Book 4: Chapter 21: Shadow War

Grant secretly studied Joey walking ahead. He felt no shame about backing down moments earlier.

Even serial killers must sometimes yield; otherwise, the Joker would’ve died long ago during Earth Federation hunts, unable to survive like this.

The Area 91 test facility housed over a thousand people. Among over a hundred death row inmates, only twelve survivors reached Shattered Starry Sky. Apart from Little Lian and Lin Feng, all twelve were death row convicts—including five serial killers.

Among those five killers, all except the “Dissector” Joey once had normal lives. Their worldviews differed from others, yet each followed personal codes.

Even “Firecracker” Rand, with his antisocial personality, adhered to principles. He was a human-shaped nuclear threat to cities, yet fiercely protected animals.

But Joey—or Qin Lun—walked a unique path. After age eight, he lived outside society, cycling between mental hospitals and prisons.

Though self-taught through books, Qin Lun had no life goals, emotional ties, or behavioral rules.

Grant once thought the Dissector’s two personalities: Joey, brutal but direct, easier to handle than the unpredictable Qin Lun. Yet seeing Joey now, the Joker realized the Dissector was too volatile for rational conversation.

No rules made Qin Lun dangerous, yet he didn’t hurt innocents. Joey—Qin Lun’s subconscious protector—embraced darkness fully. He’d created atrocities like the “Skeletal Angel”, chilling even fellow killers.

Unlike Lin Feng’s group, Grant feared no one. But badly wounded and facing Joey—who cared nothing for life—even a killer avoids reckless fights with mad dogs.

Grant’s greedy gaze lingered on Joey’s parcel before tearing away. No rush. The Dissector refused to bargain? Fine. He’d negotiate with Qin Lun later for that “souvenir”.

“Joker.” Joey turned abruptly, grinning. “Where are Wurdenbeller’s bats?”

“Bats?” Frowning, Grant questioned, “Call them here now? Wise?”

He and Qin Lun had agreed earlier: if Little Lian and Lili’s clues led to the Main Plotline’s hidden branch, they’d ditch the Gentlemen Alliance and focus there. Assassinating three Allied leaders for the Main Quest was hopelessly difficult.

“Ah, sighted.” Joey ignored Grant, spotting the vampire bat huddled down the tunnel. With a jerk of his hand, a small flapping bat landed on his shoulder.

Eyes flashing crimson, Joey snatched it. Crushed firmly in his grip, the bat screeched, pulsing like living jelly before crumbling into ash through his fingers.

Each bat made from Baron von Wurdenbeller’s flesh linked to him. If all bats died, so would he.

Too mindless for details, bats only conveyed basic sounds. Battles like Qin Lun’s with Jones and Kathleen? Wurdenbeller sensed conflict, not opponents or specifics.

Before dispersing, the Gentlemen Alliance agreed: release bats when facing overwhelming foes. Wurdenbeller would assemble intel to pinpoint the leaders’ hideout for a group assault.

But this plan shattered instantly—every member met enemy forces they couldn’t escape.

So, they added another signal: if someone bypassed adversaries or discovered critical intel (like unconventional weapons), kill your bat.

Wurdenbeller programmed a code: one bat’s death triggered an alert among others. A rallying cry—no flight delays.

It was their prime signal. Unless trapped, every member had to converge instantly. The Gentlemen Alliance would eliminate major targets or break out to relay intel to Germany’s headquarters.

Grant watched Joey’s actions silently. A shadow of doubt crossed his eyes. He didn’t understand the Dissector’s plan.

Yes, Jones and Kathleen guarded this tunnel, but why risk summoning allies now? Neither Allied leaders nor vital scientists likely hid ahead.

Simple logic: Doctor Jones lacked combat prowess. Kathleen needed gear; without equipment, her power plummeted. Without that weakness, Joey couldn’t have beaten her.

Whether they gained intel ahead or not, Grant judged they should exit the Gentlemen Alliance now—other members tangled with Justice League units below, creating their escape window to deliver stolen intelligence to Berlin.

Their time in this world? Roughly two weeks. Already over ten days passed. If the hidden quest didn’t extend their stay, they lacked time for other tasks.

Completing that Main Plotline branch ensured at least escaping failure penalties.

“Hehe. Relax.” Joey’s chilling laugh cut in. “The hidden quest guarantees extra time! Fail the Main Quest? I’ll cover your 55 Soul Lifespan loss!”

“No one decides for me!” Grant’s voice hardened. “I’ll let it slide this time. But explain before acting next time.”

“I hate enlightening fools!” Joey bared his teeth coldly.

Grant’s face darkened completely. Slowing his pace, a lethal gleam sparked in his eyes, his hand slipping into his jacket to clutch his Human Skin Mask. Tension curdled the air as icy hostility flowed between them.

Joey tensed ahead, fresh blood soaking the white bandages around his waist. Grant’s eyes narrowed—the wound wasn’t just superficial. Bright crimson stained Joey’s back too.

“A through wound? That Kathleen woman pierced him before dying! With that injury… he pushes conflict?” Unease flickered in Grant’s constricted pupils. “Would he truly instigate bloodshed here?”

As friction peaked, distant voices echoed ahead. Both killers snapped alert, tension ebbing as their attention shifted.

…

Underground Shelter Lab 3 bustled chaotically. Scattered instruments littered the floor near a giant cylindrical glass pod. Over ten researchers frantically burned documents.

Their shielding supers—including Doctor Jones—had signaled retreat through secret tunnels minutes earlier.

Most scientists had obeyed, panicked and evacuating. But around ten military researchers remained, burning files first. Semi-soldiers, they lacked scientific importance but possessed firmer resolve.

They weren’t suicidal though. Another super had just arrived underground: a black-haired, black-eyed girl, regal as a tiny queen. She wore an ebony tulle dress with a black-gold crown tiara.

A thick rectangular broadsword—actually articulated steel extending into segmented chain-whip form—hung across her back. Folded compactly, its hollow hilt also fired bullets.

Frowning, the girl observed the military team, displeased. Seeking her teacher here, she hadn’t come to guard them. Exploiting her kindness, they’d trapped her securing marginally useful data.

Bang!

The lab door exploded inward, rubble dusting the air. Two silhouettes appeared through collapsing stone and smoke.