Categories > Games > Zelda > The Black Mist

iv

by nulambda 0 Reviews

Chapter IV of The Black Mist, in which Mireille fights off a robber at the hotel.

Category: Zelda - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama,Fantasy,Horror - Characters: Link - Warnings: [V] [?] - Published: 2013/03/13 - Updated: 2013/03/13 - 1642 words - Complete

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The Black Mist
-A Junctioner: Hylianis Story-

DISCLAIMER: The Legend of Zelda, and all related characters, places, concepts, ect., mentioned within are property of Nintendo and Shigeru Miyamoto. All other original concepts presented within are property of me, myself, and I.

iv

The sound of glass breaking tore Mireille from the nightmares of her past. A startled gasp escaped her lips as she sat up, searching for the sound. She got out of bed and turned the lights on. When she looked into the kitchen she saw that the glass on the door of the microwave had cracked and shattered. Dread filled her heart as she raced toward the kitchen.

All over the floor were shattered fragments of the microwave. She turned towards the door and inspected it from where she stood, only to find that the door was as she left it when she arrived—locked with no sign of entry. A confused expression appeared on her face as she glanced back to the microwave.

What happened here? There's no way the microwave could've gotten broken. The door was locked... and I was sleeping... and-

The memory of her awakening played in her mind once more. As the image of her throwing back the soldiers with her mind manifested in her thoughts, a sudden realization came to her. She held her left hand in front of her as a nauseated feeling permeated in her stomach.

No way... there's no way I could've done that. I... I'm not-

A terrified scream from outside pierced her thoughts. She froze in place, startled by the sound. A moment later, she slowly wandered over to the window. She pulled back the blinds and looked over towards the main office. There, off into the distance, she heard muffled shouting as Blake held his hands up to a man pointing a gun at him. She also saw another man in a more formal business suit behind the counter.

Dread once again filled her heart—not for herself, but for the lives of the men in the main office. As she backed away from the window, she found herself at a crossroads. She felt a familiar burning sensation on her left hand as she stood there in indecision.

I should not be doing this. I shouldn't get myself involved....

Against the voice of reason, she pulled her hood over her head and stepped outside. She walked closer to the main office while eavesdropping on the threats being made within.

"Give me all your money, and give it to me now before I blow your freaking head off!" the perpetrator shouted.

He was a tall man, who wore blue jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt, which was draped over his head. Covering his face was a black ski-mask, which allowed only small portions of his pale skin to show through. On his hands were torn leather gloves that had their fingertips cut off, revealing his fingers. In his hand was a silver revolver, which was pointed at the head of Blake.

"Alright sir, I'll give you what you want. Just wait here, I have to go open the safe," the manager replied.

Beside Blake stood a heavy set man with balding hair. He wore an olive green business suit with a blue tie hanging from his neck. A thin set of glasses sat on his nose as dark eyes looked back at the robber with apprehension. Even as he faced the man, Mireille saw that he was shaking uncontrollably. Like his employee, the manager also had a name tag pinned to the left side of his suit, except this one was silver—it read, "Harold".

"You better not try anything funny. I see any pigs come toward this place, and I'll kill everyone here. I'm watching you, man...."

I should not be doing this. I should not be doing this at all.

Mireille's thoughts continued to repeat as she approached a nearby pay phone in the parking lot close by. She continued to monitor the scene unfolding through the door as she ran to the pay phone. As she picked up the receiver, she quickly dialed into the phone itself. After several rings, a voice picked up on the other line.

"911, what is your emergency?" the dispatcher said.

Mireille closed her eyes.

"There is a man trying to rob the hotel I'm staying at. He's holding a manager and his employee at gunpoint. Please send officers down here immediately, he's about to shoot someone!"

"Sir, what is your location?"

Aggravated, Mireille moved to hang up the phone.

"Sir, I need you to stay on the line with m-"

She hung up the phone, and turned toward the chaos that was the office. Mireille closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

I'm going to die.

The shouting from within the office grew more louder and intense. She walked toward the door to the office, and silently opened the door. As the figure waved his gun at the employee and his manager, Mireille continued walking in a slow and deliberate manner. When she was short distance from his back, she reached and pulled him down in a choke hold.

A startled cry escaped the robber's lips as he fought off Mireille's attack. She pulled him down onto the ground as he aimed his pistol toward the ceiling. Before he could fire, Mireille kicked it out of his hands. It skidded across the floor with a screech. The thug mustered all of his strength and began to pull on Mireille's arms. He flipped her over his body, dropping her on the floor. He then put her in a choke hold.

"Well, well, look who's going to die tonight," the robber said, "What did you think you were trying to do? Play hero?"

Mireille continued to gasp for air as she began to pry his arms off. She closed her eyes as she began to imagine him flying through the open door behind her.

"Get... off!" Mireille muttered.

As soon as the words left her mouth, a powerful force threw the attacker out of the open door behind them and out into the dirty lot outside. The robber looked onward in surprise. Mireille got up onto her feet and strode outside, oblivious to what just occurred. A surprised expression formed on her face as the robber got onto his feet.

Gritting his teeth, the thief pulled himself up onto his feet. Mireille returned a cautious glance as his expression turned to rage.

"You want to play rough, do you? Well, fine! Let's see how you like this, punk!"

The robber raced towards her with his right fist. Before he could make contact with her face, she grabbed his fist with her left arm. His expression shifted from rage to one of shock, awe, and excruciating pain as Mireille squeezed on his fist. Mireille, too, found herself surprised by the strength of her hand.

It's just like what happened at school! How do I possess this kind of strength? I'm not left-handed....

As the thief screamed in pain, the mark of the three triangles manifested on the back of her hand once more. The man's eyes looked down at the mark and then back into her eyes, as if he were staring into the face of something inhuman. She released her grip from his hand and watched him stagger backwards, clutching his broken hand.

"What... what are you?!"

As Mireille stepped towards him the mark on her hand faded one more, and the figure darted off into the woods nearby. Blake and Harold rushed out of the office to see what had just transpired. Other people poured out of the other hotel rooms, their expressions filled with confusion and anger. Hushed voices filled the night air as Mireille closed her eyes.

I shouldn't have done this. I'm such an idiot. Why couldn't I have just stayed in my room and waited for this thing to blow over...?

---

In the depths of the woods, a shadow lurked. Everywhere it went, it spread decay. Trees, once teeming with life, were now deadened husks. Even the soil of the ground below was decayed. Other plants that were once normal were now blackened and filled with a sentience they never possessed before. Like a sickness, this darkness spread, corrupting everything it touched.

The thief ran past these withering plants, oblivious to their nature. He stood by a tree as he gulped in air, trying to catch his breath. The shadow slowly creeped along the ground towards its latest victim. As he stood there, he removed his mask, revealing a young man in his mid twenties. Dark hair hung in front of his face as he continued to pant for air.

An inhuman cunning manifested within the shadow as it continued to spread towards him. Like a blackened blob, it rose up from the ground, ready to leap forward and consume its latest victim, as it had countless others. Corrupt, Consume, Infect- these were the only three things the shadow knew—it needed nothing else. As the darkness loomed over the man, he turned around and let out a terrified scream.

Almost instantly, he found himself thrown into oblivion. The light was no more. The light was his enemy now. As his body shifted and contorted, he turned his attention back to the hotel from which he ran. Through his darkened vision, he spotted a beacon of light. An inhuman hiss escaped his body. The light was painful. He wanted the light to go away. He would blot out that light forever so that others could rot in the darkness like he did.

Like a rabid dog, he snarled as his body shifted onto fours and claws sprouted from his blackened hands and feet. He raced towards the hotel, intent on destroying the light that was there.
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