As Vano looked down into the valley, he chuckled softly. He was in the forests of China, wearing a modified version of the 'Shadow Master' costume he'd worn during World War II; dark grey, with a menacing, monstrous mask, stained with the drying blood of Nazis; the original had been decorated with the rank insignia of officers slain, and he'd begun collecting them once again for this newer, more modern outfit.
The People's Liberation Army had gone through six headquarters in the past two weeks. The first two replacements, they had insisted were there to stay; that the pitiful rebels could never directly stand up to the might of China. The third, fourth, fifth, and sixth were each increasingly desperate. The second, he'd taken out the President. The third, a new, replacement President. The fifth, yet another replacement. When he'd taken out the sixth, he'd learned that things were... bad, for the PLA. Their initial optimism; after all, they'd faced off aliens from space, what good could a band of rebels do?; had been woefully misplaced.
This one... was pitiful. And might be the last one that would ever be established. The PLA was a heavily organized military force, dedicated to the chain of command, following orders. And the orders... were always in conflict. Always wrong. Current official PLA lines of communication gave three different headquarters locations, each of which was spitting out its own orders; one ordering them to attack the wrong places, one ordering a surrender, and the last actually giving proper, useful, orders. The genuine headquarters. The newest one, run by some General who wasn't even high-ranked enough before this rebellion to know about the program that caused it.
Vano glanced around the tree-line, looking for... Ahh, there. Jason. He gave his grandson a wave; and the boy shook his head. The next moment, Jason was standing beside him, having emerged from the shadows of the nearby brush. "Grandfather. The center of the camp is too brightly lit to make out too much detail; but I'd say there are a few hundred of them. Definitely scared. There's lights running everywhere, I can see smears of glow-in-the-dark paint everywhere... they have no idea what might help but are throwing everything they can at it. I can make out a few of their known metas, dozens of soldiers with sniper rifles, flamethrowers, gauss rifles, plasma rifles..."
"Any threats?"
"Of course not. I could take out the whole place myself by tomorrow morning. Those still alive would wish they were dead."
Vano chuckled. "Of course you could, boy. Of course you could. I wish your cousin was here. They likely would have surrendered by now."
Jason looked down at the compound. "I'm not sure whether its scarier to have your friends wither and die before your eyes, or for them to just disappear. Some of the ones from that last base are still alive, by the way, if you want to question any of them."
"No... I think this should be it. Go scare the hell out of them for a few minutes, and I'll come knock on the front door. And don't let them see you. You didn't dress right for this work."
***
For some people, looking out at a rocky hill, they tended to imagine that the earth was the way it looks in textbooks. A massive layer of rock, over a layer of magma, over a molten core. That after the first part of the ground, the part you could see... well. It was solid, after that, right?
Fade knew better. He could see the shadows beneath; the numerous caverns and gaps down below. Most of them were empty, and small. Tiny buried gaps. Others were extensive caves; some on their own. Others connected. Here, there was actually one pathway filled with an underground stream, which ran as far as he could see in either direction in a tunnel a few inches across; though it had larger gaps, here and there, where it had connected to larger caves.
He chose the first likely spot in that cave; it was only about five feet tall, so he was forced to crouch down to enter, and he could feel water running across his left boot. He was also directly beneath the encampment. He could feel above him... guards in their towers. In beds. Walking on patrol.
For whatever reason, he needed a 'shadowed' connection between himself and the target. The science was probably something like... certain types of radiation preventing the right connection from forming, disrupting it as it formed. But... just being in a well-lit room wasn't good enough, if at least something was there to cast a shadow.
His first victim was in a porta-potty. Ignoring what was going on inside, he simply shifted. One moment, the man was doing his business. The next... he was slammed face-first into a rock wall, and abandoned there in the darkness. Fade felt out another victim; a sniper, in a guard tower. Man and rifle both vanished. Someone watching closely would have seen Fade's own form there, for just a moment, the pale-skinned youth wearing a dull grey armored vest over an ordinary t-shirt and khakis.
Deciding that the towers formed both a good target and a nice pattern, he swiftly worked through them, one by one. There were thirty-seven towers ringing and inside the base. By the time he'd emptied them out, the cavern was too full to keep working; and he switched to another cave, further down the line. He could feel, in the cave he'd just left, one of the soldiers had awoken; to find himself in frigid darkness, damp, surrounded by the unconscious and the dead. He couldn't hear the man; but he seemed to be screaming.
The alarm would sound in the base as he started filling this cave with soldiers from the perimeter; he wasn't sure whether they'd spotted him grabbing someone on watch duty, or finally noticed an empty sniper's nest; but a few of the towers started to acquire new snipers; so he added the new 'volunteers' to the caves as soon as they'd readied their rifles.
The next cave was larger, more expansive. He could stand comfortably inside it; but the smell was horrific; likely some sort of toxic gas. He slapped his mask on, pulling it out of his backpack, taking a deep breath. He could go without breathing for quite a while by now, but it was best to breathe as he worked; he was more focused. He studied the area... toxic gas was an unpleasant way to die.
The next victim he grabbed; one who was standing outside an officer's shack, having just knocked on the door; he took the time to drain; leaving him a lifeless husk rather than suffocating to death and struggling in the darkness. It was taking a bit longer now; more like twenty or thirty seconds for each guard he removed; but this new cavern was slowly filling as well.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
After grabbing another perimeter guard, he happened to notice... a flare in the sky. Vivid red... and nodded. Casually depositing this most recent victim in the same cave with his companions, he returned to the jungle; keeping an eye out for his grandfather.
***
When the guards saw the grey figure approaching in his mask, they almost opened fire; their officer ordered them to stop. Vano studied the young men with their rifles, and the equally young man in an officer's uniform; the dull brown-grey, the armored vests... and the smell of fear.
He remembered the past. A time when he was inside a camp, staring out through a fence, watching armed men approach. A time of fear, and hopelessness. He reached up to his chest, absently rubbing the patch where, long ago, on a similar uniform, a black triangle had been adorned, marked with a simple 'Z'. How many Nazis had last seen a star of david or a black triangle in the moments before their death?
Not enough. He walked steadily towards the gate, and stopped. "Lower your guns, and send out your leader, or I will kill you all, and negotiate with the next headquarters that forms."
There was some chatter. Arguments among the men. One of them spoke into a radio. They stood, watching, tense, hands on rifles, looking at the forest, at the guard towers, at the rooftops, as if anything they witnessed might suddenly bite them.
After a few minutes of Vano patiently watching the gate, listening to his grandchildren arguing on the radio; Reese and Johnny both wanted to just kill the lot of them, and move on to the next camp. Jason wanted to keep toying with them until one of the older ones died of a fear-induced heart attack.
Vano... was reasonably certain that now was the time to end this. When the gate opened, three men emerged; two soldiers, wearing the standard brown-green combat armor; and one general, in a dark green, dress uniform, complete with hat. There weren't many medals; not nearly as many as the generals at the first two camps had worn. And he looked... young. Perhaps in his thirties.
Vano studied him as he approached. "Just you. Your men stay in the camp."
The man studied the Romani for a moment... and waved his men back. He came to a stop roughly ten feet from Vano, and crossed his arms. "The Shadow Master. Legendary liberator, slayer of fascists. Began his work against the germans, and finished it against the Japanese. Many of my ancestors survived Japanese atrocities thanks to you."
He extended a hand. Suddenly, a chair from the cafeteria appeared; Fade only visible for a moment before he was gone, and Vano settled down; before another chair appeared behind the Chinese man. "You have me at a disadvantage, general..." Vano tilted his head; as the general looked at the chair, at the empty air around them... and sat down.
"I am General Chen. I... am the highest-ranking surviving member of the People's Liberation Army."
The Shadow Master inhaled deeply. "It's fitting you bring up my past. I'm certain you know why I am here."
General Chen frowned. "To butcher us, for the crime of having work camps that are no worse than the prisons of your adopted homeland?"
An abrupt surge. The chair he'd been sitting in a moment ago shattered into splinters, Chen was off the ground, an iron hand wrapped around his throat. "I have slain Germans, I have slain Japanese. I have slain Americans, French, Congonese, and, as much as it pains me to admit, I have slain Israelis, all of whom crossed the line; but your people..... Your 'camps' practiced vivisection, amputation, lobotomies, for the women, while the men were worked until they died. And when they were discovered, and shut down by outsiders? Despite the international outcry, the unrest among the locals... you started them up again. The only real difference being the source; North Korean women. Indian women. Pakistani women."
He casually tossed the general into the dirt. One of the guards raised his rifle; and was abruptly gone. Vanished as if he'd never existed, a brief vision of something brown blurring in the daylight.
"The Communist party of China has proven itself unfit to rule, and a danger to all human life other than itself. You have two choices. You may surrender, unconditionally, and we start talking about what the future of China looks like... or everyone in this base dies, without killing a single one of my people, and I have this same conversation with whoever replaces you. And until we locate your replacement, we continue destroying every one of your officers we find, ensuring that the rebels have an easy time of it. At this point, what's left of the PLA will have difficulty holding off the rebels."
He stepped closer, glaring down at the general. "You don't have enough men left to hold off Taiwan, however. I believe they have already seized the coastal areas; and you are now being crushed between two forces; one now your superior, the other, at least, enough to leave you cripplingly wounded. The absolute best your people can do is delay the inevitable."
***
Aziz looked over his tablet, dragging the map across, as the plane lifted off. With each passing hour, his forces advanced further in South America; and the Dreadnaught had just arrived, Diamond Kingdom forces augmenting his own. The plan was working smoothly. The battle with the Jotun had ended earlier than he expected; apparently whoever was in charge of the giant crab-monsters had surrendered after the first battle; so he was going to need to prepare to make sure the US didn't intervene in the war.
At least seven nations, including Brazil, had sent urgent requests for aid to the US; Brazil hadn't even been invaded yet, but knew the attack was inevitable. The diplomatic message had emphasized that the 'New Caliphate' these invaders were forming would undoubtedly be hostile to the United States, and it was in their best interests to stomp it into the dirt before it could get established; while the Diamond Kingdom had claimed alliance with them, and that any intervention by the US would be seen as an act of war.
Of course, Australia and Japan were completely uninvolved; Australia not even aware of the forces preparing in its own wilderness.
It was going perfectly. If the US chose to intervene, unless it could get the Titans involved, it would likely fail; for all the firepower of its navy, the Diamond Kingdom just had too many capable metahumans now to be easily overcome.
He glanced out the window... and frowned. They... shouldn't be over the ocean. They were supposed to be headed north...
He rose to his feet, reaching out with his senses. He'd sensed only two minds aboard when he entered, his pilot, and Clone; at least two of the subservient Russian forms were on-board. But now... Clone was gone. And the pilot... was in horrific pain. Something was terribly wrong.
He hadn't heard a sound, just... the minds had gone dead. Had... had his pilot killed the Clones, then been injured? A bomb? Poison gas? Aziz looked around, hoping he had a gas mask somewhere in the plane... before he heard a crack, and the door snapped open.
He could see a human figure splattered with blood; what appeared to be a young hispanic girl, wearing a beautiful red and black dress, blood dripping down her body from an awful injury in her chest... and the limp form of Clone in the hallway.
As the girl started walking towards him, smiling, he reached out for her mind... and as she raised a handgun, something strange, with an unusually thick barrel, he could feel... there was no mind. Nothing behind that pretty face at all. Only...
A bright flash. A dart slammed into his chest with enough force to crack a rib; and his body was filled with horrific agony as tiny wires began to burrow through his flesh, seizing control of his nervous system; sending his entire body spasming as he fell to the floor of the plane.