Silhouette

James was very annoyed right now.

He stared at the struggling wannabe Villain he was choking with a tentacle, the man with some sort of lizard costume gasping for air. This idiot had had the bright idea to try and break into the Penumbral Palace at the end of the day, presumably in hopes of kidnapping James or something along those lines. To the costumed buffoon's credit, he had managed to slip by Decanov's security, though it wasn't particularly clever. He had come in wearing civilian clothes and carrying a bag, presumably with his costume inside, pretending to be a candidate for the applications. After that, he likely changed and hid inside a closet for the rest of the day, otherwise someone would have spotted him at some point.

Now, while the half-baked idea had worked and showed they needed to rethink their security, it didn't make the intruder competent. Just lucky. Case in point: he had just kicked in the door to the James' offices, began a monologue, and had since been doing his best to beg for mercy from the constrictive grasp of solidified shadows.

James sighed as he finished his call with Techlord, the teen informing him that a similar incident occurred at the Shadow Den. Sadly, it appeared this wasn't just a random cretin but something more organized.

"Alright, you will tell me everything about why you tried to attack and who put you up to this, and in exchange, I will not kill you. Does that sound fair?

The false lizard man nodded vigorously as James relaxed his grip, breathing in as much air as he could into his lungs before speaking.

"I... I am the great and mighty... Gecko Man..."

"I do not care for your name. Only your objectives and who set them."

"Right, right... I was told to cause trouble, break some stuff, scare the staff, that kinda thing."

"And you had the bright idea to attack the Cored head of an enterprise focused on self-defense?"

"Well, just because you make shooty stuff doesn't mean you know how to use it, eh?"

"I do know how to use our products. I simply don't need them."

"I, uh... I noticed, sir. By the way, lovely décor you have there-"

"Stop bootlicking and talk. The name of your employer. Now."

The costumed man grew paler as James shook him for good measure.

"I... I dunno! I don't have a name! He was just a weird guy I met at a bar, he offered cash, half before the job, the other half afterward!"

"And where did you meet him? How many others did he hire?"

"Wait, he hired others?"

"Do the Burglar Brothers ring a bell? They attacked another of our locations. They have been taken care of."

"You... You got the bros? They're, like, super tough!"

"The bar. Tell me where it is."

"I want guarantees!"

A few of James' tentacles turned into blades, some pointing at the man's throat, others at his chest.

"Will these suffice?"

The Gecko gulped loudly as he sweated profusely.

"They'll do! They'll do! I met him at some seedy bar, one of those places without a name! I can note it down on a map!"

"Good."

James undid his blades as he let go of the Gecko, letting the man fall to the ground with a yelp. More shadowy tendrils formed to take a pen and paper from a drawer of his desk before handing them to his would-be attacker.

"Note down the address, it will suffice."

"As you command! But, uh... What happens to me after that?"

"We will see what your intel reveals. If it is fruitful, I might consider letting you go with a mere slap on the wrist."

"And, uh, if it isn't?"

Every second this so-called Gecko Man spent in the room, his face grew a little paler and his costume a little more drenched in sweat.

"Well, I will have to drop you off at the police."

The intruder deflated, though it seemed more out of relief than despair.

"Oh thank the Nine, I thought you were going to kill me."

"Why would I do that? You haven't seen anything that important. No, it is far better for you to live and tell all your friends out there not to commit the same mistake."

The cheap Villain nodded, though he didn't seem to fully understand. James watched him write down the bar's address but truth be told, he didn't expect much. He doubted whoever it was who hired Gecko Man would still be there. Even if he did hire the Burglar Brothers and Gecko Man from the same place, there was no reason for him to stay there, particularly when Silhouette could easily track the place down by interrogating the hired muscles. Considering their quality, them being dealt with was likely part of the plan. That, or that mysterious mastermind seriously underestimated what James and his crew could do.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

Though thinking about it, James could begin to see parts of the plan. Those weren't meant to kill or destroy his company, just be problems. Since they were unaffiliated, this probably wasn't a move from the big factions. Independents wouldn't work for them. While he still didn't know who did it, he now felt safer knowing he didn't have to deal with a new Biflora or Abrakaboom. No, this new enemy was more limited. And where you would find cheap Villains to throw at a problem who wouldn't ask too many questions and avoid dirtying your own hands?

Thinking about it, James did know another seedy bar. However, given his last visit there, it wouldn't make for a good recruiting ground for people to harass him. But... Well, he still had the person he was looking for when he went to that place. A scam artist who may have now avoided the place, and liked frequenting this sort of atmosphere regardless.

When fighting the Patcher, James had used one of his latest tricks, pulling an item into an Infused surface to transport it directly to his body, like a hammerspace with extra steps. Perhaps this was the time to put the reverse effect into practice...

It was a dirty bar. The alcohol tasted awfully bitter and yet filled with water. The air was musky, almost choking. The people there were all either criminals or people too desperate to go anywhere else. But the place did have one thing going for it. The lighting.

George Froko swallowed the awful overpriced glass of what was supposed to be whisky before sighing, letting his gaze wander the room. Once, he would have found the excessive light distasteful, with random bulbs, lamps, and holiday lights of various colors all over the place without rhyme or reason. It looked like a kid trying to turn their treehouse into a lighthouse. Supposedly it was because the owner, who just so happened to also be the bartender, came from some crazy place that was constantly lit up like this. All George cared about was the fact it kept the shadows away.

He shivered at the memory of the darkness rising to engulf him. Silhouette could play nice on TV all he wanted, but George knew what he truly was. Sure, when he sent his people to take advantage of the deal George offered with the junkyard he shared with his brother to save his hide, they didn't take everything for free. They had priority picks and paid at a discount, but George and his brother were still making money. But George knew the truth. Silhouette was being merciful because George's brother hadn't been involved in his scams. If anything, the junkyard was entirely his brother's in all but name and on the legal documents. If it had been George alone, well... He would have more than just a black mark on his back and nightmares at night.

His free hand clutched at the flashlight he kept inside his coat. He would make sure to get home before night, before dark, but he didn't want to take chances. He wouldn't give the shadows a chance to get him.

The beetle woman with mirror-like chitin on the other side of the bar paused cleaning a glass with a rag to look at his empty drink, her ridiculously small eyes supposedly an adaptation to her home environment. Her small mandibles chittered as she talked.

"Another one, Froko?"

"No, I... I think I'm just going to wait a bit before leaving, if you don't mind."

She shrugged with her two pairs of arms.

"Suit yourself. I ain't kicking you out, you've been one of my best clients lately and I know you leave early."

She then leaned forward, her next words a whisper.

"You should consider seeing someone about your fear of the dark problem, Froko. I don't like it either but what you have going on is just unhealthy."

The short man in a red coat scoffed.

"My fear is perfectly justified. I know what's out there, what's waiting. When the shadows start to grow, you'll understand."

Her mandibles chittered again as she shook her head before leaving to serve another patron. George sighed as he closed his eyes, the only form of darkness he could still stand. His calm quietude was broken by ushered words he couldn't help but hear coming from a nearby table, where a woman wearing a skull mask he had done his best to ignore was talking with some fancy suit with a solid briefcase, the man's fingers drumming on the silvery container, his face barely holding back the disgust at their environment.

"And the money's in there?"

"Half of it. The other half later, if you succeed."

"And what do you want me to do, exactly? I ain't an assassin, boy."

"Nothing of the sort. This isn't a hired hit, but rather a suggestion to ignore all other businesses and only try and attack his."

"Uh uh. That doesn't clarify anything."

"Look, Miss-"

"Skulletta."

"Right, Miss Skulleta."

"Just Skulleta."

"Alright! Look, Skulleta, just do your usual antics but rather than go for a bank or whatever your usual target is go to one of his locations."

The woman leaned back in her seat with her arms crossed.

"And why do you want me to attack him?"

"Not him, his business. And he's growing too fast to many people's liking. So, we want to remind him of the pecking order."

"You know, you're not offering much considering the target."

"I disagree. We are paying you quite well to simply cause trouble to a civilian."

"Ah! A civilian. That's an interesting choice of words. The man tangoed with Abrakaboom."

"Many people do. The mad mage isn't one to purposefully go for lethality."

"Sure, but he didn't go to the hospital either. He calmly answered an interview instead. Not to mention, his whole business plan is making and selling weapons."

"Again, non-lethal equipment. And surely a Villain of your caliber won't be afraid of some taser and maces meant to fit in purses."

"He has Blake Black's support. And I ain't making an enemy of a Black's friend."

"Blake Black is contractually obligated by his family's rules. He won't do anything against you. He wouldn't even be able to deny you business since you wouldn't be attacking an official Black Bank ally. Blake's support is purely personal."

"Yeah, and he has a celestial at his beck and call. Sorry pal, but I ain't doing it. What you're offering isn't worth making an enemy out of Silhouette."

Froko's eyes widened as his heart skipped a beat. His hands began shaking as he felt his blood go cold, and he fought against his own body to bring out his flashlight and clutch it to his chest, already turning it on. His crazed gaze began looking everywhere, looking for the smallest hint of shadows moving unnaturally, of the abyss being called by promises of violence.

The beetle bartender, noticing his distress, began making her way to him when she stopped. Froko's already panicked face fell into despair when he realized something.

His back was cold.

Slowly, he turned his head to look at his shoulder.

The darkness in his clothes was spreading to cover his skin.

George fell off his stool and screamed, trying to tear off his clothes and claw at the shadows engulfing him. He cried as all eyes turned to him and noticed the increasing shade, the black wisps of smoke and mist that blew out the man and consumed the bar's lights one by one. While some were frozen in a mix of surprise and fear and others, such as Skulleta, drew weapons to fight, a handful tried to flee right away. Among those, the man wearing a suit, whose attempts at staying composed quickly failed as he realized the doors were locked, shadows already clinging to them and keeping them shut.

One shadow stood out from the rest. Dragging itself out of the poor trembling George's back, countless tendrils formed and disappeared as a vaguely humanoid figure stood. The avatar of darkness advanced, moving almost like a ghost. Freezing cold and malevolent whispers followed in its path as it went for the doors, and one man grew increasingly worried and panicked as he realized what was happening, taking his briefcase and trying to break the door down to run away. The shade didn't let him.

More darkness came to life and grabbed the man, dragging him to the source of the unnatural spreading black, a true abyss that seemed to never end having replaced the spot where Froko once was. The captive shouted, begged for his life, offered all present a fortune if they intervened. Alas, none listened.

The suited man and his silvery briefcase disappeared into the abyss, and the shadows retreated - with a warning.

"This is the fate of those that threaten me. Do not repeat his mistake."

And just like that, the dark was gone, only a black mark on the back of a terrified man left behind. The incident had barely lasted a few minutes, yet they knew they would never forget it.

And they all recognized that silhouette.