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Mizuha’s chest rose and fell rapidly as her breath came in slow, controlled bursts. Her mind whirled as she surveyed her surroundings. Her cold eyes darted between the heavy droids and the humans in combat suits that had now encircled her. Droids in combat-ready stances, rifles pointed at her, and humans—likely mercenaries, judging by their tactical gear—stood in a tight circle around her. Her mind raced, calculating every possibility of the cause and reason of her current situation. Despite her stoic expression, her brain was panicking and in chaos, something that she could barely restrain. She immediately turned to her internal deep breaths and counting to calm herself.
But it was the boy, Ubel, who captured her attention. In the center of the wreckage, the boy stepped forward, slowly, cautiously. He was speaking words that felt foreign and could even barely focus on hearing the rest of it. But they somehow translated—something she hadn't noticed before—the meaning of his words filtered through her consciousness.
“You will not be harmed,” The boy said, his voice was measured, slow, and deliberately soothing to her ears with a sense of calm she didn’t trust. “As long as you don’t become a danger or rampage on us.”
The word ‘rampage’ echoed in her mind, snapping her focus back to her surroundings. She turned her green eyes around, realizing the destruction she had caused. Dismembered droids and robotic limbs littered the floor. Either embedded in walls and smashed or mangled that lined the room’s floor. The equipment and consoles lining the walls were either smashed or torn apart. Giving out sparks and smoke.
She hadn’t just fought back; she had obliterated everything in sight.
The only thing she could remember throughout the rampage was her body had reacted on pure instinct, shredding everything in her path. Now that she took a moment to assess, she realized she had caused far more destruction and then, a wave of conflicting emotions hit her.
Her muscles slowly eased from their tensed contraction, shifting from an aggressive combative stance to one of caution. Her instincts told her to engage, to fight, but something in the boy's demeanor, coupled with the fact that her memory was a scattered mess, made her hold back. Although her eyes remained cold and untrusting. The boy noticed what she was feeling and thinking as she saw him smile slightly, probably taking her easing as a good sign to continue the dialogue.
“I’m Ubel,” the boy continued his tone light but his gaze sharp, observing her reaction and subtle responses. She could feel that the boy was carefully trying to be non-threatening. “What’s your name?”
Mizuha wanted to retort that they were the ones who contained her inside a tank, so they should know where she came from or know who she was. And his questions were very strange as if out of place and even sounded stupid.
But she hesitated, weighing her options. This was a strange situation as the people who entered with the boy, aside from the robots and droids, were older, judging from their height and build. But these people were letting the young boy do the talking with her.
Are they taking into consideration that she may let her guard down if she is talking to an unarmed child?
Moreover, she didn’t know where she was, who these people were, or how she had gotten here. Sharing her real name felt like a mistake, something in her gut warned her against it, so she opted for something else. Something safe.
She swallowed down her real identity and spoke, her voice colder than ice.
“Ebony,” she said, betraying none of the anxiety she felt. She wasn't ready to give away her true name. Not yet.
“Ebony, huh? Alright, Ebony. Where are you from?” Ubel’s eyes never left her. Then gave a slight nod, but his follow-up questions came quickly, obviously probing. “Where are you from? Where did you live before all this?”
She wanted to snap back with her questions at this point. Tempted to slap the boy in front of her and scream that they should be the ones answering that for her.
But then the questions hit her like a fist to the gut. The pieces clicked into place. For a split second, her mind flashed to the glass container she had escaped from—glass tank, submerged in liquid, restrained, the robots attempting to subdue her... There had been no explanation, no clarity, just the cold reality of being contained. Her fists clenched as she recalled the feeling of helplessness, her gut telling her that these people were trying to put her back in the tank.
The thought lit a fire in her. She forced herself to stay calm, to keep her breathing steady, but internally, alarms were ringing.
Her mind raced as the questions began to pile up. His probing queries made her mind flash to her recent memories. Mizuha’s mind whirred, organizing everything in her head at lightning speed. She let the thought roll through her mind as a joke, trying to calm herself.
Where am I? Why was I in that tank?
Didn’t she die from a sicko who stalked her?
Was this some kind of sick Matrix scenario?
This feels like some kind of Matrix Movie scenario… waking up in a strange world, trying to figure out if everything is fake. That her previous life was a simulation. Although she doesn’t mind if it was, for her sake, she wanted it to be. But the thought felt ludicrous even, but her senses and instinct screamed otherwise. For now, she let the idea float around in her mind, using it as a coping mechanism.
Her eyes darted to the robots, strange flying drones, and probably, or hopefully, humans still aiming at her, as her mind raced. The smashed equipment, the broken droids, the strange liquid from the tank still clinging to the walls, more thoughts coming through that brought pain and headache.
Mizuha's heart pounded, but she forced herself to get her thoughts back. She needed to think.
Her brain kicked into overdrive, Time seemed to slow down around her as she assessed her situation and analyzed every detail around her.
Her strength and speed that she exhibited moments ago. The fact that the droids’ attacks hadn’t even scratched her skin—all of it pointed to something unreal. She pinched her arm, feeling the strange texture. Soft, yet unnaturally resilient which confirmed that her flesh, though soft, wasn’t normal. It was enhanced, something beyond human. A chilling possibility settled into her mind as she remembered the game, Pitch Black Void.
Reincarnation—the only thing that could explain her current situation. A genre of fiction that had been very popular in Japan as of late to those who wanted some sort of escapism in their life.
But was she really in Pitch Black Void?
A bitter laugh threatened to escape her lips as she considered the possibility. This body... it’s not human. At least, not entirely.
Her mind raced, processing the room’s layout, noting the shadows and angles, vent placements, structural weak points, and possible entry and exit points—everything coalesced into a mental blueprint. Her eyes flicked around the room and in a split second, she generated a mental map of her surroundings. At least she could assure herself that her mental capability was still the same.
After getting what she wanted, she breathed deeply and had only one thought.
I have to get out of here.
Without warning, she crouched low, her muscles in her entire small body coiled like a spring.
Ubel’s eyes narrowed, as he noticed the shift in her body language. She was no longer just cautious. She was preparing for something.
“Wait—” he began, but it was too late.
Before he could finish, Mizuha leaped into the air with incredible power, speed, and jump height, clearing the circle of droids and humans in a single, powerful bound. She successfully vaulted over the encirclement.
Mizuha, her feet barely touching the ground as she bolted down into the exit with blinding speed. The crew snapped into action, weapons firing at her retreating form as she dashed down the corridor with inhuman agility.
The world, her body—it all felt like the game she had once played. Her younger avatar, the strange settings. Everything clicked into place, and she made her decision.
She couldn’t trust them.
Ubel’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the subtle shift in her posture. Before he could give an order, Mizuha bent her knees and launched herself into the air in a powerful leap, sailing over the encirclement of drones and soldiers with ease. Her landing was swift, and before anyone could react, she bolted down one of the Blitzkrieg’s long corridors with unnatural speed.
“Damn it! Pursue her!” Ubel barked, his voice commanding.
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The Blacklist crew moved as one and immediately sprang into action, their new, sleek combat suits enhanced their mobility as they gave chase. Equipped with advanced rifles and tactical helmets, they charged after Mizuha. The droids and drones followed as well, their heavy footsteps clanking and buzzing through the metal floors.
Mizuha didn’t slow down. She sprinted through the maze-like corridors of Blitzkrieg, her enhanced senses allowing her to dodge security drones and avoid turrets that popped out from the walls. Each time the crew got close, she would analyze her surroundings and take a new route, outpacing them with ease.
Her mind worked like a machine and her attention to detail was impeccable—mapping out the intricate maze of Blitzkrieg’s corridors. Each turn, each vent, and every structural irregularity was committed to memory. She pivoted sharply, evading incoming fire, and destroyed a drone with a single, precise strike as it attempted to close in. She noted the design patterns of the vents, the placement of security cameras, and even the subtle shadows cast by the overhead lights, using them to her advantage as she ran. In her mind, even though it was never confirmed nor proven, there’s always a pattern for the layout of every building which she could then use to find a way to escape.
Left corridor. She thought, ducking under a low-hanging pipe and tearing through a side passage.
She could hear the soldiers hot on her heels, but she was always just a few steps ahead. With every hallway she passed, she disabled security cameras, systematically blinding her pursuers. She calculated the shortest routes, knowing that each wrong turn could mean capture.
But even as she moved swiftly, something gnawed at her.
She gritted her teeth.
The ship... it was too massive, too complex. No matter how far she ran, she couldn’t seem to find a way out. It was as if the ship itself was shifting, guiding her movements toward a dead end.
It’s as if, the very person who created this… loves chaos.
----
Ubel, meanwhile watched her progress in Bay Three, using one of the broken consoles to connect himself to the ship’s mainframe. Then through the ship’s nanoveramite structure, he felt and saw through everything that was happening inside, watching the girl’s movements in a sixth sense. He laughed softly as he was honestly impressed by how the game was more fun when it was not behind a monitor. This wasn’t going to be a simple chase. The girl was faster and more adaptive than he anticipated. This wasn’t going to be a simple chase.
“I guess this meant I am stretching my body again,” Ubel muttered, as he disconnected. He stretched his body for several seconds until he was interrupted by a voice.
“So… why are we here?” Creed’s voice asked. He was with six other crew beside him, all in full combat suits that covered them with protection and enhancement from head to toe. Their single red eye glowed in their helmet, waiting for Ubel’s instructions.
Ursa, Bastille, Mei, Aela, Eris, and Marus.
Although it was Ubel who selected these seven to stay behind as others continued in their pursuit of the girl.
“You recognize her, don’t you?” a voice interrupted him.
He turned to the one who asked him.
Ursa, who had been quiet through all of this, narrowed her eyes that were hidden behind her one-eyed helmet, at Ubel. She sensed that there was more to this.
“You seem to know more about this girl than you’re letting on, Ubel,” she asked, her tone sharp. Staring directly into Ubel’s eyes, as if searching for something hidden behind his casual amused mask. “You’re not telling us everything.”
There was something in his tone and response earlier that bothered her.
“Now that is a surprise. How did you know?” Ubel raised his eyebrow in surprise.
“Let’s just say that when things like these happen, I always assume that you did it for your amusement and thus, I would become attentive to your every subtle reaction and expression to know more,” Ursa replied. “Your questions were also quite strange. It felt like you’re confirming something you already know instead of asking for the unknown.”
“Heeeh…” He rubbed his chin with interest at Ursa.
Then he hesitated thought to himself for a few seconds then sighed. He grinned at them as he answered Ursa’s question.
“Well, I admit. Yeah, I know who she is. But I didn’t recognize her at first. She looks younger now than when I last saw her. But when she opened her eyes...” He trailed off, a slight tremor running through his voice. “Her green eyes told me everything to confirm her identity. I would never mistake those cold emerald eyes.”
The canteen fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut.
“So, who is she?” Ursa’s gaze never left him.
“And? Is she an acquaintance of yours?” Creed’s voice was low, a hint of suspicion creeping in.
“Some dangerous criminal?” Bastille leaned forward, arms crossed.
“She’s not a criminal. At least, not in the conventional sense. To be honest, she’s more like someone who hunts criminals for profit.” Ubel shrugged. “She’s someone I had to remember. Not because she’s a friend or an acquaintance, but because recognizing her is a matter of survival.”
The crew stared at him as their faces twisted in confusion.
“A bounty hunter? That young girl?” Mei’s curiosity broke through the tension.
“So, what do we do with her? Restrain her?”
“No. We should kill her.” Ursa opened up her visor and lit up her cigarette. She looked at Ubel as she took a slow drag and expelled a thick smoke. Her brown eyes flicked back to the footage that was still playing of the girl tearing apart the droids like they were nothing.
“The employer only wanted to deliver her dead, right?” Eris agreed, remembering the reason why that girl was on the ship.
“I don’t know if you’re asking that question due to her young appearance, but you should have already known by now that you should never trust your eyes when I am proof of that. Don’t make the same mistake Munda did.” Ubel chuckled as he reminded them then he continued. “She’s someone you should avoid. Someone we all should avoid. To be honest, I’d still stick with my previous decision of me and the droids handling this matter. She is that dangerous.”
Ubel continued.
“If you still have not understood the words that I mentioned, her status as a simple cargo is now out of the table. Just to make you quickly understand the current situation... She’s more like me.”
The words took a moment to sink in. Then there was a pause, the tension in the room palpable. Bastille and Creed exchanged uncertain glances. The weight of his words settled over the crew, who were now clearly on edge.
Creed was the first to speak, his voice low.
“You mean… she’s as dangerous as you?”
“Dangerous how?” Eris folded her arms.
“Maybe even more so.” Ubel nodded.
“If that’s the case, what’s the play, commander?” Ursa flicked the cigarette away and closed up her visor, then checked the magazines of her rifle.
Ubel looked around at the crew, each of them on edge but ready. He felt a surge of something—pride, perhaps—that these people had chosen to follow him, to be part of this mad journey.
“You’ll be the primary pursuit team,” Ubel said, his voice sharp with command. “The rest of the crew will act as decoys and obstacles for our escaped… cargo. I want everyone armed and ready to kill. Even if I am sure that you couldn’t. Then I will handle her myself.”
“You sure you want to go in yourself? We can handle it, even with just support.” Eris said.
Ubel shook his head, that wild grin returning.
“No, I’ve got to face her myself. Besides, I have to confirm something personal to me.”
He knew this wouldn’t be easy. But if there was one thing Ubel thrived on, it was chaos. And this girl—this walking corpse—was about to bring a whole lot of it to Blitzkrieg. He cracked his neck, the metallic sound of his tongue piercing and clicking against his teeth.
“Get ready,” Ubel said, his voice echoing in their headsets.
“How are we going to pull that off?” Bastille’s voice crackled through. “She’s probably in the middle of the ship by now.”
Ubel stepped toward the nearest wall.
“Watch some magic first.” A smirk spread across his face and muttered. “Time to get creative.”
He reached out and pressed his palm against the cold metal wall of Blitzkrieg. Without warning, his body shivered slightly as the nanomites within him activated. These nanomites coursed through his body, blending with the same nanotechnology of the ship. Then his body slowly began to merge with the ship’s metallic structure. His body then also starts to synchronize with the Blitzkrieg’s systems. His crew watched in a mixture of fascination and unease as Ubel’s form dissolved until he completely disappeared—a haunting image as he seemed to sink into the metal hull. Mei and Ursa curiously tapped the wall where he merged and felt it sold and thick.
“Well, that went well.” Ubel’s amused voice reverberated through their coms, speaking through the ship’s connection.
“What the hell...” Creed muttered, eyes wide in shock.
“The.fuck.is.that?” Marus whispered in disbelief.
“With this, we can track her movements—manipulate her movement.” Ubel continued. From his new vantage point, Ubel could see the ship from every angle, and feel its pulse as if it were his own body. Blitzkrieg was no longer just a vessel; it was an extension of himself. He immediately pinpointed Mizuha’s location, tracking her movements with chilling precision.
Mei, always the curious one, couldn’t help but ask.
“Can you do that with any ship?”
“I can only do this with the Blitzkrieg,” Ubel’s voice echoed through their holo-comms, though his body was nowhere to be seen. “The ship and I... we’re built from the same nanotech… although not technically the same per se. Now stop gawking or asking questions and get moving. We have a mouse to find. I’ll feed you, her coordinates.”
Creed and the other six quickly exited Bay Three and followed the path that was shown in their holo feed.
“Target located,” he informed the crew through the comm. “She’s fast. She’s in BD12-D.”
“You already found her? That’s quick.” Ursa glanced at the others.
“Well…” Ubel replied, his disembodied mouth twisting into a grin. “At least, I just got a confirmation that she is who I thought she was.”
As the Blacklist crew, droids, and drones searched for the girl while he watched on the surveillance feed throughout the Blitzkrieg, Ubel studied her movements with an intensity that belied his usual carefree demeanor. The girl was a whirlwind of destruction, dodging and weaving between attacks with an uncanny precision that made her more dangerous than any foe he had encountered, even more than the sniper who had once tried to capture him. Her quick reactions, her heightened sensitivity to her surroundings—it was as though she was always one step ahead.
Ubel’s mind raced, processing the situation with the cold efficiency he usually hid beneath his playful exterior. She wasn’t just fighting; she was analyzing. He could see it in the way her eyes darted around, taking in every vent, every corridor, every pattern in the walls. With just a glance, she was predicting the layout of the ship with alarming accuracy. He estimated that she had already mapped out about 85% of the Blitzkrieg’s corridors, almost as if she had known the ship for years.
“She never changed,” Ubel smirked, he was reminded of an experience in watching someone correctly predict every single enemy that outnumbered her and then slowly but surely, wipe the floor with their dead bodies.
But there was something else. Ubel noticed the strange inconsistency in her fighting. She wasn’t fighting the Blacklist fireteams in the same way she fought the droids. It was subtle, but there. A slight hesitation, a split-second delay in her reactions when it came to humans versus machines.
He could use this against her.
“Time for another test,” Ubel murmured as he tapped into the Blitzkrieg’s mainframe and connected to other Blacklist Fireteams he had sent.