“…?”
The shadow began to move strangely as the thug and his boss watched.
It reached down to pick up the stun gun, then placed it on the seat of the bike.
I guess it must be too difficult to use two weapons at once, the thug decided. In the next moment, the shadow gripped the special police club with both hands.
And twisted it.
“Wha—?!”
At this, the two men could not contain their shock, and they shared a look. What kind of sleight of hand could possibly bend a police baton like that? If anything, the shadow’s frame was slender, not the kind of body that suggested feats of great strength.
In any case, the shadow had now given up the weapons it had just gained—but rather than providing relief to the men, they were even more confused. The level floor of reality that moored their minds was being removed.
Now that the thing was empty-handed again, the thug reached out for a metal pipe leaning against a fence. The leader noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye and brandished his knife again.
Cold sweat dotted their foreheads. Only that unpleasant sensation kept their minds anchored to the reality before them.
“What the hell was that…a threat?” the leader growled, eyeing the bent club. A drop of sweat trickled down into his mouth, and he swallowed it. The thug barely noticed, gripping his pipe and panting heavily. His breathing grew steadily worse, until he realized that his legs, back, and chin were all trembling. The ostentatious club-bending performance had admirably served its menacing purpose.
The shadow started to walk closer, as though to confirm the effect of its show.
“Hand to hand, eh? At least you’ve got guts,” the leader boldly declared. Unlike the thug, he’d made up his mind to fight. Eyes flashing, he approached the shadow, knife in hand.
It was three yards away. Two more steps, and he would be close enough to stab.
Gassan’s a man who can use a knife when the time calls for it, the thug knew. He followed his leader, ready with his metal pipe.
The leader would take one more step, his hostility shifting to bloodlust, then with ultimate malevolence, he would stab the opponent. Only the knowledge that his boss was the kind of man to step across that line gave the thug the courage and security to follow behind him. There was no feeling of taboo about murder at this point, and the shadow itself was so unreal that the recognition of killing another human being didn’t even apply here.
Sensing impending victory within his companion’s aggression, the thug clenched his metal pipe harder. But the next moment, their hope for triumph was completely demolished.
The shadow seemed to reach around its back, and in the next moment, a part of its black form swelled up.
It was like stygian smoke erupting from the shadow, writhing with a will of its own. Black masses squirmed like black snakes out of the black shadow’s black gloves.
The trail traced a vivid, eerie path through the air, like an inky brush dipped into a bucket of water. Eventually, the movement consolidated, building a form—a shape with meaning.
The two wide-eyed men finally saw, bathed in the light from the streetlamps and parking garage, that their foe was not human. They couldn’t help but see.
In the instant when the black blob broke free from the shadow’s body, something like charcoal soot escaped its form. It was as though the riding suit was melting away into the air, making everything aside from the helmet indistinct and hazy under the light.
Their brains were in a greater panic, now that they were fully isolated from the reality they’d known their entire lives. But with escape impossible, their bodies could only faithfully carry out the last orders they’d received. His expression locked in a nightmare rictus, the knife-bearing leader pulled back his weapon, pointing it at the shadow before him. After a moment of hesitation, he thrust the knife forward at the shadow’s midriff, but…
The arm holding the knife shook with a dull shock before the blade reached the shadow. He did not drop it, but the impact rocked his stance enough to put him off-balance.
“?!”
The sharp, black form that hit the point of the knife began to take shape in the darkness.