Shape of Betrayal

The silence stretched.

A heavy, suffocating weight settled over the room, thick with the aftermath of battle. Dust floated lazily through the air, illuminated by flickering ceiling lights. And he bounty hunter? He was gone, but the echoes of his presence still lingered.

For a while, no one spoke. Just the sound of blood dripping from the ceiling was heard by anyone. Even the chaos that rocked the SGA facility had ceased the moment the Bounty Hunter vanished.

There wasn't even a crackle of radio static over comms. Grim figured two things would explain this:

Either the command center had been compromised - which could explain why the generators aren't back up and running or everyone outside of this room... is dead.

Nozomi pressed the back of her hand against her split lip, wiping away a thin trail of blood, while Hiroshi sat hunched, resting his forearm on his knee, working to steady his shallow breaths. In front of them, Arashi rolled his shoulders, wincing slightly, his body still tense from the clash.

Then Hiroshi exhaled sharply, forcing out a bitter chuckle.

"That... could have gone worse."

Grim's grip on his blood-mist katana tightened.

A smirk curled beneath his mask, unseen but dangerous.

Funny you mentioned it..., he thought, his expression carrying a chilling edge, because it just did.

His crimson blade pulsed in his hand, hungry. No one saw it, so no one reacted at first.

The exhaustion in the room was suffocating, pressing down on their bodies like unseen chains. Nozomi, Hiroshi, and Arashi were spent - drained from the battle and the injuries, not to mention from the sheer effort of surviving.

But Grim?

He felt different. The pain in his ribs was a distant throb drowned out by the fire in his veins now. And his breathing was steady, as much as his strength was untouched.

Then there was his mind?

Sharp, cold, and calculating. This was the moment. The perfect moment.

He glanced at them.

Hiroshi, his body leaning slightly as he adjusted his wounded arm. Nozomi, her fingers twitching over her gun holster but not yet drawing. Arashi, stretching the soreness from his limbs, unaware.

They were weak. And he was not.

Then, a memory flickered, and his mind went back to Division 12.

He stood in a cold alley, his skin slick with a mixture of blood and soil. He had always had heightened senses even before he discovered the reaper system, so the scent of rot clinging to the air suffocated him in a way that most humans would never experience. How he managed to keep breathing was beyond even himself. Still, A hand extended towards him, promising him hope where he had none. And then that same hand did something... unexpected.

His memories flashed forwarded to a more resent one of that same hand.

And with a blade pressed to his throat their whispering voice sounded like a horn in a canyon to a young Grim:

"Should've never trusted me, kid."

Then, another memory flashed.

He sat in a dimly lit room, his parents lying still, unmoving and lifeless. It was the night the Reaper System had awakened. The night he'd gotten his wish, but it was also the night that Hiroshi and Arashi abandoned him after accusing him of his parents murder. How stupid could he have been in those moments?

Trust was weakness. And weakness was fatal.

At that single thought, Grim's eyes darkened.

Nozomi. Hiroshi. Arashi.

They were just more people who would, inevitably, turn on him. It was only a matter of time.

And that time had just run its course.

"…Grim?"

Nozomi's voice pulled him from the abyss of his thoughts. She was watching him now, sharpening her gaze, reading the shift in his posture.

Grim noticed and forced himself to relax. In response, the grip on his katana loosened, just slightly. But no matter how much his mask hid his expression, he knew... Nozomi could feel it.

The change in her breathing.

The tension in her stance.

He even saw the flicker of realization in her eyes - the quiet, creeping suspicion of a seasoned detective that had seen too much for her age. And then came her stern voice:

"…You with us?" she asked carefully.

Grim let a slow exhale slip past his lips, and then his gaze flickered between the three of them... before he finally spoke.

"Of course," he lied.

The conversation resumed, but the words didn't matter.

Nozomi talked strategy - about healing, regrouping, preparing for the next possible encounter if any. Hiroshi listened, nodding occasionally, his expression remaining stern and unreadable. Arashi - surprisingly - cracked a joke, it was something dry and cynical, but even his usual arrogance was dampened by exhaustion.

And although they were vulnerable and distracted, Grim knew better. His thoughts sharpened like a blade, ricocheting from every corner of his mind precise and methodical, searching for the most logical point of attack.

Nozomi first. She's too perceptive, too quick to react. If she had time to draw, she'd be a problem.

Hiroshi second. Even wounded, he's a Striker - and a legendary one at that. I can't afford to let him recover.

Arashi last. He's fast, but not fast enough to warrant that much of a threat... Not while I have my system.

I have to make this a clean escape. No loose ends.

The blood-mist katana pulsed eagerly, alomst as if it shared Grim's emotions. And in that moment, his body tensed, primed for movement - a step back, a single shift in his weight.

Just then, Nozomi said something—something about his reaper system —but Grim barely registered the words.

He was already moving.

In that instant, his breath slowed and the world narrowed. Soon, his blade began to rise—

And then.

DING!

A sharp, intrusive chime echoed in his head, followed by the same message as before, but this time there was something new.

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…What?

For a single second, Grim hesitated, and Nozomi's eyes locked onto him.

Then time stretched to what seemed like an eternity.

He hadn't noticed Nozomi's gaze before he stricked - the way it flickered to his grip on his sword—too tight.

To the way his stance had shifted—too ready.

To the dangerous glint in his eyes—too familiar.

Soon after her, the others caught on. Hiroshi sat up slightly, while Arashi's smirk faded as they noticed the atmosphere in the room shifting.

"…Grim?" Nozomi repeated.

But Grim said nothing, his eyes burning with mana, leaving behind steaks of thin lights... and his blood-mist katana only a breath away from her neck.