Jack didn't bother with a talk. He just pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The Steamrune Shotgun roared. Spitting a high powered superheated slug. With deadly concussive force.
The air where Queen Mirage had stood a heartbeat before shimmered. Then exploded. Dissipating into a wisp of smoke. The slugs ripped through empty space. Tearing a chunk from a moss-covered boulder behind her phantom afterimage.
Jack cursed under his breath. Illusion. Or teleportation. Both were more than just troublesome to handle. This woman was dangerous.
A familiar prickle of danger crawled up his spine. From behind.
He didn't hesitate. He threw his body forward. Diving out of danger. His body was a blur of motion. As he slammed into the damp earth, he rolled and stopped perfectly.
Without looking, he pointed the shotgun backward. The gun came up. And fired a wild, desperate shot over his shoulder.
The blast tore through the air where he had been. Behind him, the wisp of smoke again, was dissipating. Confirming his suspicion. She'd tried to flank him.
Another surge of primal warning. This time from his left. He processed the information in a fraction of a second. Too close. Too fast.
He twisted his body, an acrobatic contortion of muscle and will. Bringing his left arm up. His fist was wrapped in mercenary gauntlets. Hardened leather reinforced with metal plates.
It lashed out in a rotating backhand. It wasn't a deliberate punch. It was a desperate, wide arc meant to clear space.
It connected. A solid thud echoed through the air. Queen Mirage gasped. A choked sound.
Jack felt the impact. But it wasn't the satisfying one. Her arm was deflecting most of the force. She had somehow managed to cushion the blow. Absorbing the raw power. Even so, the sheer momentum of his strike was still too much.
She was thrown sideways. Sailing through the air for several feet before she hit the ground. Rolling. And springing back to her feet with unnerving speed. No visible injury. It was barely a stumble for her. She was... tough.
He didn't give her a moment to recover. His shotgun, still in his right hand, snapped up. He pulled the trigger again. The recoil felt jarring on his right arm.
The powerful blast enveloped the spot she was in just a moment ago. She was gone again. With a puff of smoke.
Jack felt a sudden, chilling draft on his right. It was too late to pivot fully.
Her dagger, a blur of polished steel, arced towards his chest. He instinctively threw his arm up. Turning his body slightly to present his less vulnerable side.
The blade scraped across his heavily reinforced jacket. The fabric tore with a harsh rip. Threads flaring from the impact.
A thin, searing line appeared on his skin. A white score mark that would barely bruise. It hadn't penetrated.
Jack grunted. A guttural sound of frustration and controlled rage. He retaliated with a quick, brutal kick. Aiming for her midsection.
She reacted instantly. A blur of motion. Dissolving into another cloud of smoke. Just as his boot would have connected.
The fight settled into a deadly rhythm. Jack, big and powerful in his Jack Night form, was a force of destructive precision. His Steamrune Shotgun was a short-ranged cannon. Every shot was meant to devastate. To utterly annihilate.
But Queen Mirage was a ghost. She danced on the edge of his vision. Appearing and disappearing. Her movements were like a whisper in the wind. Perceivable but untouchable.
She was a frustrating ghastly nightmare. Jack now experienced what his opponents felt when they dealt with his specter form.
He fired again. This time, it was a pattern of three quick shots. Each was aimed at where she would possibly be. Not where she was.
The first shot missed. Tearing a branch from a gnarled tree. The second forced her to materialize further away than she intended. A fleeting glimpse of her irritated scowl appeared.
The third was a focused blast. It forced her to fully dissipate into smoke and reappear even further. Still missing the target.
The ground around them became pockmarked with shotgun blasts. Trees were scarred. Rocks shattered.
Queen Mirage approached in a flash. Attacking with a flurry of throwing daggers. Small, impossibly sharp projectiles that glinted wickedly in the misty daylight.
Jack dodged them. Or deflected them quite easily with his shotgun's barrel. Sparks were flying as steel met steel.
However, the thrown daggers were quickly followed by her reappearance. A blur of motion. Her main dagger was flashing towards his exposed joints. Or less armored areas.
Jack managed to handle those attacks well with his efficient evasion. And brutal deflection. And he learned.
He learned that her smoke-out teleportation had a slight hint. A fraction of a second before she reappeared, her exit point would fluctuate.
He began to anticipate. He would fire. Not at her current position. But at the exit point of her teleportation.
Queen Mirage was forced to adapt. She had to deflect the bullet with her dagger or bracers. Her teleportation was becoming more erratic. Less predictable.
Her retaliation was also getting fiercer. Her attacks retained its precise characteristics. Aimed at arteries. Eyes. The gaps in his armor.
Jack was large and strong. But he wasn't invulnerable. His reinforced jacket was beginning to fray in multiple places.
Thin white lines crisscrossed his skin. Some were beginning to trickle crimson. But nothing was deep. Nothing that slowed him.
Queen Mirage's frustration mounted. He could sense it in the increasingly aggressive nature of her attacks. The less controlled outbursts of her smoke.
Jack moved methodically. Like a hunting beast. He forced her towards the nearby river. He laid down suppressive fire to her possible exit points. Not to hit her. But to block her escape routes. To herd her.
However Queen Mirage refused to be herded. She opted for a direct assault. She appeared directly in front of him. Her dagger was raised high. Intending a fatal thrust to his throat.
Jack was ready though. His shotgun snapped up, his finger already on the trigger. He fired at point-blank range. A deafening roar. Missed.
She didn't smoke out. She moved in a blur of shadow. She twisted. Ducking under the full force of the blast.
The edge of the concussive wave still hit her. Throwing her back. But she was already launching herself forward again. A desperate, final lunge. Her dagger was still a threat.
Jack had just recovered from the recoil. He saw her coming. He lowered the shotgun. Using it as a bludgeon. Swinging the reinforced stock in a wide, horizontal arc aimed at her head.
The clash was deafening. Her dagger, instead of striking him, was brought up to parry his shotgun's stock. Steel shrieked against reinforced steel.
The impact was immense. Both used unpredictable amount of force. Excessive force.
Both the shotgun and her dagger were caught in the devastating force of the collision. They spun from their respective owners' hands. Skittering across the damp ground.
The fight devolved into primal combat. Jack lunged. His monstrous strength was still raw and unrefined. Despite the fact that his ranged weapon was gone.
Queen Mirage, disarmed, met him with surprising ferocity. She was smaller. Quicker. And possessed great strength not much weaker than Jack.
She darted around him. Aiming precise kicks and punches at his vulnerable points. On the other hand, Jack was a battering ram. Aiming to overwhelm her.
He grabbed for her. His calloused hands were like vises. She slipped. Twisted. And disappeared in smoke like a ghost.
But he was faster than she anticipated. His fingers tangled in her hair. Pulling her off balance.
She swore. A sharp, unladylike curse. She struggled. Writhing. Her fists were pounding against his arms and chest. But his grip was as tight as iron.
He slammed her against a tree trunk. The impact was rattling her. She gasped, winded. He pressed his advantage. Leveraging his full weight. Pinning her against the rough bark.
Her legs thrashed. Her knees tried to connect with his groin. But he shifted. Blocking her. Completely pinning her.
Her eyes, wild and defiant, glared up at him. She struggled. But it was futile. His hand went to her throat. His fingers wrapping around the delicate column of her neck.
He felt the rapid pulse beneath his thumb. He intended to squeeze. To twist it. To end it. Justice for Old Sam. Justice for Mosk.
A groan, weak and rattling, came from nearby. Jack's head snapped to the sound. Mosk. He was barely alive. Twitching in a heap closer to the riverbank. His armor ruined. His breath shallow. His hand, however, was moving. Slowly. With immense effort.
Mosk's fingers fumbled at his belt. Pulling something free. A small, spherical object. It was dull metal with intricate etchings. A steamrune grenade.
Jack's internal warning system screamed. Mosk, with a last, desperate surge of rage-and-agony fueled strength, flung it. To their direction.
The grenade arced in the air. It was a pathetic, dying throw. But it was enough. It landed with a soft thud next to Jack and the pinned Queen Mirage.
A hiss. Then, a cloud of thick, cloying pink mist erupted. Expanding rapidly. Enveloping them both. The air immediately turned syrupy, sweet and musky.
Jack coughed. The scent was assaulting his senses. His vision blurred. The world tilting precariously. Poison!
His mind was usually a fortress of cold calculation. But, it felt like it was dissolving into puddle. A wave of heat, intense and unnatural, washed over him.
His grip on Mirage's neck loosened involuntarily. A hot primal urge pulsed through his veins. Dulling his immediate objective. The blazing rage that had fueled him moments before was replaced by a different strange of heat.
He knew this. Knew this effect. It was the infamous invention of a crazed mercenary. The utterly banned product. The... Aphrodisiac Steamrune Grenade.
Mosk... That madman... He had carried one. And he used it. To him, who tried to avenge him.
It was his final, desperate, and utterly humiliating act of defiance. From beyond the grave. But this bastard... also targeted him.
Mirage sagged against him. Her own struggles weakening. Her eyes were unfocused. Glazed. And held a similar raw, bewildered heat.
Her body was pressed against his. And the feeling, normally ignorable, now sent a jolt of something electric through him. His blood roared in his ears. His muscles twitched. Fighting against the overwhelmingly powerful desire.
This was wrong. All wrong. He couldn't think. Couldn't focus. The pink mist thickened. Its intoxicating aroma making his head spin. He had to get out.
He released her neck. Pulling her roughly against him. Her body was unexpectedly pliant. He stumbled back. Away from the dead Mosk. Away from the source of the fog.
Towards the river. The cool dampness of the air near the water offered a fleeting moment of clarity. A desperate gasp for control.
But the fog impact persisted. Clinging to them. His mind was frantic. Searching for an escape. A place where this… this madness could be contained.
A single thought. Primal and desperate. Broke through the haze. His personal dimension. His refuge. His space.
He activated [Mysterious Mirror World]. Reckless activation without paying attention to his surrounding. He didn't care.
The world around them seemed fractured. The river, the trees, the pink mist... All dissolved into shimmering fragments. A ripple of distorted air expanded. Swallowing them whole.
Jack Night and Queen Mirage had disappeared.