A strained, wet gagging sound ca from the woman dangling in his grip. Her face was a deep, alarming shade of purple. Seeing she was about to suffocate, David tilted his tal head. The movent was a quiet whir of servos. His tal palm, rigid as an iron hoop, relaxed its grip by a fraction.
"Oh, sorry," his synthesized voice echoed. "Forgot that humans need to breathe."
Yukio, who had been seconds from death, convulsed with a desperate, heaving gasp. She dragged in air with all her strength, her lungs burning. The deep flush in her face slowly, painfully receded, leaving her pale. Her bright eyes, still wet with tears from the pressure, stared up at David's emotionless faceplate. A calmness, far beyond her apparent years, settled over her features, steadying her hoarse, strained voice.
"I'm not from Hydra," she choked out, the words raw. "I'm here to save Mariko-neesan!"
Before the words were even fully spoken, a blue optic light flashed in David's eye sockets. He whispered, his voice a low, chanical buzz, "Mariko Yashida? Shingen's daughter? What kind of family drama is this?"
"It might be a show to you, but for us, it is the aning of life," she insisted, her voice gaining a sharp edge despite her position. "We live for the family. But Viper of Hydra usurped the power of the Yashida family. Mariko-neesan led a team of ninjas to defeat Hydra, but she was captured." She took another painful breath. "I learned about the prison through certain channels. I wanted to gather information in advance, but then I saw you."
Yukio's petite body was still suspended in mid-air, feet dangling. Dark purple bruises were already forming on her neck from David's tal fingers. Yet a strange, almost unsettling composure remained on her tear-stained cheeks, as if pain and emotion were separate from her duty.
"You," she said, her eyes flicking between his optic lenses, "you are all truly strong. You are superheroes. I saw the agent in the giant armor through my telescope. You must be here for Hydra. So, please, help save Mariko-neesan."
"Ah, little human being, you have guessed one thing wrong." David slightly bent his tal arm, the servos humming as he brought her closer to his faceplate. He stared at Yukio's wide eyes and said lightly, his tone flat and chanical, "Although we are here to destroy Hydra, we are not superheroes. We are the real villains. The nesis of heroes, and the saviors of mankind."
"Enemies," she repeated, latching onto the word. "Our enemies are the sa. Help save the entire family. You can gain the loyalty of the Yashida family. Mariko-neesan and I are both willing to pay this price." At this, the emotions Yukio had tried so hard to hide finally surfaced. Her composure cracked. She stared at the flashing blue light in his optics with a new, raw fear, her hoarse voice subconsciously rising in pitch.
"The leader of Hydra in the Mount Fuji base is the powerful enemy who captured Mariko-neesan. He is a terrifying enemy whose martial arts have been honed to the peak of human beings, even beyond our limits. It is said he also has a special ability..." Her voice dropped to a terrified whisper. "He can turn people to stone. Gorgon. People in Hydra call him Gorgon."
David studied Yukio carefully for a long ti, his optics silently scanning her face. After determining that she showed no signs of lying, the blue light in his eye sockets flickered. His chanical voice, when it spoke again, had switched channels and taken on a new, formal tone full of respect.
"My Lord. I have discovered a new situation here."
Accompanied by the occasional low, electric hum from his bionic arm, Bucky, clad in carapace armour, let go of the cold tal beam above his head. He dropped heavily toward the ground. The soles of his boots hit the grated floor, making only a small, muffled collision sound.
At this mont, every muscle in Bucky's body was tense. His body, lowered slightly into a crouch, moved like a flexible mongoose. He ran forward, quickly and silently. Decades of countless stealth assassinations seed to have beco an instinct, integrated into his very blood and bones.
The weight of the hellgun and its energy backpack was secured firmly to his back. Bucky, sneaking, unhooked the chainsword from the magnetic clamp on his hip. He held the heavy, tooth-lined weapon carefully in his hand, the grip familiar. Inside his tal helt, breathing recycled air, Bucky took a steady, deep breath. He quickly crossed a wide, shadow-filled passage. He launched his attack on a Hydra soldier who had his back turned.
There was no ti for silent grace. Bucky thumbed the activation.
With a deafening ROAR, the chainsword scread to life, its teeth blurring into a silver line of pure destruction. The Hydra soldier barely had ti to turn before the weapon bit deep into his shoulder, shredding his vest, flesh, and bone. The extrely sharp, motorized teeth tore through the opponent's torso and punctured his heart in a spray of red.
Through his helt's filters, Bucky slled the coppery scent of blood, mixed with the acrid stench of prothium exhaust from the idling sword. He kicked the mangled Hydra soldier's body from the blade, staring as the man's life gradually dissipated, his eyes going slack.
Without hesitation, Bucky gave the chainsword a sharp rev, the motor screaming as it flung gore from the spinning teeth. The base alarms began to blare; stealth was no longer an option. He was no longer a shadow; he was a storm. Then he continued his charge, a roaring engine of death hurtling toward the next hapless Hydra soldier.
For a mont, Bucky, back on the battlefield, seed to have found a way to channel his inner pain. His past was killing innocent lives for Hydra. Now, he was the ssenger of death co to collect the debt, the judge of the Hydra soldiers' fate.
A second Hydra soldier rounded the corner, rifle raised. Bucky t him head-on, the roaring chainsword cleaving the man's weapon in two before sinking into his chest.
A third, his torso split open.
A fourth, his heart eviscerated by the grinding teeth.
Bucky, caught in a cold and focused bloodlust, butchered every Hydra soldier he found. He would stay briefly for each one, watching the life fade away. It seed only in this brutal, deafening penance could he feel like he was repaying the innocent people he had killed.
Soon after, Bucky's grim, noisy ritual of atonent was interrupted by the dull, distant roar of artillery fire. He felt the vibration through the floor. Instantly, he was fully alert, his head snapping toward the direction of the sound.
Then, Bucky quickly glanced at his new surroundings, his eyes blanking for a mont. He frowned slightly inside his helt. Obsessed with the killing, he had accidentally broken into a special place, one whose environnt was completely incompatible with the rest of the high-tech, sterile Hydra base.
The ceiling above was replaced with exquisite, dark mahogany, carved with the faces of ancient gods. Green snake symbols were posted on the surrounding paper walls. At a glance, the symbols vaguely ford a massive viper totem that surrounded the entire room, fangs and claws extended. Even the ground under Bucky's feet had been replaced with yellow tatami mats, which felt soft and strange under his heavy boots.
Layers of white shoji screens stood throughout the room, dividing the space. Ancient swords and katanas were placed on polished wooden racks between each screen. Threads of faint green smoke rose from countless lit incense burners, filling the air with a thick, sweet, and unfamiliar scent.
Bucky, suddenly more vigilant, tightened his grip on his chainsword. He let the motor die down to a low, threatening idle, the teeth clicking softly. He subconsciously shifted his steps, the tatami muffling his movent. He planned to leave this strange-looking place imdiately.
At that mont, an indifferent voice, full of a lazy, arrogant drawl, suddenly ca from beyond the nearest white screen. It was clear and sharp, penetrating the barrier of his tal helt and breaking into Bucky's ear.
"Oh my, are you the ones who broke into Viper's territory? Tsk, what a bunch of idiots seeking death..."
Before the words were even finished, Bucky's instincts scread at an invisible threat. He suddenly stretched out his chanical arm, grabbing the hellgun from his back in one fluid motion. A tal finger was on the trigger, ready to fire.
The next second, the layers of white shoji screens in front of Bucky parted instantly, as if pushed by an unseen wind, sliding quickly to the sides.
A tall figure, half-lying on the tatami with a small ceramic glass of sake in his hand, was slowly revealed.
Feeling the imnse and imdiate threat radiating from the man, Bucky turned the gun and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
In an instant, the hellgun roared wildly. Scorching, high-energy lasers swept toward the unknown enemy like a terrifying storm, superheating the air.
"礼を欠く者には,死こそ相応しい", [For the discourteous, death is the only fitting end.] The man's voice was sharp now.
In the blink of an eye, the tall figure moved, jumping up from the tatami. His speed was a liquid blur, far beyond what Bucky's eyes could capture.
The unstoppable storm of hellgun lasers shattered countless white screens, turning them to burning confetti, and blasted smoking holes in the viper totems on the walls, but it failed to hit the real target.
At the sa ti, with the sound of shifting robes, the tumbling sake glass flew through the air and slamd into the side of the hellgun with a sharp crack. The impact deflected its aim completely.
A foot, veins bulging on the bare ankle, kicked Bucky hard in the chest.
There was a sickening crunch as the extrely strong carapace was forcibly indented with a footprint, the lines clearly visible.
The hellgun in Bucky's palm stopped roaring. His body flew backward, soaring a dozen ters out of the room until his energy backpack hit the hard wall of the passage. The pack took a huge dent, and the impact, which sent a shock through his whole body, finally stopped his montum.
The next second, the tall figure landed lightly on the tatami, not making a sound.
He had long black hair and wore a loose, baggy white robe. His eyes were covered with a red silk ribbon, richly embroidered with venomous snakes.
The long-haired man, his expression perfectly indifferent, lifted the sleeves of his robe and clenched his palms slightly.
A high-pitched tallic buzzing, like a dragon's roar, echoed through the room.
Imdiately afterward, a flashing katana from one of the racks flew through the air, as if attracted by a magnet, and jumped into his hand.
"Viper is too indulgent with her subordinates, even allowing trash like you to sneak into the base." The long-haired man raised his katana with one hand, the blade gleaming. He slowly spoke the bloody words in that sa, indifferent, lazy tone. "I will make you pay for the damage you caused. Scum like you would do well to vanish."
Before the words were finished, Bucky, who had put a hand to his aching chest and swallowed a mouthful of his own blood, suddenly turned over and jumped up. He landed in a crouch, hissing in pain as he unlatched the damaged, sparking energy backpack. It fell to the floor with a heavy thud.
Facing a terrifying enemy whose combat capabilities far exceeded his own, he knew the hellgun's powerful fire required ti and space he didn't have.
Therefore, the old thod was his only option.
Bucky stood up and gripped the chainsword. He hit the ignition again, and the weapon scread back to full power. His back bowed slightly, ready to spring. His free, flesh-and-blood hand secretly unclipped a flash-bang grenade from his waist.
With the crisp sound of the buckle opening, Bucky threw the bomb violently at the man's feet. Then, wearing his tal helt, he staggered his steps and charged toward the long-haired man without hesitation.
In an instant, the grenade exploded with a deafening crack and a flash as bright as a rising sun.
Protected by his tal helt's auto-tinting visors, Bucky braved the light and closed in on the enemy.
The muscles beneath his carapace pulsed. His chanical arm, holding the roaring chainsword, suddenly waved, the blurred line of teeth swinging in a devastating arc aid at the long-haired man's neck.
However, the long-haired man with the red ribbon covering his eyes seed completely unaffected by the blinding flash.
He casually waved the katana in his palm.
A continuous, shining blur of light reflected off Bucky's helt. The high-pitched shrieeeeek of tal-on-tal rang out as the blade, dancing like a storm, repeatedly struck the armoured housing and reinforced teeth of the chainsword, deflecting Bucky's attack.
As the bright light of the flash-bang dissipated, leaving spots in the air, the opponent shifted his feet on the tatami, actually getting closer to Bucky.
Bucky, having missed his attack, instantly changed tactics. He drove his chanical arm to twist the chainsword back, gunning the motor as he tried to grind through the man's guard. His other hand clenched into a fist and slamd toward the long-haired man's chest, which was now close at hand.
But this was exactly what the opponent had planned.
The long-haired man suddenly lifted his wide robe sleeve. A hand, hidden within, shot out like a soft, boneless poisonous snake.
It quickly wrapped around Bucky's strong, flesh-and-blood arm before the punch could deliver its full power.
In an instant, the sound of grinding carapace at the shoulder and the subtle, sickening twist of muscle and bone rang out.
Bucky's risky attack had failed. Instead, the opponent had seized the flaw and temporarily disabled one of his arms.
The injured Bucky groaned, a guttural sound of pure pain. The pain ignited his fierce anger.
He stepped forward, ignoring his useless, injured arm. He used the opponent's grip on his trapped arm to pull himself closer, closing the distance between them.
Then, the chainsword, held tightly by his chanical arm, changed direction again, roaring as it cut in a silver arc across the opponent's defenseless chest and abdon.
However, the fearless long-haired man suddenly chuckled, a low, cold sound.
On his expressionless face, the red ribbon covering his eyes fell off automatically, as if pushed by a thought.
A pair of gray, dead eyes widened, staring directly at Bucky's tal helt.
In an instant, the helt's surface began to peel and turn a flat, lifeless gray, a terrifying sign of petrification. The effect quickly penetrated the helt.
For a mont, Bucky felt an unbearable, severe stinging pain on his face, as if his skin was turning to stone.
At the mont of life and death, Bucky reacted instantly.
He had to stop his chanical arm's attack, aborting the killing blow. He tried to turn his head to avoid the petrifying gaze.
A knee, covered with carapace, shot up toward the opponent's lower body.
The long-haired man also reacted instantly.
He suddenly loosened his grip on the katana and slapped Bucky's rising knee away with an open palm. The sound was sharp.
Then, the hand wrapped around Bucky's arm was quickly pulled away. Another open-palm blow hit the carapace on Bucky's chest, right over the dent.
The two, who had been in close combat, were suddenly separated by the force.
Bucky's body retreated from the force of the blow, staggering back into the tal-walled base passage.
He quickly raised his chanical arm, which still held the idling *chainsword*, to defend himself. He suddenly ripped off the tal helt with his good hand. It was still petrifying.
With a crisp, crumbling sound, the helt, its material completely changed, shattered into countless gray powders in his grip.
The next mont, Bucky, his face covered with traces of blood where the stone had touched his skin, had no ti to react.
The long-haired man, like swift lightning, launched his attack again.
In the blink of an eye, he rushed Bucky.
The katana, gleaming with a cold light, flew. It accurately cut the weak points of the carapace armour at the joints and seams.
In just a few seconds, Bucky, who had difficulty resisting with only his chanical arm, was completely turned into a bloody man, covered with deep, precise wounds.
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