'Locked in a dome
The shadows flicker by
He's the madcap pusher
Delirium the drug he's dealing
He drops a capsule in your drink
And spikes your dreams with madness...'
(Bauhaus)
"That lady ruined my coat," said Black as he inspected himself in the bathroom mirror. His brown pants definitely did not match well with the coat or the thin Kevlar vest hugging his chest. The fact that the vampire lady, or whatever she was, tore the sleeve of his leather trench coat only made it worse. Then again, it didn't matter too much since he was shadowed in the darkness of the night. Oddly enough, that vicious bite wound she had inflicted was no where to be seen on his arm.
The digital clock by the bed read 3:39 AM. This evening had been rather eventful in his mind. At least, more interesting that his usual hits, and adding Shadow the Hedgehog into the mix made things that much more entertaining.
'I wonder if he knows...' Mr. Black thought to himself,"And I wonder if it's time...'
Speaking of time, he didn't have much of it. Soon, G.U.N. forces would be mobilizing and searching for him through the streets. Not to mention the fact that they would probably have his new target, the contractor who apparently betrayed and deceived him, barricaded beneath scores of soldiers and guard droids, and that would definitely prove to be an annoyance to Mr. Black... if he were alone in this.
No... Mr. Black was not alone. Someone had been watching out for him. Someone had found out for him that something was amiss about the contract. His intelligence clearly stated that the general was retired, but now that was... less than likely. G.U.N. wouldn't bother watching over an old man without reason. Also, the old bastard was obviously involved with the child slave trade... possibly just a consumer, but involved nonetheless.
Perhaps they were trying to kill two birds with one stone: catch the hit-man, kill the bastard officer. What irked Mr. Black just a bit was the fact that they were chasing him. Who exactly wanted him? Who exactly knew about him? Why did they want him? Why had they gone through the pain of such an elaborate trap for one hit-man?
Really, the who and why were not important at the moment... though the reason why he had been set up seemed self-explanatory.
Mr. Black was an assassin of the highest caliber; his entire career as a contract killer had dealt almost exclusively with terminating G.U.N. personnel. Black is a threat and a hindrance to their agenda; he is a plague to the United Federation and its military branch. Chances are that they want him dead simply because he has killed too many of their operatives over the years. There was always the chance that a deeper motive lay behind the night's events, but it did not matter at the moment.
What was important was getting to his target and meeting up with his companions.
'ISS&BM'
The Indomitable Super Soldier and Bloody Mary; both associates of Mr. Black. To hear how they were alerted to the situation, and mobilized so quickly, would almost certainly be an interesting story.
With one last look in the mirror, Black took a swig of water from the sink and spat. Taking off his coat, he stepped over to the closet and opened the sliding door; luggage on the floor. The killer lifted one of the heavier suitcases and tossed it on the bed along with a black duffel back.
Opening the larger luggage, he removed several black cases and opened them. The lead lined cases had proven effective in concealing the disassembled weapons inside; the MP5 sub-machine gun and the Sig 550 sniper rifle.
He removed the 'Sig components and quickly began assembling the somewhat bulky weapon. Once finished, he unzipped the duffel bag and took out a couple of ammunition clips. Black loaded one of the thirty round box magazines, .556 ammunition, and slapped it in the rifle before setting down on the bed.
Before moving onto the other disassembled weapon, he remembered to grab the AR-15 assault rifle that he had left here. Quickly, he stepped back over to the closet and reached for the black-matte assault rifle. Technically an assault rifle, anyways. This particular model was not able to go fully-automatic or even burst mode, though, really, it didn't matter whether you could fire a weapon at full auto if you couldn't hit your target. Mr. Black was a firm believer in the 'one shot, one kill' philosophy.
Black attached a shoulder strap to the weapon and inserted additional .556 rounds before popping the magazine back into place.
Next was the MP5. While assembling the weapon, Black decided against attaching the foldaway stock. After repeating the magazine process, the smaller weapon's magazine only held twenty five or so 9x19mm rounds, he set the weapon right next to the larger one. The MP5-'PDW', personal defense weapon, was compact enough to use as a convenient backup weapon when the heat turned up, Whereas taking the AR-15 may take too much time to do because of its size and the fact that he would have to drop the 'Sig 550 to use it effectively.
His larger weapons assembled and ready, Mr. Black drew the three weapons strapped to his gun belt; his Desert Eagle and twin '96 Berettas. With deft hands, he reloaded the 'Deagle and the recently discharged Beretta, uninstalled the silencer, and afterwards began holstering the weapons, twirling the last handgun before strapping it to his right side.
'Damn. I left my M9.'
Shrugging off the thought, Mr. Black took out a smaller case from the luggage; the silver M1911 showpiece. At this point, there was no need for silenced weapons. A simple, quick assembly with a seven round .45 ACP magazine slapped in, and he was golden; holstering the stylish Colt in a left-handed under arm carrier.
Finally, Black went to work on the duffel bag. Taking ammunition from two rectangular boxes from the larger luggage, he began filling and storing magazines in the bag and on his person.
On his person, with the help of added holsters and straps, he carried two 9mm MP5 magazines, two .40 Caliber Beretta clips, one .556 'Sig box magazine, one AR-15 magazine, and, finally, three seven round .50 AE Desert Eagle reloads. As a psychological precaution, Mr. Black decided to store seven single Desert Eagle rounds in his right pocket. In addition to the four handguns, sub-machine gun, and two rifles on his person, he also stored the little pill box of poison in his left pocket.
He was packin', alright.
Taking his duffel bag filled with extra ammunition and magazines, he held one last, brief glance at the clock before hurrying out the door and heading towards his destination.
3:46 AM
The bar was in a rather dull part of London. It was the kind of place where everything had the feeling of being gray and uninteresting. However, in a few moments, that was about to change.
Two individuals casually walked through the parking lot making their way to the entrance. They were not the typical pedestrians you would find wandering about in the middle of the night.
The first in front, Bloody Mary, wore a smokey gray uniform which concealed all of the body. This one looked like someone who would usually be affiliated with the SAS. This one was fully geared, too; Kevlar body armor and helmet, gas mask, sidearm holstered on the right hip. What separated this one from your typical military operative was the fact that the uniform had no visible patches of any sort, and the killer kept ten slender, sharp blades dangling on the back of the belt gently clanging against each other.
Behind the uniform killer was an even more imposing figure lugging several large duffel bags in his arms. He was at least a foot taller than the gas mask in front. The I.S.S. was nothing if not imposing. About six foot four, the figure's body was encased in a suit of dark gray material with obsidian black plates covering the vital regions of his body; chest, sides, thighs, shins, biceps, and forearms. His face was behind a matching dark gray, almost black mask with two eerie sapphire-blue eyes. The I.S.S.' neck and the back of his head were exposed, revealing a neatly trimmed light brown, almost red head of hair and fair skin.
These contract killers shared at least two thing with Mr. Black: their insatiable hatred for the G.U.N., and the origin of their powers.
The government has taken so much from Mr. Black and his crew that there could never be enough death to satisfy their thirst for revenge.
Mr. Black, Assassin Black, Bloody Mary, and the I.S.S. were all infused some years ago with various degrees of a special nanotech system labeled 'NanoBLACK'. The system was originally designed to save and sustain life through mechanical means, but the project was neglected, almost abandoned after its funding was cut drastically. Black and his crew, however, inspired the system's designer to continue the project in order to preserve their lives.
They can manipulate their nanites in various ways to aid them in combat in addition to healing wounds, sometimes typically fatal wounds, they would inevitably receive in combat.
Mr. Black, infused with a Grade Two NanoBLACK system, is capable of devouring people and various materials with his nanites. He can do this either by coming into contact with his enemies or by infusing a projectile weapon with nanites and landing a shot on the intended target. Almost nothing can survive the nanite 'infection'.
Assassin Black, infused with a Grade Four NanoBLACK system, specializes in making his masking himself from a multitude of sensors.
Bloody Mary, infused with a Grade Four NanoBLACK, is rather conservative when using the system. Typically, 'Blood' would only utilize the nanites by either healing wounded body parts or by attaching the ten sharp blades to the fingers. This makes for both a fearsome appearance and a deadly weapon; fear the unknown. How would you deal with someone whose fingers were knives and could easily slice into your flesh? How often does anybody run across someone trained to kill you with their nails?
The I.S.S. is infused with the heaviest grade NanoBLACK system, Grade Six, and it is apparent when you get a view of him. Grades indicate the size and amount of nanites one would have in their system at a given time. The reason for such a heavy system is because, unlike his allies, when he needed the treatment, there was a barely recognizable body to save. Because the I.S.S.' system was so heavy to begin with and his body so... lacking... he required cybernetic attachments and an almost complete exoskeleton protective suit to survive. On his grayish black suit rests the nanites in the form of black armor plates. At any given time, he can form armor plating to protect his exposed neck and head. He can also sprout tentacles made of nanites to manipulate objects around him.
All four assassins can do similar things with their nanites, but each one specializes and excels in certain areas.
The two killers paused in front of the bar door. Bloody Mary ran five fingers over the dangerous blades on the belt and drew the USP from its holster on the right hip. The I.S.S. waited outside as Blood pushed open the double doors and pointed the pistol at the nearest target. As you entered, the actual 'bar' started on the right side of the wall, right side of one walking into the bar, before curving off about a third of the way through the room. On the left side, nothing but booths. In the middle, a strange looking statue made of cobalt-blue steel. At the back of the bar was a door marked for employees only. The owner of the two story bar had a taste for modern art it seemed.
One shot, one kill. Before the men in the bar knew what was happening, Bloody Mary had already shot four of them dead, one of them the bartender. Two began charging towards the assassin only to come in contact with Blood's deadly blades. An outwards slice to the face for the first, a inward glided line across the second's neck, and they dropped dead.
Another farther in the bar had drawn a pistol, but, like the men charging Blood, he met his demise before he could fire.
BANG
Seven down, including the bartender, and there was only one person left: a bloated man, probably in his late sixties, and most likely intoxicated, sitting in one of the bar's booths; fourth closest to the entrance. Beads of sweat ran down his face even before the killers had arrived. His sweat stained the red collar on his turtleneck.
"Well, my god. You bastards really are the best at what you do, aren't you?" asked the man before sipping his beverage.
Bloody Mary pointed the pistol at his head and sat down on the opposite side of the booth. The I.S.S. finally decided to walk into the bar and set the heavy bags of 'goodies' on the bar counter.4:08 AM
"We're approaching our destination," crackled a voice over the radio,"Scouts and sharpshooters have already been deployed in the general area," Shadow sighed as he kept pace with the government vehicles,"We've lost contact with two of our sharpshooters around the bar, so I think it's safe to assume that he is holed up with a hostage or two. He probably knows we have him surrounded, so we might be able to talk him out of this."
'Talk him out of this?' Shadow thought to himself,'He killed five agents without saying so much as 'hello', and you think you can talk him out of this?'
The convoy, consisting of multiple transport cars and two large military trucks, entered the vicinity of the Ole' English Forum' and split up to create a defensive perimeter around the area. Schematics showed that there were only two ways in and out of the two story building: through the front door, and through the back door.
Soldiers fanned out left and right, all training their weapons on the bar's two double doors and obscured glass window. Shadow simply stood in the middle of the deployed forces with his arms crossed.
'I wonder how long this is going to take.'
With about a thirty yard distance between the bar entrance and the military, they felt situated and secured. Vehicles served as cover for soldiers, and several G.U.N. guard mechs, deployed from the trucks, moved in front with heavy cannons aimed at the door.
The dark one turned back and walked over to the man in charge, Captain Florentino, wondering what his course of action would be.
The captain, with a megaphone to amplify his voice, began speaking.
"Unidentified assailant, come out with your hands up, or we'll have to enter the building by force!"
"Well, would you look at that, Mr. Bob? G.U.N.'s hot on my tail!" said Black sarcastically.
"I told you, my name is not-" Mr. Black grabbed the chubby man by his turtleneck, throttling him whilst bringing his face in for a headbutt.
"I don't care what your name is right now. You screwed me, and there's only one way you're getting out of this alive."
"I had no choice, Black, they caught me before-" the corpulent gangster was shoved into the booth and his jaw met Mr. Black's left fist.
"I told you I don't give a DAMN. You owe me over two-hundred Gees, and you're not living, let alone leaving, unless I get 'em right now."
"I don't have the money, Black! I didn't think you'd live past the-"
"You aren't paid to think," Black told him as he sat on a bar stool, Desert Eagle trained on his forehead,"you're paid to be the bastard scum you are. Now, give me my money."
"I told you-" the was cut off permanently this time by Mr. Black's pistol.
"Waste of time," he muttered to himself,"Well, looks like we're in a pickle... and out of this, we haven't gotten a nickle," Black chuckled to himself slightly.
Blood stood up from the booth and dragged the corpse, the corpulent corpse of the conniving contractor to the back room.
Black, taking a seat at the booth behind the fat man's, slid a round out of one pocket and the pill box out of the other. He took out the clip from his desert eagle and began to pop out the bullets and placing them one by one in a row. Then, he placed the replacement round in line with the rest. Finally, he took the 'Deagle and popped out the round in the chamber.
Seven rounds in all.
The three killers could hear whoever was in charge outside speaking through the megaphone again.
'I told him no cops... well, I guess technically they're not cops... actually, they're soldiers...'
He didn't really care to speak to anyone right now other than Shadow, but he didn't think that getting shot at right now was a good idea.
"Either of you got a megaphone?" he asked his companions.
Blank, eyeless stares were the only response.
"Well, I'm not going out there."
Mr. Black noticed that behind the bar was a stone wall, probably just for decoration.
"Yo, Jimmyboy, give me that brick behind you."
The I.S.S. complied. He stuck four fingers into the mortar between one of the bricks before inserting his thumb. His nanites did the trick quickly; he slid the brick out with ease and tossed it Black's way.
"Thanks," he said. Mr. Black ran his pinky over the smoothest surface of the brick and left black engraved lettering.
"Now, give it to the nice men outside," Black ordered, chucking the brick at the I.S.S. in the same manner he received it.
Letting out a muffled chuckle, the I.S.S. stood back an inch and raised the brick a little before hurdling it out the window with tremendous force.
Shadow heard the sound of glass breaking followed by a sound somewhat similar to punching a watermelon. He turned around to see one of the soldiers standing behind the car nearest to the bar's window had met his gruesome end by a brick slamming into his face.
He couldn't help but smirk.
'I like this guy's style.'
As expected, the military's response was to fire a few dozen shots into the window. Unfortunately for them, the only thing they managed to hit
Black chuckled,"You know, Jimmy... you always were a gentle giant."
I.S.S.' response was another chuckle, lighter than the last, muffled by his protective mask.
"Play bartender while you're over there and let me have... seven shot glasses of absinthe, and... how about a Bloody Mary for Bloody Mary?" he finished with a small snicker.
Black continued fawning over the seven bullets in front of him over and over again, muttering something under his breath to each of them.
Shadow walked over to the dead soldier and picked up the brick, making sure not to dirty his gloves with the bloodstained corner.
Inscribed on the brick were the words: I'll come out if Shadow comes in
"Alright, no more horseplay, we're breaching in five minutes!" announced Florentino.
The black hedgehog walked up to the officer.
"Sir," he started before showing Florentino the engraved side of the brick,"I think I should go talk to him."
"Hedgehog, what part of 'no more horseplay' didn't you understand? I'm not going to lose any more men than I have to," said the visibly annoyed captain.
"That's exactly why I should talk to him," explained the hedgehog with emphasis on the world 'talk'.
"I don't think he could throw a brick like that. He probably has a few lackeys with him," Shadow continued,"From where, I don't know, but he's definitely killed five agents and several sharpshooters by himself tonight. Right now, he's cornered. He can't run from me, but if you send your men, and there are more gunmen in there, they're walking into a death trap, and there's going to be a big stack of papers with your name on it when you get back to base."
Florentino considered Shadow's suggestion for a moment before nodding his head in approval.
"Alright, you win, hedgehog, but I'm sending someone in with you. The sooner this situation is resolved, the sooner I can go home and fuck my husband!" proclaimed the captain proudly.
'Alright.'
"Yes, sir," Shadow responded with a quick, informal salute before stepping towards the door.
Mr. Black finished his fourth shot glass. The supposedly hallucinogenic beverage tasted like black liquorish with a bit more tang.
As he finished and slammed the glass on the table, he took the bullet in front of the glass and popped it into the Desert Eagle's magazine. It was a ritual of sorts for Mr. Black.
"He's coming," announced Black.
Bloody Mary turned from the bar, leaving the red beverage on the counter untouched, waiting in anticipation for the half-pint hedgehog to walk through.
Within thirty seconds of doing so, the hedgehog came in through the left, Shadow's left, and a G.U.N. agent stepped through the right.
Neither had weapons drawn, but that did not stop Bloody Mary from making a move. Quickly, twirling across from the bar to the booth on the other side, Blood drew the ten blades and slashed the agent's throat exactly once with each hand before sitting at the edge of the booth in front of Mr. Black; the gas mask giving Blood the appearance of staring into oblivion.
He didn't know what hit him. Shadow hadn't realized what happened until after he heard the agent's sudden gurgling.
'What-'
"I'm so glad you could join me, Shadow, but I thought I said come alone?"
Acting calmly, Shadow retained his indifferent appearance and proceeded to sit down at the opposite side of the booth with Mr. Black.
By now, Black had downed the final three shots fairly quickly, but had not inserted the rounds into his pistol. He simply pushed the glasses to the side of the table and picked up the magazine and three bullets.
"Why did you want to see me?" asked Shadow
Click
There was a moment of silence. Black, through his opaque lenses, eyed the hedgehog with a strange fascination.
Shadow, quickly losing patience, asked once more,"Why did you want to see me?"
Mr. Black broke his gaze and responded,"I didn't. You wanted me, so here I am."
"So... you're just going to come along, just like that?" asked the now slightly perplexed hedgehog.
Click
Another round in the chamber.
"I asked, are you going to surrender?"
"No," Black chuckled,"What's the fun in that? What's the purpose in that?"
'There's no time for games...'
"Look, whoever you are, I don't have time for games. Either you come along peacefully, or I'll have to use force and scrape your remains off the floor."
Click
Mr. Black simply smiled at Shadow.
"You could try," he retorted in a very base tone. There were so many things he wanted to ask the dual-colored hedgehog, but there was so little time, and Shadow was most likely not one for conversation.
"This building is surrounded, there are gun agents stationed all throughout London. Do you really think you'll get out of this alive if you try to fight?" asked Shadow. The hedgehog moved his left hand underneath the table.
If the arab wasn't going to comply, then Shadow was authorized to take him out. A Chaos Spear to the stomach seemed like it would do the trick.
Black glanced over at the I.S.S. and gave him the slightest of hand gestures before taking the loaded magazine, slowly sliding it into the bottom of his Desert Eagle with a satisfying click before resting it on the table.
"I could try," he retorted in the same base tone.
'That's it.'
Picturing the words in his mind, Shadow closed his eyes for a second.
'Chaos Spear'
Nothing.
'Chaos Spear'
Still nothing.
'What's wrong with me?' he thought to himself. Not being able to use his power could make this a potentially dangerous situation, but the dark one had to play it cool if he didn't want the arab to figure out that something was wrong. Shadow tried to ignite his shoes, but to no avail.
'What-'
"Ah, Shadow, won't you join me for a drink," Black asked in a tone that made it more of a statement than a question.
The I.S.S. had brought two pints of a golden, foaming beverage, lager mostlikely, and Mr. Black took the two large mugs from the tray. He ran his fingers over one of the mugs and passed the other one over to the black hedgehog.
'Poison pills, boy. They're bad for you.'
"Cheers?"
Mr. Black took a swig of the lager and set it down.
Shadow simply stared at the glass, and then back to Mr. Black.
'This is insulting. How stupid does he think I am?'
The hedgehog decided to drink, but to drink from Black's mug instead. Quickly, he reached across the table and drank a hearty portion of the assassin's pint before passing it back. Shadow didn't really enjoy alcohol of any sort, but right now he couldn't pass up the chance to be a smart ass.
Black only smiled.
"Germs, Shadow, germs... I don't like germs," he said, finishing off the small amount left in the mug, making sure not to come in contact with where Shadow's lips had touched.
"So, tell me, Shadow, how does it feel to be a G.U.N. lackey?"
Shadow raised an eyebrow
"What are you talking about?"
Black placed two little white tablets on the table top and played with them using his index and middle finger.
"What do you mean what am I talking about? I'm talking about you being a bitch-dog for the military. The same military that killed your girlfriend, mind you," he clarified in a calm and pompous tone.
If he could, Shadow would drive a chaos spear between his legs for that remark. For the moment, however, his mind was completely stunned, and his eyes were distracted by the little pills the killer was fiddling with.
What could he say to a comment like that, 'She wasn't my girlfriend, she was my only friend, the relationship was platonic, and she was killed by the government that I now work for, please don't say things like that because it hurts my feelings'? That probably would not make this situation go by any smoother.
"I would be thoroughly impressed if G.U.N. managed to break you, Shadow; make you their little puppet," stated Mr. Black in a mocking tone,"How does it feel to be used?"
The dark one let out a short, low growl.
"How does it feel to be set up and trapped like a rat?" Shadow snapped.
Black just kept smiling.
"Feels pretty good, actually," he began,"Because I'm not trapped in here. You're trapped out there. You're bound to G.U.N., and I can leave at any time."
Anger mixed with mild confusion as the hedgehog kept trying to get a spark, to send a bolt of righteous chaos energy through this killer's body. What was Mr. Black even talking about? Why was he talking down to Shadow? What did this Black even know about Shadow?
"What are you talking about? I am bound to no one," retorted the black hedgehog, slight trembling in his voice.
"Well, that's obviously not true," Black started as he placed the two tablets in his mouth and swallowed quickly,"Because if you weren't bound to someone, then you definitely would not be in service to the G.U.N.," he said, showing an almost exaggerated grin before continuing,"If you weren't bound by Maria's dying wish to 'give them', humans,'a chance', then you probably would not be affiliated with G.U.N. in order to keep the world safe and secure from... all sorts of things."
"How do you know that..." asked a trembling, almost fearful hedgehog.
This killer, who Shadow had never seen before in his life, had touched on the purpose of his entire existence. The hedgehog had never shared the full story about Maria's final wish with anyone. Perhaps with Rouge once, but he doubted she cared to tell anyone. Even so, this was probably not the kind of company that Rouge would associate with.
"You must have played no small part in organizing this elaborate trap," Black pointed a finger at the hedgehog,"I mean, risking one of your own officers to bait me?," He scoffed lightly,"Now, that's an underhanded move," he stated,"Clever, but underhanded," Black added with a toothy grin,"Shows you just how much they care about their staff, huh?"
"What?"
The dark one was becoming more confused by the minute.
On top of this killer's arcane guesswork, he had swallowed two tablets. The arab didn't look like a diabetic, so it was probably not medication.
If it was poison, then did that mean that the killer didn't plan on being taken alive at all? If that was true, then why did he want to speak to Shadow?
"What do you want from me?" demanded a now trembling ebony furred hedgehog.
Black took a moment to consider the question before offering an answer.
"Nothing, really. At the same time, everything," the killer's cryptic words didn't make sense to Shadow,"By the ways, did G.U.N. know that the good general was involved with child prostitution?"
Now, that was a curve ball. Shadow had an expression of absolute discombobulation.
'Child prostitution?' the dark one thought,'Does that mean that the... item... in that suitcase was a child?'
"I take that as a no, then."
"You... sold a child to the general before blowing him up?" Shadow asked,"Blowing up the child along with the general?" he added.
"Well, yes and no," Black replied,"Okay, yes, but it wasn't my child, and that's what counts, right?"
"You killed a child to get to an old man you could have sniped from a rooftop?"
"Shadow, you were on the rooftops, remember? I would have been trapped on top of the building," explained the killer,"And, alright, I don't have any children," Mr. Black laughed for a few moments before continuing,"You see, some of these people absolutely fascinate me. A man of such power, General Patterson, uses his power to acquire a little girl... to have 'inappropriate relations' with. I couldn't pass up the oppurtunity to have a little chat with him. I wanted to see how someone like that thought... what made him tick," he continued,"And you know what I learned? Perverts like Patterson think, live, breathe, eat, and sleep the same way everyone else does," Black sighed,"It makes you wonder, doesn't it?"
"You killed a little girl who had been suffering for who knows how long in that trunk just so you could have a beer with a child rapist?" Shadow's facial expression was a visible mixture of confusion and perturbation.
"Well, first off, it's not rape if they're willing," he smiled,"Second of all, if you were watching me the entire time, then why didn't you do something about it?"
Shadow's heart suddenly sank.
"Was there nothing suspicious about a little girl kicking and trying to get out of a suitcase before being shoved back in and sealed up, or did you not see anything out of the ordinary?"
The obsidian creature had seen something, but he didn't understand what it was at the time.
'I had my orders,' he thought to himself, trying to justify his inaction.
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Shadow, I shot the bastard who was originally supposed to sell the girl to him. Killed a witness to the murder, too!"
'Oh, great, a killer with a conscience.'
The fact that, for some reason, Shadow's chaos energy was dead to him right here and right now also added to the fear and hysteria slowly creeping up on him. In fact, Shadow had been having headaches from the moment he stepped through the door.
Never before in his G.U.N. career had he felt this sort of fear, and to someone he didn't know either. It was not rational fear; this killer was just a creep that managed to shake him up a bit, catch him off guard.
He didn't like this one bit. After several minutes of trying to covertly kill the killer, Shadow had brought his left hand from under the desk and inhaled as he stared into the white gloved palm.
"What's the matter?" asked Black sarcastically,"Can't kill me with your sparkle powers?"
'He knows?'
"Who are you?" Shadow asked.
Mr. Black simply smiled. In Shadow's eyes, when Black smiled, a thin line of black liquid began making its way from the side of his mouth to his chin.
"You know, you've got something," Mr. Black indicated the same spot where Shadow saw the black liquid,"Right by your chin.
Shadow tilted his head slightly in confusion and reached for the mirror spot on his face. Looking at the tip of his index finger, it was the same black liquid that appeared to be on Mr. Black's face as well. The dark one rubbed the liquid slowly between his thumb and index finger.
It had the same consistency of blood, but it was black. Pitch black. The hedgehog had an uneasiness in his stomach at that moment as he directed his attention back to Mr. Black's face.
Instead of just one line, there were now several lines of liquid running out of Black's mouth. There was also streaks dripping down from behind his glasses. Eyes still not visible, it gave Mr. Black the appearance of a clown clown; an evil, partially painted, crying clown with an appetite for alcohol, poison and manslaughter.
"By the ways, Shadow, I didn't spike your drink," confessed Mr. Black as he took the hedgehog's pint in his hands. The once golden, frothy beverage was now pitch black as well.
Black's voice was warped in Shadow's mind; like a slow motion film where everyone's voice is low, slow and somewhat monstrous.
Now, instead of just from his eyes and mouth, the black lines were dripping from his hair line, too. Soon, the liquid formed in the shadows cast by the bar's low lighting and spread across the oak tabletops.
Soon, even the walls were bleeding black slime.
Soon, he began hearing things; screeches, voices, familiar voices.
Soon, even the light had become sinister, now casting a red shade on everything in his sight.
It only got worse from there. In just a few seconds, Mr. Black's bare arms had turned into tanned canvases for the black paint to sprout and cover, forming chaotic designs. Shadow's gloves appeared to be drenched in the fluid. The blood-like liquid flowing from his lips was indeed real, and it tasted like synthetic death; a mixture of fear, vinegar and nail polish remover.
Shadow began coughing heavily; globs of black tar washed up on the table, and the goo began to squirm and spread out like a jelly fish in water. The hedgehog felt an icy cold, prickly sensation spiking all over his body. He had to get out of here. Whoever this man, this killer was, he obviously had no intention of giving himself up, and he had the upper hand on Shadow.
"You asked me who I was," said Black as he stood up, holstering his desert eagle,"My name is Mr. Black," he took the suffering hedgehog by the ear and stepped over the dead body on the floor, dragging Shadow towards the door like a child,"When you're running outside into the comforting arms of your handlers, tell them that Mr. Black is coming out to play."
Mr. Black showed the dark hedgehog the door and shut it shortly after. After shoving the suffering hedgehog out the door, he turned around to face Bloody Mary. Any facial expression the assassin may have had was hidden behind the gas mask and its dark, opaque goggles.
"Don't give me that look," he said to Blood, pointing a finger,"It isn't going to kill him," he smiled,"Now, come on. there's so many to kill and so little time,"he spoke to his allies," The sun's coming up soon, and I believe that we have worn out our welcome..."
That was I.S.S.' signal to open his bags. From the large bags on the bar counter, the tall assassin took out an M4A1 carbine, two unloaded RPG-7's, and two hacked down Benelli semi-automatic shotguns and placed them next to the bags in an organized manner.
"That'll do it, Jim. That'll do it."
The M4A1 was fully decked out with an attached M203 grenade launcher and a heavy one hundred round magazine loaded in. The I.S.S. did not take as much joy in loading his 'cannons' the way Black did. They were always loaded unless it would be too dangerous to keep them loaded, like the RPG's.
The I.S.S.' obsidian nanite armor plates began shifting to form two quick draw holsters for the shotguns. Putting the M4 to his stomach, the armor also shifted to grab hold of the heavy rifle while the I.S.S. loaded his RPG's. Taking one in each hand and resting them on his shoulders, as well as 'sticking' two spare rockets to his side, he began to make his way towards the door. His nanites also started to form protective coating around his neck and a combat helmet to cover his exposed top. This was the Indomitable Super Soldier.
As he made his way for the door, Black grabbed his two rifles and sub-machine gun, and Blood had taken a FAMAS G2 assault rifle out of the bags I.S.S. had brought in.
The plan was simple: for a 'bang out', or evacuation, they used a 'tried and true' tactic. Blood and Black would target any marksmen on the rooftops and take them out. The I.S.S. would annihilate everything else. After all targets are eliminated, the trio would proceed to walk away from the scene fashionably slow and in style.
4:59 AM
"Oh, that can't be good," commented one of the riflemen standing a soldier droid as Shadow the Hedgehog ran clumsily away from the bar and into the streets,"Looks like we gotta do this the American way!" he spoke into his radio.
"Alright, men, be ready," Florentino spoke through the radio,"They have assaulted a G.U.N. agent, and there are no signs of his partner. Lethal force is authorized," the captain commanded.
"Shoot to kill," commented another trooper.
The double doors of the bar opened wide, and out stepped the I.S.S. with two RPG's, one in each arm. A truly frightening figure, he basically looked like a monstrous, muscular version of a G.U.N. grunt without any exposed flesh; a machine bred to maim and kill. The I.S.S. aimed his rockets.
"Fire!" commanded Florentino, and his men, as well as robots, opened fire on the super soldier.
This did not prevent the I.S.S. from firing his first two rockets which landed solemnly on their targets; two cannon-armed soldier droids.
As his nanites locking him into the ground and the spawned obsidian plating absorbing a large portion of the kinetic energy, small arms fire did next to nothing as the bullets either bounced off his life support suit or were assimilated by his nanite plating, creating more nanites. Cannons, however, may distract him by pushing him off balance a bit, and therefore disrupting his aim.
With finesse only an expert gunman and mercenary could have, the I.S.S. quickly placed both discharged RPG's on his left shoulder and drew the semi-automatic shotgun from his left side in his right hand.
The shotgun phased from a cobalt blue tint to a shining black glow for a moment before the I.S.S. fired on the remaining three G.U.N. mechs. All the while, two tentacles projected from his side and grasped the spare rockets attached to the I.S.S. in order to reload the RPG's.
All three droids were pegged square in the chest and head by the slug-loaded shotgun. Black blotches formed immediately after and began to dissolve into their armor and circuitry.
Their mechs disabled and I.S.S.' rockets reloaded, he holstered the shotgun like a pistol and fired on the two G.U.N. trucks, taking out multiple soldiers with each explosion.
Ditching the launchers, he drew his final and favorite weapon, the heavily outfitted M4A1, and began spraying lead at the remaining soldiers.
As the I.S.S. distracted the G.U.N. soldiers, Mr. Black had picked off four sniper teams on the surrounding rooftops before jolting outside to join the fray. Bloody Mary joined him soon after, and the trio advanced towards the blockade of G.U.N. cars and now destroyed droids and corpses.
G.U.N. was outmatched and now retreating, but their captain could not escape a stray .556 M4 round to the knee cap.
The gunfire soon halted, and Black stepped over to the struggling Florentino. Resting the Sig 550 on his shoulder, black drew one of his pistols and smiled before pulling the trigger.
Captain Florentino didn't have a chance to get a look at his killer before the bullet entered through the back of his head with a small yet satisfying splatter.
"Well," Black spoke,"I guess he wont be seeing his wife tonight!"
Mr. Black's cellphone had vibrated again. Taking it out of his right pocket, he checked the time before reading the text message.
5:04 AM
The text gave coordinates to a nearby warehouse, and the message was signed by Assassin Black.
The trio fled the scene shortly after.