A Game of Limbo: Inferno

Prelude
"I hate this job..."

A sigh escaped the lips of 33-year-old Inner Circle gunman as he sat in the car, holding a hand on his bearded face. He propped his feet up on the dashboard, resting his other arm on the armrest. A lit cigarette was in his mouth, and a loaded Kidō rifle was resting in the back seat. "So far, it's been nothin' but hauling cargo and babysittin' it. I swear to the Soul King, I don't get paid enough for this shit."

"What's the matter?"

The driver, female and clearly of younger age, looked over at him to give him a slightly amused smirk. "You came with me, saying that you needed something to do other than sit at HQ all day. Don't start complaining now when we're about halfway through..."

"Yeah, yeah..."

Scoffing, the male turned his head to look out the window, his eyes taking in the sight of a black car identical to theirs. In fact, there were actually several of them on the road, driving like a wolf pack on the move. In the center of it was a massive semi-truck with a cargo box hooked to it. There were no other cars on the road other than that particular group as they trekked through the desert highway.

"The only thing that's interesting to see is the setup we've got..." He said gruffly, folding his arms across his chest and turning his eyes away. "For a runt, our boss's sure got her shit coordinated."

"Yeah?" The smile faded from the woman's face, and she turned to the road in front of her. "Well, glad we at least have some competent runts around here. Only problem is that there should be more of 'em."

The man scoffed. "What? You want Inner Circle to start turning into some sort of daycare center?" He frowned slightly when he got a slight shrug in response.

"No. But if there were more prodigies..."

"Don't get your hopes up. She's an exception, as far as I'm concerned..."

Off in the distant desert wilderness, a hooded figure stood atop a mid sized boulder, staring out into the cargo that was driving down the hardly occupied highway. The desert was blistering hot out there, wearing black certainly wouldn't be the best option for one in it. But this being seemed to pay it no mind.

Out of his right coat sleeve shot out a small, black switchblade with several silver words inscribed on it neatly, saying "Slade" on it's right side blade. It suddenley began to glow with a black and blue aura, of which slowly began to engulf the man until it appeared to be a black and blue cocoon of energy. When it stopped, the being's cloaked and heavy attire was replaced with a black sweater and a torn, ragged black garb around his waist that extended down to his ankles, of which were connected to black boots that were shaped similar to monster feet. The interior of the garb was a dark blue, and a white and grey sash wrapped around his upper waist. The most notable change was his upper torso area, covered in a black bone like armor that wrapped around his back and extended down both of his arms. The switchblade was now a long claymore with a blue gem in it's hilt, the weapon hummed like an electric motor.

The man looked at the convoy once more, his face revealing a gothic hairstyle that partially covered his left eye, while leaving his yellow right eye exposed. A scar went around his face and on down to his neck, with stitches that suggested possible experimentation on him.

Smiling with a menacing aura, the being dissapeared with a bright blue light, presumidibly heading for the convoy ahead.