I Possess the SSS Skill: Future Sight-Chapter 31: The Vast Difference
In that alley submerged in the darkness of the middle sector, where the rain washed the city’s sins without purifying them, the "Black Joker" stood like a statue carved from hell over the torn body of the detective.
The air was saturated with the scent of rusted copper emanating from Arthur Sterling’s blood, the smell of burnt gunpowder, and the magical ozone left behind by the black Eitra bullets.
Arthur, trembling in a pool of his own blood and stomach fluids, looked at the smiling mask that concealed his executioner’s face.
His bulging eyes reflected a bitter surrender, a break that could never be mended.
"What’s the point...?" Arthur spat a clot of coagulated blood, his voice emerging as a wet rattle from his torn throat.
"What’s the point of telling you anything... if I’m going to die anyway?"
He was panting, trying to cling to remnants of dignity that no longer existed.
He had realized that this masked man would not leave him alive whether he spoke or remained silent.
The Joker was silent for a moment.
Raindrops slid across the surface of his black mask with its dark blue lines, as if the mask itself was crying cold tears.
Then... a faint, muffled, and deeply sick chuckle escaped from behind the mask.
A laugh that made what remained of Arthur’s hair stand on end in terror.
"Oh my God..." the Joker spoke, his tone carrying a disgusting sadistic pity, like a teacher scolding a slow student.
"It seems that you, Mr. Sterling, learned nothing during your years of service in intelligence. It seems you don’t know the vast, deep, and technical difference... between a merciful death and a slow death."
The Joker bent down slowly, the movement of his leather coat producing a rough sound.
"Let me explain."
The Joker raised his left hand, extending his index finger and thumb.
From the space between his fingers, particles of black Eitra began to condense.
They gathered and solidified within seconds, forming a "nail." A black metallic nail, long and sharp like a surgical needle, pulsing with a nightmarish coldness and emitting faint dark vapors.
Arthur’s eyes widened with animalistic terror.
He realized what was about to happen.
He tried to crawl backward, his face twisting into an expression of absolute horror.
He turned his mud-stained face toward the wall and tightly shut his right eye, almost tearing his eyelid, groaning, crying, and pleading without words.
But the Joker didn’t care.
Mercy had not been in his vocabulary since the Valter Palace burned.
The Joker extended his hand and pinned Arthur’s head down with crushing force using his heavy tactical boot.
Then, very slowly and deliberately... he brought the black nail closer to Arthur’s closed right eye.
He did not drive it in all at once.
Instead, he inserted the sharp tip over his closed eyelid.
"AAAAAAAAA!"
The nail pierced the thin layer of skin, tearing through the muscle tissue of the eyelid.
Hot blood gushed out, mixing with the rain.
Arthur screamed a scream that tore his vocal cords, but the Joker did not stop.
He pulled the nail slightly upward, ripping the eyelid completely like a piece of worn cloth, revealing the white eyeball, bloodshot and spinning hysterically from the sheer pain.
Then... with a cruel motion devoid of any humanity, the Joker drove the Eitra-burning nail directly into the pupil.
Splurt...
The sound of the vitreous humor being pierced was audible and disgusting.
The eye exploded from within under the pressure of the Eitra. Viscous fluids and black blood splattered across Arthur’s face.
The black Eitra began burning the optic nerve, sending waves of pure, raw, unfiltered pain directly to the detective’s brain.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHH!"
Arthur’s scream surpassed the limits of human sound.
It was the scream of a being being flayed alive in the depths of hell.
His body arched upward, convulsing in the mud like a fish thrown into boiling oil.
His shattered hands struck the asphalt unconsciously, and bloodied foam poured from his mouth.
The Joker pulled the nail out, which evaporated instantly into the air, and looked at his prey writhing in indescribable agony.
"Do you understand the difference now?" the Joker whispered, his voice dripping with a bone-breaking coldness.
Arthur continued screaming, gasping and crying, his right eye now a bleeding black cavity pouring heavily.
The pain had destroyed what remained of his mental strength.
And before the Joker could open his mouth to ask his question again, to squeeze the names of the lab financiers from this human wreck... something happened.
The atmospheric pressure suddenly changed.
The air in the alley grew heavy.
Raindrops began to tremble, then altered their trajectory, falling at an angle.
The Joker fell silent and raised his masked head toward the dark sky.
From between the dense gray clouds, a terrifying mechanical roar emerged.
The sound of blades slicing through the air violently, growing louder by the second.
Three.
There were three massive searchlights, white and deep like the eyes of predatory beasts, piercing the darkness and focusing directly on the alley.
The violent winds from the three helicopters’ rotors struck the ground, toppling trash containers and scattering rainwater like miniature cyclones.
Three combat helicopters belonging to the Federal Magical Intelligence, armored in non-reflective black, surrounded the sky above the alley like giant crows awaiting a feast.
The Joker looked at the helicopters, then lowered his gaze to Arthur, who was still groaning beneath his foot.
"It seems I won’t be getting any use out of you anymore..." the Joker said coldly.
Arthur, with his one remaining good eye, looked at the searchlights, and a twisted, desperate, insane smile formed on his torn lips.
𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖
"Y-... you’ll be caught..." Arthur stammered, coughing blood, madness gleaming in his eye.
"You wo-... you won’t escape th—"
Bang!
He didn’t finish his sentence.
An Eitra bullet fired from the Glock’s muzzle pierced Arthur’s forehead directly between his eyes (or what remained of them).
The back of his skull exploded, brain and blood splattering against the brick wall behind him.
His lifeless head fell into the mud, and the detective’s groaning ended forever.
"Your kind has no right to live," the Joker spat the words with contempt as he pulled his foot off the corpse.
The Joker raised his gaze again, his crimson eyes narrowing behind the mask, analyzing the situation with computational speed amid the violent winds and blinding lights.
In the first helicopter, hovering from the north, he saw three snipers wearing heavy armor, aiming massive Eitra rifles at him.
He did not recognize any of them.
Just intelligence pawns.
In the second helicopter, from the east, there were three people.
He did not recognize the two holding heavy machine guns, but his eyes froze on the third.
She stood at the edge of the open helicopter door, the wind battering her long black coat.
Her short black hair whipped violently, and her eyes gleamed with unmistakable hatred even from this distance.
"Eva Blackwood."
Yes. The black-haired bitch.
The woman who had nearly killed him last time, who shattered his mask and forced him to flee like a rat through the sewers.
She held her sniper rifle, a smile of vengeance drawn across her face.
Then, the Joker shifted his gaze toward the third helicopter, positioned to the south, blocking the alley’s exit.
"Damn it..." the Joker muttered, his grip tightening on the pistol handle until his knuckles turned white.
"This is completely off-plan."
In that helicopter stood the blond young man, the agent who had pretended to be Eva’s lover in the previous mission, the one who had nearly blown his head off if not for interference.
He held an assault weapon and looked tense.
But... he was not the real nightmare.
Beside that young man, sitting at the edge of the open helicopter... was a girl.
A girl with short silver hair shining under the searchlights, and crimson eyes like fresh blood, resembling the Joker’s own.
She wore an elegant military uniform, her legs dangling in the air with absolute indifference.
While everyone else aimed their weapons toward the alley with tense faces filled with violent intent, this girl... was drinking juice from a small carton using a plastic straw!
She looked down at the Joker as if watching a boring stage play, or an insect trapped in a glass jar. No weapon in her hand, no combat stance—just a terrifying, cosmic coldness.
"What the hell..." the Joker swallowed, a sense of absolute danger ringing alarm bells in his mind.
"That girl... her aura... she’s not human. She’s a monster in the form of a teenager!"
Suddenly, through the helicopters’ loudspeakers, Eva Blackwood’s sharp voice rang out:
"Joker! The game is over! Surrender now, or we’ll turn you into a sieve of bullets!"
"Surrender?" the Joker laughed hysterically inside his mask.
"To intelligence? I’d rather burn myself alive."
"Free fire!" a commander’s voice shouted from one of the helicopters.
The gates of hell opened.
