her grenade launcher. She wanted retribution for that wound, and so he shall pay.

Thunderous explosions devastated the area like earthquakes of spite. Her rage sent the concrete of the underground to crack, with walls fallen and floors shattered. Then she stopped, maintaining her gaze with a light focused upon the origin of the smoke, now slowly disappearing revealing nothing but collapsed walls and debris.

She didn't laugh anymore, this enemy was not the type to be defeated by her taunting. She needed to be silent.

She silently walked, still aiming the grenade launcher towards the place where the bullets and smoke came from, steadily advancing using obstacles, pillars and anything else as cover. But she found nothing, the light of her flashlight hitting nothing but broken concrete but no corpse or anything was in place, he just wasn't there.

She felt a chill run down her spine as she immediately used her flashlight to check her behind, but only the darkness and silence met her. She immediately retracted herself to cover as she surveyed each of her sides, but there was nothing.

““Did he escape? No, I have to bait him to the light.””

Information was condensed, environment analyzed and situation considered. She smiled inside. A new plan formulated in her head. She'll oust him out of the cloak of the dark, and force this little nocturnal to the light.

She turned to the entrance of the room, the only place where one could enter or leave. Still nothing. She took a deep breath. Her fingers left her launcher’s trigger, and the moment she lowered her gun, flashes of light came from the dark.

…

Michael did not expect this woman to actually use more explosives underground, it was unexpected as it was dangerous and stupid. But that was not what had surprised him.

He saw her figure in pure white at the moment of the smoke with the help of his thermal sights. She was clear in view, clear as dead. It was a perfect hunt and his aim and calculations should hold true. And yet she lived, managing to somehow dodge the bullets, moving like a blur. He recalled all the things he saw, heard and learned about the natives of this world. They weren't human, with genetically superior physique and endurance. But one fact still remained, they still bled, all the same.

Expecting a counterattack with her explosives, his boots quietly escaped his original position, dashing just fast enough to escape her bombs then using the noise of the explosions to cover his own footsteps as he slid himself back into the dark and flanked his way behind her. He did not shoot yet. His brain now fully accepts the information that she had an inhuman reaction speed.

He needed to fire at the moment her guard was down. He lay prone in the dark, obstacles blocked his sight, but also covered him. He could see her figure, chest to legs only. He was patient, he calmed his heart down as he waited. A beating, boiling heart was not what he needed, instead he preferred the cold calculation of rationality.

She looked around, fruitlessly trying to locate his position using her measly flashlight. Then she stopped. He observed closely, and then she lowered her grenade launcher, and the exact moment she did, he aimed for the best place for the best combined rates of effectivity and hit rate. The chest, and so his bullets whistled. Five taps, five echoes then he heard her fall.

Thud.

He saw her figure drop, not good enough. He made his way closer. He needed to confirm his kill. He emerged quietly from the darkness, each of his steps growing closer to the figure laying in concrete. She was laying frozen, like a cold corpse in a freezer. She was bleeding, But only little bullet holes were found coming from her chest, and instead most of his bullets were blocked by her grenade launcher.

It's flashlight now shining upon his features. His eyes widened, but it was too late. The corpse reanimated, delivering a swift sweep to his leg, knocking him down to the floor. He immediately fired his magazine but found that he was aiming at nothing.

The girl somehow stood up before him, and a crushing kick went for his arm clutching his gun, disarming him. He rolled backwards, and kicked his feet up, putting his best efforts to stand up, only to be immediately pushed back by a punch to his chest. He stumbled, but only for a split second, another punch was coming. His instinct caught it, but his instincts didn't prepare for the fact that her strength was not of a regular human. He went flying, coughing up blood as he did. He did not fall, his conscience would not allow that to happen again. The girl immediately rushed to him with a flying kick. He crossed his arms, barely blocking it as his boots slid backwards on the concrete.

The figure jumped backwards, now laughing again.

“You're from the CIA right?”

She said, with a mad taint visible in her eyes. Michael did not know why or how she knew that, but his heart was going too cold to properly react, but something did change in his purpose, he had to find out how she came to know that name.

“No reaction, huh?”

The girl said.

“If you won't even introduce yourself, then I shall. The name’s W, not that your corpse would remember it!”

A maniacal laugh echoed in the dark chamber as she unsheathed a clean silver dagger, its shine reflecting from the light on the floor.

Michael considered his options. None of them had him dying. He only had his sidearm left. W was too fast, if he would draw it now she would've closed the distance in an instant, rendering it useless. His eyes focused on something on the ground. It was the flashlight W had with her, the only light left in the room. The only thing granting her vision.

W took advantage of his distracted thoughts as she immediately pushed her legs forward, charging like a crazed bull. She was stronger, faster and absolutely insane. He could not match her physically, she was more than human. But matters of the mind were a different story.

He used his remaining strength to try to swipe her leg, ineffective. She was close now, close enough for a shoulder strike, it missed. She once again tried to stab him straight to his neck, but he willed himself and managed to grab onto her wrist, and his other hand to her shoulder, he was heavier. He bent his knees to the ground, managing to pull a miraculous sacrifice throw and placing W onto the concrete. Unfortunately, in less than a second she was back up, not even giving him the advantage of benefitting from the boons from his risky maneuver, and now he was too drained to attack nor dodge. He wasn't a black belt after all, he was a soldier.

The soldier unsheathed his own survival knife, and held it close to his chest for self defense. The soldier did not study the arts of the blade, much less dagger works, as stuff like that was more of a circus show than practical, so it was something new to him to see this girl use such a primitive weapon, and wield it with skill never thought possible.

She rushed at him, their blades met in a dance, clanging like percussion, as the duet performed, but he barely even managed to compete with her. The girl then positioned herself to stab him right through the throat, he raised both his arms in defense, and got stabbed right through his stomach. He fell for a feint, the soldier stumbled back yet again, but his vest protected him from the steel blade.

She charged at him yet again, knife’s tip aimed at his shoulder. It seems that she learned that his armor was defiant, but why did she aim for the shoulder? Why not a killing blow like the neck from earlier? It didn't matter to the soldier, that would make his plan easier. He decided to go for the offensive, pushing his feet, and at the last second, threw his knife instead.

He saw the girl's eye gasp, but like all others. It was ultimately fruitless, she managed to deflect it in such short range and continued her unstoppable assault.

Stab

His eyes never closed, never blinking, even when he endured the sharp steel penetrating his fabric and flesh. “It's over.” W said, pushing, twisting the blade deeper. There was a moment of silence, where Michael’s body didn't function, not even grunts of pain came from his lips. W wasn't sure if he died or not, and in this quick moment of doubt, he took the advantage just as she did before.

He slammed his head forward, his hardened lenses and helmet acting like a sledgehammer to W’s unprotected forehead. She stumbled back in pain and surprise, and Michael finally took his sidearm, and killed the light.

…

Darkness fell in an instant, and W’s sight was stolen away from her. She cursed internally. His bullets robbed her of most of her strength, she knew that the little plate carrier couldn't fully protect her torso, and now she was sure some bones there too were broken, plus some internal bleeding. The pain and wounds lessened her speed and strength, preventing her from knocking out the man in just one swift strike, so she planned to take him out as quickly as possible. She failed, and she would pay for it dearly.

She punched the dark, lashing out in front of her with a high kick in hopes of incapacitating the man right in front of her just moments before, but unfortunately her boots connected to nothing. She looked around the darkness, like a blind woman trying to guess where the man might be using sound, scent, and touch, but that was useless now. She got her answers right after.

Flashes of light exploded in front of her, blinding her, and this time, it was nigh impossible to dodge.

The bullet hit her leg, her arm, then punctured through her shoulder. She fell to the ground as her jaw caught an armored kneecap, flinging her to the floor not even granting her the mercy to shout in pain properly. She felt something grab her by the back, and push her head to the ground, restrained her arms then the sensation of a cold, metal barrel right to the back of her head was felt. And it was then when she heard the man’s voice for the first time.

“Why didn't you aim for my neck?” His voice was as cold as the steel executioner placed on her head. W laughed a little, her voice now beyond tired and raspy. “Why would I kill you immediately? I thought I had the opportunity to-” she coughed, spitting blood before continuing to speak. “I thought of asking you questions, I'm very curious about this, ‘CIA’ group of yours, after all.”

The man didn't respond, making W speak again. “Agh, H-How about you? Why am I still alive?” An unexpected soft snicker came from the man, not matching his cold and steely attitude from earlier. “Funny. It's also because I too am curious. How do you know about the CIA?” “How about we speak some other time?” “There would be no other time after this.”

W smiled. “You're wrong, none of us will die today.” “Oh?” The sound of a soft, mechanical beeping coming from W herself suddenly made an entrance. “How about let's call it quits now, and both of us make it out alive?” “Explain.” “I have a bomb strapped right inside my shirt-” “I fail to understand how that would help you.” “Woah! Hey now, you're rushing it! I wasn't done yet, see that remote detonator strapped in my leg?” Michael went searching for it, and once he found it, immediately grabbed it away from her. “This entire underground area is filled to the brim with explosives, don't believe me? Since you can see in the dark with those, uhh- goggles of yours, look closely at the entrance of this room.”

Michael wasn't sure if this was a trick for him to remove his attention from her, but his head turned to the exit anyway. He didn't see it the first time he entered, but there was something taped right above the ceiling of the entrance. “Still don't believe me? Try pressing one of the buttons on that controller and see what happens~” W said, taunting the soldier who was carefully looking at the so-called controller, detonator thing.

There was a small screen in it that presented a timer. “I assume, after fifteen minutes had passed, all the bombs on the facility would explode?” “Correct! And only I know the code to disable all the bombs, so what do you think of my little trap here?” Gleefully said W, still held down on the floor.

“What's your plan?” “It's simple, Mr. Four Eyes, you and I, both get out of here, and once we have separated far enough, I'll disable the bombs myself, and both of us walk out alive.” “And what happens if I refuse?” “Then I suppose we will both die here.” Michael stayed silent, his finger still placed on the trigger. “So what will it be? Mr Four eyes? Better decide now before more of the Reunion shows up here, and believe me when I say that they'll dig through the rubble just to see your corpse prove the existence of your little shadow group.”

Michael still didn't respond, his gun still placed on her head. Another moment of silence passed, and for the first time in a long time, W felt control slipping out her hand. After what felt like an eternity, Michael finally gave his answer in the form of another light, short snicker. “Done thinking?” W said. “Thinking of what?” Michael replied. “The clock’s ticking, Four Eyes.” “I understand that W. You've been talking a lot. So let me answer you too. I only take orders from my commanders, not from you.” “You're willing to die here?” “How about you W? Are you willing to die here?” She went silent.

…

“That should be the last of it” Swire said, regrouping up with her team. “Zero casualties, bombs planted on three critical locations all in the span of less than three hours. Bravo everyone.” Hoshiguma clapped, taking off the mask she'd been wearing. “W-Wait! We're not done here yet!” “Am I not allowed to take a small breath of fresh air?” Hoshiguma said, smirking as she turned to face Swire. “No its- alright fine. You can.” Swire sighed, instead looking for her radio. “I'll check up with the Rhodes Island team, you guys prepare to leave this place.” Her team nods, grabbing their bags, organizing their equipment, sheathing their swords until-

The sound of something shattering the barriers of air at breakneck speed immediately broke the tranquil peace that they delusionally thought would last. Hoshiguma saw it first, a spear was flying through the air, aimed at the person next to her.

“Swire! Watch out!”

She cried out, but the tigress was unable to react. She froze. Hoshiguma kicked her feet up and held her shield, mustering just enough energy to block the flying spear, at the cost of both her and Swire being sent flying and stumbling onto the ground.

“Hoshiguma!” Swire screamed, coughing as she did. “I’m fine, nothing I can't handle!” The oni replied, getting up from the cloud of dust, and picking up her shield with the spear embedded in it. She gasped as she saw cracks like cobwebs form in her trusty shield. “Fucking- who the did that!” She screamed as the Swire and the rest of the team started to group up together in a circle, with their weapons drawn, facing the dark.

“Talulah was right.” Said an old, hoarse voice echoing in the dark. Swire inwardly cursed, they were somehow discovered and tracked down.

“Fire in the direction of the voice!” She screamed, encouraging her snipers. Bolts, arrows and arts grouped in unison to combat the figure shaded in dark that had just attacked them, it failed. Arrows were split, bolts deflected and the arts dispelled.

Sweat drilled down Swire's cheek as she couldn't believe that all of that didn't do anything, and after their futile attempt, the figure stepped forward with one heavy foot, out of darkness and in view just enough for the moonlight to reveal a part of him.

Massive twisting antlers like dead trees were embedded on both sides of his head, an ashen grey deer skull was in place of his face in where glowing red eyes stared right through them like prey. The figure took another step, speaking as he did. “She radioed us to patrol around the deserted places of Chernobog. I first wondered what she was thinking, but upon seeing this. I suppose she hasn't lost her cleverness yet.”

Hoshiguma tensed upon seeing the figure, and so did Swire. “W-Wait, are you Patriot?!” The tigress shouted, with a tinge of shakiness present in her voice. “Many have called me by that name.” Patriot said, then he reached into his radio.

“Everyone, out.”

At the end of those words, tall, armored figures appeared from the darkness. They all held massive shields with blinding light struck to its center, and their other arm carried varying weapons from spear, long swords, halberds. They not only encircled the Lungmen team, but outnumbered them.

Swire instinctively took a step back. There was doubt about it. These are the famous, or infamous Guerilla ShieldGuards. Dreaded all around the north by the Ursus empire where the blood they spilled dripped down to the other regions, marking their fearsome reputation everywhere. She struggled against the urge to run.

…

A/N

It was hard to write the W and Michael fight, trying to make each party actually try to kill eachother (for a bit) without it ending in 3 sentences with neither bombs or bullets winning and while forcing them to fight in melee I still plan for actual character deaths, but my mind tells me its a bit too early still

Thanks for reading and continuing to support this crackfic, (the other fic i was working in would come in a couple of hours too) feel free to send any kind of feedback especially typos

P.S "Weekly update is dead. Weekly update remains dead. And I have killed it. How shall I comfort myself, the murderer of consistent updates?"

-F̶r̶i̶e̶d̶r̶i̶c̶h̶ ̶N̶i̶e̶t̶z̶s̶c̶h̶e̶

-me