Chapter 85 (Patreon)

A hail of gunfire greeted Blackrazor as he stepped out into the main space of the old manufacturing plant that they had used for their temporary hideout. Thugs that didn’t have adequate powers to use in a fight had been armed with automatic weapons loaded with anti-monster munitions. The serial numbers would be traced back to a shipment sent to the west coast to be shipped by sea to east asia. One of the trucks had gone missing. He swept into the room as a stone, launched at high speed, hurtled at him from a stray shot by a hero who was immediately gunned down.

The pebble went through his head, liquid shadow dripping from the hole that had opened in his changed body. He huffed and sealed the ‘wound’. He walked slowly as the first wave of heroes encountered surprising resistance, some of their defensive powers not ready for non-mundane bullets. He took a breath and spun the forearm length blade in his hand, spreading his will throughout the room. His mind grasped onto the shadows, integrating them into himself as he became a part of the room.

He closed his eyes and shifted his senses throughout the space. Here, he was king. 

Autarch.

Shouts rang out dimly in his ears, his mind already hunting for his prey. He had been given only one task, eliminate the greatest threat to the final step of his mistress’ plan. An Set had to disappear at her hands, his reputation sullied forever no matter what happened next. If that was what she desired, she would have it without question. A gunshot sounded next to his head and he ignored the thug next to him who gave him a wide-eyed look. He kept his pace slow as he moved into view of the heroes. One face at a time. Quickly now. No. No. No.

He stepped out fully and the heroes paused for just half a heartbeat and he exhaled, liquid blackness spreading across the floor in a creeping tide. He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at the dark-skinned man crouched near the middle, a rifle in his hand. He met his gaze, There you are.

One moment he was there, establishing his presence, letting the heroes know that there was a predator in their midst. The next he dove into the ocean of shadow beneath him, his body slipping into the ground as if it had simply gone. Menace. There was power in fear. An assassin could operate on cold efficiency and silence, certainly, but fear made one make mistakes. Fear led one to change plans. Fear destroyed cohesion. Blackrazor would tear them apart one by one if he had to, all for the Mistress. He didn’t have time to play it safe, he had to disorient, confuse, and break their reason as he pursued his target. Ishtar would not hold Handmaiden and Black Lotus at bay for long.

He did not want a rematch with Handmaiden, not yet. 

“Watch your feet!” The man, Pathfinder, shouted, “He’s in the shadows!”

Blackrazor willed a poisoned knife out of himself and launched it silently from between Pathfinders feet. The tracker hero moved with almost preternatural instinct, diving out of the way as the knife darted into the air and slipped into yet another shadow. Blackrazor let that chill wash through his veins as murder became his sole focus. Another knife leaped from the shadows, coming from above and scratching a hero who was blocking for his comrades with a barrier made of some kind of metal. He winced and dropped to a knee as another knife darted across the room horizontally, striking a man behind him in the ear.

“Where is he?”

“Those knives came from both sides of the room!”

“Watch the shooters, don’t forget we’re under fire!”

“I know that!”

“We need light in here! Push the shadows back!”

There’s a good idea, you should do that before I kill more of you, Blackrazor thought, swimming through his own personal sea. He swirled, danced, and then spotted his prey again. Pathfinder had moved to a spot above the battlefield near the entrance, faint light beating down on his back. Blackrazor swam up the crates where the man was sitting, his shadowy form slipping from place to place like oil. He reached the man’s leg and the man darted away again, landing on the ground and firing his rifle at the crate where Blackrazor had hidden.

Tch.

Blackrazor pulled back, slinking into the shadows before releasing another flurry of blades. The metal shield hero who had been cut in the leg toppled over and foamed at the mouth. Another hero took a knife to the throat, another stabbed in the back. 

“Shore up! Pull back! He’s probably Mythic! Handmaiden and Black Lotus are on their way!” Pathfinder shouted, firing shot after shot. He seemed to know where Blackrazor was, no matter which way he went, as soon as he surfaced there was a bullet heading for him again. Blackrazor frowned a little, he had changed his target rather quickly. 

The mistress said that he needed a connection to the target to track them. I touched him, was that enough? What does he have of An Set’s that makes him so confident? An article of clothing perhaps? Blackrazor mused as he pulled away from another bullet.

“I’ll keep him contained!” Pathfinder shouted, “Focus on the defenders!”

Arrogant. I’ll have to correct that.

Blackrazor grunted internally, focusing hard as he spread his will throughout the darkness again, becoming fully one with it. He grit his teeth, clenching his fists and throwing himself into the act of control. He barely heard the confused shouts that came next as the oil-slick darkness that spread across the floor beneath the heroes began to grow deep. Boxes slid into the ground, descending, boots dropped a few inches, some managed to climb out of the trap while others found themselves stuck.

I’ll swallow you all-

BANG!

A gunshot rang out and the bullet plunged into the shadows. Blackrazor winced as he felt pain spread across his shoulder. He blinked and opened his eyes, glancing down at the wound that had been left behind. He shot a bullet into the sea of shadow? He wondered before looking back at the man who stood at the center of his allies, rifle raised, confidence in his eyes, as they pulled themselves out of the dispersing trap. Blackrazor’s lips formed a thin line. As you wish.

For a moment, a brief moment, it seemed like the entire room grew brighter. All of the shadow that had spread through the room swarmed across the ground in an angry rush. 

“Scatter!” Pathfinder shouted, “Get away from-”

Blackrazor leaped from the shadow, blade in hand. Pathfinder stepped back and blocked it with his rifle, the weapon scraping against the metal barrel. A low hiss erupted from the point of impact and the poison so toxic it could burn through steel ate its way into the weapon. Pathfinder grunted and took a step back, drawing a pistol from his belt as Blackrazor dove into the shadow again and resurfaced behind him, lunging again. Pathfinder spinned and fired off a shot only to hit empty air. 

“You can track me, certainly,” Blackrazor hissed, his voice filling the chamber. Pathfinder spinning and firing on the spot, always missing in the concentrated space of shadow that was forming in a ring around him. He spun again and again, his eyes going wider until a hand wrapped around his chin and a cold blade pressed against his throat. Blackrazor leaned into his ear, “But you aren’t fast enough.”

He pulled the blade to a splatter of crimson blood as poison ensured the kill.

–

Chunhua hurtled herself over another building, racing from spot to spot as she tried to get some distance from Ishtar’s communications impairing ability. She could hear gunfire nearby so she figured she was on the right track. She was nearly a mile away before finally she heard the radio crackle back on. She raised her finger to her ear, “Euclidia! Are you okay?” She shouted.

“I’m fine, oh my god, holy shit,” Euclidia breathed.

“I know,” Chunhua panted, tossing herself over an electrical box and landing on the street below, “Where’s Pathfinder?”

“Two blocks from you, he’s fighting something I can’t see, it's gross,” She said, “Hurry!”

“I got it,” Chunhua said and turned to look at Handmaiden, “How about you, are you okay?”

“I can keep going,” Handmaiden said with a firm nod, “Whatever you need.”

Chunhua felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. The interaction also triggered an intensifying sense of doubt. This woman was close to Chernovna, very close, yet she’d thrown herself at Ishtar without a single doubt in her mind. The attacks that Handmaiden had delivered were not intended to subdue, she had gone for the kill from the first punch. Either Handmaiden didn’t know that Sonya was Ishtar, Ishtar was lying, or this woman was a superb actress.

She really hoped it wasn’t the latter.

She nodded at her comrade and they raced towards the building in question, flashes of gunfire still lighting up inside. She landed on a rooftop and looked down. She saw Pathfinder, “Oh thank-”

A shadow wrapped around him, and he dropped to the ground.

“No!”

–

Blackrazor glanced over his shoulder at the two women on top of the building and huffed. There was Handmaiden, he needed to leave. He turned away, ignoring them, and raised his hand to his earpiece as he stepped into the ground. “Retreat,” He said casually before diving down and swimming back to the room where An Set was held. There he saw the Mistress step through a rectangle of light, her arms crossed behind her back. Her head was turned to look at the unconscious An Set.

“They’re here,” Blackrazor said as fighting broke out outside.

“I know,” Ishtar said with a nod and gestured, a new portal appearing behind An Set. “Is he dead?”

“Yes ma’am,” Blackrazor confirmed.

“Well done, shall we?” She rasped and the two made their escape. Blackrazor grabbing hold of An Set and dragging him through the portal. Just as it began to close behind them, the woman Black Lotus stepped into the room. Ishtar, next to him, glanced back over her shoulder and waved as the portal shut.

–

Everything was confusion, colors were sounds, words were nonsense, emotion was everything. Feeling was killing, killing was breathing, everything was lightning. Duong swam in a void of his own power, the great eel had slunk back to a place deep within himself to rest and recover. Yet he had not found enough of himself to resurface. When it woke again, he would feel its rage once more. That was fine. That was easy. It was comfortable, fun even, he had enjoyed the battle, had savored the carnage, had reveled in the ruination as he took a backseat to the thing inside of him.

This was a good place, a good time, to drift into nothingness.

Yet he didn’t, something held him in place. A violet light that brought back feelings of petulant rage and incoherent fury filled his mind. He wanted to kill its source, destroy it, obliterate it, he needed to. Yet he couldn’t find his strength. He couldn’t move. The light kept pulling at him, guiding him. It didn’t try to push him back down as before, when that woman had oppressed him. No, this violet light was a guide to bring him back to the surface above the clouds of darkness and storms.

He took the offered hand, curious more than anything, perhaps desperate for one more shot at living. He didn’t know, his thoughts were so jumbled and confused that he-

“Welcome back, Duong,” A voice that sent chills up his spine greeted him. Inhuman. A rasp of bloodcurdling quality that was laced with unrepentant cruelty. His vision swayed and he blinked before looking up into a pair of glowing pink eyes blazing on a faceless helmet. 

“Who…?” He managed.

“I am Ishtar,” The woman said and stood up, a violet glow fading from her fingertips.

“How?” He tried, his head still fuzzy.

“I killed Feng Hyunh,” Ishtar said.

He blinked at her and tilted his head, her logic didn’t make sense to him, but he wasn’t going to complain. “Should I be grateful?”

“I want you to die too,” Ishtar said callously, “But I figured I should give you the opportunity to make something useful of your last moments. In return, for a moment, you will be far more powerful than you ever were with The Great Eel.”

He felt his stomach sink, his head tilted forward and he stared at her, a frown on his face. He searched her mask for a moment, looked her body up and down, then squinted, “Take off your mask and we can talk.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Ishtar said with a shrug and reached up, removing her mask and revealing the mechanical eyes of the bubbly, playful, mischievous Sonya Chernovna. He gaped at her, bewildered, his mouth falling open as he tried to process it. “I put a lot of effort into getting you here, alone, like this An Set. You should be flattered.”

“How long have you been planning this?” He asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Since the moment I heard your name, would you like to know why? I shared it with Feng before I killed her,” She said, holding out a hand to touch his chin. 

He jerked his head away, “Nah, no thanks,” He spat, grinning at her.

She pulled her hand back and actually frowned a little, it was satisfying, “Fine, it doesn’t bother me. I had the satisfaction with Feng after all.”

“How did she die?” He asked.

“Torn to pieces and disemboweled by gnolls in the dungeon,” The woman said frankly, “After I dropped her off a cliff into their midst. She was afraid of you until the very last moment.”

He felt something swell in him that he hadn’t expected, joy, delight, he threw his head back and laughed long and hard, kicking his feet and thrashing a bit in his bindings. He glanced around, it was some sort of abandoned shack from the looks of it, barely a shed. He finally caught his breath, “Oh, wow! You know what, I’m grateful,” He said, grinning at her, “So what do you want from me? You wanna make my death flashy? What’s the plan, I figure we’re more than even now. I owe you one for telling me that.”

Sonya nodded at him, “I had a feeling you’d appreciate the news,” She said and held out her hand to him again. He took it and she smiled wider as she pulled him to his feet. She reached out to touch his chest, right over his heart and inclined her head, looking up into his eyes. “Before we make our deal, let me make a little investment, consider it a down payment for what I’m going to ask of you.”

He felt something rush into his body, something changed, something big.

He grinned, “Whatever you want.”