(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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Out at sea, the night was unnaturally calm.
The moon hung low and heavy over the waters,
Its pale light reflecting off the dark waves —
FLASH! SPLASH!
"...."
A perfect cover for something vile brewing beneath the surface.
The Eclipse Dawn, a sleek, silver-and-black luxury cruiser, drifted silently across the ocean —
Its decks alive with sound and sin.
Music blared, muffled laughter echoed,
And the air was thick with perfume, alcohol,
And the unmistakable tang of narcotics.
Men in suits with eyes too cold for laughter and women wearing diamonds that didn't belong to them crowded the dance floors.
Armed guards lined the corridors,
Each one alert but pretending to be relaxed.
But the real business wasn't happening out there.
It was happening inside.
Inside the Private Chamber...
Behind a heavy black door —
Guarded by two men with cybernetic arms —
Lay the command room of the Eclipse Dawn.
The walls were lined with obsidian panels and subtle LED lights,
Giving the space a cold, shadowed glow.
A low mist from hidden vents curled around the floor,
Mixing with cigar smoke and expensive cologne.
Two men sat facing each other across a glass table.
On one side —
Mire Fang, a thin white man with slick platinum hair and serpentine eyes.
His smile was sharp, his skin pale,
And a faint greenish tint shimmered across his veins like poison moving under glass.
Every now and then,
His tongue flicked out —
Unnaturally long and forked.
Opposite him sat The Butcher,
An enormous African-American man built like a tank.
His muscles strained against his white shirt,
And a massive scar ran from his neck down to his shoulder.
His eyes, cold and unfeeling, glowed faintly red beneath the light —
Cybernetic implants, crudely grafted into his flesh.
A black briefcase lay open between them,
Revealing neatly stacked prototype weapons —
Compact, metallic rifles engraved with strange, foreign insignias.
Mire Fang poured himself a glass of dark red wine —
Though the way his tongue flicked as he drank made it clear it wasn't wine he enjoyed.
"I told you, Butcher,"
He hissed, his voice a soft rasp.
Hiss~
"Once the riot starts, the shipments will move under the radar. America will be too busy tearing itself apart to notice the fire we light across the ocean."
The Butcher leaned back,
Exhaling a heavy plume of smoke from his cigar.
Puff~
"I've heard your little speeches before, snake. You talk too much and bleed too little."
A faint smile curled Mire Fang's lips.
"...."
"And you, my friend, enjoy bleeding others too much. A shame we both can't have our fun at once."
The Butcher's massive hand slammed onto the glass table —
Crack!
The glass spider webbed instantly,
Trembling under the weight of his palm.
"Just get to the point,"
He growled.
"How long before your little fanatics cause their 'righteous chaos'?"
Mire Fang didn't flinch.
His grin widened.
Grin~
"The seeds are already sown. One week from now, protests will ignite in five cities. The racists scream, the media stokes, and the flames spread. While the fools burn each other — our ships will sail, and your buyers in Africa will have their guns."
The Butcher's lips curled into a grim smile.
"And the money?"
Mire Fang tossed a data chip across the table.
"Already transferred to your offshore accounts. As promised."
The Butcher caught it between two thick fingers,
"...."
Sliding it into his pocket.
"Then we're done here."
But Mire Fang raised a finger.
"Not yet. There's still the matter of—"
He froze.
"...."
For a moment,
The only sound in the room was the faint hum of the ship's engine and the distant music from above.
Then—
Thud.
The lights flickered.
Both men glanced up as the ceiling lights dimmed, one by one,
Until only the soft glow of the table remained.
"What the hell?"
The Butcher rose to his feet, his cigar dropping to the floor.
"We lose power?"
Mire Fang's eyes narrowed, the slit-like pupils dilating.
"...."
Frown~
"No… this isn't a malfunction."
And then, faintly —
Echoing through the vents —
Came the metallic hum of something unnatural.
A pulse.
Like the beating heart of energy itself.
The Butcher turned toward the door, motioning to his guards.
"Check it—"
He didn't finish.
The metal doors crumpled inward like tinfoil.
"...."
"...."
"...."
A glowing golden blade pierced straight through the lock and carved a molten arc,
Sending sparks raining across the floor.
Then the door exploded outward.
Boom!
And through the smoke walked Ra-One —
Rudra —
His armor glowing faintly under the dim light, eyes shining red through the mask.
The Brahmastra energy shimmered around him like an aura of divine fire,
Reflecting across the shattered black glass and the terrified eyes of the criminals.
"You two,"
He said calmly, his voice metallic and low, echoing with restrained power.
"Mire Fang. The Butcher. You're under arrest — or mercy, depending on how you answer what comes next."
Mire Fang hissed, retreating a step, his veins pulsing a sickly green.
Hiss~
"What are you? What's your hero name?"
Rudra tilted his head slightly.
"Well if you wanted to know, I will tell Ra-One…"
The Butcher grinned, cracking his neck.
Grin~
"Good. I was getting bored anyway."
His body tensed —
Veins bulging, skin hardening like stone as cybernetic implants hummed to life.
"Let's see if your fancy suit can bleed."
Half an Hour earlier…
The ocean stretched endlessly beneath a moonlit sky,
Its waves dark and restless.
Far ahead, the Eclipse Dawn cut through the waters like a serpent,
Its decks glowing with neon lights,
Its music echoing faintly across the sea.
Through the clouds above,
A faint red-gold streak burned across the night —
Rudra astride his hovering Brahmastra-powered bike.
The air shimmered behind him as golden sparks spiraled from the thrusters,
The hum of divine energy resonating.
He narrowed his eyes.
"Target in sight."
The ship's radar would pick up a normal aircraft —
But Rudra's vehicle wasn't normal.
It phased out of visible range as he approached the cruiser.
The closer he got, the heavier the stench of vice became:
Alcohol, sweat, and sin blending into one foul perfume that clung to the ocean air.
Rudra took a deep breath and muttered,
"Let's get this over with."
Then —
He jumped.
The bike immediately disassembled midair,
Dissolving into a thousand glowing crimson cubes that dispersed and vanished into the night.
He plummeted through the cold air —
whoosh!
— slicing into the black water below with a thunderous splash.
SPLAAASH!!!
The surface swallowed him whole,
Leaving only ripples that shimmered faintly in the moonlight.
Beneath the waves, everything was still.
The only sound was the rhythmic thrum of the ship's propellers somewhere above.
Rudra opened his eyes —
The glow beneath his mask illuminating the water in a golden hue.
His body cut through the currents as he swam,
Every movement smooth, controlled, and silent.
"...."
The hull of the ship loomed ahead, metallic and immense.
Rudra reached it and pressed his hand against the steel plating.
Golden lines of energy flowed from his palm like living veins,
Spreading across the surface.
"Brahmastra Flow — Adhesion."
With a faint hum, his hands and feet fused with the hull.
Then, step by step, he began to climb,
Moving up the side of the cruiser like a phantom spider scaling glass.
The ocean winds howled as he reached an open porthole —
An empty storage room illuminated by the flicker of party lights leaking through the corridor beyond.
He slipped inside noiselessly, landing in a crouch.
The room smelled faintly of oil and metal polish.
Beyond the door,
The muffled roar of music and laughter vibrated through the air.
He could hear people —
Dozens, maybe hundreds.
Rudra straightened slowly,
His armor's faint glow receding as he entered stealth mode.
He reached for the door handle, twisting it gently.
The door creaked open,
Revealing a narrow hallway with golden wallpaper and red carpet.
The further he walked,
The louder the sound became.
Bass-heavy music pounded against the walls.
The air was thick with smoke —
The scent of expensive cigars, perfume, and narcotics.
He turned a corner —
"...."
And froze.
A guard stood there,
Leaning against the wall,
Half-drunk and holding a pistol lazily in one hand.
His eyes widened when he saw Rudra's silhouette emerging from the shadows.
"Hey—!"
The man barked, straightening abruptly.
The muzzle of the pistol snapped upward, aiming directly at Rudra's head.
"Who the hell are you?!"
Rudra didn't speak.
"...."
His glowing eyes met the man's through the dark —
Calm, unflinching.
The guard's hand trembled slightly as he clicked the safety off.
"I said, who are—"
BZZZT!
Before he could finish,
Rudra raised his hand.
A tiny pulse of golden light flickered —
And the guard's weapon disassembled in his hand,
Crack! Crack!
The metal twisting apart into shards that clattered uselessly to the floor.
The man froze, stunned.
"Wha—"
Rudra moved.
In a blur,
He crossed the distance between them and slammed his palm into the man's chest.
The golden energy pulsed once —
A concussive burst that knocked the air from the guard's lungs and sent him crashing into the wall before collapsing unconscious.
Rudra caught him before his body hit the ground, lowering him silently.
"Sorry,"
He murmured.
"Wrong night to be working here."
He dragged the unconscious guard into a nearby cleaning closet,
Propping him up behind the door.
Then he straightened,
Turning his gaze down the long corridor toward the source of the noise.
The floor beneath his boots vibrated with the rhythm of the music —
Loud, obscene, alive with indulgence.
The central luxury pub,
Where the music pounded like thunder and the floor itself seemed to tremble beneath the bass.
The golden-lit corridor opened into a wide entrance adorned with black velvet ropes and glowing crimson symbols.
The scent of alcohol, smoke, and perfume rolled through the air like a toxic perfume cloud.
Before the entrance stood six bouncers,
Each built like a wall of muscle.
Their eyes immediately locked onto Rudra's silhouette emerging from the shadows —
The faint crimson flicker of his armor reflecting off their shades.
For a moment, there was silence —
"...."
"...."
"...."
Just the music thumping in the background.
Then one of them, a tall brute with tattoos running across his neck, scoffed and stepped forward.
"Hey! This is private property, shiny boy,"
He growled, cracking his knuckles.
Crack~ Crack~
"Heroes ain't welcome here."
The rest shifted around him like a pack of wolves circling prey.
Rudra's red eyes glimmered faintly through the mask.
He said nothing.
"...."
Another man —
His palm crackling with weak static arcs —
Sneered.
"What, cat got your tongue? Or you think the suit's gonna do the fighting for you?"
Bzzzt.
The electricity jumped between his fingers, lighting up the dim corridor.
A second guard stepped forward,
His head morphing into solid stone,
The sound of grinding rock echoing through the hallway.
"One hit, that's all it takes,"
He said, voice gravelly, pounding his head with pride.
Behind him, a man with spiked, steel-like hair let out a low chuckle.
Chuckle~
His hair sharpened further,
The strands shimmering like blades.
"Don't kill him too fast, Stonehead. I wanna see what's under that helmet first."
A few of the others laughed —
But it died quickly when Rudra finally moved.
He took a single step forward.
"Step aside,"
Rudra said, voice calm but resonant through the modulator in his mask.
"This is your only warning."
The tattooed man spat at the floor.
"Oh, tough guy, huh? Let's—"
He didn't finish.
Rudra blurred as he moved fast.
A golden shimmer burst where he had been standing —
And in the next instant,
He was behind them.
A wave of Brahmastra energy erupted outward like a concussive shockwave.
Boom!
The entire hallway vibrated as the shockwave launched the first three bouncers off their feet.
"...."
The electric one crashed into the bar door, sparks flying.
The man with the stone head staggered,
His arm fractured from blocking the impact.
The spiked-hair thug roared, lunging forward, his sharpened strands slicing through the air like knives.
"You're dead, you—!"
Rudra raised his hand —
A golden whip materialized, formed of condensed Brahmastra energy.
He flicked it once.
CRACK!
The whip coiled around the man's torso,
Yanking him upward before slamming him into the ceiling.
The lights shattered as his body hit the floor, unconscious.
"...."
The others hesitated, eyes wide.
"Who the hell is this guy?!"
One shouted, stumbling back.
Rudra's voice came low and even.
"I told you to step aside."
The remaining two bouncers —
One with elastic limbs and another who could emit sound waves through his nose—
Made their move simultaneously.
The soundwave guard screamed,
A deafening sonic blast that rattled the air,
While the elastic one tried to ensnare Rudra's arms.
Rudra clenched his fist, the golden glow intensifying —
And in a single motion, released a controlled Brahmastra burst.
The soundwave shattered midair like glass,
The elastic man's limbs snapping back painfully against his own body.
The dust settled.
The corridor was silent except for the distant echo of the music beyond the doors.
Rudra stood among the fallen,
His armor glinting faintly in the neon reflections.
He adjusted his gloves calmly and stepped toward the door.
Behind him, one of the conscious bouncers groaned,
"Wh… who are you…?"
Rudra paused at the threshold, glancing back over his shoulder.
"...."
Then he pushed open the door.
The sound of the party hit him like a wave —
Heavy bass, laughter, and chaos.
The heavy steel doors of the Eclipse Dawn's underground pub groaned open —
And Rudra stepped inside.
The lights within were low, tinted crimson and gold,
Flickering in time with the pounding bass of the music.
The air stank of liquor, gunpowder, and smoke.
Around the room, criminals —
Gangsters, mercenaries, and smugglers —
"...."
"...."
"...."
Froze mid-celebration,
Their eyes locking on the lone figure that had just entered.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then one of them barked out a nervous laugh.
"The hell is this— a cosplay convention?"
That broke the tension.
Chairs screeched back.
Boots thundered against the floor.
Within seconds,
A dozen rifles were drawn, the muzzles glinting under the strobe lights.
The men had already heard the noise from outside —
Their bouncers thrown like ragdolls,
The thuds echoing down the hall —
So their fingers were already on the triggers.
"Light him up!"
Someone roared.
The sound exploded through the room —
RATATATATATATA!
A storm of bullets filled the air.
Muzzle flashes turned the smoky room into a flickering inferno of noise and chaos.
But every single bullet stopped.
Thud. Ripple~ Thud. Ripple~
Thud. Ripple~ Thud. Ripple~
A golden wall of Brahmastra energy shimmered into existence in front of Rudra,
Glowing faintly like molten glass.
The bullets hung suspended midair,
Vibrating against an invisible barrier,
Their casings melting slowly before falling harmlessly to the floor.
The gangsters faltered.
One of them blinked.
"What— what the hell is that?!"
The scent of burnt gunpowder mixed with a faint metallic tang as Rudra calmly stepped forward,
The golden barrier parting around him like a living aura.
He tilted his head slightly.
"Finished?"
A few men exchanged panicked glances.
Others sneered, trying to hide their fear behind bravado.
"Forget the guns! Tear him apart!"
Several lunged forward —
Men whose quirks began to ignite and flare:
One's hands had changed to a metal bowl which seems to acts like a boxing gloves,
Another's skin hardened but with several cracks and sands poured out from his body as he move,
A third's arms lengthened into serpentine whips.
They roared and charged.
Rudra raised his hands.
His armor shimmered —
red energy cubes surging like liquid fire along his arms.
In an instant, two crimson, blade-like constructs formed around his forearms —
Their edges serrated with pure Brahmastra energy.
Rudra took a slow, deliberate breath.
"...."
His mask's glowing lines flared brighter.
The first thug reached him,
Swinging a massive metal fist to land a punch.Rudra sidestepped —
Fluid as smoke —
And his sword carved through the man's arm guard with a hiss.
Sparks flew.
The thug howled and crumpled.
Ahhhh!
A second attacker,
The one with the serpent arms,
Lashed out —
His elongated limbs snapping through the air like whips.
Rudra ducked, sparks flying as one whip grazed through the floor on its path.
Then, with a twist of his wrist,
Rudra's right sword spun —
And sliced through the limb.
The man screamed as his quirk snapped back violently.
Ahhh!
Rudra stepped forward, his voice low, calm, yet carrying through the chaos like thunder.
"You made your choice."
He crossed his blades.
A sharp hum filled the air.
WHOOM!
After five minutes...
The music stopped abruptly as the sound system fried under the shock.
The room fell silent, save for the groans of the defeated.
Rudra exhaled, lowering his blades.
Sigh~
"...."
The crimson glow dimmed slightly, retracting along his forearms.
From the far side of the room,
A single door remained intact —
Black, with golden accents.
Behind that door,
Is his tagets for today.
Mire Fang. The Butcher.
"...."
Rudra's golden eyes narrowed beneath his mask.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N):
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review!!! And power stone too!!!
Guys it will motivate me more?