(Chapter III.III) Look Ma, A Dark Mercenary!

Armed with this new information, and now drained of a load of cum, you make the hike to the nearest cliffs that you know of. The Rad Cliffs are located only fifty goomba hops away from the closest highway, making it an ideal spot for unsavoury mercenaries to strike and hide out. Made of imposing black rock and taller than a prepubescent boy, the Rad Cliffs are a sight to behold—the black cliff face stretches on for a seeming eternity, and the black waves that crash against the rock beneath sound like screaming and agony and ****.

It is here that you find a figure wrapped in a black cloak, balancing on the edge of the cliff, looking out into the ocean.

“Why hello there,” the voice, neither feminine nor masculine, calls out.

Wow, you think. Good thing the Maiden Thief told me that the Dark Mercenaries are girls. Otherwise, I might have went with my gendered assumptions and not realized that this Dark Mercenary was a girl.

“I have come to fight you,” you say, drawing your epic blade. Well, it’s really not that epic, but it’s killed a bunch of Maiden Thieves, so that’s got to count for something, right?

“What do you fight for?” Now that you think about, you think you can hear a hint of alto in the Dark Mercenary’s voice. Maybe you would have figured out her gender anyways!

“For the glory of my God Nicolas Cage,” you say. “And because you are doing dastardly deeds like disrupting the tax collecting services of the state, which is pure, pure evil.”

“You want your tax money back?” The Dark Mercenary laughs darkly. “Well too bad, the Maiden Thieves have it.”

“The Maiden Thieves? Why would they have it?” you ask, wondering if this has all been a giant mistake.

“Well, I hired them to kidnap maidens,” she says, darkly. The moon shines blackly above. The black waves crash onto the dark cliffs. You wonder why your diction has suddenly considerably regressed.

“And why would you do that?” you ask.

“To make Vampyres,” the Dark Mercenary says darkly, as if that answers it all.

“Hang on, I just remembered,” you say. “My Holy Lord Nicolas Cage wants you dead. I don’t think he cares about where the state’s tax money is going, or about these nefarious Vampyre plots. So unfortunately, I am going to have to kill you.”

“Then let’s dance,” the Dark Mercenary says, whirling around and drawing her blade. Its sharp edge glints in the dark moonlight, and you realise that this is a more powerful foe than any you’ve faced before.