"Pass me the medium-rare!" I raised my hand, catching the attention of the cook, who was sweating over the grill, flipping cuts of meat with practiced skill.
"Coming right up, boss," he replied, slicing a juicy picanha and arranging perfectly seared pieces on a steaming plate.
A waiter appeared at my side, almost like a divine servant, and set the dish before me. The smoke curled upward, carrying the irresistible aroma of perfectly charred fat.
"Now *this* is real barbecue," I declared, grabbing a slice with my hand and popping it straight into my mouth, letting the flavor flood every corner of my tongue. In the background, loud music mingled with animated voices, so raucous I half-expected the police to barge into the restaurant at any moment.
"I'll admit…" Airachnid began, but her sentence trailed off as she surrendered to a skewer of freshly grilled chicken hearts. With deft movements, she seized the wooden stick and devoured the meat as if it were her personal discovery of life's greatest joy. "All-you-can-eat barbecue is the best thing about this country!"
"Told you you'd love Brazilian cuisine. Especially when it comes to meat," I said, raising my glass of soda before taking a sip.
"Turning a meal into an event… it's genius! And the best part is every cut comes seasoned!" Her purple eyes gleamed as she stacked plates one atop the other, forming a small tower, seven and counting.
"If you had a little more patience and let me season your own food when I cooked, you could have tasted this a long time ago," I teased, recalling her habit of wanting everything fast and ready without waiting for preparation.
"I bow to such wisdom," she said, clasping her hands in a mock-religious gesture, as if she'd found spiritual enlightenment through beef.
But in the next moment, the sly spider began sneaking her hand toward a glass of alcohol. I was faster, grabbing her fingers and nudging them back toward a piece of meat.
"The lady is forbidden. Remember what happens? One sip, and you turn into a fool for a whole hour," I couldn't resist reminding her, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
"But if I don't practice, how will I build tolerance?" she countered, deploying the most underhanded tactic: widening her purple eyes in an almost hypnotic, anime-girl glow, as if trying to defeat me with sheer charm.
"Your dark magic won't work on me," I shot back, delivering a light karate chop to her head. She feigned a groan of pain, acting as if she'd suffered an epic injustice.
The last few weeks in Brazil had been more fun than I'd expected. The laid-back atmosphere made Airachnid far more sociable than she'd been in the U.S. or Japan. The problem was, along with that, she was getting craftier, soaking up the worst local habits to amplify her already mischievous streak.
I got lost in that thought for a moment. When I snapped back to reality, I noticed the meat on my plate had vanished. Slowly, I turned my head to the side, already knowing the culprit.
"What?" Airachnid asked, her mouth stuffed, chewing a slice that was unmistakably mine. Without a shred of shame, she slurped the meat down like noodles, staring at me with that fake innocence.
"Nothing… forget it," I said, my voice sharper than intended. With a quick gesture, I raised my hand, signaling the waiter weaving through the bustling dining room. He caught my signal and hurried to our table.
A few minutes later, I found myself on the street, my arms weighed down with heavy bags brimming with fresh meat and ingredients I planned to transform into improvised recipes back at the rented apartment. The aroma still seeped from the packages, mingling with the city air and stirring an odd sense of normalcy in me.
Ahead, Airachnid walked at her own pace, sporting an almost comically disdainful expression, as if entertained solely by her own thoughts. Every so often, she'd tap her foot for no apparent reason, a sharp, random gesture that betrayed the flood of intrusive thoughts racing through her mind. I couldn't suppress a brief chuckle at the sight, but the lightness didn't last. A shiver of unease ran down my spine. The feeling was unmistakable: someone was watching me.
The presence wasn't exactly subtle. It could've been a street thief with more luck than sense, but if it was someone who knew who I really was, things could get very annoying, and needlessly so.
Before I could act, Airachnid snapped me out of my thoughts. With a sudden move, she kicked the pavement, sending a stone spinning into the air. With a second kick, she launched it toward a specific alley. The impact was audible, and the sound that followed made it clear: it hadn't just hit a wall.
"If you even think about fighting while carrying my food, I'll kill you, Lux," she threatened dryly, almost amused, as she turned slowly toward me, already preparing to hunt down whatever was watching us.
"Try not to kill anyone. It'll be a pain if I have to explain your homicide to the police," I replied with a resigned sigh, watching her silhouette vanish into the alley.
It didn't take long for the sounds of violence to echo: gunshots, screams, and soon after, the body of a uniformed man hurled out like a discarded sack. He hit the ground with a sharp thud, accompanied by the unmistakable crack of breaking bones.
Before I could react, something coiled tightly around my legs, yanking me with force. I lost my balance and crashed heavily to the ground.
"Is this… steel cable?" I muttered, testing the tension of the material binding me. The answer came swiftly: a needle pierced my left arm, injecting a dart that sent a cold sensation coursing through me.
My gaze darted around: shadows emerged from multiple directions. Several men approached, all armed and uniformed, moving in tight formation. A vehicle slid out from an alley, parking beside me with rehearsed precision. The side door slid open, revealing more masked men, ready to capture me.
"Am I being kidnapped?" I asked aloud, staring at them in disbelief. No one answered. "It's been years since the last time… but sorry, I don't have time for this kind of nonsense."
My metallic arm transformed with a mechanical snap. A blade emerged, sharp as if forged for exactly this moment. With a swift motion, I sliced through the steel cables like they were paper.
The would-be kidnappers recoiled, stunned. For a moment, they stood frozen, shocked by how easily I'd freed myself. But they quickly regained their composure and charged again. I felt new darts pierce my skin: one lodged in my leg, another in my neck.
I grabbed them by their strange clothes and threw them into the air, forcing the attackers to crash against the roof of the van, their heads echoing with dull thuds.
"What the hell are you trying to pull?" I growled, yanking the dart from my neck and eyeing the liquid still dripping from it. "If this is some kind of sedative, I hate to break it to you, it won't work on me."
But then my right leg faltered. A sudden weight forced me to drop to one knee. A strange heat coursed through my body, clouding my mind and blurring my vision.
"Impossible… this shouldn't affect me," I whispered to myself, feeling my clarity slip through my fingers.
One of the kidnappers loomed over me, leaning in slowly, his features obscured by a mask. His voice, however, was a chilling blend of coldness and mockery:
"Each dose is enough to knock out a blue whale in under two minutes. But don't worry… we upped the dosage."
It was the kind of line you'd hear from a B-movie villain, but the effect was all too real.
"Well… looks like I still have some learning to do…" I murmured, just before the darkness pulled me under and my eyes finally closed.
****
I opened my eyes slowly, as if waking from a nap too short to be restorative. My body, however, told a different story. The weight gripping me felt like I'd slept for days, a strange, throbbing exhaustion pulsing beneath my skin, as if my own system hadn't yet registered that I was awake.
The first thing that struck me was the stiffness beneath me. Looking down, I realized I was lying on a cold metal surface, more like a surgical table than a bed. Worse still, I couldn't move. Mechanical restraints held me down, trapping me like a prisoner on display.
"Five-star service leaves a bit to be desired, I must say," I muttered wryly, my voice echoing harshly in the confined space.
My eyes adjusted to the dim light. The room was dark, almost claustrophobic, lit only by a single bulb hanging above me, casting a harsh, clinical light over my body. It was the kind of lighting chosen not to illuminate, but to heighten the drama.
Beside me, I noticed two soldiers. They stood rigid, almost motionless, holding their weapons like robots, as if they'd been molded for the task.
"Can either of you give me the summary notes on what I missed?" I asked, looking up at the pair. My voice cut through the silence like a taunt, but predictably, neither of them reacted. No gleam in their eyes, no words, no sighs. Just the indifference of guards trained to ignore the humanity of their charge.
I sighed out of sheer boredom. My eyes scanned the surroundings. In the shadows, I spotted large containers, transparent tubes connected to the same structure that contained me. Their purpose was obvious: to transport liquids like drugs, sedatives that were probably coursing through my veins to keep me in this idiotic state.
I had to admit to myself: this was the work of a real son of a bitch. I'd never considered it a vulnerability. Drugged with constant doses, my body wouldn't respond in time to make me well again. Now I was curious, how many doses were they putting inside me for this to be possible?
The silence was broken by footsteps. The sound echoed abruptly through the corridor, rhythmic, like a countdown. From the shadows, a silhouette emerged, his face finally revealed in the dim light.
It was a man marked by scars. Deep wrinkles marred his skin, but what stood out were the old, barely healed cuts, as if each wound had been stitched with a rudimentary needle. The effect gave his face a brutal appearance, like that of a video game villain brought to life.
"So... you're the mastermind behind all this?" I asked, forcing a lazy smile as I observed the man in front of me. He didn't need to speak to reveal his intentions; the look he gave me was enough. A heavy, cold look, mixed with something between threat and fascination, as if he wanted to consume me from the inside out.
"I must say I've been waiting for this moment for a long time," he said, his voice firm, almost satisfied, accompanied by a smile devoid of any trace of humanity. It was the kind of smile that betrayed not joy, but obsession.
"If you were hoping for a romantic encounter, I'm sorry to disappoint you, friend…" I retorted quickly, before he could continue. "My preferences lately lean heavily toward gothic spiders. I have no time for maniacs." The irony was half true now. Between dealing with fanatics and perverts, I knew full well which was the greater danger.
The man let out a short, almost dry laugh and began circling me, like a predator sizing up its prey before striking. "I expected this from you. Humor in the face of danger. You love treating serious situations like a joke. But it doesn't matter… What I want is you."
I rolled my eyes, muttering under my breath, "Here comes the ideological speech…"
Up close, his face revealed every detail, none of them pleasant. The scars, the marks of time, the weathered skin, each feature seemed to compete for which deformity made him uglier. I didn't hesitate to mentally catalog him as one of the most repulsive men I'd ever faced.
"Don't mistake my words for failed ideologies," he said, flashing another smile and tilting his head as if he held some superiority. "What I'm talking about is real. And you… you're the key. The key to possibilities no one has ever dared to touch."
"Look, I know I'm good-looking," I said, raising my voice, now tinged with irritation. "But stop staring at me like I'm a runway model. I've got enough headaches from people looking at me like that, thank you very much."
I decided I'd heard enough. I focused, trying to channel my power to break free from the restraints of this prison. But the moment I began, a cold sensation surged through my veins. It was invasive, damp, like an icy current slithering through my body, draining every spark of my strength. My body weakened instantly.
"Don't even think about it," his voice echoed with calculated mockery. "Every time you try to use your powers, we'll suppress your consciousness. Falling asleep will be the least of your worries. Raw power alone means nothing. But we… we at MECH… know how to guide it. And we'll use your power the right way."
"Sounds like a new world order speech to me…" I mumbled, yawning, my mind teetering between clarity and haze. I knew that in this state, forcing my powers could lead to one of two outcomes: either a pathetic fizzle or an explosion that would make the entire planet pay for my stubbornness.
Then the lights blazed on, flooding the space with harsh brightness. What had been mere shadows was now revealed: a massive warehouse. Rows of people moved in perfect synchrony, all clad in green uniforms, their faces hidden behind masks. They worked like living cogs, impersonal, programmed. And there I was, ironically, at the center of it all, the focal point, the main attraction of a grotesque spectacle.
"So that's it… more idiots willing to follow you," I sighed, exhausted. "Just tell me already: who are you?"
The man puffed out his chest, brimming with pride, as if my question were the perfect cue for his grand reveal. "I'm a soldier. And it's time to level the battlefield." His smile widened, satisfied simply by showcasing the resources at his disposal.