(KN9) CHAPTER EIGHT: RIPPLES

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♦ Topic: Cape killer in Africa???

In: Boards ► Places ► Africa ►General Discussion (Public Board)

MaskedWitness (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) 

Getting reports from some friends in East Africa. Three low-tier cape teams operating out of the Rift region went dark. No bodies, just torn-up gear, impact craters, and scorched ground. 

Locals are blaming it on something new: some kind of cape killer in the region. They’ve started calling it Mla Wenye Vipaji—“Eater of the Gifted.”

Apparently, it can look human. Walks and talks like one. But it’s not.

Anyone else hearing this?

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(Showing page 2 of 4)

►WitchDoc

Sounds like you’re reading another typical African war-story blog. Half that stuff’s fanfiction dressed up as intel, just meant to drum up more funding.

►ManhattanRanger

Nah. I run aid convoys in and out of Uganda. This is real. Whole villages are going quiet. Not just capes—everyone. What’s left looks like a war zone.

►Wingedmurasaki

Saw an aerial picture (since deleted) of a humanoid thing made out of flesh and metal, but wrong proportions. Not pretty, looked stitched together. Think it is related to this cape killer?

►Cokevanillazero

We don’t even know if it’s a single person or a group of capes. Could also be a bioweapon, or just another African warlord. Doesn't a new one pop up every now and then? 

►GunNNife

@ cokevanillazero: The real red flag? Not a single villain or rogue has claimed credit. Whatever’s doing this… doesn’t want to be known.

End of Page.  1 … 2, 3, 4

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Great Rift Valley, Kenya – 4:12 A.M. Local Time

The sky was black, the stars smothered by smoke.

In the crater that had once been a smuggler’s airstrip, something stood among the bodies.

It wore a human shape now—taller than most, shoulders broad, skin stretched tight like polished plastic over muscle. The face was smooth, artificial, uncanny. Eyes were present, but wrong: too still, too yellow, glowing faintly in the gloom like embers behind glass.

Kaiju No. 9 tilted his head as he regarded the cooling remains of his latest test subjects. Mercenaries. None survived longer than five seconds.

One had tried to scream. Another begged.

He didn’t care about the words.

He listened for the potential. The resonance. The echoes of stress and violence that sometimes called down the shards and gave birth to power.

Not this time.

They were all useless. Their body held no future.

His fingers unfolded into long, serrated claws. He pressed one against the neck of the last twitching body, as if in prayer, and whispered:

"Not enough."

Then he stood.

Turned.

And began to walk north.

. . . . .

♦  Private message from Moord Nag:

Just… listen.

There’s something out there. Not like anything we’ve seen before. Doesn’t talk. Doesn’t claim turf. Doesn’t even leave messages.

But it’s intelligent.

I’ve been in this game too long not to recognize the signs. It’s hunting capes. Testing them. And then… copying them?

Tell your people to be ready.

Whatever it is, it’s heading toward the coast.