Before the smoke from the cigarette could fully dissipate, helicopter blades cut through the night, growing louder as the aircraft approached. The powerful downdraft from the propellers whipped up a whirlwind of dust and debris on the ground, creating a miniature storm. The armed helicopter descended with a sense of authority, its searchlights stabbing through the darkness like beams of judgment. Ivan sat there, legs crossed, unflinching under the blinding light. He took a drag from his recently lit cigarette, the ember glowing faintly in the harsh white light, and casually waved in the direction of the helicopter as if greeting an old friend.
Moments later, a group of heavily armed agents surrounded him, their weapons drawn and ready. Their movements were precise, coordinated, as they formed a tight circle around Ivan. The tension in the air was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the potential danger this man posed, even as he sat there seemingly indifferent to their presence.
The leader of the team stepped forward, his presence commanding respect. It was Marcus, the captain of the action team from the Riverton branch. His expression was stern, his eyes sharp as they assessed the situation, taking in the scene with a practiced gaze that missed nothing.
Ivan recognized Marcus immediately. He offered a small, almost playful smile and waved a hand in greeting, the cigarette still dangling from his lips. "Don't get too excited," he said in a calm, almost lazy tone. "I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not going to bite. The person you're looking for is over there."
He gestured toward the grotesque figure lying a short distance away, its head a mangled mess of blood and bone. Marcus followed the direction of his hand, his frown deepening as he took in the sight.
"What... is that?" Marcus asked, his voice laced with confusion and disgust. The thing on the ground barely resembled anything human.
"It's me," Ivan replied, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. There was no emotion in his voice, no hint of the horror that the scene might have elicited in others. When Marcus's frown deepened, Ivan simply shrugged. "It's a bit complicated to explain. Maybe we can talk about it back at headquarters."
Ivan shifted slightly, grimacing as he adjusted his position. "It just so happens that I can't walk anymore, so how about giving me a lift? I need to see Professor Miyazaki anyway. There's something I need to tell him..."
As he spoke, he raised his hand, and under the astonished eyes of the surrounding agents, the flesh and bone began to morph and twist, reshaping itself into the unmistakable form of a gun.
"I don't know what's going on," Ivan said with a wry smile, "but I bet the professor will find this very interesting."
The agents exchanged uneasy glances, their hands tightening on their weapons, but Ivan remained calm and cooperative. With his full compliance, they escorted him back to the mothership after subjecting him to a series of rigorous physical examinations and psychological evaluations.
When Professor Miyazaki heard about Ivan's transformation, his reaction was immediate. His curiosity was piqued, and he hurried over to the medical bay with the kind of eager anticipation that only a scientist on the brink of discovery could muster. His expression was intense, his posture one of barely restrained excitement as he prepared to delve into the mystery of Ivan's awakening abilities.
But before they could begin testing Ivan's new powers, the higher-ups had other, more urgent concerns.
The infection.
Ivan sat across from a panel of high-ranking officials, their faces a mix of skepticism and unease. He recounted the events in a straightforward manner, his voice steady and devoid of emotion.
"In short," Ivan began, "I was just a regular guy—passionate, maybe a bit reckless—before I came to work at the madhouse. But one day, something inside me split. One-half of me stayed here, working for the madhouse, while the other half... well, it turned into something else. Something that laughed all the time, spreading joy in the most twisted way possible."
His words hung in the air, heavy with the implication of what he had become.
"Then, one day," Ivan continued, "the part of me that stayed here finally caught up with the other half. We had a fight, and I killed him. The part that was always laughing, always trying to make everyone smile... that's when the story ended."
His explanation was clear and concise, but the impact of his words left the room in stunned silence. The team at the Ninth Division had dealt with many strange cases before, but this was something entirely different—something that challenged their understanding of the infection and its effects.
They weren't particularly interested in Ivan's personal journey or the mental struggles he had endured. Those details were for Professor Miyazaki to analyze or for the psychologists to unravel. What concerned them was the fact that another individual had seemingly split from Ivan's body—a separate entity born from his mind, but with a physical form of its own.
"I told you before that this could happen," Professor Miyazaki said during a tense meeting with the upper echelons. His voice was calm and measured as he addressed the room. "I've mentioned before that under certain conditions, it's possible for a person's psyche to give birth to a new spiritual individual."
"But you didn't say that the mental body could split into some kind of new monster," Commander Ross countered, his tone skeptical.
"Yes, because this is the first time we've observed such a phenomenon," Professor Miyazaki replied, adjusting his glasses as he spoke. "But I did warn you that there would be unexpected mutations. And now we're seeing exactly that."
He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in before continuing. "When a separated spirit becomes a new individual, it may retain the original owner's memories, emerging from the deepest, darkest recesses of their mind. I've decided to name these entities 'Phantoms.'"
A murmur of unease spread through the room at the introduction of the new term. Naming something gave it a sense of permanence, a tacit acknowledgement that it existed—and that it might happen again.
"What we know so far is that the Phantom that separated from Ivan's body possesses strength far beyond the limits of the human body, surpassing all the special and infected individuals we've encountered. Its physical abilities are exceptional, and it seems capable of weaponizing its body parts—though this will require further testing.
Additionally, those infected by it may be remotely controlled by the original body, and there's a higher likelihood of them leaving behind a spiritual body. If multiple spiritual bodies were to fuse, they could potentially transform into a giant monster.
However, it's still unclear whether these traits are common to all 'Phantoms.' Further observation is needed to determine that..."
"Hold on," Hercules, the head of the Operations Department, interrupted. His voice was sharp, cutting through the professor's explanation. "You just said 'all Phantoms.' Are you implying there's more than one?"
"Oh, absolutely," Professor Miyazaki replied without hesitation. He adjusted his glasses again, his expression serious. "I believe the appearance of 'Phantoms' marks a new phase in the infection's evolution. We're likely dealing with a new source of infection."
The room fell into an uneasy silence as the implications of his words sank in.
"So yes," Professor Miyazaki continued, his tone matter-of-fact, "I think we'll be seeing more and more 'Phantoms' from now on."
...
Meanwhile, Charlie, who had been controlling Batman throughout the mission, took a moment to go offline and catch his breath. The mission had been intense, and Ivan's words weighed heavily on his mind.
What Ivan had said made sense—perhaps there really was a reason why good people couldn't always stand up to evil. No one could be truly carefree, and not everyone had the courage to face the existential fear of "nothingness." Sometimes, doing the right thing comes with a heavy price. People had to carefully weigh their options and consider whether they were capable of bearing the responsibility that came with each choice.
But, as Charlie had expressed through Batman's voice:
"That's why I'm here."
Charlie had stepped beyond the limitations that held others back.
He didn't have to take the risk himself, didn't have to worry about endangering himself or those he cared about. He could act without hesitation, plunging into the unknown that no one else dared to face, staring into the abyss of fear and nothingness, and then grinning as he declared, "Come on, I'm here."
A body of flesh and blood could be hurt, targeted, and brought down.
But if that body became a symbol, it would be indestructible.
Despite having prepared meticulously in advance, relying on Batman's resources and strategy, the mission had still highlighted some of Charlie's shortcomings.
The weapons mounted on the tanks, submarines, and fighter jets had certainly delivered powerful firepower and played a crucial role in suppressing the enemy. But they also highlighted the drawbacks of relying too heavily on heavy weaponry.
First and foremost, the range of the attacks was too broad, making it difficult to avoid collateral damage. In today's situation, the enemy had chosen a remote site for their last stand, which had worked to Charlie's advantage. But if this had taken place in a densely populated urban area, where the enemy could have hidden among civilians, the Bat Fighter's missiles would have caused mass casualties.
These weapons were effective against large, monstrous enemies like the one he had faced in a few missions prior, but they were less effective against humanoid enemies with superhuman physical strength, extreme endurance, and high agility.
Just like this time. Even though Charlie had the element of surprise on his side, Ivon had still managed to escape the firepower of the fighter jets. If it hadn't been for Charlie's pre-reconnaissance and detective mode scans, predicting Ivon's escape route in advance and setting up an ambush, Ivon might have actually gotten away.
It was clear now—Charlie needed stronger heroes, allies who could face these challenges head-on.
It was time to draw cards from his favorite feature; the Card Pool.
---
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