The reason why it's been more than a week since I released a hostage?
YOU. KNOW. WHY.
Next update? Charming Demon.
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The Seven's Base
Black Noir stared blankly into a wall as a busy meeting buzzed around him, his fingers moving unconsciously without him knowing. He sat by himself, lost in his own world, paying little attention to what was happening around him.
The people in the room were unsettled by his mere presence, with them giving him a wide berth and avoiding being near him at all costs. No one wanted to be anywhere near him, all of them leaving his side of the table completely deserted with only Noir sitting there all by himself.
He was like a living statue with how still he was, the only indication that he wasn't a statue was the movement of his fingers, a silent specter in an otherwise busy room. Yet, even in the midst of animated conversation, he commanded a certain palpable presence.
As the meeting progressed, the CEO, Stan Edgar, droned on about new strategies for increasing revenue. The others listened attentively, nodding occasionally to show their agreement or simply to keep up with the rhythmic cadence of his voice.
Black Noir was indifferent to it all as he continued his aimless stare at the wall, his fingers still moving of their own accord to music only he could hear.
Minutes passed and his hand was still moving…
Suddenly, he rose from his chair and made for the exit door in long strides. It was as if an invisible force guided him as he seemed almost oblivious to his surroundings. The room fell silent as everyone watched this peculiar spectacle unfold.
"Where exactly do you think you're going?" The commanding voice of Stan Edgar cut through the silence, halting Black Noir in his tracks. The room collectively held its breath, all eyes fixed on the enigmatic figure.
Noir paused, his hand resting on the door handle. He turned slightly, the eyes of his helmet briefly scanning the room before settling on Edgar. For a moment, there was a tense standoff, the air thick with anticipation.
Without a word, Noir resumed his exit, pushing the door open and stepping into the corridor beyond. The tension in the room remained palpable, the meeting attendees exchanging nervous glances.
Stan Edgar's eyes narrowed, his authoritative presence filling the space Noir had just vacated.
"…Let's continue," he said, his voice measured but with an edge that suggested this incident would not be forgotten.
The meeting resumed, albeit with a renewed undercurrent of unease. Noir's departure cast a lingering shadow over the proceedings, a reminder of the unpredictable and often unnerving presence he embodied. Edgar continued outlining strategies, but the distraction was evident.
Noir's silent, inexplicable actions had left a mark on everyone present.
Meanwhile, Noir moved through the hallways with the same mechanical precision, each step deliberate yet detached. He navigated the corridors of Vought Tower, his destination known only to him.
Back in the boardroom, Edgar finished his presentation, his gaze occasionally drifting to the door through which Noir had exited.
"Any questions?" he asked, his tone implying that he expected none. Everyone remained silent, the previous tension not fully dissipated. "Good."
The meeting adjourned, attendees filing out with hushed murmurs. As Edgar gathered his papers, he glanced again at the door, a cold expression on his face. Noir's behavior was puzzling, even by the standards of Vought's often enigmatic lapdog.
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Noir entered the correct sequence of numbers into the security keypad, and the heavy metal door in front of him unlocked, moving automatically to the side. He entered the room that was rather plain and empty with nothing really inside besides a bed, a desk along with a chair.
The walls were empty, devoid of any pictures or posters. No signs suggesting the personality of its owner, and no evidence of any past experiences or future plans.
The silent member of the seven closed the door behind him, the sound resonating in the emptiness. The room felt as hollow as Noir himself, each object within standing like a lost sentinel under the sharp glare of fluorescent lighting.
Noir moved towards the bed with his usual mechanicalness that would make a robot jealous.
He sat down on the bed, his muscular frame making the thin mattress dip significantly under his weight. His helmeted head tilted down, eyes invisible behind the dark visor giving off nothing to interpret. He remained still for a moment, lost in his own thoughts.
Time seemed to slow down in this isolated space. The minutes ticking by became hours, each second echoing loudly in the stark silence of him sitting there. His gloved hand idly traced an invisible pattern in the air, an unconscious habit.
His gaze fell onto the desk nearby; it was as bare as the rest of his surroundings, housing nothing but a few scattered papers and a digital clock relentlessly counting down time.
The room reflected Noir's existence, detached and devoid of warmth or belonging.
Noir's shoulders heaved slightly with a breath, the sound muffled by his suit. He reached out, picking up one of the scattered papers on the desk. It was a mission report, detailing one of his many covert operations. He skimmed it briefly before setting it back down, the words meaningless to him.
He leaned back against the bed, his helmeted head resting against the cold pillow. For a moment, he allowed himself to relax, a rare concession to the fatigue that occasionally penetrated even his disciplined mind.
Noir's empty thoughts drifted to memories of the past.
His hands moved up to his chest, feeling the bump of a hidden pocket within his suit. He unzipped it slowly and pulled out a thin stack of paper bound by a rubber band.
Photos.
Each one was full of color and life, the edges of each of them worn and creased from frequent handling. He removed the band and began looking at them one after the other. Not even Stan knew about the photos he has…
The first photo showed him and his team in the middle of what seemed like a chaotic food fight.
John had him in a headlock, his smile as radiant as the sun as he smashed a pie into his helmet. Queen Maeve was laughing from behind a flipped-over table, her warrior features softened into genuine laughter as she threw a whole turkey at John. In the background of the photo, Ground Hawk had jumped onto A-Train's back pouring gravy onto him, both of them covered in smash potatoes as Blindspot desperately tried to get out of the way.
All of them, even John, were covered in a mess of food.
Noir remembered it was John who started the whole debacle when he fired the first shot of peas.
The next photo depicted a quieter moment, a stark contrast to the chaotic fun of the food fight.
It showed him standing apart from the group which consisted of nothing but men, his helmeted head tilted as if he was looking at something out of frame and was about to walk away from the group. John, who seemed to notice this, reached out his hand to stop him from leaving.
The rest of them were engaged in animated conversation. A-Train leaning casually against a wall with Blindspot, both of them laughing at Ground Hawk who somehow got his upper body stuck in a vending machine with his head sticking out.
He remembered that day as Ground Hawk calling it a boy's night out.
He moved on to the next photo and paused, looking at it intently. In the picture, he and John stood side by side in front of a camera, with two children sandwiched between them. One was a young boy dressed in a Homelander costume, while the other was a little girl surprisingly in his instead of the usual Queen Maeve costume favored by most girls.
Noir gazed at the photos for what felt like an eternity, each one eliciting emotions that were foreign to him. Emotions that tugged at his lips and threatened to form a smile.
As he was about to continue looking through more phot-
BBBBRRZZZZZZ!!!!
A sudden sound made him jolt back to reality. It was the alert from his phone, signaling an incoming communication from Edgar. With practiced ease, he slid the photos back into their rubber band and tucked them safely back into his suit pocket.
Standing up from the bed, Noir moved to respond to the call but not before glancing once more at the photos hidden safely away before he picked up the phone.
A message from Edgar appeared on the screen.
"Report to my office immediately."
Noir acknowledged the command with a single tap on the screen. He got up from the bed, his movements deliberate as he left the room. The door slid shut behind him with a soft hiss, sealing the emptiness within.
He navigated the corridors with practiced ease, his presence causing a ripple of unease among the employees he passed. They averted their eyes, their conversations hushed in his wake. Noir paid them no mind, his focus solely on his destination.
Reaching Edgar's office, he paused briefly before entering. The door opened, revealing the CEO seated behind his desk, his expression unreadable.
"Black Noir," Edgar greeted him, his tone measured. "I have a new assignment for you."
Noir stepped forward, his silence conveying his readiness to listen.
"The situation requires discretion and precision," Edgar continued, his fingers steepling together as he locked eyes with Noir. "The Japanese seem to have created their own superhuman, which means they managed to create their own version of compound V."
"Your mission is to destroy all the information related to their research and eliminate the superhuman they've created. This is a covert operation, Noir. Any public knowledge of our involvement would be catastrophic for our image."
He slid a dossier across the table, which Noir picked up in his gloved hands. There was no need to open it; he was already familiar with the requirements. Still, he flipped it open for pretense's sake. Photos of a young Japanese woman glared back at him from the first page, her eyes full of fire as she struggled against the chains that bound her hands and feet.
"If the worst-case scenario were to happen…"
Edgar continued to speak, details of the mission flowing like water over pebbles. His tone never wavered, even as he instructed Noir to perform acts that would have made lesser men blanch. Noir took in the information silently, analyzing possible routes, extracting any potential threats from the given location, and mentally preparing an action plan.
Finally, Edgar finished speaking and looked at Noir expectantly. Without missing a beat, Noir snapped the dossier shut and nodded once, his movements concise and efficient, and turned to leave.
"Remember," Edgar called after him in a chillingly calm voice, "Failure is not an option. I'm up to here with other nation's governments up my ass because of Homelander who can't seem to follow the simple agreement that Vaught's heroes are not allowed on other countries' soil and air space."
The CEO of Vaught took a deep sigh, rubbing his head as he could feel a massive headache forming.
"It's a miracle that Maeve convinced him to stop before he started a world war."
The masked man nodded his head keeping that in mind, ready for the mission that was ahead of him.
_________
???
Noir arrived at the terrorists' campsite under the cover of night, the darkness providing perfect cover for his approach.
The Shining Light Liberation had a notorious reputation for violence and hostility, fueled by its high-ranking members—former politicians, military officers, and even a few rogue scientists.
The camp was settled in a dense forest, an area that would have been picturesque if not for the temporary structures and watchtowers that reeked of hostile intent.
The natural chirping of insects was drowned by the low murmur of conversations and occasional laughter. Men adorned in uniform moved around, their shadows dancing under the soft amber glow of fires.
From his vantage point within the overhead foliage, Noir surveyed the camp with an eagle-eyed intensity, his eyes darting from one end to another. His gaze fell upon what seemed to be a research lab nestled towards the far end of the camp. A large tent reinforced with metallic frames to combat weather or any accidental fires.
The hum of generators grew louder as he discreetly moved closer.
Progress made with careful precision, he descended from the trees and hovered along the shadow's edge, blending seamlessly with the darkness. Several times he froze, allowing patrolling guards to pass by unknowingly.
Vought's lapdog noted their lax posture and inattentive eyes, the gaps in patrol patterns, and the lack of vigilance.
Creeping through the camp, he avoided the lit areas, staying in the cover of darkness. He could hear the distant chatter of the soldiers, their voices carrying a casual relaxed tone.
He had memorized their patrol routes, accounting for every single guard shift. Once he was close enough to the lab tent, he could see a few people in lab coats bustling inside through the translucent material.
He noticed one of them heading towards the back of the tent, towards a large metal cabinet. The figure fumbled with the lock, before pulling out a large glass cylinder filled with a red substance.
Noir recognized it immediately as blood.
Tearing his gaze from the cylinder, he scanned the rest of the lab, identifying potential threats and noting their positions. The security was pathetic with the tent being guarded with a total of four soldiers.
Two guards stood at the entrance of the tent while the other two patrolled around it.
The mission was clear: kill the newly created superhuman, collect data, destroy any information related to the creation of compound V, and plant explosives to ensure no evidence would be left behind. As for those involved in the creation...they were to be eliminated.
His first step was to neutralize the guards without alerting others. He needed access to the lab without worry and where he assumed all data related to their research would be stored.
Moving with an uncanny silence, he crept up on the patrol guards, covered their mouths with one hand, and snapped their necks with one swift motion. The bodies dropped limply onto the ground before he picked them up and tossed them miles into the jungle without a single noise.
Next were the guards at the entrance. Deftly pulling out a throwing knife from his belt, he aimed at the guard's head and released the blade in his hand with frightening precision. The single blade killed both of the guards instantly as it pierced through both their heads. The now-dead guards collapsed on each other's shoulders before they could even react.
They too were swiftly thrown into the deep jungle for the wildlife to consume.
The entrance was now clear. Noir moved quickly, darting across the open ground and slipping into the tent unseen.
Inside, a harsh light revealed the extent of the terrorists' operation. High-tech computers filled one end, cluttered desks littered with files and notes scattered about, and rows of humming cabinets housed more vials of blood.
The scientists were so engrossed in their work that they didn't notice him until it was too late. Within seconds, all five lay dead on the dirt floor.
Swiftly crossing to the computers, he began to search for the relevant information. His gloved fingers moved across the keys, flicking rapidly through file after file until he found what he was looking for. With practiced ease, he started downloading all the information onto a tiny chip embedded in his wrist.
As the download ran quietly in the background, he moved with deliberate purpose to eliminate any other traces of their research. Before he did so however he grabbed a vial of blood from the cabinet and put it into his pocket.
As Noir did that, he carefully placed a disk-shaped bomb made by Vought and put the explosive at max power, knowing it would be more than sufficient to obliterate a large area. He would detonate the bomb when he located and eliminated the Japanese supe.
With that done, he turned his attention to the most critical part of his mission: eliminating their newly created superhuman. Wherever she was being kept, it wouldn't be far from here.
With the data fully loaded, Noir exited the tent as silently as he had entered, Noir scanned his surroundings once more for any signs of her. It didn't take long before his eyes fell upon a heavily fortified structure a little way down from the lab.
As he advanced towards it under cover of night, guards patrolling around it caught his attention.
He assessed their movements, taking in the formation and strategy of their patrol. Four guards moved in a clockwise fashion around the perimeter of the building, while two others stood sentinel at each entrance.
With stealth, he arrived at the side of the building opposite the patrolling guards' route. The darkness of night being his ally, he merged into it, his form barely distinguishable. crouching low, he crawled along the ground and reached up to press against the cold wall of the structure.
Repeating his prior plan seemed to be the most efficient course of action.
Swiftly yet silently, Noir struck as the patrol passed by his position, taking out two men with a swift jab to their necks and crushing the heads of the other two without them making so much as a gasp.
Their bodies dropped noiselessly onto the foliage-covered ground where he left them hidden beneath thick bushes.
The guards at the entrance presented a slightly tougher challenge. Noir weighed his options carefully, knowing that any misstep could jeopardize his covert operation.
Using his enhanced speed, he covered the distance between himself and the guards in less than a blink. Before either guard could react, they were dispatched by precise strikes to their vitals.
With all immediate threats neutralized, Noir turned his attention to gaining entry to the fortified structure. With no more guards blocking the way inside or to alert the others, he forcefully opened the locked doors and entered the building.
Inside, the structure was lined with cold metal surfaces that reflected the stark fluorescent lighting overhead.
Noir idly noted the metal was coated in zinc.
Surveillance cameras peered down from corners, their red recording lights blinking ominously. Undeterred, Noir moved with fluid agility, swiftly disabling each camera in his path using a device that sent out a wave of electric current to short-circuit them. He navigated through the maze-like passageways, guided by his gut instinct and trained senses.
Eventually, he arrived at a heavily reinforced door.
Noir wasted no time in bypassing the complex lock and security system. He pulled out an advanced lock-picking kit from his pocket, complete with microcomputer chips programmed to decipher digital codes.
No sooner had the door slid open than he was met with a startling sight.
A naked woman lay suspended in some form of liquid-filled containment chamber at the center of the room. Tubes and wires snaked around her like mechanical serpents, connected to various machines that monitored her vitals displayed on a large wall-mounted screen nearby.
The hero looked around the empty room, analyzing every little detail.
High-tech biological monitors, various machines humming with electronic life, pumped fluids into the woman in the tank. Their flickering lights and constant beeping were of mechanical efficiency that indicated an investment of massive wealth.
Expensive workstations filled with top-tier technology such as advance computers and other high-tech machines lined the walls around the room.
Someone with money and power was funding this operation.
Pulling his attention back to the woman in the tank, he carefully approached, eyeing the various readouts on her vitals. She was alive but appeared to be in some form of drugged sleep. Her features were sharp and defined, even in her unconscious state there was a sense of danger about her.
He placed a hand on the glass containment wall, his eyes trailing over her form. Kimiko, Noir remembered, her name echoing in his mind.
…the one who he was sent here to kill…
Suddenly, a blur of motion in the corner of his eye had every nerve in his body prickling with warning. He spun around just in time to see a figure lunging at him, a blade glinting ominously under the harsh fluorescent lighting.
Noir moved instinctively to block the attack, his enhanced reflexes barely matching the lightning-fast speed of his assailant. The harsh clash of metal resounded through the room as his own blade met that of his attacker's mid-air, creating a shower of bright sparks.
Falling back, Noir took in his attacker for the first time. It was a man as tall as he was, muscular and clad in green armor that contrasted starkly with his black hair. His face was concealed behind a sleek mask, but his eyes were filled with mindless rage.
Noir watch the man coat his weapon with unknown energy, making Noir tense. Did the Japanese manage to create another superhuman besides the woman in the tank? Why was there no information about another superhuman in the file?
His thoughts were interrupted when the man lunged at him again, moving so fast he was a mere blur. Noir parried the attack again but found himself pushed back by sheer force and the weapon in his hand was cut in half.
Noir dodged a series of swift strikes from the blade, their dance deadly and silent apart from the crazed supe's growl of madness. Sweat dripped down the man's forehead as Noir matched his attacks strike for strike.
The superhuman attempted a wild desperate swing, seeing an opening Black Noir landed a heavy blow on the man's chest, sending him sprawling backward. The armored figure hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of him and his weapon clattering aside, its energy field flickering out. But before Noir could finish him off, he was sent flying by a blast of energy.
Noir crashed into the bank of monitors on the far side of the room, shattering their high-definition screens into a shower of sparks and debris. The hero extracted himself from the wreckage, shaking off the attack with ease.
He registered the sound of approaching footsteps making him look up to where the sound came from, and there stood three new figures barring his path, all of them Japanese.
The leader was a daunting man, his physique radiating raw power. His face was obscured by a dark mask embellished with an intimidating red emblem, but it did little to hide the murderous intent that gleamed in his eyes.
Gazing at Noir, he flexed his hands and a corona of energy pulsed around them, casting an eerie glow onto the floor.
"We have been expecting Vought to send someone," he said in perfect English, his voice like the growl of thunder on a stormy night. "But we didn't expect it would be so soon."
Behind him stood two others, each equally imposing and armed with their own powers activated. One was a woman cloaked in azure robes that glowed faintly against her skin. Her crimson eyes stared unblinking at Noir with an intensity that would send chills down most people's spines. In her hands, she held a whip crackling with red electricity.
The other figure was clad in silver armor, a shiny metal helmet hid his face, giving him an inhuman aura. In his hands he was holding a weapon, its massive size and formidable design gave the impression that it belonged on a tank, rather than in the hands of one man. The weight of it alone looked to be too much for any normal human to bear.
"You shouldn't have come here alone, American," the leader spat, his arrogant voice echoing through the cold room. "You are no longer the only country able to make gods."
Noir stood to his full height and calmly surveyed his new adversaries. He flexed his hands, metal knuckles glinting ominously under the flickering lights. Despite the fact, he was outnumbered by superhumans with powers that could potentially harm him.
He exuded a lethal calm, every bit the apex predator in a room of mere pretenders.