"HHONKK!!!!"
The sounds of horns blared, cutting the night as that should be the perfect sound that were common in this concrete jungle. The night air was crisp, carrying with it the faint hum of the city that never sleeps. Brooklyn's streets were alive with the usual chaos—distant sirens, the occasional shout, and the low rumble of engines.
But here, in this secluded corner of the borough, the atmosphere was different. The White Devil Bar stood like a fortress, its neon sign casting an eerie red glow over the cracked pavement. Motorcycles, mostly Harleys, were parked haphazardly outside, their chrome glinting under the streetlights. This was the domain of the White Rider MC, a Motorcycle gang as notorious as they were dangerous.
I stood on the rooftop of a building across the street, my eyes fixed on the bar below. The Specter Armor clung to my body like a second skin, its matte black surface absorbing the faint light around me. The deep dark red accents seemed to pulse faintly, as if alive, a testament to the magic and blood I had poured into its creation. My helmet's visor displayed a heads-up display (HUD) fed by Ars Magina, providing real-time tactical information. The bar's layout, the number of hostiles, their positions—it was all there, laid out in crisp detail.
"Magina," I said, my voice calm but laced with tension. "Status update."
Her voice echoed in my helmet, clear and precise. "The bar is currently occupied by 26 members of the White Rider MC. 4 are stationed outside as lookouts. The rest are inside, drinking and socializing. They appear relaxed, but don't be fooled—these are dangerous individuals. Many are ex-soldiers, and all are heavily armed."
White Rider MC, were dangerous, their members come from diverse background, from military rejects to common criminals they have it all, as long as the member align with their beliefs and creed, they would be accepted.
I clenched my fists, the reinforced gloves of the Specter Armor creaking softly. "Relaxed, huh? They're laughing, drinking, acting like they own the world…Meanwhile, they've been kidnapping mutants, selling them to HYDRA like cattle. They think they're untouchable."
"They're about to learn otherwise," Magina replied, her tone cold. "Father, their crimes are extensive from murder, trafficking in drugs and weapons dealing were normal trade for them….and of course, their involvement with Dietrich Voss. They're a cancer on this city…. that need to be cut off"
I nodded, my jaw tightening. "And tonight, we cut it out."
Magina's avatar appeared on my HUD, her red dress and piercing gaze a stark contrast to the darkness around me. "I've set the timer for entry. Countdown begins in 10 minutes. Operation starts at 2:00 AM sharp."
"Understood," I said, checking my gear one last time. The dual semi-automatic pistols at my hips were loaded and ready, their magazines filled with enchanted rounds. Flash grenades, smoke grenades, and a single Gladius sword completed my arsenal. The sword, though not of my own making, had been enhanced with hardening and sharpness enchantments. It wasn't perfect, but it would do.
I glanced down at the bar again, my HUD highlighting the lookouts patrolling the perimeter. They were alert but complacent, their confidence born of years of operating without consequence. Cops and district attorneys were on their payroll, ensuring they were untouchable by the law. But I wasn't the law. I was something far worse.
"Magina," I said, my voice low. "Remind me why we're doing this again."
"Because no one else will," she replied without hesitation. "Because these men have hurt too many people…. Because they're a part of the machine that tried to destroy you… And because, Father, you're the only one who can stop them."
I smiled faintly beneath my helmet. "Right. Just making sure I'm not losing my mind."
"You're not," Magina said, her tone softening. "You're the Shadow Overlord. This is what you do….and it need to be done, they're nothing but human filth that need to be destroy,"
"Yeah, they all had to die tonight, they had to serve their role as my first step to satiate my vengeance….". no more hesitation, be angry, be spiteful, be mad, as that is what it was supposed to be.
The timer on my HUD ticked down, the numbers glowing faintly in the corner of my vision. Ten minutes. I took a deep breath, the cool night air filling my lungs. The Specter Armor felt like an extension of my body, its lightweight alloy and magical enhancements giving me both protection and freedom of movement. The helmet's integrated visor offered four vision modes—standard, thermal, night vision, and mana vision—ensuring I could adapt to any situation.
"Magina," I said, my voice steady. "Make sure to keep my status in-check, make sure I did not lose myself to my rage."
"Understood, Father," she replied. "I will be recording the entire process, if you were to show sign of any uncontrolled rage, I would tazed you to bring you back on track will that do, Father?"
"That will do, Magina" I nodded, my eyes narrowing as I studied the bar below.
The White Rider MC thought they were untouchable. They thought they could operate in the shadows, free from consequences. But they were wrong. Tonight, they would learn what it meant to face a consequence, what it meant when retributions come knocking.
The timer hit zero.
"Sir, it's time," Magina's voice echoed in my helmet, calm and precise, her way of addressing me changed showing the seriousness of the situation. I nodded, my eyes narrowing as I stepped forward. The city around me was alive with chaos, but my focus was razor-sharp.
"Jam the area," I ordered, my voice low and steady. "I want no one to be able to use their electronics. Block any and all outgoing calls, and cut the power to this section of the city."
"Jamming initiated…Jamming completed" Magina replied. "Power grid shutdown in progress…. shutdown complete, Satellite blackout active…you are free to act, Sir"
The world around me plunged into darkness. Streetlights flickered and died, the hum of electricity fading into silence. The White Devil Bar, once a beacon of neon and noise, was now a shadowy silhouette against the night. The city's usual cacophony was replaced by the distant sound of confusion—shouts, car horns, and the occasional crash as drivers struggled to navigate the sudden blackout.
I moved through the shadows like a wraith, the Specter Armor blending seamlessly with the darkness. The faint red glow of my HUD illuminated my path, highlighting the positions of the gang members outside the bar. They were alert but disoriented, their voices raised in frustration as they fumbled with flashlights and phones that no longer worked.
Inside the bar, the atmosphere was even more volatile. The sudden loss of power had interrupted the gang's chaotic celebration. The air was thick with the stench of alcohol, sweat, and drugs. The dim light of a few emergency candles cast flickering shadows on the walls, revealing a scene of debauchery and violence.
Matthew White, the gang's leader, slammed his glass on the bar, his face twisted in anger. At 45, he was a grizzled veteran of the White Rider MC, his body covered in Nazi tattoos and his eyes filled with malice. Beside him stood Donald Riot, his second-in-command, a bald, bearded man with a swastika tattooed on his forehead. The two men had been discussing their latest orders from Dietrich Voss—a demand for more mutant captives to fuel HYDRA's experiments.
"This blackout is pissing me off," Matthew growled, his voice cutting through the noise. He hurled his glass at the bartender, a blonde woman named Michelle.
"CRASH!! AHHH!!" The glass struck her head, shattering on impact. She cried out, clutching her bleeding scalp as the gang erupted in laughter.
"Get the backup generator running, freak!" Matthew barked, his voice dripping with contempt. Michelle, tears streaming down her face, stumbled toward the back door, her movements slow and pained. She was a mutant, enslaved by the gang and forced to serve their every whim. Her life was a nightmare, and the brief moments of solitude outside were her only respite.
"Hah~ when will this end…*Sob* why?" As Michelle dragged her heavy feet as she headed to the generator room, she took a deep breath, savoring the cool night air, whilst lamenting her fate.
But her moment of peace was shattered as a drunken gang member grabbed her hair, yanking her backward. She turned to see his leering face, his belt already undone. Fear gripped her heart as she realized what was about to happen. But then, the man's grip loosened. His eyes widened, and a gurgling sound escaped his throat. Michelle watched in stunned silence as a matte black blade emerged from his neck, glistening with blood. The man collapsed to the ground, his lifeless body hitting the floor with a dull thud.
Michelle looked up; her tear-streaked face illuminated by the faint glow of the emergency lights. Standing before her was a figure clad in futuristic armor, his presence both terrifying and awe-inspiring. The rain began to fall, the sound of thunder echoing in the distance as water dripped from his dark, angular helmet. In his hand, he held a Roman gladius, its blade slick with blood.
"Are you a mutant?" the figure asked, his voice deep, growly, and distorted by the helmet. "And are you being held here against your will?"
Michelle nodded, her body trembling with fear and relief. The armored man stepped closer, his movements deliberate and calm. He reached out, his gloved hand brushing against her forehead.
"Sleep," he said, his voice soft but commanding. Michelle's eyes fluttered shut, and she slumped into his arms. He laid her gently on the ground, ensuring she was safe before turning his attention to the bar.
The rain poured down, soaking the ground and washing away the blood. The figure stood tall, his armor glistening in the dim light. He adjusted his grip on the gladius, the blade catching the faint glow of the emergency candles.
"Magina," he said, his voice cold and steady. "Mark her location. She's not part of this."
"Understood, Sir," Magina replied. "Proceed with caution. The bar is heavily armed."
The figure—*me*—nodded, my HUD highlighting the positions of the gang members inside. The White Rider MC had no idea what was coming. They thought they were untouchable, protected by their connections and their reputation. But tonight, they would learn the truth.