Divine Darkness

Chapter 3

Mikaela sat on her black satin couch, drinking a hot cup of coffee and watching TV. It had been three days since she killed Eric Foster. General Darce had harshly scolded her for it, telling her that if another mission took the wrong turn, she would be removed from Spec Ops.

What an asshole. She thought. Least I can catch a break. The apparel she donned definitely didn't resemble a military lieutenant. She wore a black tanktop and dark grey jeans. Her glossy black hair, usually kept out of her face by a red headband, hung messily down her face and covered her eyes. Unlike how it appeared when tied up, her hair actually flowed down to her lower back.

She was watching The Walking Dead on TV, but didn't seem too interested. As a matter of fact, she looked tired. The coffee she was drinking was decaffeinated, so its effects didn't give her any energy. The disgusted faces she made suggested that it tasted bitter.

Once she finished the coffee, she lazily lifted herself from off the couch. Warmth spread throughout her body as her bare feet met the wool carpet. The warmth left her when her feet touched the cold tile floor of her kitchen. She carelessly dropped the cup in her sink and left the kitchen.

Though she was feeling lazy, something drew her towards her personal training room. Once inside the spacious room, she looked around at everything. There were posters, notes, charts, and other media hung up on the dark green walls, most notably the charts of every martial arts moves known to man; she had mastered them all. All sorts of exercise equipment, such as weight benches and exercise bikes, rested in the corners and against the walls. Practice mats made up the floor of the room, while a large boxing ring stood in the center. Training dummies were suspended above practice gear, which all lay at the front of the room.

Trained to my mental and physical peak, Mikaela thought grudgingly, And I still couldn't prevent this curse.

She ran her hand along her stomach, her expression suggesting a bad memory with childbirth. The "curse" she was talking about was her lost child. The factor that made it a curse was the one who had impregnated her: Satan himself.

Mikaela was always a strong believer of God, though she had a rather dark religion. Having a child with the enemy of her Lord didn't sit well with her at all. Then again, killing the demon child went against her own morals, so she could never bring herself to find and eliminate it. One of the worst things about this curse was that she could never understand how Satan seduced her into sex.

I was a fucking idiot, that's why. I wasn't thinking at all. I allowed that bastard to cloud my judgement and lure me in. Now I'm living with the guilt and he's resting easy. Anger began to rise inside of Mikaela, but she closed her eyes and prayed to God to ask for His forgiveness.

Sighing warily, she walked back toward the kitchen. She set her sights on the refrigerator next to her dishwasher. However, once she closed her hand on the handle, she hesitated. She held her head down with a shameful look in her eyes.

What's wrong with me? I claim to worship God, yet I attempt to drown my past with booze. She shook her head, unsure of her choice. It pained her conscience to falsely believe in God while making stupid decisions. Fuck it. It's too late to care now.

The cold air of the refrigerator hit her in a refreshing wave. On the top shelf, she spotted what she was looking for: a six-pack of Budweiser beer. After grabbing a can and closing the fridge, she made her way back to the living room on the couch.

A commercial was playing on the TV. Nothing really interesting. Mikaela popped the cap of the beer can and started lightly sipping, ignoring the bitter, alcoholic flavor.

How much longer is it gonna be before I break down and commit suicide? She stared ahead, not really paying attention to the TV. This curse had haunted her ever since she first discovered that she was filled with Satan's demonic seed. It was always her own personal mission to find and confront her demon son. How she would deal with him was unknown to her for now.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden news broadcast on the TV. "Oh great, let me guess," She rolled her eyes, "Some idiot got killed by another idiot with a gun."

The headline on the broadcast read "Mysterious killer with a name!". The reporter, a tall, clean shaven man, was standing in front of a murder scene, which took place at a beach. There was police tape, masked units carrying a body bag, and bystanders near the scene all behind him as he spoke.

"...Police officials say that the victim's breasts were dissected and that she was suffocated from her own bowels, which were torn out and stuffed down her throat. Detective Wayne Morris also discovered a message carved into the victim's back. It said 'Do you know how to play hide and seek? If so, come and find me!'. The mysterious killer, who officials assume is a female, signed her name under the message: Acelia Rose."

Mikaela dropped the can of beer in shock. This was certainly not the usual shooting or knifing. And that name was vaguely familiar, a shard of her past that was long lost.

Acelia Rose. That name means something...perhaps a murderer I've dealt with before. Something suddenly clicked in her mind. The winner of that tournament in New York years ago. The same tournament where my mother was killed!

Even though her mother had been long dead, Mikaela vowed that she would not let her killer walk this earth alive. No matter what, this Acelia Rose was going to pay.

Mikaela got up from the couch, turned the TV off with a remote, and headed toward her training room. Fast walking past all the exercise equipment, she stopped in front of a poster of every pressure point on the human body. She grabbed up a pulse glove near the corner, strapped it on her hand, and opened her palm in the direction of the poster. Somehow the glove, which appeared to be connected with some magnetic force inside the wall, opened an entrance in the wall. Mikaela removed the glove, locked it with a security code, and placed it in a boxing glove as a disguise.

The secret entrance she walked through led to a miniature artillery of some sort. There were various weapons caches lined up against the grey walls, all labeled military grade. Attached to the walls were different variants of high tech body armor, the components ranging from steel to titanium. Explosives and other demolition tools rested in supply cases all the way in the back.

Despite all these gadgets and weaponry, Mikaela chose the seemingly most simple weapons amongst all of it: two steel pistols with silver tips. She called them Silverheads in order to distinguish them from any other handguns. First, she equipped herself with a jet black utility belt, strapping it onto her waist. Always favoring the Silverheads, she placed each pistol in her holsters.

"Now time for some real firepower." She had a smug grin on her face as she collected assorted types of ammunition cases and attached them to her belt.

The explosives in the back were not neglected. Mikaela added a smoke grenade, frag grenade, satchel charge, shock grenade, acid grenade, sonic grenade, and more to her arsenal.

However, something needed to be done about her appearance. She couldn't go into action with her hair in that way. After she left her secret arsenal, she locked it up and went to her bedroom. There, she brushed and combed her tangled hair a bit, tied it together in a ponytail, and put on a pair of black combat boots.

Now armed to the teeth and prepared, Mikaela started out the door. She had but one priority: Kill Acelia Rose.