The Hunters

[thisDerius]

A faint glow from the holo-screen cast long shadows across the dimly lit room. The air was thick, stale, the only sound an almost rhythmic clicking—the remote being flipped through channels, cycling through old recordings.

"A large explosion shook the Manhattan center today, leaving the authorities scrambling for answers—" Click.

"A shuttle crashed into a Zaibatsu building in New Tokyo's high-rise district, casualties are—" Click.

"A massive poisoning in the Sharp Villa raises more questions than it answers—" Click.

"The explosion from the factory on New Berlin has left citizens in fear, many suspect—" Click.

And then, one last switch. The footage froze. The blue glow of the screen flickered as a tense silence took hold. Then—CRACK.

The remote shattered against the wall, its broken casing clattering to the floor in jagged pieces.

"FUCK!"

Joker’s voice roared through the room, his rage seething, barely contained. His hands clenched into trembling fists as his face flushed red with fury. The veins on his neck bulged, and his breath came in uneven bursts, nostrils flaring like a rabid beast. His eyes—once human—glowed with an unnatural, vibrant purple, casting an eerie reflection against the glass window ahead.

Behind him, motionless yet ever watchful, stood Nikolai Arlov. His expression unreadable, his presence more like a shadow lingering in the room than an actual person.

Joker forced himself to breathe, dragging in the air through gritted teeth. His anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but he had pulled himself back from the edge. He turned, eyes narrowing as he waved a hand. A holographic projection flickered to life in front of him, revealing the one name that had come to haunt him more than anything else:

Tia Stormclaw.

Her image hovered midair, cold and defiant. She had been his tool, his weapon, his creation. And yet, she had dismantled everything. Every plan, every foundation they had built over years—erased in a storm of blood and fire. His lips curled in disgust as he stared at her digital profile, his mind racing with the bitter taste of betrayal.

"How did this happen?" His voice was lower now, no longer shouting, but each word dripped with venom. His fingers twitched as if longing to crush something, to tear something apart.

Nikolai remained silent for a moment before finally speaking, his voice calm, controlled. "We underestimated her," he admitted, stepping closer, his eyes flicking toward the hologram. "What we thought was her limit—she broke it. And not just once. Every time she emerges, she is different, stronger. She learns anew, reshapes herself like a viper shedding its skin." He gestured with a subtle motion, and a second hologram materialized beside Tia's.

John Derius Guerra.

A man who should have died twice now, and yet, he still lived.

"We failed to kill him," Nikolai continued, his tone measured but grim. "And each time, he adapts. Every near-death experience pushes him to evolve—he upgrades himself, reworks his weaknesses, turns them into strengths. If he ever realizes the full scope of what he is capable of… we won’t be able to hide anymore."

Joker’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together as the truth settled over him like a suffocating weight. He hated that Nikolai was right.

Damn her. Damn him.

Joker exhaled slowly, forcing himself to push past his anger. He turned toward the window, gazing out at the landscape of Gran Canaria. It was always the same. Always had been. The rolling golden sands, the deep green forests that stretched toward the distant mountains—this place never changed. It felt frozen in time, untouched by the chaos that ran rampant across Sirius.

His posture shifted, settling into its usual manner—hands tucked into his pockets, back straight, mask of composure restored. But inside, he was already calculating.

"They will come soon," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "In what number, I don’t know. But they will come."

He turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Start gathering what remains of our forces. We will make our last stand soon." A pause, and then, with an eerie calmness, he added, "And be ready to release our final resort. If we have no choice but to die…" He finally turned fully toward Nikolai, his glowing eyes cutting through the dim light. "Then we just have to make sure they do too."

Without another word, he strode toward the exit, footsteps echoing against the floor. The door slid open with a soft hiss, and he ascended the staircase, each step deliberate, controlled.

The roof was silent when he stepped out. The air was crisp, the sky stretched vast and unbroken above him. He pulled a cigarette from his coat, lighting it with a flick of his fingers.

Taking a slow drag, he exhaled, watching the smoke twist and curl into the night.

For a moment, he allowed himself to simply be. Watching, waiting.

Chaos was coming. He could feel it in his bones.

And this time, he would make sure the entire sector burned with him.