Chapter Twenty-one - Atychiphobia

  The panic amidst our group quickly ensued. Before we could muster up the will and time to do anything, the door was already down, and with only a few rooms between us and the intruder, I had to act fast.

  I yelled out towards my assistant. “Sylphie! Get Heather to the top floors! Now!”

  They quickly hurried up the stairs. Luckily, the layout of the building allowed them to move there without crossing the intruder. However, Heather is frail and old, and they will not make it before this trespasser shows up. As for me, I was the sole person here who could amount to any sort of resistance – it was my duty to protect them, no matter the cost. My heart was still beating faster and faster, making me warier than ever. Whoever this is, they must mean to cause harm, and I need to be prepared for that.

  A few seconds later, footsteps sounding from the direction of the front entrance got closer and closer. In a few moments, I will have to encounter this enemy. My surroundings did allow for some extended movement options, but my wounded shoulder disagreed with that notion by reacting with stinging pain. Even so, why would a burglar barge into this place? I have no clue who it could be, and it doesn’t matter – they will be stopped no matter what.

  They were now about five meters away from me, only being separated by thin walls, and they were fast approaching. I assumed a ready position, and awaited their arrival.

  Everything got silent around me. Some intrusive thoughts started screaming into my ears a word that perfectly described the situation. Atychiphobia – the fear of failure, the exact thing I am feeling right now. Right after I solve the greatest mystery of my life, my life is threatened instantly. What if I fail? The truth will be lost with me. Not only that, but in comparison, the much more important lives of Sylphie and Heather will be lost, too. No matter how I think about it, failure is not an option. It was time to act.

  A split-second later, the mysterious stranger barges through the doorway into the living room, where they only found me in a battle-ready stance. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw who it was. The once-fearsome malefactor, whose moves have evaded me last time, has now stood in front of me, wearing a straight-faced mask, and wielding a fearsome Purging Nail. It was the Face, who has come to reap our lives.

  I stood perfectly still, wary and watching their every move. I know their capabilities, and I can safely say that a head-on fight would prove difficult. The distance between us measured the length of the couch me and Sylphie sat on, placing me in safe distance just outside her range. I still have my gun, and the moment they take even the slightest step towards me, I will-

  “Where is the old lady?” The voice behind the mask spoke.

  What? The Face is here to not kill me, but Heather? I was confused, but also surprised to learn that she is capable of reasonable speech. Up until now, the Face remained a cold and composed killer. I still haven’t forgotten the nasty wound she caused me, and I would make sure it won’t happen again.

  Her voice gave off the impression that she was incredibly battle-worn – it had lost all sense of femininity it may have had, and only resembled a coarse voice.

  “Not here,” I responded.

  The menacing look of the mask stared deep into me, and the eyes behind it did the same. The Face had a look of bloodlust on her, and the sharp weapon in her hands only certified that idea. She looked like she was about to lunge at me any second. I trusted my training with the service pistol, and that I could reasonably pull it out of my holster hidden in my coat before she could strike.

  “…Vince Capleaf,” she deeply inhaled and spoke my name.

  “I will not- “

  I swiftly sidestepped as soon as I could, jumping right away from her. That was incredibly close! The whole movement from the both of us took less than a second. She went straight for the kill right there. It was almost superhuman. From standing two or three meters away from me, she closed the gap instantly with one hop and immediately tried to stab me with the Purging Nail. I understand it now – this is exactly how the murders happen. The Face utilizes her immense speed and strength to catch the victim unaware. She aimed for my throat while I spoke – the exact place where the wound is! I was mere milliseconds away from certain death. It was a miracle that I managed to come out unscathed.

  Or so I thought. I tapped around my facial area to check for any signs of injury. And I couldn’t have been more wrong – my entire left cheek was lacerated all the way to my ear. As soon as my brain registered that, the pain came in. Then, the blood started pouring, covering the whole left side of my face in red. It was horrible – not as seizing as the shoulder wound she also caused, but much more painful. This is no longer a game, but a serious fight for survival. The Face intended to finish me, right here and now. I was laid on the floor, contemplating how to combat her. Without further hesitation, I reached for my gun, and I aimed straight for her torso.

  “Not happening,” she said.

  In yet another impossibly short moment, she crouched to my level and effortlessly cleaved through the hand that held the pistol. The motion was so smooth that I didn’t even feel the hand detach from my forearm. In one moment, I felt it was there, and in the next, nothing was left to move. Almost immediately after, the hand started bleeding profusely, and with that came unbearable pain. No matter how much I tried, this was a one-sided slaughter. In less than ten seconds, I have lost half of my face and my arm. Just how is this person human?

  It didn’t matter anymore. She stood over me, nail in hand, and I was out of cards to play. But that is what I wanted her to think – the gun was still within my reach, and I could extend my left arm for it while she stood there. In a quick jolt of muscles, I reached for the pistol and attempted to-

  “Stop.”

  Another debilitating amount of pain surged throughout me. The nail she held was now stuck firmly in my left wrist, pinning me to the ground. She must have thrown it. That marked the moment my consciousness stopped thinking straight. The pain from several sources in my body overpowered my reasoning, and I wailed in agony. It was the most aching agony I have ever felt, and it only served as a reminder that I failed. The Face stood atop my ripped-apart body, and she was about to kill me. No second chances this time – I was about to die.

  Then, she spoke again. “You caused Father a lot of problems.”

  I couldn’t hear her anymore. My ears started ringing, blocking out the sounds of my surroundings. The only thing I heard was myself screaming externally, and my body internally. It was a terrifying mix of debilitating pain and mind-numbing sensations. I couldn’t feel anything anymore.

  “He has taken these measures against you.”

  My vision was about to fade any second. I was on the verge of descending into unconsciousness yet again at the behest of the Face. However, a volley of rage started simmering along with the pain, showing that I was still willing to fight. I may have lost a hand, but that only means that I still have three limbs to fight with.

  In one fast motion, I swung my handless arm above me, making impact with both of her legs and bringing her down to the floor with me. While she fell, I released my other arm by lifting it along with the nail inside it. She has found herself in my grasp, and I began mercilessly choking her, trying to drain her of life. With my one remaining hand, I wrapped my fingers around her small tender neck, and with no regard for if she survives it, I clenched the hand as hard as I could. In the grasp, I felt something snap, and I was unsure of if it was something in my arm, or something in her neck. Either way, I continued to tighten my grip, making veins pop out profusely. She struggled incessantly, but adrenaline has empowered me. I wasn’t thinking anymore – this body only served to kill you, Face.

  Your much smaller hands are unable to release my grip. I will crush your neck until you can no longer breathe. You have caused me way too much suffering – it’s only fair that I do the same to you, right? The sounds that your throat is making right now are beautiful. I want to see the distress you feel, show me what’s under your mask. I still have this stump of a hand, and I can use it to knock the mask off.

  I was pushed backwards. I don’t know what happened, but I think that I was kicked. Either way, she was free from my grasp, and that moment of berserk rage revitalized me somewhat. I wasn’t going to lose this fight. I just proved that we are on equal standing by overpowering you with one arm. Your weapon still remains lodged in my right arm, but you yourself are defenseless.

  “Any last words?” She said in an oxygen-deprived coughing voice.

  I was deceived, and all of my will to fight vanished in an instant. She was standing again, and in her hands, she held my service pistol – fully loaded as I left it. This was it, there was no more fighting to be done. She won. I was still kneeling on the ground, battered and bloodied. But she stood tall and victorious, pointing the barrel of my own gun against me. All that battle-ready rage turned into fear once again, and I was left unable to retort. This time, I am going to actually perish.

  The bells. The church bells echoed throughout my ears, as if they were encouraging this fate. Everything around me seemed to fade, and before me stood some kind of church, and the bell in the tower rang proudly. The noise was strong and impactful, and it sounded around every two seconds. The echo on the noise permeated the whole area. I was hearing voices – voices that cheered my name as it was about to enter the underworld. Was this my fate? To die in obscurity, as all of my goals vanish before me? The bells were the only response to my questions. They continued to ring, as if there were never any questions in the first place.

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  A gunshot was heard.

  A voice spoke.

  “Needy, inane, slothful, and duly upsetting.”

  In a twisted turn of events, exceedingly unexpected, a savior has emerged like it was a scene from the movies. I recognized that voice, and with it, that sequence of words that only continued to extend as my search went on. Out of nowhere, Doctor Faust has emerged to intercept!

  I finally grasped what just happened. The gunshot was indeed fired, but it wasn’t the gun aimed at me, but the gun that Faust held in her hands! The Face stumbled, and the hand that had a firm grip on my weapon was ripped asunder. The bullet pierced that hand, rendering it unable to hold the pistol anymore, saving both me, and my bloodied ass.

  However, the battle was not over. The gun that Faust held is one that I recognize. It is a special tool used in emergencies at the DPD, and it is placed in glass boxes around the halls. This type of gun is loaded with a singular bullet in order to make sure that it does not fall into the wrong hands, but in our case right now, it means that the rest will have to be done by Faust herself. I am in no shape to fight anymore – I am quickly losing blood, and my arms are barely moving. I’m afraid that the rest of the job will be left to the doctor.

  Their eyes meet, each side more determined than the other. Faust throws the emptied weapon away, and does something I never expected. The fact that she is here is an impossible miracle in of itself, but for her, there is something that she needs to do herself. This is the first time she sees the happenings of MC-13 in action, and she will not let the people who caused her so much pain and anguish leave with just a sentencing on their head.

  Yes, I know you too well, Faust. You sought after revenge, and this is the day that you will finally earn it. Before you stands the perpetrator that is responsible for hundreds of murders. As you said yourself – they were done for the sake of nothing. However, you are now here for a greater cause. And you know this, too, that there is no greater cause than to fight on behalf of someone else. That is precisely why you took off your pristine white glove and threw it to the location of your opponent. The gesture to challenge your opponent, it is only fitting that you are the one to do it. No words were exchanged between the two, but they understood that fighting is the only thing that will be happening.

  Both of them wielding only their body to fight, they approached each other with the intent to defeat the other. The Face, in comparison, only had one hand to work with, while Faust was uninjured. I know Faust, and her hand-to-hand capabilities are something that she honed in her free time whenever she could. However, could she really defeat the demon that slaughtered hundreds of people with just a nail in her hands? My only worry was eliminated with the initiating gunshot that crippled the Face, possibly leveling the field. Even though it may not seem like it, this fight is equal.

  The Face, still composed, clad in a slick black suit, unhesitatingly progressed toward Faust, who wore her usual only-white attire. From my perspective, it looked as if the colors black and white were to clash any second now. It was strangely metaphorical for this encounter to happen. What was left for me to do is cheer Faust on. This is the battle that she coveted for twenty years – it would be wrong to interrupt it.

  The two sides paced towards each other, and I could tell that severe blows were about to erupt any second. It was only a matter of time until one of them acts first. Faust had a look of confidence on her face, while the Face herself remained constant as ever. Then, suddenly, the first move was made.

  The Face dashed downwards to the side of Faust and began preparing a punch that was presumably aimed towards the side of her ribcage. There was so much haste in her movements – it was hardly believable that I was supposed to avoid any of it. However, Faust, who actually trained her body, unlike me, merely moved to her side to avoid the hit. Then, right afterwards, she took off her white trench coat and threw it in between them, creating a blinding screen. The Face was still distracted from missing the punch, and I immediately noticed what the doctor did. She made a perfect opening for a large strike. She was completely concealed from the sight of her opponent, and leaped into the air, intending to perform a swinging kick in the upper parts of the Face.

  It worked out perfectly, and the Face suffered a massive blow that knocked her backwards. The kick landed right into her mask, shattering it in the process. It was a marvelous attack that both utilized the element of surprise and the goal of unmasking the killer. Not only that, but the heavy and lumpy coat was now taken off, allowing more freedom for movement.

  As for the Face, her literal face has been revealed. She looked quite affected and scarred, proving that the mask served more than just hiding her identity. She had been seemingly killing for a good number of years now, it would only be natural that she would amass some scars during that time. However, she was not happy. It was probably the first time in a long while that someone met her match. I saw the confusion fizzle away from her person, and she fully locked in.

  With no hesitation, the Face charged towards Faust, who stood calmly, awaiting her attacks. What ensued next is a barrage of widely aimed punches from many angles and sides, performed by both sides at once. The Face rashly used even her severed arm to fight, uncaring about the pain. They blocked, avoided, and parried each other several times within a second, and every attempt to damage the other was masterfully avoided. At least until Faust threw off her sense of balance with a block mixed with a push – that then followed up into a close-ranged elbow strike aimed straight towards her face.

  I never imagined that Faust could be so brutal in an actual encounter, but here she was, valiantly exchanging blow after blow with no intention of losing. However, the Face was determined to not be hit a second time, and the elbow strike was endured with both of the Face’s arms. Despite the fact that one of them was gravely injured, she still used it to fight as if the injury was never there. In fact, she didn’t even seem to flinch when the gunshot ravaged her hand – pain is seemingly not a concern to her, and knowing that awakened a tinge of desperation within me.

  Faust had the advantage of longer reach, because she was noticeably taller than the Face. However, I could visibly see the difference in the strength of their attacks. The Face put a lot of pressure on Faust in that last exchange – once she adapts to her calculated movement, there is no telling if she is able to block everything.

  They got back to it, even mixing a few kicks in the barrages of attacks. This time, the Face seemed to target Faust’s lower areas. It seems she realized that she was disadvantaged with her shorter reach, and changed the strategy to reflect on that. Then, one of the kicks she performed transformed into a hook that pulled on Faust’s leg, sweeping her stance. It was unexpected for her as she couldn’t retaliate at all. As she fell, the Face performed a twisting motion to build up momentum for a descending kick. What I witnessed next was the Face hopping into the air, with a kick prepared to impact with Faust, who laid on the floor. It was a terrific example of how bodily-abled the Face truly was. Faust was unable to retort, absorbing the whole hit that landed straight into her torso.

  The Face called out to her. “Foolish.”

  It was a taunt that served to break down Faust’s resolve. Even though she got back up to her feet, I could tell that her kick caused some serious internal injury – a limp was added to her stride. However, Faust was still unrelenting, determined to continue fighting. One attack was not enough to bring her down, and she willed it so that any further attacks wouldn’t either.

  When I looked over to Faust, I witnessed something that I haven’t seen in the seven years that we haven’t worked together for. Something that the scientist Faust would never even think of doing. Even after taking such an incapacitating strike, Faust made an expression that you would never see on any ordinary human.

  That damn smile. That creepy smile that showed just how much you relished violence against the people you deemed worthless. Your twisted self that you repressed for so long has escaped the confines of your being. You were always a sadist, and I knew that very well. I just didn’t know when I would see that side of you again.

  I could swear that as I blinked, I saw Faust dash straight to her opponent before I could react. Then, the Face made a brief attempt to halt her advance by attacking first with a short punch straight into her solar plexus. That would have devastated anyone but Faust, who only flexed her abdominal muscles to negate the blow, and then landed a precise uppercut straight into the Face’s jaw, knocking her backwards yet again. She overpowered her opponent in every sense of the word.

  However, the Face disregarded the outcome of that exchange, and immediately followed up with a powerful headbutt aimed straight at Faust’s twisted grimace. It happened so fast, so fast that there was no room to dodge the attack. Faust had to endure it, but even that proved to be difficult. She stumbled backwards from the sheer power and torque of the attack, and her glasses were shattered in an instant. It is almost unbelievable how much power is stored within that small silver-haired lady.

  The tension was only increasing from here as they both grew more determined. There was no room for exhaustion in their plans – both of them unrelentingly continued to fight.

  The Face taunted. “You are out of tricks.”

  Faust only smiled in response, although it is debatable if that expression can even be called a smile anymore. Her eyes had a crazed look to them, and her mouth was fixed to a demented smile. To the saying of her being out of tricks, she promptly reacted with hurling a flower vase from the coffee table straight into her opponent’s face. The ceramic vase shattered against the Face’s block, and in the time that it took to travel to the Face, Faust was already next to her, charging up for a strong finisher kick.

  I almost saw the scene in slow-motion, and it was a near-perfect attack. An opening was made by the shattering of the vase. Then, Faust used the time created by the opening to prepare an attack that couldn’t be reasonably avoided or blocked. She gave her opponent only one choice, and that was to endure her whole might in one concentrated strike.

  In a split-second, Faust lifted her leg, contorted her body, and delivered a dynamic blow to the Face. It was a strike that could have felled a tree, but the Face disagreed with that idea. She caught her leg, and performed a jab in the shape of a spear with her hand aimed towards Faust’s eyes. However, Faust was faster, and caught her hand right before the impact was made.

  I caught a glimpse of Faust’s devious smile just now, at it told me exactly what she intended to do. They were located right next to a glass coffee table, and they were fiercely interlocked. However, Faust is taller, and with that, she is also heavier. In one big motion, she swung her adversary over herself, and rammed her head-first straight into the now shattered coffee table.

  The room fell silent. With that, the battle concluded. I thought that no one would get up from such a predicament. The shards made from the impact lacerated the Face from top to bottom, creating several bleeding nicks and cuts around her head and neck. She seemed to stop fighting – the loss was on her side.

  I was amazed. However, with that amazement came a blood rush that had nowhere to flow, and my consciousness started slipping again. In my last moments, I only saw Faust standing triumphantly over her unconscious opponent. And with that, I knew that the day ended in victory.