“What…have I become?”

The acrid scent of gunpowder hung in the air, blending with the metallic smell of spilled blood. My breaths were labored, each inhale tainted with prideful guilt. Crimson stains adorned my clothes, and I found myself drenched in the visceral evidence of what I’ve done.

The warriors looked at me with a mixture of revulsion and apprehension. Their eyes, once filled with confidence, now reflected a newfound fear. I stood amidst the aftermath, a stark figure stained by the consequences of my actions. The room echoed with the haunting silence that followed the chaos.

Zara, still surrounded by the fading embers of her flames, met the warriors' stares with defiant nonchalance. “Geez, Mari! Could’ve left me some to scorch. Really didn’t have to rip through them like that but hey, I’m a fan!” One of the warriors approached, his expression a mix of concern and disappointment. "Outsider, even considering the ambush, was it truly necessary to shed…so much blood?"

Zara turned her grin towards the warrior, “Hey, we saved your asses here. If it wasn’t for us, y’all would’ve been on the floor instead of them.” The warrior's face twisted with conflict. "True, but... this... this was excessive. The Resistance committed to sacrificing only what's necessary. We've strayed from that path." Zara’s grin faded. “Tell us what to do again, I swear to god. Your head will be rolling.”

Her expression transformed back into a manic grin. "Got it?" The warrior remained silent. Her tense attitude seemingly dissipated as she burst into laughter, patting the warrior on the back. “Anyways, don’t be so tense now. Mission complete!”

I felt the weight of my choices pressing upon me. The path I had taken, stained with the consequences of my actions, seemed to stretch endlessly before me. The echoes of Zara's laughter and the warriors' conflicting voices reverberated in my mind, creating a dissonant symphony of chaos and remorse.

“What have I become? Was that actually…me?” The question lingered. This was not the first time. Perhaps this is not my last. A sick smile crept onto my face as tears ran down my cheeks. What am I saying? The answer is so obvious. I'm...a murderer. A sick murderer who enjoys killing. The darkness within me, once a mere shadow, now enveloped my conscience in its deep, suffocating embrace.

“Warriors, gather. We shall go back to our mission for we have strayed. We must locate the official. He should be in the other room.” a warrior said, the urgency in his voice cutting through the tension. The other warriors nodded, their movements calculated and silent as they slipped into the shadows and approached the suite next to ours. With precision, they placed a small, round disk to the door. A controlled explosion followed, the muffled blast signaling their entry.

In a swift and coordinated maneuver, the warriors stormed into the room, guns poised and expressions unyielding. The atmosphere inside was exuberant, a group of men sat around a lavish circular table, engrossed in their revelry. The clinking of glasses and the low hum of conversation filled the air as the warriors asserted control over the scene.

“Nobody move!” one of the warriors commanded, his voice cutting through the room's exuberance. The group of men froze, eyes wide with surprise and fear, their celebration abruptly halted.

"What...What are you doing here? What happened to the Qi? They should've killed you dogs by now!"

They advanced cautiously towards the group of men. With a sudden, tense movement, one of the men reached for the gun lying on the table. In a swift and coordinated response, the warriors deployed rope-like devices, expertly throwing them at the men. The ropes snaked around the unsuspecting figures, swiftly immobilizing them.

"HOW. DARE. YOU. I...I...I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU ALL!" An official said before passing out.

They holstered their weapons and approached the restrained men. Beyond the suite windows, a sleek flying craft materialized. We ushered the captured officials onto the aircraft as we entered and made our way back to the village. Cheers reverberated through the air as our aircraft touched down.

"Welcome, my warriors! I see that the mission was a success!" The warriors knelt before their leader. "Yes, my liege. Though there is something I must discuss with you," one of the warriors whispered. Angelus's expression shifted from the elation of victory to a stoic determination. We followed him as we entered one of the warehouses

"There is something you must see, my liege," he declared, presenting Angelus with a tablet. From the device emanated a chilling symphony – excruciating screams and the unsettling cadence of my laughter. Angelus's expression remained stoic. "I see. It appears you've saved my men. I thank you for that. We welcome you both to the Resistance," he proclaimed, his words resonating in the silent chamber. The warriors remained silent.

“As a warrior, we provide you with your basic necessities. Marcus, please show our new warriors their chambers.”

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"Yes, sire. Right this way," one of the warriors conveyed with a respectful nod, guiding us toward a square building. It appeared somewhat primitive and bare. "This is where you will be staying. The warehouse from earlier serves as our storage facility, and the substantial building adjacent to it is our dining facility. Meals are served promptly at 6 and 12. Please bear that in mind," he instructed, his demeanor a blend of efficiency and formality.

With a subtle nod, he left us without uttering another word. We entered the building. It had 2 beds on both sides and a small table right in the middle. “What the hell? This is all we get? The fuck? Hey Mari, wanna go back to the Golden Hotel?” I responded back with a weak grin.

“Man, if only we had more money. Who knows we might get a job that gets us another night at the Hotel.” She said as she approached her bed.

Jobs. It's been a while since I got any. I wonder why. As I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, a heavy cloud of guilt and unanswered questions enveloped me, leaving me with a profound emptiness. "Hey, Zara? Do you mind if I go for a walk really quick?"

"Do whatever, kid," she replied, her tone casual as she settled onto her bed, one eye glowing faintly. I stood up and ventured out for a walk, the weight of unresolved questions lingering in my mind.

In the midst of my contemplation, a sight in the alleyway caught my attention. A man lay collapsed on the ground. I approached him cautiously. "Young gal. Got any change?" Mom's words echoed in my mind, warning against giving money to the homeless. Instead, I offered the old man a bag of MRE that I got from a previous job, along with a bottle of water.

The old man's eyes lit up with gratitude as he accepted the provisions. "Bless you, child. Bless you," he mumbled, his voice weathered by the trials of life on the streets. I nodded in response, a mix of compassion and curiosity welling up within me. Deciding to join him, I sat down next to him as he began to eat.

"As thanks, I shall tell you a story," the man said, his voice carrying the weight of age and experience. I listened intently as he began to weave a tale from the tapestry of his memories.

"A man a while back stood beside Angelus. He was a great man--strong and wise. A beacon of hope, just as Angelus was our guiding light in our darkest times. However, as the Resistance started to embrace darker tactics, our hope became corrupted. This man sought power and control. He challenged our king, deeming him unworthy of Angelus's name and throne. In the ensuing confrontation, he was defeated by Angelus and banished into the dungeons."

The man continued. "There, in the depths of the dungeons, he encountered the Whisper. It granted him the power he so desperately desired, in the form of a mask. With the newfound strength, he unleashed havoc upon our village. Now, he has vanished, nowhere to be found."

As the old man concluded the story, a lingering sense of unease settled in the air. “That’s all I remember. Thank you so much for the meal, child. May you bathe in Angelus’s grace.” He said as he finished eating. I nodded back in response as I continued my walk.

The old man's tale lingered in my thoughts as I continued walking through the dimly lit streets. The weight of the story, woven with threads of corruption, power, and probably some otherworldly power called the Whisper, added a layer of complexity to the already intricate tapestry of the Resistance. My steps took me deeper into the village. The night air held a chill that penetrated through my clothes, and the distant hum of the city became a backdrop to the silence within me.

The rain began to fall relentlessly, its rhythmic patter creating a soothing symphony that danced with the melancholy of the night. I stood still, letting the cool droplets wash over me. Suddenly, something grabbed my ankle, shattering the serene moment. I felt an eerie pull, as if my shadow itself had come alive and ensnared me. Darkness enveloped my vision. As the veil lifted, I found myself in front of a figure.

Before me stood a man, his face concealed behind a blank white mask devoid of any features. No holes for eyes or a nose adorned its surface. He wore a flowing white robe that billowed in the rain-soaked air. His limbs, however, defied the purity of white, cloaked in a deep blackness that seemed to absorb the very light around them.

One of his arms extended, elongating like a tentacle reaching out from the abyss. The sight was both mesmerizing and disconcerting, a grotesque dance between the ethereal and the ominous. Raindrops clung to the contours of the mask, adding a surreal glimmer to the enigmatic figure.

"Host. Found. Invade. Invade. Invade," the man whispered, his voice gradually rising in volume as an ominous mantra. In an instant, he lunged towards me, shedding the illusion of humanity to reveal a metallic body and an expressionless face. His arms stretched out like tentacles, ensnaring mine and forcefully pinning me to the ground, rendering me immobile.

Trapped beneath the relentless grip, fear surged through me, constricting my every breath. Attempting to vocalize my desperation, my pleas for help remained trapped within, stifled by an unseen force. "Desire… Zara…" I struggled to utter, but my voice refused to escape my clenched throat. "Help…"

"Host. Captured. Invasion. Start." With his final proclamation, a searing pain seared through my back. A sensation of intrusion clawed at my spine as something slithered into my back, attaching itself to my spine. My back closed upon the invasive presence, leaving the metallic man in a limp state, and me freed from his grip.

A mask materialized, the sudden intrusion into my bionic eye's vision startling me, hovering before me with an eerie presence. My cybernetic eye focused on the mask, and in response, metallic-like appendages sprouted from my back, each limb resembling sinuous tendrils.

The metallic arms moved with a fluidity that defied the laws of nature, encircling my limp body like a spider's delicate yet purposeful embrace. As if responding to an unseen command, the tendrils lifted me off the ground, dangling me in the air. A voice whispered to me.

“My host…I’ve found you…My queen…Aclima.”