Within the clandestine walls of The Herd hideout, Nigel Carrington, a man well into his sixties yet maintaining a stately presence, walked with deliberate steps down a sombre corridor. He cradled an unconscious but cleaned-up Bowen in his arms, his face set with an unreadable expression.
Upon reaching a large door, he pushed it open, revealing an obscure figure hunched over a desk, absorbed in writing on a notepad, with earbuds buried in their ears.
This was the Shepherd, his identity hidden behind a black sheep mask and an oversized dark turtleneck. A silver necklace glinted subtly beneath the layers of fabric, hinting at its own untold narrative.
"I've returned, Shepherd..." Carrington began, lowering Bowen to the ground. The figure, however, continued to write, paying him no heed. Sighing, Carrington straightened, a solemn expression etched onto his face. "Kalo: Pawn," he said, bringing his hands together.
Suddenly, a dwarf garbed in medieval noble attire appeared out of thin air, wielding a dagger. The dwarf charged at Shepherd, only to be met with a floating brick wall materialising just in time to intercept his strike.
The wall shattered into myriad pieces, while Shepherd calmly removed his earbuds, an air of nonchalance surrounding him.
"Release," Carrington said simply, his voice barely above a whisper. The dwarf vanished instantly as if he was never there.
Returning to his book, Shepherd broke the silence, "What's the news, Carrington?"
"Bad news first," Carrington responded, "Akira's mission... it failed."
For a moment, Shepherd's hand paused in its rhythmic scribbling. Then, without a word, he resumed his writing, his only sign of acknowledgement. "Anything else?" He asked nonchalantly.
"The boy's been captured by the Dove Corporation," Carrington reported, his gaze focused on Shepherd. "They're planning on executing him in three days..."
A snap of a pencil lead punctuated the silence. Shepherd paused, the weight of the news seemingly taking its toll. Finally, he broke the silence, "Who's the kid?"
"I'm not quite sure," Carrington admitted, "But it seemed like he meant something important to him...I believe we could potentially use him in the future as a lure."
Shepherd shot him a glance, "You said he's getting executed."
"Oh, you shouldn't worry too much about that, Shepherd. I doubt they'll even be able to do it," Carrington reassured, a hint of a smirk dancing on his lips. At Shepherd's puzzled gaze, Carrington elaborated, "You see, something tells me we aren't the only ones in pursuit of him...as the last remaining son of the Iche family...he's pretty special...and certainly in demand."
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Sir Holland sat behind his desk, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee. Captain Gozen, leaned against the office wall, arms folded across his chest.
"Are you sure about the execution, Edgar?" Gozen's voice cut through the silence.
Holland's lips twitched into a grim smile. "Mate, he's a bloody Fiend host. We haven't caught one of those bastards in years! This one's not only their kind but possibly their leader too, we've hit the jackpot. This opportunity is far too good to pass up."
Gozen sighed, pushing himself off the wall. "Or...we could use him to capture the other remaining Fiend hosts out there and maybe even convert him to Dovanity later on, adding firepower to our army."
Sir Holland's smile vanished instantly. "Over my dead body. You'll never catch me cooperating with those devils...and convert him to Dovanit- are you kidding? You think a Dove would accept housing one of those devil-infested souls?"
Gozen's gaze remained unwavering. "It would be wasteful to execute someone of such importance immediately. Stop acting on your emotions and start prioritising rationality for once."
Sir Holland stood abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the polished wooden floor. "What the hell did you say?"
Before Gozen could respond, the shrill ring of the desk phone interrupted the brewing altercation. Sir Holland shot an icy glare at Gozen, picked up the phone. "Sir Holland speaking..."
His previously tense facial features transformed into pure disbelief as he listened to the voice on the other end. "What!?" His cry of astonishment echoed through the room, leaving Captain Gozen in a state of suspense.
Outside in the sprawling penitentiary courtyard, the atmosphere was fraught with tension. A shirtless figure stood in the middle, the essence of confidence and defiance.
This was ALKO JANSEN, 18, a well-built Caucasian boy, his identity concealed behind a mask. In his hand was a can of beer, which he was chugging with audacious delight, the eyes of a throng of Dove officers upon him.
"Get on the ground! Take the mask off and get on the ground!" One of the officers, red-faced with fury, barked out orders.
Alko, undeterred, glanced around, smirking beneath his mask. "Nice."
With a flourish, he clasped his hands together. "Kalo: Smaak van Doel." Two beer cans materialized in his hands. With a gleeful chuckle, he smacked the cans together, raising them above his head, and let the golden liquid pour into his waiting mouth.
His grin took on a malicious edge as he compressed the cans and took a heavy step forward.
With an impressive show of force, he hurled the cans at the astonished officers. Like bullets, they soared through the air, slamming into the foreheads of two officers, instantly rendering them unconscious.
The remaining officers stared in surprise, inching backwards slightly. Alko wiped the lingering beer from his lips, his smile widening. "Bring it on!"
An officer stammered, "A-activate your Kalo!"
Following the order, the officers clasped their hands together, summoning an array of entities – from deadly weapons to savage animals.
"Attack!" One of the officers roared.
Taking the call as a challenge, Alko charged headfirst into the fray. With a graceful leap, he landed on an officer's head, knee first, sending the man sprawling unconscious.
Another swung a machete at him, but Alko ducked under it with ease, retaliating with a brutal one-two punch to the face and a swift kick to the gut.
An officer attempted to attack him with a cricket bat, but Alko nimbly dodged it, swept the officer's legs from beneath him, and sent him flying.
Another officer appeared, swinging a nunchaku. Alko, however, blocked and parried each strike with alarming precision before grabbing the officer's collar and smashing his nose with a jumping knee.
Suddenly, a squadron of majestic eagles descended upon him, their talons menacingly outstretched. With swift, decisive movements, Alko spun around, fists clenched, pulverizing the birds with a fierce whirl of his fists.
Without a moment's respite, a pack of four salivating hyenas launched themselves towards him from the crowd. Alko responded with an extraordinary show of agility, neutralizing each one with ease.
The next opponent to face Alko was a colossal gorilla, fists slamming into him with terrifying force. Alko, however, merely gripped the gorilla's hands, his smirk never wavering. As the gorilla stared, caught in a moment of stupefaction, Alko yanked it forward and delivered a powerful headbutt, rendering the beast unconscious.
"Move out of the way!" A commanding voice echoed through the courtyard.
The officers parted like a sea, revealing a formidable officer clutching three axes in each hand. With a resolute step, he hurled them at Alko.
Yet, Alko darted forward, effortlessly evading the spinning axes. Closing the distance, the officer withdrew another axe, but Alko slipped beneath its deadly arc and countered with a brutal three-piece combo, instantly dropping his adversary.
Then, five officers lined up in formation, machine guns gripped in their hands. "Fire!" One of them ordered.
In response, Alko executed a corkscrew flip into the air, evading the hailstorm of bullets.
Landing with cat-like grace, he opened his hands to reveal the bullets he'd caught mid-air. The officers gawked in disbelief.
"What the..." one officer started, only for Alko to interrupt.
"Here, you can have them back." And with that, he flicked his hands, sending the bullets hurtling back, embedding themselves into the officers.
"Come on...come on...I need more!" Alko taunted, his grin widening with each passing moment. His thirst for the fight was far from quenched.
Meanwhile, within the building, KIMBERLEY HOLLAND, a 19-year-old Caucasian with a mask concealing her features and long, flowing hair with streaks of purple, sprinted across the first floor. Her eyes fixated on an elevator situated at the room's far end.
A feminine voice reverberated through her earbuds. "Head to the 12th floor. There's an elevator nearby..."
"I see it," Kimberley replied, her breath steady despite her exertion.
"Be careful, though. They're coming your way."
"Good."
As the elevator doors slid open, a multitude of Dove officers stormed towards Kimberley, eyes blazing with determination. "There she is!" One of them exclaimed. "Let's take her down!" echoed another.
Kimberley merely clasped her hands together, an air of calm determination surrounding her. "Kalo: Divine '19," she murmured, and a sleek BB pistol materialised in her hand.
One of the officers let loose a flurry of darts while four others sprinted headlong towards her. With a dancer's grace, Kimberley somersaulted between the lethal projectiles, squeezing off a bullet towards the dart thrower in mid-air. The bullet found its mark, and the officer dropped to the floor.
She landed, only to face the four charging officers. Moving in a blur, she dispatched them with an impressive display of hand-to-hand combat and precise shots from her pistol.
"Come on, it's just a few broken bones. You're lucky I'm using BBs," she taunted, stepping over the writhing bodies and into the elevator.
"There's no -1..." Kimberley mused aloud, scanning the elevator buttons.
"Right, this elevator doesn't get there. You'll have to take the special elevator," the voice in her earbud, ATAMAI, informed her.
Kimberley sighed, pressing the button for the seventh floor. The gentle hum of elevator music filled the space, and she tapped her foot to the rhythm.
Abruptly, the elevator halted on the third floor. "There are more waiting for you... they're heavily armed..." Atamai warned her.
"Really?" Kimberley asked, a hint of excitement creeping into her voice. She made a steeple with her hands. "Benedi: Auto-Dodge."
As the elevator doors creaked open, she was greeted by the sight of four officers, rifles trained on her. "Fire!" an officer ordered.
As a hailstorm of bullets filled the elevator, Kimberley became a flickering wraith, nimbly evading every single projectile. Eventually, the gunfire ceased, the officers having exhausted their ammunition. Their jaws dropped in astonishment as Kimberley stood in the elevator, untouched and grinning.
"Bye!" she cheerfully waved as the elevator doors slid shut, leaving the stunned officers behind. The soothing elevator music resumed, filling the small space with its melody.
"Did you see the look on their faces?" Kimberley chuckled, a note of triumph in her voice.
Atamai's voice crackled in her ear, breaking through the amusement. "Be careful. Others are waiting on the 7th. That's your floor."
"Ugh, seriously?" Kimberley sighed, reaching into her waist bag. Her fingers wrapped around two small rubber balls. "On my signal," she instructed.
"Got it," Atamai replied, her voice focused.
The elevator arrived at the seventh floor, and the doors opened to reveal a mass of Dove officers. Armed with an array of melee weapons - staffs, golf clubs, hammers - they appeared prepared for a tough fight.
"That's her!" One of them yelled, pointing directly at Kimberley.
"Don't let her get to the Fiend kid's dungeon!" Another shouted, rallying his colleagues.
Unfazed, Kimberley lobbed the two rubber balls high above the assembled officers. "Now!" She shouted into her earpiece.
On cue, the balls exploded with a brilliant flash of light, emitting a disorienting bang. The effect was immediate and devastating. "Argh!" "Shit!" "My eyes!" The officers cried out in disarray, temporarily blinded and thrown off balance.
As the dazzling light flooded the area, Kimberley sprang into action. Moving like a shadow amidst the chaos, she dispatched the officers one by one, her gun barking repeatedly.
Eventually, the light began to dim, revealing the aftermath of Kimberley's rapid assault. She stood amidst a sea of unconscious bodies, gun still smoking in her hand. With a small smirk, she blew the smoke away, satisfied with the path she had cleared.
Kimberley softly walked through the dark and eerie dungeon, her boots echoing on the stone floor. The walls were lined with jail cells, each one barred by cobwebs and exuding a heavy sense of emptiness.
At the end of the long corridor, she came upon a cell with luminous blue, laser-like bars. Inside, she could see a figure slumped against the cold concrete floor. It was Udo, battered and unresponsive.