The gunshots rang out, and for a moment, Ivan thought he'd won. Bruno staggered, his body peppered with wounds. Blood seeped through his shirt, but somehow, none of the bullets had hit anything critical. Ivan had aimed for the neck, yet the bullet had merely grazed him, leaving a thin, superficial scratch.
"What is this… sorcery?" Ivan muttered, eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Is he using some kind of damage transfer or luck-altering spell?"
As he reevaluated his approach, Ivan slipped his pistol back into its holster, calculating his next move. But before he could act, a strange, intrusive voice echoed in his mind, unsettling and intrusive, as though someone was whispering right inside his brain.
"What did you eat this morning?" the voice asked, the question as bizarre as it was unexpected.
Startled, Ivan answered automatically, "Toast, fried eggs, burgers, boiled beans, and potato salad." Then, he froze, realizing too late that he'd answered out loud. 'Why am I responding?' he thought, a chill creeping down his spine.
In that split second of distraction, he felt a firm hand clamp down on his shoulder, and a searing pain spread instantly from the point of contact, as if molten acid was being injected into his flesh. He gritted his teeth, hissing through the pain, his mind snapping back to the present threat.
Reacting instinctively, he summoned the Whisperer's Bone Spike into his left hand, whipping it in a sharp arc. Owens, who had snuck up behind him for the attack, recoiled, narrowly avoiding the jagged edge of the spike. Ivan's eyes narrowed as he noticed Owens clutching strips of pale, greasy fat in his hands; evidence of his specialized "interrogation" and "body manipulation" techniques.
"Damn it," Ivan cursed internally. 'They've got the advantage in numbers and coordination. If I stay pinned down here, they'll tear me apart.'
His mind raced, looking for a way out. He needed something to turn the tide, even if only for a moment.
"Use the paralytics," he thought decisively.
He quickly consumed a battery, an alchemical matrix, and a vial of mercury. Almost instantly, a small bottle filled with a shimmering light-blue liquid materialized in his right hand. Taking a quick step back, he hurled the bottle at the ceiling. The glass shattered, and a fine mist of paralyzing agent rained down, blanketing the room. Wherever the blue droplets touched, they left a numbing tingle, causing his enemies to move sluggishly, their reflexes dulled.
"Good," Ivan thought, seizing the moment. 'Now, rooster's blood…'
His internal system whirred to life, analyzing the environment around him. It could detect materials within a five-meter radius, and with the blood spilled from the earlier skirmish, he had enough to synthesize the next potion.
Within moments, a small glass bottle filled with thick, crimson liquid appeared in his hand. Ivan grimaced as he downed it in one gulp. The rooster's blood had a metallic tang, sharp and unpleasant, almost like drinking liquid rust. But as it hit his stomach, he felt a surge of warmth spread through his body. His muscles tightened, his senses sharpened, and a wave of aggression simmered beneath his skin, clouding his thoughts with raw, primal fury.
Just as he was beginning to steady himself, Bruno shook off the effects of the paralytic. Ivan cursed silently; he had forgotten about the "honey badger" effect, the gang's name for Bruno's ability to shrug off paralytics and poisons with alarming speed. The potion had only slowed him down for a second.
With a growl, Bruno lunged forward, throwing a brutal punch. Ivan barely had time to react, summoning another bone spike and crossing it defensively in front of him. Bruno's fist collided with the spike, sending a shockwave up Ivan's arms that left his knuckles numb.
"What 'are' you?" Bruno demanded, his eyes narrowing in frustration. "A storage master? No, maybe a delusionist… an alchemist?"
He scrutinized Ivan, his gaze fixed on the various items appearing in his hands. It was clear to him that these weren't spells Ivan could cast himself, they were objects, each one crafted for a specific purpose.
"I'm your father!" Ivan spat back, gritting his teeth, anger seething within him as he pushed back against Bruno's strength. But despite the rooster's blood fueling him, Bruno's raw power was still overwhelming.
Bruno's face darkened, and with a snarl, he twisted around, delivering a vicious kick to Ivan's side. The impact sent him stumbling back, slamming against the door with a grunt of pain.
As he struggled to catch his breath, Ivan noticed Henshaw recovering from the paralytic. The interrogator's eyes narrowed, and he pointed directly at Ivan, shouting, "Quick! What's 123 times 456?"
The question hit Ivan's mind like a punch, the unexpected mental arithmetic forcing him into a momentary stupor. He felt his focus slipping as his brain scrambled to answer, the intrusive question muddling his thoughts just long enough to keep him off-balance.
'Damn it, Ivan,' he berated himself. 'Stay focused. They're trying to wear you down!'
But before he could clear his mind, Bruno closed the distance between them, his fists raised, ready to strike again. Ivan braced himself, knowing that if he didn't find a way out soon, this could be his last stand.
"I don't know!" Ivan blurted, his mind scrambling to refocus. But he didn't have a moment to think as Bruno's fist shot toward him like a cannonball, landing close enough that he felt the air shift beside his face. Another punch followed, then another, each one hammering into the wooden door behind him with a heavy, resonant thud.
Ivan danced backward, the bone spike in each hand acting like a pair of short sticks as he deflected and dodged. He wasn't helpless; he'd trained in martial arts since he was a kid back in Russia, learning every trick and technique to survive. But Bruno was relentless, his fists like battering rams, and he fought like a seasoned brawler, chipping away at Ivan's defensive space until he was trapped against the door.
Bruno's energy shifted, his stance lowering as his muscles coiled like a spring. Ivan sensed it instantly; a big attack was coming. With barely a second to think, he dropped into a crouch, covering his head.
"Boom!"
Bruno's fist smashed into the door right where Ivan's head had been. The thick wood buckled under the impact, splintering as the door cracked and then gave way, collapsing with a heavy crash.
Opportunity!
Ivan didn't waste a second. He sprang forward, stumbling and scrambling out of the room, his hands fumbling to swap his bone spikes for his pistol. He broke open the gun, swapping in fresh bullets with a speed born of necessity. But he only managed to load two rounds before he heard Bruno's footsteps pounding right behind him. Less than five steps separated them now.
Ivan raised his arm, aimed, and squeezed the trigger.
This time, he watched closely. The bullet, aimed dead at Bruno's forehead, seemed to veer off course at the last moment, skimming along the edge of his forehead as if deflected by an unseen force.
"What kind of luck magic is this?" Ivan muttered through gritted teeth, frustration building. Determined, he shifted the pistol back into twin bone spikes, slashing downward with both, aiming for Bruno's neck.
'You can't deflect everything,' he thought, putting all his weight into the attack.
But it felt like striking an iron plate at an angle; the spikes slid along Bruno's skin, unable to pierce. All he managed was a shallow scrape on Bruno's shoulder.
"This guy's tougher than a honey badger; slipperier than a catfish," Ivan spat under his breath.
Bruno was done playing. He lunged forward, his hand clamping around Ivan's throat like a steel vice, lifting him off his feet and slamming him against the wall with a force that left him seeing stars. Ivan's vision blurred, a crushing pain squeezing his windpipe as he fought for breath.
'Think, Ivan… think!'
Desperately, he reached for his pistol again, fingers clawing toward his side. But Bruno anticipated the move. His other hand shot out, pinning Ivan's wrist against the wall with bone-crushing pressure.
And yet, even in the grip of defeat, a faint, almost invisible smirk crept onto Ivan's lips.
In a fluid motion, he flicked his hand, retracting the pistol back into his storage space. In its place, he summoned a small glass vial filled with a light blue liquid, electricity crackling faintly inside.
Bruno's eyes widened as he realized what was happening, but it was too late. Summoning every ounce of his remaining strength, Ivan clasped his hand around Bruno's, pressing the vial between them and shattering it with a fierce grip.
A surge of electricity burst forth, coursing through both their bodies. The sharp crackling of the current filled the air, and a wave of numbing paralysis washed over them. The blue liquid seeped into their skin, triggering powerful muscle spasms.
Bruno's grip loosened, his hands going slack as his consciousness wavered. The rooster blood in Ivan's system granted him just enough resilience to stay semi-conscious, though he felt his own body slump, sliding down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, breathing heavily.
"Damn… you…" Bruno snarled, his muscles convulsing as he fought to stay on his feet. He knew that if he collapsed, he'd be vulnerable, and vulnerability was not an option.
Ivan's vision wavered, but he managed to lift his hand, summoning another small vial. This one gleamed faintly with the same light-blue liquid, promising another jolt of electrifying chaos.
Bruno's eyes widened as he saw the vial descending toward his face, and for the first time, a hint of fear flashed across his expression.