The men all knew. It was indeed, extra incentive to take this mission.
(Sarks) “Jackal, we need to reassess. Intel was scanty. We didn't know there was going to be this many guys. We are not aborting the mission. All we're doing is taking a moment to assess and-"
He saw her. Blood Red eyes locked onto her. His blood. And he saw her. Their words faded out into distant memories, seemingly some sick dream. Yet one that was closer to reality if he could just take it.
"Hey" it stung having been able to piece it all together. Really though she didn't care how things went elsewhere in the world. The little razor was more then happy to stay in this world, most of whatever was happening made no damn sense to her. What she did know though was here she actually had a dad and people she could trust in. "Wan't to go again?" She remarked nudging the bokens with a foot though not yet quite surrendering in the hug.
He exploded forward, sprinting down the hallway and cutting around the corner to-
Speed of light.
That's how fast the beams were. They converged upon two points of his armor and ionized a portion of it. This in turn, caused a piece of his armor and the air to explode into plasma. He fell back and hit the ground as residual energy hit his body and sent him backwards. Everything started to go back and he began to dream of warmth…
Who am I kidding?
He put one foot back to stop his fall anf the lunged forward. Blades appearing on his hands.
‘I was born to kill and to love killing. I don't know how to do anything else. Why was I such a jackass as to think I could suddenly change? That I could suddenly let her love drive me? I can feel her warmth…”
The men gagged and struggled. Their guns were raised but Jackal drew his vibrating blades from their bodies and sliced the weapons in a single stroke.
“But it isn't enough. The warmth of my daughter, isn't enough. I need the warmth of your blood. All of it.” He spoke to men who may as well been dead. Strangers who'd knew nothing of him. His voice dripping with an growing, maddened glee.
He did dream as all this occurred. There moonlight and the smell of fresh grillled fish as the two sparred with wooden blades. There are the two men before him, who he cut diagonally in two upoj the end of his statement.
His masked dropped to the ground and he bathed in it as it sprayed. He had never felt like this. He didn't inow what really was making him so happy. The girl or the prospect and irony of the fact that he wasn't even conscious. That his eyes were pale and the only thing that was keeping him going was the devil inside. The inner demon he had wanted to leave behind.
Blood red eyes opened and he scanned the environement with sharpened eyes and a grisly grin. More would come probably.
Good. Let them come.
“Come on. She's this way.”
The men moved swiftly through the area with every room covered. Long narrow hallways were ideal for silenced assault rifles. Small rooms and narrow corridore lent themselves well to shotguns. Their shots were eerily silently and yet oxymoronically loud. The assault rifles were ordinary but the bullets were packed explosives powerful enough to send tungsten carbide through carbon nanotubes. It was as though thunder had struck with each round fired, blowing holes in men big enough to blow out a heart and a lung And yet in the darkness of the cargo ship, this ship that they knew. Chatter was low, but it did a lot to relieve the tension when instant death could be waiting around any corner.
“She killed a few of the crew.”
“Girl is his daughter alright.”
There was no question, no discussion of how they would take her down. They never went over how they would take down the threats before them. They'd gone over it before, again and again until few dare challenge Maverick aside from gods. But it was their acknowledgement that they were men that kept them alive. Any mere man can be killed if he lives such a dangerous life anything less than carefully.
Hand signals. No words. Normal ammo.
This room. We breach on my mark. You. Get the lights. A man taps his radio thrice.
Lights go off.
Omni-Vision goggles go on. They they swap through different frequencies of the electromagnetic spectrum until they reach infrared and get thermal vision. That is the point they quietly move into the dark room as one of four and shoots an electrified shotgun slug.. Invulnerable? Unkillable? Didn't really matter. Conductivity and having a nervous is what mattered. A nervous system…that when charged with electricity , ordered the muscles to tense with little regard to raw will alone.
He was human, in a way. He always was. But the veil of being wholly human had long slipped away. The sensations he had when he was cyborg that beat the shit out of superhumans was the same. It was funny, the fact that in order to go forward, he had to become just like his enemies. Desiring power to no end. Nano-blood filled his muscles with levels of oxygen far passed any man. He could move at full speed with Olympian speed and relentless stamina. End of the day, it was all the same. Humans. Metahumans. Whatever. Power was all that really mattered.
Laughing. The beams deflected from one blade and was stopped by the next. Anything that would hit would be blocked by the BNT in his armor, making the shots seemingly all the more futile.
He wasn't at home in the dark, but it was good enough. Good enough to pick up frantic breathes of near by prey. Good enough ti gauge the distance of those who yelled out orders. Good enough to know who was dead when they dropped to the ground and who needed to be split into pieces.
It was his default state of being. It wasn't some demon that had possessed him. No. It was one of his own making. A manifestation of his desire to swing his sword with wanton abandon while the enemy worried about trying to slice their own. He didn't care if he had cut down a teammate because everyone on this ship was meat lined up for the slaughter.
And before him stood a piece of very prime meat.
They underestimated the man's training. They though him simply some glorified pirate who had gotten his hands on some high end gear. But he'd the enhanced reflexes, the awareness and movement of someone skilled and experienced. Not just superhuman.
A rare find these days.
He moved from cover to cover, sniffing out positions by the means of watching where the body parts flew on the moonlight of the upper deck when Maverick bullets hit. He sent his rockets all around the upper deck to deal with the opposition, the first to draw Maverick blood among his men and much of it. Given the rockets blew those hit to pieces and sent shrapnel into those too close. Cover did well to protect all the rest.
Funny how the fate of battles like these were all determined by a couple people. And one of those happened to be someone staring at him with abhorrent and ominous eyes. Eyes that became increasingly more awake and increasingly more aware. Ones which held the expression of something that was him. But not him whole.
“I can't wait to flay you like a ****ing fish.”
The stranger didn't have any banter to return.