Chapter 64: Deimos's Return
The world turned beneath the cold, unforgiving sky as Deimos drifted through the air, his dark cloak billowing behind him like a shadow on the move. His eyes were narrow slits, his mind focused and calculating as he surveyed the chaos that unfolded beneath him. For years, Deimos had been the executioner—the force of justice that weighed heavy on the guilty. He had become a living legend, feared by criminals and revered by those who still believed in law and order. But his work was far from over.
Over the years, Deimos had wandered the world, doling out his own brand of brutal justice. His quest was relentless: to punish the wicked, to leave no criminal unpunished. Wherever there was evil, Deimos would find it, and where there was darkness, he would shine the light of retribution. His methods were unorthodox, his tactics brutal. He was not bound by the limitations of morality or the constraints of bureaucracy. The law had its weaknesses, its flaws, and Deimos had never been one to abide by the rules. He believed in one thing: that the guilty must pay, regardless of the cost.
But now, for the first time in decades, something had shifted in the balance of the world. His attention, honed over years of hunting the worst of humanity, had been drawn to a new and unexpected source of power. A new cartel had emerged—NGTNI.
It was whispered in the darker corners of the world, a name that carried with it an air of menace, a shadow of fear. NGTNI wasn’t just a cartel; it was a force that had taken the remnants of Dr. Machinist’s old empire and forged something even more dangerous. The world had barely begun to grasp the magnitude of this new threat, but Deimos knew—he could feel it. The stirrings of something great, something that had the potential to reshape the very landscape of power. And at the heart of this new cartel was none other than Dr. Machinist, the man Deimos had once defeated.
Sixty-five years had passed since their last encounter. Deimos had left Dr. Machinist for dead, believing that the man’s arrogance would be his downfall. But now, with the news of NGTNI’s rise, Deimos understood just how wrong he had been.
“Dr. Machinist,” Deimos muttered, his voice like a low growl in the silence of his secluded sanctuary. He paused, his thoughts shifting back to that fateful day when he had finally cornered the mad scientist. He remembered the battle, the storm of blood and metal, the sheer power that Dr. Machinist had wielded. Despite the odds, Deimos had emerged victorious. But it had come at a cost. His injuries had been severe, and for months afterward, he had been forced to recover in isolation, unable to chase after the scientist as he had originally intended.
Deimos had been certain that Dr. Machinist was finished. The man had been broken, his plans shattered, his body barely intact. But now, decades later, Deimos could see that he had underestimated him. Dr. Machinist wasn’t just a man; he was an abomination—a product of his own twisted ambition and a thirst for power that could not be quenched. And now, with the technology at his disposal, he had created something that would change the world. NGTNI wasn’t just another cartel; it was the embodiment of Dr. Machinist’s unrelenting drive for destruction.
The knowledge hit Deimos like a thunderclap. A new war was coming. A new battle for supremacy. And Deimos would not allow it to go unanswered. He had spent his life purging the world of evil, and this—this was the next phase. The next chapter in his eternal fight.
“It's Showtime,” Deimos muttered, his voice tinged with a dark anticipation. He had fought wars before, but this would be different. NGTNI wasn’t just another criminal organization. It was a beast born of technological horrors, a nightmare waiting to happen. And Deimos, as always, would be at the forefront of the battle, leading the charge against this new terror.
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His mind raced, calculating the moves he would need to make. He needed information. He needed to understand the full scope of NGTNI’s power, the depths of Dr. Machinist’s plans, and the resources that he had at his disposal. The world had changed, and Deimos would need to change with it if he was going to stand a chance.
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Deimos wasn’t just a man of action; he was a strategist. He knew that his enemies wouldn’t wait for him to gather his forces, to prepare for the upcoming war. NGTNI was moving fast, gaining influence at an alarming rate. The team that Dr. Machinist had assembled—his new cartel—was nothing like what Deimos had faced in the past. These weren’t just street thugs or greedy politicians; they were ruthless, highly trained killers, each more dangerous than the last. But Deimos was not afraid.
Deimos stood in the center of his war room, his eyes scanning the holographic map in front of him. The map shifted, displaying various points of interest: underground bunkers, military installations, hidden labs, and secret meeting places. He’d already identified key locations to target. He had spent the last few days meticulously gathering intel on NGTNI’s operations, piecing together the puzzle of their rise to power. He had learned that Dr. Machinist had been busy for decades, amassing resources and perfecting his technology. What Deimos didn’t know was how far Dr. Machinist had gone—how far his ambitions stretched.
What was the true scope of NGTNI’s power? How many of their leaders had Dr. Machinist already placed under his control? And most importantly, what new creations had he unleashed upon the world?
With a decisive motion, Deimos activated a secondary console. The screen flickered, and a new image appeared. It was Dr. Machinist, the last time Deimos had seen him—an older, more grizzled version of the mad scientist, his once-pristine lab now a distant memory. His mechanical body had grown even more monstrous over the years, now towering at 30 feet tall with thick layers of titanium, a nearly indestructible frame capable of taking tank rounds, bazookas, and bombs without so much as a scratch.
But it wasn’t just his body that had evolved; his mind, his plans, and his resources had grown to terrifying proportions. It was clear now: Dr. Machinist wasn’t just playing games. He had come to the realization that he could control the world—not through conventional means, but through sheer, unrelenting power.
The hologram flickered again, shifting to show Dr. Machinist’s most recent creation—his new mech, a massive, nearly indestructible war machine designed to carry out his will with impunity. The mech was equipped with an arsenal of weapons, from high-powered energy weapons to advanced surgical equipment and the ability to manipulate lightning itself. In its supercharged state, this machine was capable of city-destroying attacks. The NGTNI had grown into something that not only rivaled Deimos’s own strength but surpassed it in sheer technological capability.
Deimos clenched his fists, the desire for vengeance burning within him. The destruction that was coming would be monumental. The battle would be fierce. But Deimos had fought battles before. This would not be the first time he had faced overwhelming odds. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
He turned from the hologram, his eyes narrowing as he focused on his next move. He had to act quickly. NGTNI was moving fast, and their operations were too well-organized for him to go in blind. He needed allies. He needed information, and he needed a way to counter Dr. Machinist’s overwhelming technological advantage.
There was no time to waste. Deimos was ready. The battle was coming, and he was going to make sure that the world would feel the full force of his wrath.
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As the storm clouds gathered above, Deimos made his first move. The world wouldn’t be prepared for what was about to come, but that didn’t matter. Deimos had already made his decision. And when he entered the battlefield, there would be no turning back. The war was just beginning, and he would fight it until the end.
He had faced monsters before. But this? This was personal. And Deimos would be damned if he let Dr. Machinist and NGTNI reign unchecked.
"Let the hunt begin," Deimos whispered, his voice cutting through the storm like a blade. "This time, you won’t escape."
And with that, the game was on.