12: A Ghost

The woman's gaze met mine, her piercing eyes conveying urgency and an unspoken plea. "Run!" she mumbled through blood-stained lips. My instinctive response was to question her, demanding answers amid the chaos. I heard a ding go off in my head but I put it at the back of my mind. It was a mission success notification. I decided to claim the reward later as what this woman said seemed to be more urgent.

"Why? And who are you?" I inquired, my voice cutting through the tension in the dimly lit room.

"Don't ask too many questions, boy. Run," she urged, a sense of urgency in her words. Then, with a gravity, she added, "He's coming."

Before I could respond, a deafening boom echoed through the room, and suddenly, a powerful force ripped through the space, tearing a massive hole in the wall. The impact sent me hurtling across the room, crashing into furniture with an unrelenting force. The dust settled, revealing the chaos and the newfound opening in the structure.

From the billowing dust emerged a figure, agile and imposing. His silhouette revealed a lithe and athletic build, shrouded in a dark, form-fitting suit that seemed to absorb the ambient light. The mysterious intruder landed with a cat-like grace, crouching briefly before rising to full height.

As the dust settled, the details of his attire became discernible—a dark ensemble that clung to his frame like a second skin, a fusion of black and red, hugged every contour of the mysterious figure, creating an otherworldly aura. Intricate patterns adorned the suit, reminiscent of the markings on a spider's back. A hood or mask concealed the face, adding an element of mystery to the sudden and unexpected appearance.

The masked figure's deep voice resonated through the shattered room, carrying an air of authority and disappointment. "I gave you one job, Elektra," he remarked, his tone a blend of stern reprimand and undeniable command.

The woman now named Elektra struggled to get up, the impact of the blast still echoing in the air. The intruder's attention shifted from her to me, his gaze cold and calculating. With each step forward, the tension in the room thickened, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air. The next move was uncertain, and as I faced this unexpected confrontation.

As I pulled myself up from the floor, my gaze locked onto the man. His dark mask concealed any discernible expression, but the intensity in his eyes spoke volumes. Elektra, still recovering nearby, observed the silent standoff between us.

The man's voice cut through the tension in the room like a blade. "I'd assume you know about me from your master, but the intense look in your eyes makes me doubt it. Who, sane man who knows the Tarantula, would dare look him in the eyes?"

I did recognize this man. He was unmistakable—the Black Tarantula, a top executive of The Hand. Gorgon had occasionally mentioned him, always with a rare praise that hinted at the Tarantula's significance. Gorgon, known for his reserved commendations, spoke highly enough to make this encounter more than a mere coincidence.

I met his challenging gaze, unwavering. "Gorgon has mentioned you in passing, but details were sparse. I don't fear a name, and I certainly don't fear a man hiding behind it."

A cold chuckle emanated from behind the mask. "Bold words from a novice. Your mentor sends you into the lion's den, and yet you stand before me unflinching. Either you're brave or foolish."

"I'm here for answers, not bravado," I retorted. "What is your role in all this, and why impede my mission? Have you finally picked a side tarantula?"

Tarantula's eyes gleamed behind his mask. "Answers, you say? In due time, perhaps. But first, you must prove your mettle."

With that, he vanished from his position, reappearing right in front of me. His fist rocketed towards my solar plexus, and I was too slow to react. The punch connected, and for the first time in a while, I felt pain—a sharp, visceral reminder of the formidable opponent I faced. The air was knocked out of me as I was sent flying across the room.

Swiftly getting back on my feet, I found myself facing another imminent attack—a kick aimed at my face. This time, I managed to evade it, Seizing the opportunity, I retaliated with a punch aimed at his waist, only to be met with the sensation of hitting a solid wall.

"Surprised?" he taunted, his voice dripping with condescension. He effortlessly grabbed my wrist, flinging me across the room like a ragdoll. As I maneuvered in the air and landed on my feet, my gaze locked onto my short sword, lying a short distance away. I made a move towards it, but he didn't move from his position as he saw me rushing towards the sword; he didn't even consider me a challenge.

As I seized the sword. Charging towards him, I executed a swift swipe aimed at his face, but he effortlessly ducked out of its path. Undeterred, I seamlessly transitioned into a spinning motion, aiming a knee strike at his face. Yet again, he dodged with ease.

In the concealed expressions of his masked face, a hint of amusement flickered, as if my efforts were merely a source of entertainment for him. Rather than engaging aggressively, he continued to dodge with a nonchalant air, reveling in the apparent futility of my attempts.

Elektra Pov

As I looked at the ongoing fight between the masked guy and the Tarantula, I felt nothing but pity. The Tarantula was toying with him. There was no way he was going to win this fight, and his chances of escaping were even slimmer. The tarantula never lets anyone go once they enter his web. I knew this all too well, having been maneuvered into my current predicament by the same manipulative force. The only backer I had sold me was the Tarantula to get an entry in The Hand. And here she was, from being the chief assassin of a crime boss to being the guard dog of a cult leader.

As I looked at the ongoing fight I felt more sympathy for the man. The masked man also known as Gorgon's prized protégé within the organisation was a literal beast. I wonder what the Gorgon had fed him. While I could understand his martial prowess I wondered where his supernatural strength came from. A single kick from him had put me on my knees. I had probably broken some ribs too. Did the Gorgon use some forbidden mystic art on him. Because as I recall from the sources he was supposed to be a normal human. Well normal was the last thing I would call him. I mean, normal humans don't kick people so hard they break ribs, right?

The guy wasn't just a combat wizard; he was like a ninja on steroids. We were made aware of him coming to Brazil and his purpose of the visit by our sources. but after the first day, he vanished into thin air. No footprints, no breadcrumbs—just disappeared like a ghost. This only served to make Tarantula more interested in him.

Assigned the task of keeping an eye on the senator and capturing Gorgon's protege, I initially considered the protégé to be just another talented upstart. A walk in the park, or so I thought. Little did I know, this masked whirlwind of combat skills would turn the tables. I underestimated him, and that kick takedown was nothing short of humiliating.

Yet, despite the intense fight, it became clear that he wasn't out for blood. He had plenty of chances to finish me off but chose not to. Strange, considering I had literally tried to stab his head every chance I got. I couldn't help but wonder about his fate under the ominous plans of the Tarantula. My contemplation was interrupted as I witnessed him being slammed onto a nearby table.

To my surprise, he bounced back with the same vigor he displayed from the start. Super strength and seemingly endless stamina – I really wondered what was being fed to him. Now he had his katana in his hand. He dashed back at the Tarantula, katana in hand, aiming a powerful swipe that, once again, the Tarantula effortlessly dodged. In response, he received a fierce punch to his face, sending him reeling backward. As he rose once more, blood now dripping from his mask, I couldn't help but ponder if he was nearing his limits. The seemingly endless well of stamina appeared to be showing signs of strain.

As he charged towards Tarantula once again, he executed a swift swipe aimed at the leg. Surprisingly, Tarantula's usual evasion tactics faltered, and the masked man successfully connected the strike, drawing blood. Judging by the way Tarantula's face moved he was just as surprised as I was. I guess this was it for today. Tarantula was a prideful man and he might see this as an offence and put him down. He might also get impressed by him and ask him to join him. It was hard to figure out what the man wanted. He flipped from evil to moderately good on a whim.

It seemed Tarantula was in the mood for cruelty today. With a powerful kick to the stomach, he sent the masked man hurtling through the air. "This has dragged on long enough," Tarantula declared with a hint of anger in his voice. He pointed his hand at the fallen man, and a gathering of white and blue light appeared on his palm. A powerful energy beam shot out, hitting the downed man. The beam tore through the room, shattered the wall, and continued into the outside garden, creating a crater upon impact. Witnessing such destruction, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for the man. So much potential, all wasted because he happened to cross paths with this maniac.

Walking towards the gaping hole in the room to catch a final glimpse of the fallen man's body, to see what he looked like. As the dust cleared my pity turned into confusion. Did the beam evaporate his body? No that wasn't possible. Turning to Tarantula for answers, I found myself met with the same bewildered expression. The crater was empty. No trails, no breadcrumbs—the man had once again disappeared, like a ghost.

========================

Do give me some stones if you liked the chapter!

Also be sure to checkout my patron if you want to be upto 7 chapters ahead (new chapter coming in a few hours) : patron.com/notcow