The White Devil Bar was a cacophony of chaos, even in the darkness. The power outage had done little to dampen the gang's rowdy celebration. The sound of shattering glass, drunken laughter, and the occasional fistfight echoed through the building, blending into a symphony of debauchery. Outside, the street was eerily quiet, the only light coming from the faint glow of cigarettes held by the four men standing guard. They leaned against their bikes, their voices carrying through the night as they boasted about their latest conquests in the most vulgar terms.
"Man, that chick last night? She was 'wild'," one of them said, taking a drag from his cigarette. The ember glowed brightly in the darkness, casting a faint red light on his smug face.
"Wild? She was screaming by the end of it," another laughed, his voice dripping with malice. "I love it when they scream...HAHAHA"
The others joined in, their laughter harsh and grating. Talking light there is no care in the world, like they were the king of the world, despite the darkness around them, but then, something shifted. The air grew heavy, and an unnatural silence fell over them. One by one, their laughter died, replaced by a creeping sense of dread. Their cigarettes hung limply from their lips as they exchanged uneasy glances.
"You feel that?" one of them muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Before anyone could respond, a figure materialized in their midst—a man dressed in black, his long leather coat swaying gently in the breeze. He stood there, silent and still, like a shadow given form. The four men froze, their bravado evaporating in an instant.
"Who the hell—" one of them started, his voice trembling with annoyance and entitlement. But then,
"SHING!"
The sound of slicing wind cut through the air, sharp and ringing to their ears. The man who had spoken clutched at his throat, his eyes wide with terror. His vision tilted, the world spinning as his head slid cleanly from his shoulders. It hit the ground with a dull *thud*, rolling to a stop at the feet of his companions.
The remaining three men stared in stunned silence, their cigarettes falling from their lips. The headless body of their friend remained seated on his bike, blood gushing from the severed neck.
"What the FU-" another reacts to the sudden changing situation, that Is clearly not something that they could have ever anticipate,
Before they could finish their sentence or even react, the figure moved again, his sword a blur of matte black steel.
"SWISH! SWISH! SWISH!"
Three more strokes, each one precise and lethal. The men barely had time to register what was happening before their heads joined their friends on the ground. The figure in black flicked the blood from his blade with a practiced motion, the droplets splattering against the pavement. That was the head on the ground saw before their 30-seconds was up and went black.
I stepped over the bodies, my boots crunching on the gravel as I approached the bar's front door.
"Their lack of awareness and arrogance disgusts me, Father," Magina's voice chimed in my ear, cold and clinical.
"I share the same sentiment, Magina," I replied, my voice low and steady. "It's infuriating that they think they have the right to dictate and toy with other people's lives."
There evil people had done this sort of villainous actions against other people for far too long, unchecked. And I also felt a bit depressed that the old me were actually one of their kidnapping victims.
"I've run a calculation just now, your movements and strength just now were on par with Steve Rogers at his peak," Magina noted, her tone analytical.
"Really? And that's just at level 11," I said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. "Good to know."
My body had fully recovered, my physical strength, reflexes, and mobility restored to their peak. The base power of a High Half-Elf was already on par with a super soldier, and unlike Captain America, I could grow even stronger than he could ever achieved, unlike him, my physique was normal and not created by any serum, once again, felt that my choice was correct. Also, to me the thought of being able to grow more, was both reassuring and exhilarating.
"There are 27 people inside," Magina said, her voice cutting through my thoughts. "None of them have noticed anything out of the ordinary."
I nodded, my eyes scanning the area. I saw a heavy chain hung from one of the bikes, and I grabbed it, looping it tightly around the bar's front door handles. The metal clinked softly as I secured it, ensuring no one could escape that way. With the front door sealed, I moved around to the back of the building.
As I approached the rear entrance, a woman stumbled out. She was blonde, her dirty white crop top and red jeans hanging loosely on her frail frame. Her face was bruised, her lip busted, and she clutched her bloodied head as she sobbed quietly. Despite her injuries, there was a fleeting look of relief on her face as she stepped into the cool night air.
"Magina, who is she?" I asked, my voice low.
"Michelle Amanda, 35," Magina replied promptly. "Reported missing in Alabama four years ago. Presumed dead in the official records,"
My HUD lit up with her details, displaying everything that Magina found on our mystery woman. and then, I activated Mana Vision, a very helpful sight in these MCU world, and I also found out by accidents, that Using Mana Vision, I can actually see and identify if someone is a mutant or not. With the Vision changed, the world shifted into a blue hue, and Michelle's body glowed faintly with a warm white light.
"She's a Beta-class mutant," Magina added.
I switched back to Night Vision just as a man emerged from the back door. He was clearly drunk, his movements clumsy, clearly not here for anything good at all, I can feel the annoyance rising in me, I watched as he grabbed Michelle by the hair, forcefully, yanking her entire being backward.
"Ahhh!!... No!!, please stop it!" She cried out, her body stiff with fear as he forced her to her knees.
"C'mon, freak," the man slurred, his voice thick with alcohol and malice. His mouth crescent into a wide perverted grin, "You know what to do."
Michelle's eyes were filled with terror and resignation, her body trembling as she reluctantly complied. By the look of it, I know that this sort of treatment, the degradations, the harm has been going on for far too long, for Michelle, to the point that she was reacted in such way. The blatant injustice of it all burned in my chest, a fire that demanded action, begging at me to change this and end this cruel situation.
"Magina," I said, my voice cold and steady. "Mark her location. She's not part of this."
"Understood, Father," Magina replied. "Proceed with caution."
She is clearly were kept here without her consent, mistreated for being mutant, and then kept here to be their slaves, the situation itself, confirmed my conjecture. The sight of Michelle Amanda trembling in fear, her body bruised and broken, was enough to ignite a fire within me. Without hesitation, I sprinted toward the drunken gang member, my movements swift and silent.
"ZZRRUKK!!"
He barely had time to register my presence before I drove my gladius into his neck. The blade pierced through flesh and bone with a sickening *crunch*, severing his spine and silencing him forever.
"COUGH!!... Guh!... THUD!!"
He choked on his own blood, his lifeless body collapsing to the ground with a dull sound, his eyes widened and body shuddered as his life slowly gone.
"Wha…. Please, n… no," Michelle stared at me, her eyes wide with terror and confusion.
Tears streamed down her face as she clutched her bleeding head, her body trembling uncontrollably. The death that happened before her, and my presence shook her hard.
"Are you a mutant who's here without your consent or will?" I asked, my voice calm but firm.
"Y… yes, sir," She nodded and answered, her sobs quiet but desperate.
"Don't worry, you're safe now," I stepped closer, my gloved hand reaching out to touch her forehead. "Sleep," I said softly, activating my Pheromones/Aphrodisiac Power.
"What?" Her eyes fluttered shut, and she slumped into my arms, her breathing steady and peaceful. I carried her into the generator room, laying her gently on the floor before closing the door behind her. She would be safe here—for now.
"25 targets inside," Magina's voice echoed in my helmet. "9 women and 16 men, all with criminal records and confirmed members of the White Rider MC. Matthew White and Donald Riot are located at the left-side table near the entrance, at the end of the bar. Proceed with caution, Father."
"Understood," I nodded, my mind focused and my body ready. The night sky was crying, pulp of raindrops started to hit on my face and body, lighting boom lighten and shaken the sky, a perfect background music to this moment.
"CLINK! CLINK!" I reached into my belt and pulled out two flashbangs, their pins glinting faintly in the dim light. With a quick motion, I pulled the pins and tossed them through the open back door. One landed near the entrance, while the other rolled deeper into the bar.
"CLINK! CLINK! CLINK!" Not stopping there, I threw three smoke grenades into the room, their canisters hissing as they released thick, white smoke.
"CREAK~ that' right, stay like that you bastards," The door closed behind me as I stepped back, the faint *clink* of the grenades hitting the floor barely audible over the noise of the bar. The gang members were too drunk, too distracted to notice the small metal canisters rolling toward them.
"BOOM! BOOM!"
The flashbangs detonated in quick succession, their blinding light and deafening noise disorienting everyone inside. The smoke grenades followed, filling the room with a dense, impenetrable fog. Shouts of panic and confusion erupted as the gang members stumbled blindly, their drunken bravado replaced by raw fear.
"WHAT THE HELL!!! EVERYBODY OUT!! IT'S GRENADE!!!" After the succession of explosion, exploded inside and in the middle of the bar, the Gang members began panicking.
"THE FRONT DOOR IS LOCKED!!!" The sound of the front door being rammed and shaken loudly echoed. Everyone inside were clearly still drunk and disoriented right now.
I stood in front of the back door, my body centered and my mind focused. In my right hand, I held the gladius in a reverse grip, its matte black blade glinting faintly in the dim light. In my left, I gripped my Semi-Auto C. METE MC9, its weight familiar and reassuring. The world around me seemed to slow, the chaos inside the bar playing out in vivid detail through my HUD.
"Three targets are heading toward you," Magina said, her voice calm and precise. "Arrival in five seconds. Five… four… three…"
"BBAAAMMM!!!"
At *three*, I kicked the door open and stepped inside. The smoke was thick, but my helmet's thermal vision cut through it like a knife. Three men stumbled toward me; their faces twisted in panic. They never saw me coming.
"WHAT THE—" one of them tried to speak, to alarm the rest, but.
"ZUUUSSHH!! SWISH! SWISH!"
Three precise slashes, and their heads tumbled to the ground. Their bodies crumpled; the sound of their collapse drowned out by the chaos around me. Blood sprayed across the walls, the metallic scent mixing with the acrid smoke.
The carnage had begun.
"BANG!!...ARGHH!!!". The White Rider MC, once proud and untouchable, now found themselves in a nightmare.
"ZING!!!! ARGH!!! MY ARM!!!!!!.... GUUHHH!!!" The bar, once filled with laughter and debauchery, was now a scene of terror. The proud gang members shouted in pain and crying sounds filled the bar.
"TATATATA!!!... DIE…GHOST!!.... DIE!!!...NO! NO! NO! BANG!!!," Gunshots rang out as panicked gang members fired blindly into the smoke, their bullets ricocheting off walls and furniture. Screams of pain and fear echoed through the room as my blade and bullets found their marks.
Matthew White and Donald Riot, the leaders of this vile gang, crouched behind an overturned table, their faces pale with fear. They watched as their men fell one by one, their bodies hitting the floor with sickening *thuds*. The sound of my gladius cutting through the air was followed by sprays of blood and agonized screams. The smoke thickened, the chaos intensifying with every passing second.
Matthew's hands trembled as he clutched a pistol, his eyes darting around the room. "What the hell is going on?!" he shouted, his voice cracking with fear.
Donald, his second-in-command, didn't answer. He was too busy staring at the lifeless body of his "old lady," a woman who had caught a stray bullet in the chaos. Her blood pooled beneath her, staining the floor a dark crimson.
"BANG!! BANG!! SWISH!!...ARRRGGGGHHHH!!!!...THUD!!"
The gunfire slowed, the screams fading into an eerie silence. The smokes were thick and suffocating, giving anyone a zero visibility and with the electrical blackout, and the emergency red light were the only thing that illuminating the entire bar, made the atmosphere so stifling, suffocating and fear inducing. Matthew White and Donald Riot, were the only one alive, and both of them were stricken with fear, to the point that, even swallowing their spit were so hard for them.