The dimly lit hallway stretched out like an endless void, each flickering bulb casting long, twitching shadows against the cracked walls. Lockey stood still, his dagger held loosely at his side, its edge catching the faint light and glinting ominously. The Masked Figure, as Finn would soon recognize him—hovered at the other end, an air of malice emanating from his hunched posture.
Lockey tilted his head slightly toward Finn without breaking his gaze on the figure. His voice was cold and clipped, carrying a quiet command. “Leave.”
Finn hesitated, her wide eyes darting between the two. “But—”
“If you stay, you’ll only get in the way. Go.” Lockey’s tone brooked no argument. He adjusted his grip on the dagger, the faint outline of thin, shimmering threads beginning to ripple in the air around him.
Finn nodded reluctantly, retreating a few steps but staying close enough to watch. Her fingers twitched nervously as she bit her lip.
The Masked Figure chuckled, a deep, raspy sound that seemed to crawl under the skin. “So quick to dismiss her,” he said, his voice distorted by the mask’s modulation. “You should worry more about yourself, boy.”
Lockey didn’t respond, but his narrowed eyes gleamed with quiet intensity.
Dark Fang raised a gloved hand, releasing a faint mist into the air. It was colorless, odorless, and almost undetectable. “Breathe deeply, won’t you?” he taunted.
Lockey wasted no time. He lunged forward, his dagger slicing through the air with surgical precision. The threads—so thin they were nearly invisible—rippled outward, cutting through the hallway in wide arcs. The mist dispersed instantly as though cleaved apart by an unseen blade.
Dark Fang stepped back smoothly, his hands weaving intricate gestures. “Impressive,” he murmured. “But how long can you keep up?” Another wave of mist poured from his hands, spreading in unpredictable patterns.
Lockey didn’t flinch. His movements were fluid, almost mechanical, as he sliced again and again. The threads danced around him, shredding the air and neutralizing the invisible viruses. His voice, steady and unbothered, broke through the sound of slashing. “Finn.”
“Yeah?” Her voice was small, but her excitement was growing.
“Who is he?”
Finn’s eyes widened in recognition, and a spark of awe lit her face. “You don’t know?” she gasped. “That’s Dark Fang! He’s a legend! The most infamous villain of all time! He stole 111 million dollars…and government secrets! Sold them to foreign powers” Her words tumbled out in a breathless rush.
Dark Fang chuckled darkly, pleased by her reaction. “Quite confident of you,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “To think you’d carry on a conversation while fighting me. I must give you that.”
Lockey’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t lose his focus. The threads of his power wove a protective web around him, cutting through anything that approached. “I asked for facts, not fanfare,” he muttered, his irritation barely veiled.
But Finn was too enraptured to notice. “He’s a master infiltrator! A thief! He’s…amazing! Do you have any idea how hard it is to pull off what he did?”
Dark Fang took advantage of Finn’s distraction. With a flick of his wrist, he released a new virus. This one was faster, more insidious, and carried a paralyzing agent. The mist shot toward Lockey like a silent predator.
Lockey’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t need to see the virus to know it was there. The threads responded to his will, expanding outward in a wide arc. The mist vanished as quickly as it had appeared, split into harmless particles.
Dark Fang’s posture shifted slightly, a glint of irritation breaking through his calm façade. “Interesting,” he muttered. “You can cut even what you can’t see. But can you keep it up when your body begins to fail you?”
The villain raised both hands this time, releasing a concentrated burst of viruses designed to attack the nervous system. Invisible tendrils snaked through the air, seeking Lockey’s lungs.
Lockey responded with a sudden burst of speed, his dagger slicing through the space between them. The threads expanded into a dazzling web, cutting through walls, air, and even the ground beneath their feet. Chunks of the corridor collapsed, the sheer precision of his cuts leaving jagged edges behind.
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“Enough games,” Lockey said, his voice sharp as his blade. He lunged again, this time closing the distance between them.
Dark Fang barely evaded, the edge of his coat catching on the threads and tearing cleanly. He raised a hand to summon another wave of mist, but Lockey was relentless, his blade a whirlwind of slashes.
From the sidelines, Finn’s excitement was tempered by awe and anxiety. “He’s…he’s actually holding his own against Dark Fang,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “But how?”
“Focus,” Lockey snapped, his voice cutting through her thoughts. “If you’re staying, make yourself useful. Otherwise, shut up.”
Finn’s cheeks flushed, but she nodded, forcing herself to stay quiet. Her eyes darted between the two combatants, torn between admiration for her idol and growing respect for her unlikely ally.
Dark Fang let out a low growl, his playful demeanor slipping. “You’re more trouble than I expected,” he admitted. “But let’s see how you handle this.”
He clapped his hands together, unleashing a dense, swirling cloud of mixed viruses and bacteria. The air around them shimmered with unseen danger, the temperature dropping as the fight reached a critical point.
The battle intensified as Lockey’s dagger traced arcs of light through the air, threads slicing through particles so small they shouldn’t even register. Yet, his instincts guided him, his kuudere demeanor unwavering despite the invisible threat around him.
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Dark Fang observed Lockey from a safe distance, his expression unreadable behind the mask. The air shimmered faintly as new waves of viruses were released, invisible yet lethal. Lockey moved through them like a ghost, every subtle motion of his dagger obliterating the pathogens.
“How?” Dark Fang muttered, voice low and sharp. His mind raced. He can’t see them. He shouldn’t even sense them. Yet, he cuts them…
Lockey’s voice cut through the tension, cold and sharp. “Is this all you have? Spreading invisible death and hoping I fall?” His steps were measured as he approached, his blade dragging lines of deadly threads through the air.
Dark Fang stepped back instinctively. “Confident, aren’t we? Speaking so freely to someone like her during our fight,” he said, gesturing towards Finn, who was watching the battle with wide-eyed awe. "I must give you that."
“Dark Fang!” Finn cried out, her excitement boiling over. “You’re really him! The one who stole over a hundred million dollars, broke into high-security government sites, and sold classified data to foreign powers. You’re a legend! Your infiltration skills, your strategy—it’s amazing!”
Lockey paused mid-step, his head tilting slightly toward her. “Finn,” he said with the faintest trace of irritation. “Shut up.”
Finn didn’t seem to register his tone, continuing to gush. “I mean, to pull off all that without getting caught! You’re like a shadow. The way you—"
“Finn.” Lockey’s voice dropped an octave, icy. “Move.”
The authority in his tone finally broke through her awe, and she scampered back reluctantly, still muttering about Dark Fang’s feats under her breath. Dark Fang chuckled, though the sound was hollow.
"Quite the fan you’ve got there," Dark Fang said, raising a gloved hand as if to wave. “But I’m afraid her praise won’t help you. You’ve been impressive so far, but I wonder how long you can keep it up.”
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The fight resumed. Dark Fang spread his hands, releasing a concentrated wave of microscopic viral agents, this time designed to infiltrate through minor abrasions on the skin. The air around him shimmered faintly as he advanced, watching Lockey’s movements carefully.
Lockey’s dagger slashed downward, and the faint shimmer was gone. Dark Fang grimaced beneath his mask, his movements becoming sharper, more calculated. He leapt back and released another wave, but the outcome was the same. Each motion of Lockey’s blade rendered the invisible attack useless.
“It’s no use,” Lockey said, his tone detached but final. “No matter how small they are, no matter where they’re aimed, they’re already cut.”
Dark Fang’s mind raced. He’s not reacting to sight or sound. It’s as if he… senses them, like an animal relying purely on instinct. He spoke aloud, though his tone carried a grudging respect. “Spreading the virus won’t work, will it? You’re cutting it before it even reaches you.”
There was no answer, only the faint sound of Lockey’s boots scuffing against the ground as he closed the distance.
“Fine,” Dark Fang muttered. “Let’s change the game.”
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With a sudden motion, Dark Fang pulled off one of his gloves, revealing his bare hand. The skin was mottled purple and black, pulsating faintly as though alive. He lunged forward with startling speed, closing the gap between them in an instant. Before Lockey could fully react, Dark Fang’s hand brushed against the exposed skin of his forearm.
Lockey leapt back, his movements precise and controlled, but there was a flicker of hesitation in his expression. He stared at his arm, then back at Dark Fang.
“What did you do?” Lockey asked, his voice still calm but edged with suspicion.
Dark Fang’s chuckle was low and sinister. “You’re fast. You’re skilled. But you made one mistake.” He flexed his fingers, the purple hue of his hand slowly fading. “Even though my airborne viruses couldn’t reach you, I have other ways to infect. A touch is all it takes.”
Lockey’s vision wavered. The world around him began to blur, colors bleeding together and outlines becoming indistinct. He took a step forward, but his footing faltered for the briefest moment.
“Losing focus, are we?” Dark Fang’s voice was smug now, his confidence returning. “That’s what happens when the virus enters directly through the skin. This particular strain attacks the optic nerve. Soon, you won’t even know which direction I’m coming from.”
Lockey’s grip tightened on his dagger. He didn’t respond, his expression as cold and composed as ever, though his movements were slightly less sharp.
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In the distance, Finn’s voice rose in alarm. “Lockey! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he replied curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument. But in his mind, a single thought echoed: I can’t afford to let this go on.
The battle raged on, Lockey’s swings still slicing through Dark Fang’s viral attacks with precision despite his blurred vision. But the advantage was shifting, and Dark Fang knew it.