Ion stood on the spot staring blankly into
the night. He kept the z-com clutched in his right hand, absent
mindedly having forgotten to pocket it.
A few seconds earlier, he had believed
himself to be facing a struggle.
But he had been wrong.
What he was facing
now
, was a
struggle. A true struggle.
The raw half of him yearned for him to throw
his inner conflict away and go on with this. But the softer side
pleaded with him to fight the impulse…
He was facing a dilemma unlike any
other.
He felt as though the decision hanging at
the end of it was tearing him in two…
In the quietest portion of his mind, Ion had
the feeling that this was no ordinary dilemma … that this was no
ordinary decision. That far more hung on this decision, than it
appeared. He had the strangest feeling that there was more in his
life that depended on this decision that he thought. And than it
looked…
As the seconds lengthened, the air around
him seemed to strain. The world itself seemed to have gone still.
Waiting for him to make the choice.
“
This is something I know you’re reserved
for … Something you were
made for
, as a matter of
fact.”
Ion gritted his teeth, a sharp growl
building inside his throat.
And then, taking in a deep breath … he made
his choice.
He brought the z-com before him and
dialed…
“All right, tell me the co ordiantes that
your men found him in.” he told Grando a few seconds later, the two
of them separated by the veil of the holographic screen in between
them. “I’m going in for it.”
Devicro, Incrag Republic
The moment he had made the decision, that
very moment, Ion was back.
Back to the merciless, cold blooded thing he
had trained himself to be. And he relished the feeling. The rage
and hatred. The unbounded, unkempt hunger that formed the core of
his being. It all came rushing back to him. And he was once again
the remorseless, deadly mystic assassin hunter he had always
been.
The wind surfed gently, so that Ion’s cloak
fluttered with ripples as he stood at the top of the building. His
eyes were narrowed in the very same, predatory hungry manner as he
gazed across at a smaller building rising next to his – his
unwavering gaze was fixed upon a window of the third storey, two
storeys below the roof of the building he now stood in.
His target was inside of that window, taking
down a group of mobsters whom he had tracked and hunted down here.
But the poor vigilante had no clue that he wasn’t the only person
on a hunt here … there was a deadlier hunter in the game now, and
he was blissfully oblivious to it.
The sound of breaking glass, crashing
furniture, screams, and gunshots were heard loud and clear from the
window, as the vigilante took down the mobsters with his fancy
equipment. But none of his fancy equipment stood a chance against
the real enemy he was going to face this night … who was waiting
for the chance to pounce.
__________
Inside of that window, a masked figure
wearing thick black coat stood with his back pressed to the side of
the wall. The vigilante held his gun squeezed closely between both
hands, while the sound of footsteps on glass, splintering, came
from across the hall.
Lying stunned in front of him were two of
the three mobsters he had come here to take down. The last one was
still lurking in the hallway behind him, waiting for the chance to
take him down. The man was slowly walking down the hall, his feet
landing on pieces of glass and crunching them as he approached
slowly.
“Whoever you are,” the man called in his
rough voice, “you’ve got nowhere to run. Get out and face me like a
man, you swine.”
Another glass piece crunched under the man’s
foot as he drew another step forward…
The vigilante estimated that he was feet
down the hallway. He waited for one final breath before spinning
around, out of the safety of the wall he hid behind … In that split
second, he could feel his heartbeat echo loudly within his ears,
prolonged like the moment was – the moment which would decide life
or death. As he spun, he saw the man, the last mobster, standing
feet ahead down the hall, whose eyes flew wide as he saw the
vigilante. Both of them raised their guns, aiming at each other at
the same time, and both of them fired at the very same time.
The man’s jet of light whizzed right past
the vigilante’s fur coat, smashing the wall behind. And then,
before he could fire a second time, he backed over and hit the
ground at the force of the vigilante’s shot, which had smote him
deadly on the chest.
The vigilante stood there for one wild
moment, his breath panting through the iron mask he wore. His gaze
scrolled over the ground, over the three bodies. Then, slowly, he
pocketed his gun.
“Ve – e- ery nice.” came a smug voice behind
him.
He spun around, his heart freezing in his
chest.
Ion’s lips twitched in a smile as he
casually stood leaning against the wall, nodding at the vigilante
before him. He had climbed in through the window behind him.
“You really are something, pal,” he said,
still wearing the look of feigned admiration as he nodded at the
masked vigilante in the iron mask before him. “And that’s why I’m
here tonight.” He stopped leaning and drew straight. “To take you
down.”
The masked man before him tiled his head to
one side, considering him like a child waiting for a teacher’s
approval. A prolonged silence landed between the two of them as the
man gazed at Ion quietly, as if trying to wonder whether or not he
was real.
And then, the man gave a loud roar of
laughter.
“Take me down?” he asked, looking at Ion
through his mask. “You should know who you’re talking to before you
threaten him. Believe me on that one.”
“Know who I’m talking to, huh?” Ion allowed
him the ghost of a smirk. “Do you?”
The man slid his hand into his pocket and
drew out a rolled piece of parchment. He unwrapped it and turned it
about to Ion, who didn’t understand what he was seeing at
first.
“What the hell is that?”
“This,” the man said, shaking the poster as
he held it. “is
you
.”
Ion squinted, but through the darkness he
could only faintly make out a face in the middle. The man rolled
the parchment and slid it back into his pocket.
“It’s a poster of you circulated through all
of the governments of the inner spectrum.” the vigilante informed
him. “The top priority in their list of most lethal criminals there
are in the world. And you’ve topped it.” The man took a step
forward, and his tone now grew serious. “But that really shouldn’t
bother you … what should bother you is that you were
my
priority.” His voice sank to a deadly hiss. “I’ve heard about you,
pal. I’d been travelling through the outer spectrum, and I heard so
many stories about the deadliest assassin there was, who was no
older than a teen. And so I set my sights. On him. On you.” He
spread his hands. “Believe be, I’ve waited just so long to meet
you, Ion.”
Ion gestured to the gun the man had pocketed
in his belt. “You know what, tough guy? Why don’t you go on, then?
Get the gun out and shoot me, won’t you?”
And I’ll enjoy
watching.
“Oh, no.” said the man, shaking his head.
“Just shooting you won’t satisfy me… no. I want far more. I’m gonna
break every bone in your body for what you deserve. You’re a
scumbag who’s gonna rot in hell, pal. So be ready for it.”
Ion could scent the heavy contempt in the
man’s tone. “Hell’s nothing, compared to what happens to you
now.”
He gave himself a second to relish the
surprise that would follow in the vigilante, before waving a hand
across the room. One of the shattered blocks of debris sprang off
the ground across the hall and went soaring towards the
vigilante…
And then, as the man held a hand up, a
shimmering glass like surface formed from the air in front of him.
Ion’s heart stopped for a split second. The block of rubble crashed
over the
shield
which the vigilante conjured, falling back
to the ground.
Ion tilted his head, viewing his opponent in
a whole new dimensional perspective. But he then smiled, realising
that it was better this way.
“So … you’re a mystic, huh?” he sneered,
shaking his head. “Well, I’ve got something for you, pal.”
He slid his sword out, holding it up in the
air for a second, before lighting the blade with a dazzling, orange
flash.
“I’m one too.” he hissed.
The vigilante stood rooted to the spot, and
Ion could feel the focus in him. Slowly, his hand reached behind
him as well, to the sheath Ion couldn’t see over his back. He slid
his own sword out, the blade shimmering in the light from Ion’s.
Like all mystic swords, his was long and thin. The blade was
sharper at the top, and slightly longer than Ion’s.
“Just the way I like It.” said Ion. “A match
I can actually contest with.”
Then, screaming, he swung his blade around
and dashed forward.
The
cling
of the two of their blades
meeting sounded loud and sharp over the air. The two of them stood
there with swords locked, their faces grilled in fury and
concentration. Ion pushed the vigilante forth and made a cut across
the air, which his opponent blocked with a lazy swipe of his blade.
Sparks flew from their blades as they met. Ion twisted about and
sent a slash to the man’s torso … again blocked.
As the two of them duelled, neither one
submitting, neither of their resolves slackening, the man was
pushing Ion further and further back. Feeling his head now cloud
with an onsetting defeat, Ion mustered everything he had. Keeping
himself together as he slashed, jabbed and cut viciously. He could
feel his lungs pant for breath as he moved faster than he ever had
his entire life, swinging his arms across as he parried blows from
his enemy, and gave him whatever feeble assaults he could.
But he knew he was losing … his enemy was
stronger than him, and was definitely going to take him down.
As their blades locked for a final time, the
vigilante growled from where he stood: “This is a day you’ll never
forget … your entire life.”
Ion gritted his teeth, feeling fury rush up
in him. “I know I won’t.”
Without leaving a sliver of hesitation to
dull his movement, Ion jumped back so that the vigilante stumbled
forward at the sudden removal of his resistance. Taking advantage
of the split second gain, Ion threw his hands forward, summoning
all the reserve of energy in his mind … and letting it gush forth
through his fingertips as he swung them across.
Before the vigilante had even regained his
stance, he was blasted backwards by Ion’s
smash
. He crashed
into the wall behind him, which came down in rubble and stone. His
legs stuck out from the wreckage of the wall, unmoving.
Ion stood there, catching up on his breath
for a few seconds. Letting the thrill pumping through him settle
slowly.
Then, staring at the unmoving figure of the
vigilante, whose legs stuck out of the broken wall, Ion gave a
snigger of victory.
Hope he’s not dead.
He thought
savagely.
We would prefer him alive, Grando and me.
__________
The large hall was illuminated by faint
sunlight that seeped in through the gaps left in the windows’
curtains. In the complete darkness, a group of men wielding
Sparklers stood silently, spread in a well spaced out cluster in
the centre of the room. A large batch of Rash-cons, numbering to
over two dozen, stood spaced out by the room’s wall.
And at the centre of the group of men stood
Ion, with one leg over the tied up, half conscious body of the
target.
“That took longer than expected.” said
Grando, standing before Ion. “And this is my best hunter I’m
talking to.”
“It was a mystic.” Ion told him. A look of
sharp surprise drew over Grando’s face.
“A mystic?” The shock vanished behind a
thoughtful look. He scanned the feebly stirring body between the
two of them. “That make sense … I was beginning to wonder how one
person could create more trouble than even the Special Forces ever
have.”
“Well, you’re lucky both of us is alive.”
Ion gave the body a faint kick, and heard a faint groan. “But
you’re even more lucky that he’s alive.”
Grando smiled nastily. “Indeed … we both
are.”
“My pay?” asked Ion.
“Of course,” said Grando, nodding, as he
turned to the other men. “Why don’t you boys begin –” He beckoned
to the body in the centre. “Ion and I will join you shortly.”
The men roughly picked up the body and
bustled over to a corner of the room, where Ion knew they would
torture the vigilante who had given them so much problems … teach
him manners their way, before giving him his exit.