Disaster
"Yesterday afternoon, four police officers and one civilian were attacked by an elusive gang believed to have connections and exchanges with the Luochen Gang and Blue Dragon Gang. This is not confirmed by the law enforcement, but it is speculated that numerous similar incidents are to be expected in the near future; the perpetrators are equipped with a diverse arsenal of American-manufactured firearms, particularly the Mossberg 500 that was used to severely injure a senior police officer on the southern end…"
The twenty-third intensive care ward of Jingdou's Sixth Public Hospital held two adjacent beds facing away from the window. The television displayed a glamorous anchorwoman presenting the latest news, as well as dispatching a warning towards the general public. At the mention of the term 'police officers', the man carelessly tossed on the bed farthest from the door groaned and harshly exhaled his breath.
"I say, Du Lang, we did a good job? Though I got hit, Xiangxiang and the rest, you as well, managed to subdue and capture the seven people responsible for this incident. The securities back home confirmed that they were the owners of the shotgun, and are now facing severe punishment. So why are we being pitied by an anchorwoman? Can't she at least praise us, like the American media?"
"The American media loves sh*tting on their law enforcement. The more successful, the more criticism and derailing. You certain you want that?"
The man thrown atop the bed to the left snorted in disdain. A brief silence ensued as the anchorwoman's splendid and mellow voice soothed at the wracks of pain scorching through their body, before the man on the right suddenly tensed.
"I say, Du Lang, I… won't be fired over this, will I?" he clenched his teeth to withstand the pain, and drew his fingers into fists.
"The doctors say that they had to remove a section of my liver, as well as numerous ribs that disintegrated from the shotgun blast. Not only that, my veins had to be stretched to sew closed the damage caused by the shrapnel – there's no way I can possibly return to work as a police officer…"
"Well, you can retire and enjoy a lazy life with your wife and two daughters. Maybe travel to America and publish a book detailing your life in a so-called 'deteriorating country' – the Americans will surely love it. Must be nice to be granted a pension after retirement, eh? Not like reporters like me, who are called to serve despite having quit the job."
"F*ck, do you even know how much it costs to raise two daughters in this city? My pension will vanish after a bag and purse for each!" the man swore, and feigned spitting to the skies.
"Unlike you reporters who receive millions in hush money and settlement funds, we honest people are overworked and when we finally retire, our pensions can barely pay for any of our expenses! Must be nice to live in luxury, eh?"
"I risked my life to earn that information! What do you mean, it 'must be nice', ah!?"
"I risked my life on your information! What the hell do you mean 'it must be nice' when you reporters get us killed with your information!?"
"At least mine is always effective and reliable!"
The men on either side huffed their cheeks and refused to speak with the other. As the anchorwoman resigned from her seat to take a short break, both rolled their painful sides to turn their backs to the other, and the room was forcefully thrown to its previous silence. The commercials began rolling in through the sterilized atmosphere and into Du Lang's chaotic mind, he couldn't help but heave a tired sigh.
He wondered what Mu Wuying was doing back at the mansion – it had been three days since the day he encountered the seven gang members and the three from Academi, and the young girl had yet to get a new smartphone –
"Man, what are you sighing for? You're not even twenty-five, but you sigh more than my father. Children these days, tsk."
"I was thinking of my wife back at home!"
"Oh, you're right – I too was thinking of my wife. Is she doing alright dealing with the two brats at home, and are they safe," Senior Policeman Tang nodded his head, before his eyebrows shot towards the heavens.
"Du Lang, you were married? How come you didn't invite any of us brothers to the wedding?"
"It was barely a week ago! And why the hell would I invite a bunch of terrifying, savage policemen to a wedding – to arrest someone?"
"Ah, little brother, you've got to show us brothers some face! Haven't we saved your small *ss back in the past – so? Is it a beauty from your class?"
"No!"
Du Lang rolled his eyes, and his hands shot towards the back of his right thigh as the muscles quivered in pain. The scorching waves wreaked great havoc on his body as it ravaged, tormented, and clawed through his tendons and blood vessels before granting him a brief mercy. His vision quivered and blurred in response to the pain, and Du Lang's mind threw itself to the memory of three days ago.
His predecessor's supposedly ace-in-the-hole curse model, Enthrall, was bound to a clap of his hands. Of course, to distinguish the activation of a curse model and daily activity was the requirement of any injury to be present on his body. Du Lang had left the loophole present as to not cumber his already dismal state with another defective curse model.
…and as a result, he didn't receive the honor of experiencing its first activation.
"All I remember are a bunch of illusory, cyan chains erupting from Sibyl and wrapping around their bodies, huh?"
That was the extent of his memories. A dense web of chains weaved through the air from the black sphere and restrained the two men and young girl from head to toe. The chains were translucent and a light cyan in color, and as they carved through the air, Du Lang faintly recalled the smell of burning ozone. But that was it – nothing else remained in his mind.
The instant he cast the curse model, the merciful and gracious Sibyl had stripped the remainder of his consciousness from his body. At his current
To then cast another
Of course – there were other problems to deal with.
"I lost my Wraith… seriously, where did that stupid thing disappear to? I hope it didn't take away my ability to create curse models in the future…"
"Man, what are you muttering about over there? Don't your wounds hurt? Little Gu won't come here to lick them for you anyways, so don't even hope."
"Sh*t up!"
And thus, as the anchorwoman returned to her post to resume the next sequence, the injured reporter and policeman resumed their heated debate. Primarily, it was whether their charming and hard-working senior officer Gu Ling could ever find a husband, not when she slacked so much from work when hard effort was required.
Three hundred meters towards the east, and located in the third floor of an apartment complex, two men didn't share Du Lang's uplifted and bantering mood. One young and the other old, the two gazed at the third figure asleep on the living room sofa, their expressions bleak and devoid of comprehension.
"She's still asleep, even after three days? Just what did that kid do at the end?"
The young girl's arms were splayed across her modest chest, and her left arm drooped towards the carpeted floor. Alas, the tender ears and eyes completely ignored the men's voices as they sealed themselves from the world and from rational thought. The breathing was even and unhurried, and there were no problems with blood pressure or heart rhythm, yet the young girl refused to wake.
They had just taken her to the Sixth Public Hospital three hours prior, yet the doctors could do nothing except for declare that she was more persistent than a Sleeping Beauty. Head to toe, from blood to the bioelectric impulse traveling through the body – there was nothing wrong that could be found.
"Those… chains he threw at the end – did they have something to do with it? Ming, do you know any martial arts techniques that can create such glowing chains?"
The young man's firm shake of the head caused the middle-aged man to clutch at his forehead in complete and utter incomprehension. As he gazed at the virtually defenseless, careless sleeping posture of the young girl, his mind couldn't help but reflect on the past.
They had cornered their target through a standard triple-pincer stratagem. The journalist Du Lang unexpectedly concealed an ace up his sleeve, and had them caught by surprise. Yet, the lack of combat experience and killing intent allowed the three of them to lure, corner, and execute with ease.
Swift steps – no, given the phenomenon and sheer speed displayed before his eyes three days prior, it was more apt to call such an ability as teleportation.
In the organization's records, there were certain individuals and targets who possessed similar abilities of instantaneous acceleration. They could smoothly and swiftly increase their speed in midst of combat without any preparatory measures, and throw their opponent off guard and obtain a strikeout. Members in the organization specializing in melee combat received rigorous training on the effective countermeasures against certain targets as those…
They could unleash a circular, sweeping blow to ward off any direct ambushes to their rear, yet that youth could move as though time had stopped…
"…time had stopped? Don't make me laugh – how could that be possible?" the man narrowed his eyes and clucked his tongue in thought.
"Every time a lethal blow was dealt towards his body, the kid could… 'blink' away towards either of our rears and retaliate. His combat skills were complete trash and laughable, but that sheer instantaneous ability – doesn't that match with the rumors of this nation?"
"That shouldn't be possible. I've heard some of the ancient factions and clans hoarding such abilities, but the target this time shouldn't have such an ace up his sleeve."
The young man confidently responded with a cup of water grasped in his left hand, and a wooden spoon on the right. As he kneeled by the young girl's sleeping form, the cup was set to the side, and his fingers pried open the soft and delicious pair of lips as he slowly and carefully fed the former some water. The excitement and fervor of engaging in such enticing and fulfilling behavior caused a slight bulge to arise in his pants, yet the young man refused to divert from his duty of supplying a sleeping human their daily intake of water.
Giving a sleeping human food… was impossible.
"Well, at the least – contact the organization and let them know that Du Lang's profile needs to be updated to a greater threat," the middle-aged man sighed and extinguished his cigarette on an ashtray.
"Make sure she doesn't receive too much water – we don't want any bathroom accidents until she wakes up. Oh, and Ming – remember that recruits aren't permitted to engage in relationships."
The young man displayed a sheepish grin that clearly exposed his nefarious thoughts, but nodded his head in agreement at the middle-aged man's remarks. The wooden spoon supplied itself once more before gently pressing against the small and pearly teeth to deliver another sliver of water, when the corner of his vision witnessed the eyelids flicker and slowly pry themselves open –
[Binding to soul complete. Maximum output restricted to host and creator's performance. Confirmed reactivation of WRAITH, granted
[Creator detected to not be within observable vicinity. Initializing topographic scan, accessing publicly referenced information.]
[Creator found. Present at Jingdou Six Public Hospital, 23rd ICU unit, Ward A.]
[Commencing return to Creator. ^_^.]