Dark Deceptions

Old nightmares and new thoughts

I fucking love writing Strafe ngl lmao.

Anyways here's more of this. Blood and gore warning, drug reference, a shit ton of beer. Just your normal day in Arsenal

Sorry if my uploads have slowed, I got school shit and I recently got into Splatoon 2 so I kinda forget abt this)

Lienna was walking back to her apartment, humming happily as she thought about Brandon. She quietly hummed and went outside, sitting down on a bench enjoying the cool breeze blowing through the outside area of the apartment.

She noticed Broadcaster leaning against a wall, all mysterious and scary, holding a cigarette. Oh well, he's probably out here enjoying the breeze as well.

Lienna thought back to the Blue Boi, Leary as he was called. He seemed to really be a sore loser, or something else. He reminded Lienna of her ex, always thinking he deserved everything, fuck all those that opposed him.

She only dated him because he was the only person that approached her, everybody else was always far away from her. Humans and animals don't mix well.

Lienna let out a sigh and looked around, seeing a white blur out of the corner of her eye. Her attention was caught, she followed its projected path, it was Broadcaster again. Talking with this white haired woman in military gear.

Lienna noticed the woman's cat-like ears and her fluffy tail which flicked to the side once in a while, probably because of stress. The woman seemed to have known Broadcaster for a while, teasing him as he groaned and facepalmed.

Lienna decided to leave to give the two some privacy, going back to her room to rest and maybe talk to Ace Pilot if she was around.
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Brandon was standing in a snowstorm. His snowmobile having run out of gas hours ago, the harsh wind easily slicing through his jacket and armor, yet he paid it no mind as he trekked with Tobuk, his boots crunching the snow with every step he took.

The signal in his earpiece strengthened suddenly, a blessing. Most of what he heard was garbled but as clear as day, as if intentional, he heard it. Those three words.

"GO, GO, GO!"

He ran. Tripping once but wuickly getting back up, eventually opting to ride on top of Tobuk seeing as the Polar bear was covering way more ground than he ever could.

He closed his eyes, inhaled the cold and the snow whipping across his face, dragging its long claws across his body, the rush of adrenaline and the thrill of the hunt.

He laughed, it was all he'd ever wanted, all he's ever needed. He had never felt more alive as he did now. An ear-piercing shriek was heard and Brandon whipped his head upwards towards the source, putting his hand on his hat so it wouldn't blow away.

Tobuk skidded to a stop, barely managing to stop before it hit the figure in front of them. Standing at 5'10, with a long, furred tail, armored wings, four ears and a piercing bloody red gaze, all dressed in a business suit. The white and black humanoid monster that stood in front of him.

Brandon looked at the thing. Kazimir. Tobuk chuffed and all of a sudden, the wind stopped, Brandon could now see for miles since the snowstorm had suddenly stopped.

Kazimir nodded at Brandon and smiled a toothy smile.

"It's going to get worse my friend, may God be on your side, may you survive with everything you long for."

Brandon got off the bear and stood motionless, looking at Kazimir, the two of them exhaling small clouds of condensation, still at a standstill.

His vision shifted and blurred, when it cleared, Kazimir was now holding Lienna and was covered in blood. Brandon's left hand began to twitch in anger and anticipation.

He drew his twin daggers as fast as he could and cut Kazimir down out of pure anger, his anger reaching a fever pitch. Kazimir, or the inage of him dissipated into snow along with the injured Lienna.

Brandon was alone in the tundra now. He looked around and saw dead bodies piling up and filling the snowy terrain. Soon he was ankle deep in blood and human body parts. No, sorcerers.

Some of the dead sorcerers reanimated, tugging at Brandon. As hard as he fought, he was eventually overpowered and pulled down into the dark sludge.

He clawed his way back up to the surface. He was back in that cavern, swimming- no, sinking into the pitch black muddy sludge. Leary stood in front of him on the rocky ground, laughing as Brandon sank down until his eyes were covered by the sludge.

He quickly sat up and gasped, then proceeding to choke on his own saliva and go into a coughing fit.

After he was done, he realized that he was alone, in his own room, alive. He took off his damp shirt, having released a ton of sweat while he slept despite his room being under freezing.

He grumbled and put on a black tshirt. He thought about his nightmare. He was scared, what Kazimir had said was terrifying. The monster himself had some uncanny abilities, Brandon only hoped that foretelling the future and dream control wasn't two of them.

Brandon also thought about Leary and the pit, the sludge, the dead bodies stacked high sitting in rotting, murky water.

Probably just random dream shit. Brandon had recognized some of those faces, sorcerers and Ghost operatives that he had killed in the past.

Brandon eventually shrugged the whole thing off and walked over to the sheath where store's knife rest. He gently took it out and decided to wipe it clean a little, not like it would actually become clean as it had decades of blood on it from many uses.

Oh well, it was still good to try. And so Brandon set on cleaning the blade for the day. He unconsciously shuddered, oht of the corner of his mind, he saw a red bottle, a sight he knew far too well, a potent drug.

He looked up, it was gone. Fuck it, his sleep was shit, now his time awake was the same? What the hell has this become? Brandon placed Store's knife down after a decent amount of cleaning that left his rag filthy and disgusting.

He threw the rag away and washed his hands, deciding to go out of his room and look in the fridge. Beer. Nothing but cans of fucking beer. Brandon himself wasn't much of a drinker, unlike his roomate who constantly would buy alcohol and party after he won matches.

Brandon gently pushed the cans aside to reveal his prize, leftover pizza from Pizza Boy. Grabbing the container, he slunk back to his room and ate his prize in solitude.
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Striker sat down with Strafe and Anti at a nearby resteraunt. Strafe was noisily drumming the table with his clawed fingers to the beat of feel good inc. while Anti was idly looking at her phone, the trio having ordered their food moments before.

Strafe grew impatient, suddenly slamming the table in anger, jolting Striker and Anti back to reality. Anti decided that the undead sorcerer's temper tantrum wasn't worth her time and went back on her phone.

"I'M FUCKING BORED! WHEN ARE WE GOING TO RIP SOMEBODY TO FUCKING SHREDS!?"

"Look, I'm sure it's soon. Just calm the fuck down you stupid rager."

"Blow it out your ass Striker, waiting on our asses isn't fucking helping shit."

"So what if it isn't? We need to secure this kill, the Phantoms are running out of money and the Ghosts are catching up."

"The legendary Phantom never runs out of money!"

"You do realize there's more to life than the 'legendary phantom' right? This is the real world and in the real world we need money!"

This angered Strafe and so he slammed his hands down on the table and quickly stood up, shoving his chair to the side and stomping out of the resteraunt.

Striker facepalmed and continued to wait with Anti for their food. The two sat in awkward silence as gunshots could be heard from miles away.