In the aftermath of their fierce battle, Scarlett strode confidently, the crimson evidence of their struggle dripping from the tip of her monopod. Alko, however, was a pitiable sight. Blood streamed from the stump of his missing right leg, his left arm cleanly severed, and his torso crisscrossed with gashes. The contrast between them was palpable; a victor and the nearly vanquished.
Scarlett's voice dripped with condescension, "Any last words?"
Alko wobbled on one leg.
Scarlett smirked, "Should've minded your business, kid. Now look at you – one arm...one leg... You're barely even alive anymore. I guess that's what you get for trying to play the hero."
She raised her camera, the lens focused intently on the battered figure before her. "Say cheese!" she declared, capturing the moment.
But then, a sound—first a chuckle, then a full-blown cackle—from Alko. "You got it wrong, 'luv'. I wasn't trying to play the hero," he said. "I was just trying to play."
Closing his eyes under his mask with a sense of ritual, he whispered, "Benedi: Hangover Cure."
Scarlett's eyes widened in astonishment. Before her very eyes, the unimaginable occurred. Alko's severed limbs regenerated, and the gashes on his torso faded, leaving flawless skin in their wake.
She stammered, still in shock, "This kid..."
"Pretty cool, huh?" Alko boasted, flaunting his newfound vitality. "Regeneration is one of my Benedi. Do you have a Benedi? Have you even reached that level yet?"
Unyielding, Scarlett retorted, "W-whatever. I'll just cut them off again."
Alko's tone took on a dangerous edge. "With pleasure." Lost in thought, he considered, Thanks to my Benedi, I don't need to worry about hardening my skin, since I can just regenerate anyway. I can put all my focus on increasing my vibration temperature, meaning, I can go as fast as I like.
Without warning, steam began to emanate from him, enshrouding him in a thick mist.
Scarlett took a step back, alarm evident in her eyes. "Huh? Is he overheating? Why is he increasing his vibrational temperature that much? He's going to rip his skin off!"
But before she could even finish her thought, Alko was there, mere inches away from her.
"I enjoyed this battle, Scarlett," he whispered, his voice filled with an edge of finality. "But if you can see this coming, I advise you to move out of the way."
Scarlett's face paled, realization dawning too late. All she managed to utter was a single word, "Shit!"
Paralyzed, Scarlett could only watch in horror as his fist arced towards her. But it stopped, just millimeters from her face, decimating everything in its wake. The force of his halted punch left a vacuum, a space of destruction behind her.
As the dust settled, Scarlett's world spun, and Alko's grin was the last thing she saw before darkness claimed her. He caught her unconscious form, whispering with satisfaction, "Nice."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Amidst the tension-filled air, Rory stood confidently, his grin almost mocking in its audacity. Beside him, twelve clones, all bearing an eerie resemblance to him, formed a formidable wall. Opposite them, Kimberley appeared battered but her spirit was unyielding.
"Was it worth it?" Rory taunted. "Getting involved with something that had NOTHING to do with you. Was it? But your answer doesn't really matter, you know. I'm going to make you pay just as I was instructed. Your rubber bullets won't save you now."
Kimberley analyzed the situation. The clarity of her thoughts evident, she surmised, "He's strategically managed the vibrational temperature between himself and his clones. While the clones have been designed for maximum durability, Rory has enhanced his own speed and power. They're decoys. But if Rory's vibrational temperature is set high, then he's vulnerable. All I need…is a single hit..."
Without warning, Rory suddenly lunged, propelling a rugby ball with a powerful dropkick towards Kimberley.
Breathing deeply, Kimberley whispered to herself, "Need a little screen for this one." She raised her pistol skywards, firing off 10 rounds. "Let's make it rain, shall we?"
As she spoke the words "Vibration Division," each bullet fragmented into 10 more, raining down as a storm of a hundred tiny projectiles.
Rory's face contorted in confusion. "What is she up to? What's her game?"
The miniature bullets might not have had the brute force of their original size, but they were the perfect smoke screen. As the clones lunged towards Kimberley, she made a calculated move, pressing her hands together. "Benedi: Auto-Dodge," she whispered.
Suddenly, Kimberley became almost ghostly, flickering around the scene, her movements so swift that to Rory and his clones, she appeared as nothing but a blur. The clones, programmed to tackle, struggled to lock onto their elusive target.
"How is she doing that? Why can't we catch her?" Rory thought, a smirk forming on his lips, "But it won't matter in the end."
Kimberley's internal strategy was evident: "Auto-Dodge allows me to automatically evade any physical threat. These bullets help me move in unpredictable patterns, creating diversions. All I need is an opening."
But the continual shower of rubber was starting to leave its mark on Rory. The bullets, now stinging, forced him to reassess. "Damn it! I need to escape this rain. I have to maintain a high vibrational temperature to have any chance against her, but that also makes me vulnerable, even to these."
Just as he sprinted out of the bullet deluge, Kimberley, her focus razor-sharp, spotted him - isolated, assessing, and open.
"This is it," she thought, suddenly materializing behind him.
Rory's eyes widened in realization, "No!"
With surgical precision and swift intent, Kimberley struck Rory's neck with the butt of her pistol. One by one, the clones began to dissipate, leaving behind a victorious Kimberley, standing alone in the midst of chaos.
"Game over," she whispered triumphantly.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ren's black coupe sliced through the city's electric arteries, a sleek silhouette against the vibrant urban backdrop.
Inside the coupe, tension and concern were palpable. Kelly worked meticulously in the backseat, her skilled fingers weaving a needle through the open gashes on Kenny's skin. The discomfort was evident in the young boy's wince.
"Ow! Go easy, Mum!" Kenny protested.
"Hold still," Kelly advised her voice a mixture of maternal concern and firm authority. "It's almost over."
Glancing periodically in the rearview mirror, Ren tried to gauge Kenny's condition. "How's he holding up back there?" he queried, the worry evident in his tone.
"A few more stitches and he'll be good," Kelly responded, not missing a beat.
Curiosity gnawed at Ren. "Where did you even find that needle and thread?"
Kelly let out a soft chuckle, her eyes never leaving her work. "Don't you worry about that."
Kenny's bewildered eyes darted between the two. "Why are you even helping me? Are you with the Dove?"
Ren's lips tightened into a thin line. "That's a conversation for your mother."
Kenny's confusion deepened. "Mum? What's he talking about?" He awaited an answer, but Kelly's silence only intensified his agitation. "Mum? Say something!"
Ren intervened, trying to calm the mounting tension. "Look, Kenny, you both have been through a lot. Let's save this discussion for another day."
Kenny swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on his mother, searching for answers. "Fine," he murmured reluctantly.
The coupe's journey was briefly halted at a traffic signal. Opposite them, a menacing dark blue muscle car idled. As it veered left, Ren caught a brief glimpse of its driver. A Caucasian man with striking wayfarer glasses, casually manipulating a toothpick in his mouth. Recognition sparked in Ren's eyes.
"Stirling Mansell?!" he hissed under his breath.
Without warning, Ren slammed his foot down on the accelerator as the lights shifted to green. The coupe shot forward, veering sharply to the right.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
n the midst of a forest clearing, Captain Smyth's heart pounded loudly in his chest as he watched, disbelieving, the card he'd thrown with such surety now caught effortlessly between Udo's fingers.
"But... how?" Captain Smyth's voice quivered, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.
Udo let the card fall to the ground, the soft thud echoing their silent confrontation. "Inversed vibration, wasn't it?" Udo mused aloud, a hint of admiration in his voice.
Captain Smyth's heart raced. "Damn it," he thought.
Udo continued, his words piercing through Captain Smyth's defences, "A technique that disrupts vibration. Each time I increased my vibration, it decreased and vice versa. Meaning, I made my attacks slower and weaker every time I tried to go on the offence and softened my body every time I tried to defend. You played me well, Captain."
Captain Smyth felt the walls closing in. Udo had deciphered his strategy. "He's got me," he mentally conceded.
"You're the first vibration manipulator I've ever battled. Quite the enlightening experience." Udo said. With deliberate grace, he steepled his hands. "Benedi: Nkuchi."
Captain Smyth's eyes widened in horror as he watched the cards embedded in Udo's body begin to push themselves out as if his very skin was repelling them. "What in God's name?" Captain Smyth exclaimed.
Udo spoke with an air of amusement. "It's my Benedi technique. My skin acts as a cushion. I believe it's an offshoot of our Igbo wrestling heritage where sand softened our falls."
"Igbo... wrestling?" Captain Smyth stammered. "Just who the hell are you?"
Udo sighed, an air of resignation about him. "If you must know..." With a deft motion, he pressed a small red button on his mask, unveiling his true face.
Captain Smyth's face drained of colour, recognition and shock intermingling. "U-Udo Iche? Why the hell are you here?"
Udo leaned in, his voice cold. "Captain Smyth, sometimes it's wiser to leave certain stones unturned." A sinister smile played on his lips. "How about a game? Hide and seek. Five minutes. Run."
A cold chill ran down Captain Smyth's spine as he locked eyes with Udo one last time before dashing into the dense forest, the game now taking a darker turn.
Captain Smyth's heart raced, his thoughts consumed by one chilling realization: Udo Iche, son of the feared Iche clan, was here in the forest. And he was hunting him. "Why? Why is he here?" Captain Smyth's thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion.
Desperation sinking in, Captain Smyth hastily tapped his earbud. "Annie! Annie! Can you hear me?!"
A static-filled voice responded, the connection feeble. "Cap-capt-i..." Annie's voice was lost amidst the static.
"Damn it!" Captain Smyth cursed under his breath. The odds were turning against him.
Minutes seemed to blur, and before he knew it, Udo's playful voice echoed throughout the forest. "57, 58, 59, ready or not, here I come." The chilling finality in his voice left no room for doubt; this was a game of life and death.
Udo, with confident strides, navigated the forest like a predator on the prowl. "I wonder how far Captain Smyth managed to get," he pondered aloud, a smirk forming on his lips. "But it doesn't matter. It's time."
With a swift motion, Udo interlaced his fingers. "Finalis: Ukwa Oba."
The world shifted. The solid ground beneath Captain Smyth's feet began to morph, grains of sand replacing the once familiar feel of the earth. Awe and horror consumed him as he beheld the transformation – the forest, in a 2000-meter radius, was metamorphosing into a vast desert.