Bound By Shadows

Chapter 9: A Shattered Silence (TW: Violence)

The clash between Red and Black was nothing short of cataclysmic. They stood in the heart of the compound, surrounded by shattered walls and the chaos of battle. Red's eyes were sharp, gleaming with an intense fury, while Black towered over him like a shadow from the past, his imposing figure exuding raw power.

"You should've stayed gone," Red growled, his voice laced with venom as he pulled out his dual pistols, aiming them squarely at Black. But Black just smirked, his face hidden behind a sleek black mask, the only visible feature being his soulless eyes that seemed to pierce through Red's very soul.

"I made this empire," Black said coldly. "And now I'm here to take it back."

Red wasted no time, firing shot after shot. Each bullet whizzed through the air, but Black moved like a spectre, dodging with eerie grace as if anticipating every strike. The ground beneath them trembled as they collided in a brutal exchange of blows, Red's guns now holstered, fists swinging, as Black's blade slashed through the air with deadly precision.

Across the battlefield, Yellow was in his element. A manic grin split his face, eyes wide with glee as he danced between enemy Syndicate members, slashing through them with wild abandon. He leaped, flipping in the air, giggling as he sliced one man's throat, landing in a fluid motion to plunge a dagger into another's chest.

"Fifty! Fifty-one!" Yellow cackled, spinning with the grace of a man possessed. "Come on, come on! Give me more!" His laughter echoed through the compound as he weaved through attacks like a phantom, slicing low, kicking high, each movement effortless, a ballet of death.

"Seventy-five! Just a few more till I beat my record!" Yellow shouted, somersaulting over a Syndicate soldier and stabbing him in the back without missing a beat. He was a storm of blades, moving so fast it seemed like he was floating through the battlefield, an unstoppable force of insanity and glee.

Green, meanwhile, fought with brute force. His massive frame bulldozed through Syndicate members with punches that could break bones in a single hit. His silent, stoic demeanour was betrayed by the sheer ferocity of his strikes. He caught one enemy's wrist mid-swing, crushing it with a sickening crunch before tossing the man aside like a rag doll. Every punch he threw sent shockwaves through the ground, and bodies were flung away from him like leaves in the wind.

His brow furrowed in concentration, his massive fists swung like wrecking balls, colliding with anyone foolish enough to get close. A Syndicate soldier charged him, blade drawn, but Green's arm lashed out with the force of a sledgehammer, sending the man crashing into a nearby wall, the impact cratering the stone. Green, as usual, was silent—his calm, reserved nature a stark contrast to the violence he unleashed.

Orange stood in the heart of the fray, calm yet focused. Unlike the others, his fighting style was less about brute force or sheer speed. His movements were precise, calculated—like an experienced tactician on the battlefield. Orange fought with a pair of long, slender blades, each one gleaming as he twirled them effortlessly in his hands, always moving, never staying still.

A Syndicate soldier lunged at him from the side, but Orange was already there, parrying the attack with a swift, fluid motion. He spun, his blade cutting clean through the man's midsection before stepping back, eyes scanning for his next target. His style was almost surgical—minimal effort, maximum damage. Every strike was exact, every dodge perfect.

The soldiers coming at him barely had time to react before his blades found their mark. One came at him with a large axe, swinging with the force of a sledgehammer. Orange ducked, letting the weapon glide harmlessly over his head, before swiftly stepping behind the man and driving both of his blades into his back, twisting them for maximum pain. He pulled them out just as easily, sidestepping another attacker, his face calm and collected, as if the chaos of the battle around him didn't affect him at all.