Chapter 27: Enemies Everywhere!

A thick fog of darkness slithered through the alleys and rooftops of West Walaysia's sleeping cities, like snakes made of smoke. Not a single soul noticed. It wasn't just mist—it was something far older, far crueler. These weren't clouds. These were entities.

Dark gas and shadowy wisps moved like tendrils through the streets, invisible to human eyes. Some hissed softly, others let out screech-like wails, fading into the night wind. Here and there, grotesque face-like impressions formed in the drifting mass—hollow eyes, crooked grins, whispering mouths. They weren't alive, but they were aware. And they were all heading toward one place.

A towering skyscraper loomed in the heart of the city, its top floor shrouded in unnatural shadow. On its rooftop stood a lone figure.

A man.

He wore a long, dark coat and a wide-brimmed hat. His face was obscured beneath the low shadow cast by the hat's brim. His presence was still, yet commanding. Behind him, the clouds of malevolent mist swirled and gathered like loyal hounds waiting for orders.

The man faced the glowing city skyline, its lights twinkling like stars that didn't belong to him. The contrast was sharp: the artificial brilliance of human civilization and the creeping black tide behind him.

Suddenly, one of the dark wisps condensed. It twisted and twirled until it took on a rough humanoid form—blurry and shifting, like it couldn't hold its shape in this realm for long.

It leaned forward and hissed through its undefined mouth, "We have located the Hell's Enforcers."

The man didn't move. His hands were clasped behind his back, his gaze locked on the city below.

The voice continued, sharper now. "We need to kill them before things get messy."

The rooftop fell into silence, the weight of the unseen gathering pressing down like a thundercloud that hadn't yet decided to strike.

Then—he moved.

The man in the hat turned slowly, his motions eerily calm against the violent aura swelling in the air. With a single flick of his hand behind his back, a wave of oppressive darkness burst from his body like a shockwave. It wasn't loud it was felt. Every ounce of it.

The swirling masses of shadow the smoky, shapeless, face-twisting beings recoiled as the aura surged. For a moment, they all stepped back, as if their very essence was repelled by the intensity of his dark command. The air vibrated with pressure. The top of the building groaned under the weight of something… wrong.

Then came the thunder.

A jagged bolt cracked through the night sky, lighting up the heavens just behind him. For a split second, his face caught the flicker but no features were visible. Just a smooth, faceless void tucked beneath the brim of his shadow-drenched hat.

The thunder rolled again.

In the corner of the rooftop, hidden in the scaffolding, a single crow stirred. It flinched maybe from the thunder, maybe from the man.

The bird took flight.

One of its eyes was dead white, the other a pulsing, uncanny pink. As it flew through the lightning-split sky, the pink eye flickered once red, then pink again before glowing with a ghastly aura.

The crow became mist. Vapor. Dark substance. It shot through the sky like a spectral arrow.

Through alleyways. Slums. Silent intersections.

Until it arrived at a derelict building buried deep in the city's outskirts. No lights. No noise. Just rot, metal, and broken windows.

Inside, the stench of mildew mixed with something darker.

The mist slid under a cracked door and slithered through the empty halls until it reached a large, open space at the center of the building. Once a factory floor, now a throne room for something unholy.

At the far end, seated atop a crumbling iron throne, a woman sat with one leg crossed, her fingers lazily tapping against the rusted armrest. The figure was slender yet radiated an unnatural presence. In front of her knelt a towering woman thick, wide, heavyset with her forehead pressed to the floor in submission.

The gas-like substance zipped forward and hovered before the throne.

The figure raised her hand. Her smile stretched wide. The mist plunged into her palm and was absorbed instantly.

She shuddered with delight.

A deep inhale. As if she'd just breathed in the chaos of the city itself.

And then she laughed.

Maniacal. Wild. Unfiltered chaos echoing through broken walls.

The shadows clung to her like a second skin as her face tilted upward into the flickering moonlight.

It was Pinky.

Her face was twisted not with rage, but with amusement.

"The old bastard knows I was eavesdropping on his little meeting," she hissed, voice rasping and gleeful.

The figure kneeling before her Cheeky spoke, head bowed low.

"All you have to say is 'yes, my Queen,' and you'll become the true Queen of all demons. The Lord adores you."

"Owh, please," Pinky rolled her eyes. "I'd rather be neck-deep in broken men than lying with that wrinkled old devil. I prefer my toys alive, begging, and useful."

Her playful sneer faded, replaced by raw rage. Her eyes narrowed, her grin twisted.

"But those two Hell Enforcers?" Her voice dropped, venom seeping into every word. "They're mine. My prey. I will curse them until their dreams bleed, rip their bodies into pieces, suck their souls dry, and fry what's left in boiling oil laced with their own blood. I'll flay their minds until they scream apologies they don't understand. I'll haunt their memories, turn their laughter into fear, crush their hopes under my heel. I'll burn every place they feel safe, make them doubt every friend, every ally. Their suffering will be a melody. A lullaby I sing to myself at night."

She stood now, the power radiating from her like heat off a wildfire. "I'll drag them into nightmares, chew on their screams, and mold their pain into lullabies. I'll twist their memories, crack their minds, and laugh as their reality crumbles. Let them taste agony until they beg me to end it."

Back in X-Division, inside Agent Vick's office...

"Ah-CHOO!"

Samuel blinked, sniffed, then looked around with narrowed eyes.

"I think someone's cursing me," he mumbled.

Danny handed him a tissue without looking, muttering telepathically, "Pretty sure that's Agent Rex. Who else has the time to cast petty curses?"

Agent Vick, still looking like his soul hadn't finished rebooting, took a long, shaky breath and rubbed his temples like he was trying to massage the stress out of his skeleton.

"So," he finally said, voice low and worn thin, "what exactly are you expecting from us now?"

He stared directly at Samuel, eyes narrowing. "You want an apology? Is that it?"

Samuel raised his hands quickly. "Oh no, no sir! Please don't get me wrong."

He straightened, tone firmer. "It's just… earlier, Agent Nicks said something. Lesson No. 1: Be responsible for your own mess. I just thought maybe it should apply to everyone. Equally."

To Be Continued.