“Mommy, mommy—”
Rudra hears it through the noise.
He opens his eyes just enough to see.
A kid is sitting a few seats ahead, leaning toward his mother, holding up a small action figure.
Metal Gear Solid V.
The kid is excited, talking fast, showing it off. The mother nods, half-listening, but present enough.
Rudra watches for a second.
Then looks away.
A small irritation settles in his chest.
Familiar.
Unwanted.
He keeps his face neutral.
Bhairava doesn’t miss it.
There it is again, the voice says, amused. You’re consistent, I’ll give you that.
Rudra exhales slowly, eyes still half-closed.
“Shut up.”
Kid gets a toy and attention. That’s all it takes?
Rudra doesn’t respond this time.
He just leans back again, closing his eyes fully.
Trying to ignore the movement.
The noise.
And the thoughts that keep coming back.
“Mommy, mommy—”
Rudra hears it through the noise.
He opens his eyes just enough to see.
A kid is sitting a few seats ahead, leaning toward his mother, holding up a small action figure.
Metal Gear Solid V.
The kid is excited, talking fast, showing it off. The mother nods, half-listening, but present enough.
Rudra watches for a second.
Then looks away.
A small irritation settles in his chest.
Familiar.
Unwanted.
He keeps his face neutral.
Bhairava doesn’t miss it.
There it is again, the voice says, amused. You’re consistent, I’ll give you that.
Rudra exhales slowly, eyes still half-closed.
“Shut up.”
Kid gets a toy and attention. That’s all it takes?
Rudra doesn’t respond this time.
He just leans back again, closing his eyes fully.
Trying to ignore the movement.
The noise.
And the thoughts that keep coming back.
“Mommy, mommy—”
The kid lifts the figure higher.
The mother chuckles softly.
“Who is this, honey?” she asks.
She says it in Korean, but Rudra hears it in English through the translator in his ear.
He doesn’t mean to listen.
But he does.
“This is Solid Snake, mommy,” the boy says, proud. “He sneaks and is super strong. He fights his evil blonde twin.”
There’s emphasis on blonde.
Rudra’s eyes open slightly.
A vein shows faintly near his temple.
The irritation comes back. Sharper this time.
The kid’s tone. The way he talks. The way the mother listens. The ease between them.
That same feeling again.
That small, crawling thing in his chest.
The “worm in his rectum.”
The same one Bhairava talked about.
It moves.
He tries to ignore it.
Doesn’t work.
Before he fully thinks it through—
Rudra leans forward.
His hand comes up and grabs the kid’s shoulder from behind.
“—No. That is not Solid Snake.”
The kid freezes.
“Huh?!”
Rudra points at the figure.
“That’s Venom Snake,” he says, tone flat but firm. “Big Boss’s phantom. His story is decades before Solid. His name is Ahab.”
The kid blinks.
Processing.
“…Who is Big Boss?”
“Solid Snake’s father.”
The kid stares at the toy, then back at Rudra.
“What? This is more confusing than my homework.”
Rudra lets go of his shoulder.
Leans back again.
Bhairava speaks, amused.
Wait till he finds out about Kingdom Hearts.
Suddenly something happens as the time slows doen again, the gold again returns to that one eye as he looks here & there on the bus. He coudn'nt find anything but as time returns to normal after his 'danger sense' he hears a shriek
The shriek cut through the air like glass breaking.
"Aaaaahhhh!"" the old lady screamed in her seat, quaking with fear "d...DONG!!!!".
Rudra's eye shone with gold. "Dong means… Dragon?" he whispered, rushing to the front of the bus.
Through the windshield, he saw it—a long, serpent-like creature undulating across the sky above the Han River. Its scales shimmered in dazzling hues, emerald to sapphire to molten gold, like sunlight refracting through stained glass. It was majestic, beautiful, awe-inspiring. For a brief second, Rudra’s breath caught in reverence, his chest tightening with childlike wonder.
But then the bus shuddered, horns blaring, and the awe shattered into urgency. His eyes snapped back to the driver.
"Driver!!" he yelped, dashing to the seat. "Reve—HUH!" His voice.
The man's eyes shone an unnatural violet, his hands unresponsive on the wheel as the bus swerved toward the guardrail. His face was slack, transfixed, lips uttering soundless syllables as he knelt in seeming adoration before the snake outside.
"He stared at that thing for far too long" stated Bhairava in Rudra's skull, voice with bleak certainty. "Hypnotized"
Rudra's pulse thundered. He gritted teeth, working a shuddery hand through soggy hair. "I was too." he admitted, the words tight and rough. "But my Danger sense—it resisted. Kept me awake." The bus swayed with the wheels scraping the rail, people shrieking, grasping for seats. Rudra rooted his feet, all his muscles rigid, gold eye still radiating. "All right," he snarled, fixing the driver and the monster through the glass.
"Tonight's The Night"
“Everyone, don’t panic. I can deal with it.”
Rudra cracks his knuckles.
The sound is small, but in the chaos, a few people hear it.
Heads turn.
For a second, there’s confusion.
Then disbelief.
A teenager. Saying that. On a bus that’s about to crash.
Someone lets out a nervous laugh.
Another just stares at him like he’s insane.
The old woman is still shaking, gripping her seat.
No one takes him seriously.
The bus jerks again, tires scraping hard against the guardrail.
The driver doesn’t react.
Rudra doesn’t look at the passengers anymore.
He steps closer to the driver’s seat.
Eyes locked.
Focus sharp.
“Yeah,” he mutters under his breath.
“Laugh while you can.”
Rudra reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card.
Small. Flat.
Crimson.
From where the passengers stand, they can’t see it clearly. Just a flash of red in his hand.
But on its face—
A black ace of spades.
Set against a dark maroon background.
He holds it between his fingers, steady, like it actually matters.
"Bahhhhh!!!" said Rudra, throwing out his hand as if he was waiting for the world to erupt in light and energies.
Nothing occurred.
The bus swayed, passengers shrieked, and Rudra remained statue-still mid-pose, eyeballing wide-faced frights back at him. His ears felt hot. ".Sorry," he said embarrassedly, ruffling a hand through the back of his neck.
"Still very inexperienced at this. Only been doing it for. uh. a 2 & a half days."
rather than limit his losses, he doubled down. He folded his fists, bent his knees in a crouch, and started throwing himself into dramatic poses as if he was a kid who was replaying Saturday morning cartoons.
"It's Morbin' time!" he exclaimed, breaking out.
"....."
Flame On!" he exclaimed, waving his hand back and forth over his chest.
"......"
"KAMEN RIDER ZETA!!!" he exclaimed, adopting a sideways kick position.
"......"
"PERSONAAAAA!!!" His voice reached a screeching pitch, quivering in exertion.
"....."
"BHAIRAVA SPOT ON!!!!" he hollered, pounding a chest as if he was expecting an explosion to erupt out from somewhere behind him.
"You Know you can morph without doing this this shit"
The silence was blinding. Each patron in the bus was gawking—mouths open, eyes wide, a few frozen in horror and unable to scream. The held fast to his venom Snake action figure, mouthing a prayer.
Rudra, suspended in mid-position, blinked.
The bus shook as dragon's coils crashed against bridge, its scales blazing liquid greens and golds like jewels. The screams within reached a fever pitch—mothers covering children, aged men gripping seats, the entranced driver slack-jawed and incompetent.
"Come on, come on! Brown Power Ranger, if you're going to do anything, this is when!"
the same boy shouted, voice trembling in a panic-bravado.
Rudra whipped his head around, glaring down at him, eyes narrowing. “Hey!!” he snapped, almost more offended at the nickname than the monster trying to kill them all. His gaze swept the bus—pale faces, wide eyes, desperate hope hanging on him. He clicked his tongue, lips pressed tight, then turned back toward the window. The serpent’s massive head was sliding closer, gleaming fangs opening like gates to the underworld.
Rudra's jaw set. His eyes darted to the driver, who was still glassy-eyed and motionless in the car. He chewed hard at his lower lip, breaking blood.
Good," he finally growled, shutting his eyes. The whole bus was holding its collective breath.
From the left hand that holded the crimson ace, a glow started to creep out--red, hot, throbbing like a heartbeat. The boy from before leaned in, his shaking hands clutched the seat in front of him. His eyes went wide as the glow took definition, bleeding through fabric till it burned against cloth like hot coal.
Then he saw it.
Sliding up like it had been waiting all along, the card—sleek, sharp-edged, its black face etched with strange runes—surfaced from Rudra’s pocket. And there, at its center, glimmering with a dark fire, was the unmistakable emblem: the Ace of Spades. red.
The boy's mouth fell wide open. "What… the hell is that?"
The blood-red light flashed, synchronizing to Rudra's heartbeat as he reached toward it.
The card burst into crimson fire, erupting with a deafening crack. The whole bus was swallowed in flame so hot and sudden that every passenger screamed, clutching loved ones, shielding their faces, convinced their flesh was about to blister and peel away.
But the heat never burned them.
Instead, the fire curled around their bodies harmlessly, a living thing that licked at their clothes and skin like a phantom wind. When it receded, gasps of disbelief filled the air—not a single passenger was touched, not even a hair singed.
All eyes turned forward.
Rudra now stood in the aisle, taller than before, posture sharp, presence heavy as if the flames had reforged him. The dazed boy who staggered through Seoul’s streets was gone—what remained was something far more dangerous.
His attire had been turned into a sharp uniform: a dark red blazer tapered to suit his body, the chest emblazoned with a golden ace sigil which reflected the shine of the bridge's shattered neon lights. Underneath it, a clean white shirt shone, collar stiffened, secured by a dark green tie which bore the same golden emblem sewn along its edge.
Around his middle, a black belt carried a bird sigil in radiant gold, wings spread as though about to fly. His legs were covered with clean black trousers, the material spotless and pressed as though he'd stepped out from another realm altogether. On his feet—polished black leather shoes, sharp and shiny, the type worn not for fighting, but for ceremonies, conferences, or bashes.
The change radiated an atmosphere that pushed against the lungs of the passengers, half-frightening, half-protective. He resembled a student but a soldier too. A child, yet something mythic.
Rudra's lids came up slow, slow, until his eyes found the creature thrashing beyond the windows of the bus. The pupils which had a while before been earthy brown now blazed crimson, molten and alive, the same color as the fire which had consumed the card and dressed him all over again. His irises blazed softly, as if fire itself had taken up residence in his skull and now regarded the world through his eyes.
The serpent-dragon coiled across the bridge, its scales shining in changing rainbows—greens dissolved into golds, reds into cobalt, and colors glided across its form like oil on water. Its bellow shook the glass windows of the bus, vibrating the steel frame, but in that tremor, Rudra remained fixed, unshaken, his measured breath, his scarlet stare pinning the beast as if challenging it to come closer.
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