14 14: War Ahead
I settled into the plush seat of the private jet, the hum of the engines signaling the beginning of my journey back to Tokyo. The soft comfort contrasted with the lingering tension in the air—a testament to the tumultuous events that had unfolded.
The call to Gorgon, I made regarding Tarantula's involvement, echoed in my mind. As expected, it didn't go well. Gorgon's displeasure was palpable, a was storm brewing in his usually composed demeanor. Tarantula's attack on me had created bigger problems than I had expected. Gorgon had decided to recall all his officials back to Japan. This might very well be the start of the war.
His instructions to me were clear and succinct—come back to him at the earliest. And so, I found myself seated in the jet, hurtling toward a reunion that promised more tension than relief. My injuries were now all healed except for a few scars , thanks to the my newly unlocked regeneration. While I sat in the plane I decided to check the random equipment I got. And so I commanded the system to display the item information
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[SANGUINE'S CLOAK]
This enchanted cloak bears the legacy of an ancient race of vampires, crafted with expertise in enchantment magic. It once belonged to a Baron Sanguine.
Attributes:
+15% Stealth
+10% Charisma
Limitations:
+Garlic aversion
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The disappointment filled me as I assessed the cloak. Whereas it held its own charm with the stealth and charisma enhancements, but for someone already adept in stealth, a mere 20% boost felt inconsequential. The charisma, while intriguing, held little value in the heat of combat.
Opting to stow it away for the time being, I acknowledged that, while not immediately useful, the cloak might hold some potential for the future. I could possibly enchant it further or maybe incorporate into something else down the line. Redirecting my focus, I checked my watch, noting a few hours remaining before our anticipated landing. I decided to get some shut eye. This has been a long trip for me. Closing my eyes, I surrendered to the soothing lull of the jet, allowing the fatigue to gradually dissolve in the embrace of a restful nap.
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I stirred awake a few hours later, the subtle vibration beneath me signaling the plane's descent. Peering outside the window, the darkness of the night greeted me. The plane soon touched down, and as I rose from my makeshift resting spot, I made my way to the exit.
Stepping off the plane, I was met with the sight of an entourage of people gathered to welcome our return. In the midst of the group stood my mentor, clad in his distinctive red suit and a matching red blindfold.
Approaching the waiting group, I moved with calm calculated steps until I stood in front of my mentor. With a brief yet respectful bow, I acknowledged his presence, though his face remained unreadable. The air held a sense of anticipation as I awaited his response.
Breaking the silence, my mentor's voice cut through the night. "Bruce," he uttered slowly.
In response, I retrieved my battle-worn sword, presenting it to him with a certain solemnity. "Carlos Mendes has been taken care of," I reported, the words hanging in the air.
Gorgon acknowledged the news with a single nod, his expression revealing little. The quiet tension between us lingered as he continued to regard me. Then, breaking the silence, he inquired" Did the unexpected guests give you some trouble?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle," I replied curtly. Gorgon's scrutiny held steady, his eyes probing for nuances in my demeanor.
Then with an almost prideful nod that conveyed a satisfaction that seemed to emanate from years of mentorship. "I expected nothing less from you," he affirmed, a smile gradually spreading across his face. "You have made me proud, youngling."
His words carried a weight of approval, a rare acknowledgment from a mentor known for exacting standards. With a generous offer, he continued, "Ask what you wish for young one, and I'll give it to you."
Unable to express my true desire to return home due to Gorgon's perception of my total submissiveness, I opted for a simpler request. "A new katana," I stated, deflecting attention from my true intentions and maintaining the illusion of unwavering loyalty. Gorgon, seemingly content with the response, nodded in approval, "I'll have the finest katana crafted just for you," he declared.
After the discourse about the new katana, a moment lingered before I posed a lingering question, "Are we at war, master?" Gorgon, perpetually composed, took a beat before responding, "Not yet, but preparations are underway."
He continued with an air of determination, "I won't allow this attempt at humiliation to go unanswered. Tarantula allowed his pride to cloud his judgment. If he believes he can incite war with me, he is gravely mistaken." Despite the apparent disdain for Tarantula's actions, Gorgon tempered immediate action with pragmatism, adding, "However, an immediate conflict would benefit no one. So, we shall exercise patience for the time being."
With those words, he turned his gaze toward me and continued, "You should take some rest, young one. This will likely be your last expedition for a while. Originally, you weren't meant to encounter the other Hand members just yet, but fate had its own designs."
He turned around, his form leading the way, and I followed closely behind as he continued, "You were intended to be my hidden weapon for when the war erupts. However, it's no issue; the Hand's ignorance will prevent them from recognizing you as a threat. And that will be their undoing. Rest well, youngling. We resume training tomorrow." I nodded in acknowledgment as I followed closely behind him.
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The following day, the relentless training resumed, but this time Gorgon had heightened the intensity to an unprecedented level. The combat classes seemed to stretch for an eternity, with each session pushing the boundaries of my physical and mental endurance. From one-on-one engagements to facing multiple opponents simultaneously, from fighting bare hand to dual wielding weapons ,the challenges became increasingly complex, demanding adaptability and quick thinking.
Combat wasn't the only thing that got amped up. Survival training, the true test of resilience began. Days unfolded without the comfort of water or sustenance, pushing the limits of my endurance. I was made to sit under waterfalls, in harsh tundras or wherever gorgon felt like it was appropriate to train my mind. Each passing moment marked not only a physical trial but also a mental transformation, as I learned to draw strength from within to endure the harsh conditions.
Yet, the training extended beyond the realm of the physical. In the quiet moments between grueling sessions, Gorgon delved into the academic intricacies of the marvel world. I became immersed in the rich tapestry of magical history, learning the threads of political intricacies, and gaining insights into the nuances of the supernatural world. Information on various organisations like Hydra, X-men, were given to me. The lessons expanded beyond combat, offering a comprehensive understanding of the hidden forces and their machinations at play.
Days blurred into nights as the convergence of physical and academic training continued . Over time I had , seamlessly assumed the role as Gorgon's successor. I found myself an integral part of various meetings and negotiations, standing side by side with him in dealings that took place within or outside the organization.
My constant presence at Gorgon's side did not go unnoticed in the underworld. I quickly carved out a distinct identity as Gorgon's righthand man, a figure who was shrouded in mystery. The tales of my exploits spread, my actions in Brazil were highly exagerrated. Rumors circulated about my encounter where even the formidable Black Tarantula and the world class assassin both couldn't stop me from completing my mission.
The underworld, always rife with intrigue, bestowed upon me the moniker of the Red Hood, a name that resonated with both mystery and fear. The red mask I wore became a symbol of my presence and prowess in the underworld, and the tales of my feats only grew in exaggeration as they echoed through the hidden corridors of power.
Yes, feats. Although I hadn't went on any subsequent missions after Brazil, rumors about my strength were rampant. Whispers circulated, weaving stories of my ability to bring down a tiger with a single punch or how I had incited a revolution in a distant country. What left me in awe was the realization that many within the underworld had bought into these rumors.
I soon found myself elevated to the status of one of the best assassins in the world, often drawing comparisons to formidable figures like Bullseye or Taskmaster. The Red Hood became synonymous with a force to be reckoned with, a figure enshrouded in an aura of mystery. All this praise when I had done literally nothing.
Like this Twenty months had passed, and now it was the year 2004. The situation within the organization had deteriorated significantly. The heads of the organization were mobilizing their forces, signaling that the impending war was inevitable. While it might sound grim, This is exactly what I was waiting for. The war provided the perfect opportunity for my eventual escape.
I had waited for this opportunity for far too long now. I wanted to return home and actually start doing what I was meant to do. Once the war started, it would drag on for at least 3 years, meaning if I were to escape, Gorgon wouldn't be able to follow me for at least 2 years considering I would have to engage in the war for at least a year.
This two-year gap, I believed, provided ample time to fortify myself against any potential retaliation from Gorgon.
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