'▮▮▮▮Use your 'POWER!' ▮▮▮▮'
A voice in Six's head screamed as the air around him grew heavier with each breath—thick, suffocating, almost sentient.
'▮▮▮▮Why do you fear your power?▮▮▮▮'
'▮▮▮▮Everything that harms Rebecca deserves to be obliterated!▮▮▮▮'
The corrosive cloud slithered over his armor like a living thing, gnawing at his body and mind alike.
'▮▮▮▮Use it!▮▮▮▮'
'▮▮▮▮Slaughter everything that could harm our Moon!!!▮▮▮▮'
His armor's systems struggled to compensate, but the damage was piling up too quickly, too aggressively.
'▮▮▮▮JUST SAY THE WORDS!▮▮▮▮'
His vision flickered, blurred by pain, but his mind stayed sharp. Instinct sharpened into something primal.
"VOID TRIGGER!"
The words erupted from Six's throat like both a battle cry and a death sentence. They tore through the choking haze—raw, cracked, brimming with violent intent.
His heart slammed against his ribs—once, twice—Then everything stopped.
The world constricted.
Sound flattened.
Gunfire above became a distant murmur.
The Ghost People's howls blurred into static.
Even the fire in his chest quieted.
For a breathless moment, there was only the roar in his skull.
And then—his power answered.
Black energy erupted beneath his skin, tendrils of living shadow bursting through the fractures in his battered armor. His HUD exploded in static, warning icons vanishing as his systems failed to comprehend what was now surging through him.
The viscous red fluid clogging his filters boiled away. The corrosion devouring his armor was incinerated, overwhelmed by the voidfire erupting from within. Dark crimson flames licked outward, hissing through the air like wrath made tangible.
His pain didn't fade.
It amplified.
But now it was a weapon.
Veins bulged across his arms and neck as unnatural strength filled him. His body screamed for reprieve—but Six ignored it. He bared his teeth, spitting blood and fury as his vision shifted, his iris color warping into black and pupils a burning violet.
His skin turned an olive tan.
His once-dark hair burned into a deep crimson, crackling with latent flame.
Jagged obsidian-black horns tore through his forehead, tips glowing like dying embers.
His Elite Riot Gear shifted, morphing into a garnet-red ensemble adorned with black and gold etchings that pulsed like a second heartbeat. A belt lined with sleek, alien knives wrapped around his waist. His signature Desert Eagles were gone—replaced by a single massive Zweihänder, humming with unspeakable energy.
The Ghost People surged forward—
And Six moved.
A sonic crack split the air as he vanished and reappeared mid-charge, his blade trailing black afterimages—shadow lines scorched into reality. The ground cratered beneath each step, stone shattering beneath the weight of his unleashed power.
His first swing landed in a blur, carving through multiple enemies at once. Bodies exploded into a haze of corrupted mist.
"Pathetic Gnats."
Six spoke with a cold finality. Before the Ghosts could even hit the ground, his second strike carved them into ribbons, the force blasting the toxic cloud into oblivion.
His breath came evenly now—each inhale calm, composed.
Each exhale, accompanied by a snarl.
He didn't stop.
Couldn't stop.
His new form had him now.
And he was hungry for combat.
Above, Boone's rifle paused mid-reload.
Raul stopped shouting.
Even ED-E's plasma fire hesitated.
They watched, dumbstruck, as Six became a storm of black flame and obsidian steel, ripping through the swarm like death incarnate.
His only thought burned into every movement:
"Terminate my foes before they even have a chance to harm my Moon."
"CRUEL SUN!!"
A miniature sun flared to life in his palm, radiating so much heat that nearby objects melted. With a single sweeping gesture, he hurled it forward. It grew in size mid-flight—faster, hotter, angrier—until it collided with the plaza in a nuclear-grade flare.
A blinding flash.
A thunderous boom.
A massive swarm of the Sierra Madre plaza ceased to exist, vaporized in an instant. Ghost People. Toxic cloud. Stone. Metal. Gone. Only molten craters remained, glowing like fresh scars.
"HOLY—BY MENNEN!"
Twig screamed, his voice cracking. Boone, Raul, and ED-E remained in stunned silence.
And from the wrecked casino wall, Roger watched with wide eyes, still trying to keep Rebecca from jumping down to help her husband. Cassidy and Veronica flanked her, trying to stabilize her with medpacks and calm her down before the shock or heat could endanger her pregnancy.
"When the hell could Six do that?!"
Twig shouted, hands flailing.
"And why's he RED?! I thought his transformation was all angelic white and glowy, not—this—edgy murder red devil!"
Roger gritted his teeth, eyes never leaving the raging inferno below where Six carved through the Ghost People like the Sun God incarnate he is.
"That's not his regular transformation form."
He muttered.
"This is different. That's not the Sun God Form... this is something else."
Rebecca clenched the railing, knuckles pale and lips trembling, her eyes locked onto the red blur below.
"Fuck! He's not supposed to be able to tap into that level of power yet."
She whispered, voice strained.
"Shit, Shit, Shit!!! He's probably on autopilot right now and is going to eradicate anything that poses a danger to him and me. Well, me more especially since I'm his beloved partner and the only thing in the world he cares for."
Cassidy pressed a stimpack into her thigh.
"You need to breathe, girl, or we'll have two damn emergencies!"
Veronica, beads of sweat on her brow, tightened a cooling pad against Rebecca's neck. "This isn't just power. It's rage. And something's feeding it."
"Rebecca got hurt, and he was failing to protect her."
Roger said quietly, almost in disbelief.
"He transformed with that mindset. That's what the new form is pushing for. To eliminate all dangers to Rebecca and the baby."
Raul shook his head, still watching the massacre unfold.
"So… what, he just flips a switch and becomes some kind of demon now?"
Boone finally spoke, low and grave.
"No. That's not a switch. That's a lock breaking."
Twig threw his hands up.
"And what the hell is Cruel Sun?! He just threw a mini star like it was a baseball! I mean—I'm sorry, did we just get promoted from 'The Mohave Wasteland' to 'Grognak the Barbarian Final Arc' without a memo?!"
ED-E beeped low and ominous—emergency power spike detected—but no one was listening anymore. Not really. All eyes were on Six.
The red-cloaked warrior stood alone in the scorched crater, smoke rising off his skin, breath slow and calculated.
Then he raised his sword again. And turned toward the next wave.
Rebecca whispered, a tear escaping her eye.
"Six… Please don't lose yourself in power and come back to me?"