Hitman With A Badass System

1411  Gaya's Disease

"System," Michael muttered under his breath. "What the fuck are we dealing with here?"

The System, for once, was less than helpful.

[The system suggests the host investigate further. Be badass and earn some badass points instead of come running to the system for every single thing.]

"You're a real goddamn help, you know that?" Michael growled, more to himself than to the System. He remembered, with a flicker of annoyance the times the System had refused to assist him. It was the System's way of pushing and forcing him to adapt, overcome, and be badass.

After all, it was called the Badass System, wasn't it? Not the Hand-Holding, Let-Me-Solve-All-Your-Problems System.

Oblivious to his internal conversation, Gaya was scanning the darkness, her senses on high alert.

Michael, deciding to take a different approach, activated his earpiece comm.

"Pink," he said in a low murmur.

"Well, well, well," Pink's voice, laced with amusement, crackled in his ear. "Look who's finally decided to call. What floor are you on now, Ghost? You got the bow yet?"

Michael could hear the faint, rhythmic thump-thump-thump of Vedora's snoring in the background.

"We're on the third floor," Gaya interjected, her voice tight with frustration. "And we're getting our asses kicked by some freak with a mommy kink."

Pink chuckled. "Alright, alright, tough guys. Spill it. What's going on? And how can I assist?"

But before Michael could answer, a presence a cold, heavy weight, settled upon them. He felt it moving towards him, a ripple in the darkness, a shift in the air. He reacted instantly, channeling his power, casting Ring of Flames. A circle of black fire, imbued with the raw power of his godhood, erupted around them. The bones, the remains of countless victims, were reduced to ash in an instant, the air filling with the stench of burnt bone and something else. Something foul.

"Children should not play with fire," the voice hissed, its tone a mix of anger and pain.

"Oh, that bitch is pissed," Gaya growled, her hand instinctively reaching for her crossbow.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Pink's voice crackled through the comms. "What the fuck was that? Did I just hear that right? Did someone say mommy?"

"We're dealing with something, Pink," Michael said, his gaze scanning the darkness and his senses were on high alert. "Some kind of entity. With a mommy kink. I saw it, briefly. It's old. Ugly as fuck. Really fucking ugly. Pale, wrinkled skin. Long, stringy hair. And tits. Long, saggy, disgusting tits. Trust me. You don't want to see it."

"I what?" Gaya stammered, her voice a mix of disgust and disbelief. "Did you just say saggy tits? What the fuck is going on here, Michael? And that thing it it slapped me! Across the fucking face!"

"Just give me a minute, guys," Pink said, her voice strained. "I'm processing. And checking the data crystals. See if I can find a match. Try not to die in the meantime, okay?"

"Gee, thanks, Pink," Gaya muttered, her gaze fixed on the darkness around them. "Really helpful."

The ring of flames, Michael's only defense against the thing that lurked in the shadows, was starting to flicker.

"We need to stay within the circle, Gaya," he said, his voice low, urgent. "And try to figure out how to kill that bitch."

But as he spoke, something wet landed on his face. He froze, his body tensing, his senses on overload.

Slowly, he raised his hand, his fingers brushing against something sticky. Viscous.

He turned his head, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, and saw the entity.

It was hanging upside down, its form barely visible in the darkness, its breasts dangling inches from his face. The wetness was saliva…a blob of drool, dripping from its mouth. But before Michael could react and move, the entity attacked. It dropped from the ceiling, its weight slamming into him, its hands claws lashing out.

It punched Gaya, a brutal blow that connected with her shoulder, sending her sprawling across the bone-strewn floor. Then, it turned on Michael, its hand a blur of motion as it slapped him, the force of the blow staggering, even through his armor. He managed to dodge most of it, his sword deflecting part of the impact, but the force of it still numbed his hand, throwing him off balance.

As a result, the Ring of Flames flickered and died.

"You bitch!" Gaya screamed, scrambling to her feet, her God Slayer crossbow raised, loaded with an explosive bolt. "I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

She fired, the bolt streaking through the darkness, a blur of crimson light. It struck the ground where the entity had been a moment before, exploding in a shower of dirt and bone fragments.

The bolt, meant for the entity, struck the ground where it had been standing only a moment before, exploding in a shower of dirt and bone fragments.

But the entity was fast. Too fast. It reappeared behind Gaya, its hand, a blur of motion, slapping her across the hand, sending the God Slayer crossbow flying. The weapon clattered across the floor, disappearing into the darkness. n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Michael, reacting instantly, teleported to Gaya's side, placing himself between her and the thing. He kicked out, his foot connecting with the entity's chest, sending it skidding backward, a low growl rumbling from its throat.

"You dare raise your hand against your mother?" it shrieked, its voice a distorted, guttural rasp.

Michael chuckled, a cold, menacing sound. "It wasn't my hand, bitch. It was my boot."

Gaya, shaking off the surprise attack, grinned, a predatory gleam in her eyes.

"And soon," she purred, her voice laced with a deadly promise, "you'll be tasting my crossbow. Up close. And personal. I'm gonna shove it so far up your ass, you'll be coughing up bolts for a fucking week."

The entity recoiled, its form flickering, as if uncertain. Then silence. A heavy, oppressive silence that pressed down on them, making it hard to breathe.

Click.

"Ghost?" Pink's voice crackled through Michael's earpiece. "You there? I've been researching. And I think I know what you're dealing with. You lucked out, finding it in these crystals."

"Spit it out, Pink," Michael growled, his gaze scanning the darkness, his senses on high alert. "What the hell is it?"

"It's called a Mater Lacrimosa," Pink said with a hesitant voice. "At least that's what the records call it. Created by Morbus. The God of Famine. Or Plague, depending on who you ask. It's a byproduct of his experiments. A twisted corrupted soul. A mother."

"A mother?" Gaya muttered, her brow furrowing.

"Yeah," Pink said, her voice grim. "A mother who watched her children die. Slowly. Painfully. From disease. Starvation. The plague. Morbus he twisted her grief, her pain, her despair. Turned her into that. A monster. Driven by a perverted motherly instinct."

"And when the mother dies her soul it lingers," Pink continued, her voice a low, urgent whisper. "Corrupted by Morbus's power. It merges with the body. Twists it and transforms it Into the Mater Lacrimosa."

"Enough with the fucking history lesson, Pink," Gaya snapped, her voice laced with impatience. "How do we kill this bitch?"

Michael, his gaze still scanning the darkness, his senses on high alert, listened intently. The silence, the absence of the entity's presence, was unnerving. He knew it was still there, lurking, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

"About that," Pink said, her voice hesitant. "That's where it gets tricky. According to the data crystals you can't kill her. Not in the traditional sense. Not until she stops. And to make her stop you need to well appeal to her motherhood. Remind her of her children."

"Appeal to her motherhood?" Gaya repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"The crystal says you'll only get one chance. To put a blade through her heart. If you miss or if you hesitate well, it says you'll be infected. With the plague she carries."

Pink paused, her voice taking on a graver tone.

"I know you two are you know gods. But if I were you I still wouldn't want to test that theory. I wouldn't want to find out if a god can get infected by that."

But before Michael could respond, the entity shrieked again, a sound of pure, unadulterated rage. He felt a presence, something cold grasping at his legs. He kicked out, his boot connecting with something but the presence remained.

"Michael!" Gaya shouted. "It's…it's got me!"

He turned, his eyes widening in horror as he saw it. A hand, skeletal and pale, reaching out from the darkness, its fingers wrapped around Gaya's ankle. When Michael saw this, he reacted instantly, casting Ring of Flames. A circle of black fire erupted around them, pushing back the entity. But this time, the entity didn't scream. It laughed. A cold, chilling sound that echoed through the chamber.

Michael, his gaze fixed on Gaya's leg, saw it. The spot where the hand had touched her the armor it was corroding. Rusting. Disintegrating.

His armor, forged from the strongest materials in the mortal realm, reinforced with dragon scales and enhanced with dark ore was built for combat, resistance and protection against physical attacks. But Gaya's armor was designed for stealth and infiltration as it was light, flexible and vulnerable to whatever the fuck this Mater Lacrimosa was doing to it.

And beneath the corroding metal he could see veins. Green, pulsating veins, spreading across Gaya's skin, like a disease.

"You'll join my children soon," it whispered with a seductive purr.