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TRY MY NEW(KIND OF) FANFIC: ONE PIECE: SOL RAGNAROK
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--XXXX--
(The Military Depot)
The air in the bunker went cold and heavy with the scent of oxidized metal and old dust. But the atmosphere was suddenly thick with absolute terror.
Four of the 100s. Clarke, Bellamy, Finn, and Raven were paralyzed, their flashlights fixed onto the black, armored figure standing across the room.
The thing was impossibly large, cloaked in a bulky, black protective suit, the menacing black and orange mask staring at them.
Their earlier ecstatic shouts, the clatter of the rifles, and the aggressive declarations of war were now trapped in their throats.
Then the figure moved. A dry, chilling laugh echoed through the chamber, amplified and distorted by the mask's internal comm system. It sounded like metal grinding on bone.
"What's wrong?" the voice asked, utterly devoid of warmth.
"Can't speak, where did all the talk go? Where is that warrior's spirit you found just seconds ago, threatening to 'kill' my people?"
The thing reached behind its back. The internal sensors registered the heightened heart rates of the four subjects, confirming complete psychological immobilization. A thin, terrifying shink of metal on metal was followed by a chilling scrape as two long, curved blades were drawn from the sheaths mounted on the armor's back.
The thing began to walk toward them. With every single step it took, the breathing became harder.
It was dragging the tips of the blades on the coarse concrete floor. The heavy steps were perfectly timed with the action of the blades, sending a blinding shower of orange sparks trailing behind him with every step.
SSSKRRRAAK! SSSKRRRAAK!
The high-pitched screech of sharpened steel grinding against stone was unbearable. The sound felt like a predator sharpening its claws on a wall before a kill.
The teens stood frozen. Clarke's mind screamed for her to move, to find a weakness, but her brain was overwhelmed by the fear. Bellamy was locked in a state of self-preservation, unable to move a muscle. Raven, though a fighter, was terrified.
It was Finn who cracked. The accumulation of guilt, the public humiliation, and the sudden, overwhelming reversal of power had pushed him past his breaking point. He was not going to submit. He was going to fight and prove himself.
With a cry that ripped through the scraping noise, Finn broke through the psychological freeze. He lunged forward, snatching the pistol from Bellamy's hand.
This is my moment, a desperate thought roared in his head. If I take him down, I'm the hero. I fix everything. He leveled the pistol directly at the thing's head.
"DIE, YOU CRAZY BITCH!" he roared, squeezing the trigger.
BANG
The echoing sound of the gunshot echoed through the bunker. Bellamy, Clarke, and Raven flinched, shocked not just by the weapon's sound, but by Finn's sudden, hysterical reaction.
But what happened next shocked the three even more.
The thing's right arm moved. The movement was a blur of black metal, faster than the human eye could process. The curved blade flashed, intercepting the projectile.
CHING!
The sound was followed by a spray of metallic dust. The bullet had been sliced perfectly in half. The two pieces of lead screamed past Mike's head and embedded themselves harmlessly in the concrete wall behind him.
Finn's eyes almost bulged out, looking at the impossible feat. He had just seen a man cut a bullet in half.
Panic seized him completely. He began shooting frantically, squeezing the trigger repeatedly.
BANG BANG BANG
CHING! CHING! CHING!
But the thing's arms became a spinning vortex of black steel. The alloy blades met every single bullet mid-air. Every single bullet was deflected into the ceiling or sliced into harmless fragments, falling to the floor as worthless lead shavings.
Mike never broke his stride. He continued his slow, deliberate march through the hail of ammunition.
Soon enough, Finn ran out of bullets. The clatter of the empty shell casing hitting the floor was the only sound left. Finn stood there, the useless pistol heavy in his hands, staring at the armored figure. He couldn't scream, couldn't run, and couldn't speak.
"No," he whispered, shaking his head in absolute denial. "No..."
His life began to flash before his eyes: the memory of Raven's smile, their stolen moments, the brief sweetness of getting closer to Clarke, the simple joy of laughter with the gang before he nearly ruined it all.
"What?" Its electronic voice asked. "Regretting your life choices? Life flashing before your eyes?"
Clarke felt her knees buckle. Bellamy's breath hitched in his chest. Finn collapsed onto the dusty concrete.
Under the crushing pressure of existential dread, Finn peed himself. The dark stain spread rapidly across his utility pants, adding a final layer of humiliation.
Mike stopped directly in front of the four, towering over the collapsed figure. He bent down, the heavy armor creaking slightly. In one fluid motion, he plunged the tip of his right sword into the concrete floor, rooting the blade exactly between Finn's legs, missing him by mere millimeters.
Mike looked up from the ground, addressing the entire group, his voice now a low, cold command that resonated with absolute authority, cutting through their shock.
"Now you will obey what I say. Understood?"
(Trikru Territory - Tonas Village)
The strategic center of Tonas was quiet. The atmosphere, however, had shifted from military readiness to sharp, icy political tension.
Anya, the Chief of the Trikru, watched as a small escort walked through the crowd. At the head walked Lexa, the Heda, her eyes carrying the weight of command, her posture radiating absolute power.
Anya immediately dropped into a low, formal bow. "Heda," she intoned, respecting the immutable tradition of the clans.
Lexa stopped, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. "Enough with the theatrics, Anya. Get up."
Anya rose, the corners of her mouth twitching into a genuine laugh, and she embraced Lexa in a hard hug that spoke volumes of their shared history and deep, mutual respect that transcended rank and formality.
"Where is that brilliant idiot of ours?" Lexa asked, cutting straight to the point of their alliance. "I trust he hasn't gotten himself killed trying to find some weaponry."
"Dealing with our space friends," Anya replied, her eyes flashing with amusement, indicating the mission to the depot.
Lexa paused, her expression turning into a slow, appreciative smile. She shook her head and chuckled softly. Poor them. They have no idea what they've stumbled into."
But then the amusement died instantly. Lexa's demeanor hardened, and she took a step aside, revealing the figure who had followed her into the camp.
Anya's body went rigid, her hand instinctively dropping to the hilt of her blade. Her eyes narrowed into slits of pure hatred.
Behind Lexa stood the Ice Queen, Nia, leader of the treacherous Azgeda Clan. Nia's face, usually arrogant and contemptuous, was pale and drawn, her eyes dead serious, stripped of their usual fire.
"What is she doing here, Lexa?" Anya demanded, her voice a low growl of warning, her guards tensing around her. "You bring a viper into our camp? Does she intend to burn our tents down in her typical fashion?"
Lexa held up a hand, authority heavy in her gesture, quelling Anya's aggression instantly. "Relax, Anya. Believe me when I say I hate her presence as much as you do. Her clan has been a constant threat to the stability of the Coalition. But she is here on my command, and she is here to beg for the life of her people."
The Ice Queen, the proud Nia, the woman who would normally sooner die than show weakness, took a hesitant step forward. She then dropped down deep in a formal bow. The bow of a pleader, not a ruler.
"The Mountain Men," Nia's voice was dry, devoid of its usual power. "They have watched our clans fighting amongst ourselves for too long. They could not risk attacking Trikru directly, not after the strength displayed by your Blad-de-Trikru during the border skirmishes."
Nia's voice dropped to a raw whisper. "So, they have focused their efforts on my weakest outposts. They have taken many of my best warriors. They have my son, Roan."
Nia stood straight, her chin trembling almost imperceptibly. She met Anya's hostile gaze, and the hatred in her eyes was replaced by naked, desperate terror.
"I am ready to give my life, my entire kingdom, and my full fealty to your Commander," Nia said, the words heavy with shame and desperate sincerity. "I will agree to any terms. If only you could rescue my people from Mount Weather. I don't know their condition, Lexa. I am scared for my son and my people."
Anya stared into the Ice Queen's eyes. The threat of Mount Weather was the one thing that united the clans, regardless of ancient feuds. There was no deception here, only the raw, profound fear of a leader stripped of her strength. The war against Mount Weather had just escalated, demanding the immediate and unified attention of the entire Coalition.
Lexa stepped forward, laying a reassuring hand on Nia's shoulder, an action Anya knew was purely political. "The Sky People are a distraction, Anya. Mount Weather is the true enemy. Nia's pain is real, and her offer of fealty is genuine. We must now turn our full attention to the mountain."
--XXXX--
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