NYAC | 3min Read
Published on June 19, 2026
The Truce Of Terror
The Truce Of Terror
“NOW HAND OVER CLARISSA,” Aether (Daniel) roared at the supervillain who calls himself Knox (Jonas), the knife pressed against his throat, glimmering with the fallen sweat of fear and dominance. Knox blinked at the hero, the fear dissipating from his eyes and replaced by pure confusion.
Knox blinked, the panic on his face giving way to pure confusion. “Wait… someone took Clarissa,” he stammered, his voice jumping an octave.
Daniel didn’t lower his knife but eased the pressure, snarling, “I don’t believe you! Who else could have?”
“OF COURSE NOT, GOD. YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST TOLD ME, DANIEL, YOU IDIOT!” Knox roared back, his voice echoing as his hands remained pinned. “I haven’t seen her in two days! I thought it was you, Jonas,” Aether snapped, sheathing his knife but remaining tense. “We were supposed to meet up for her birthday, and she never showed. Her apartment was empty.”
Jonas shoved a hand into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled, tear-stained napkin.
“You think I’d be this panicked? Look at this, you absolute blithering bat. I got this two hours ago. It says, ‘Clarissa is with me. Stop chasing your petty ego if you ever want to see her again.‘” Jonas’s voice cracked.“I thought it was from you. Someone is using our feud to get to her.“
Daniel’s hostility drained away, replaced by a cold dread.
“Petty rivalries? It’s been two years since we spoke about anything but our next fight. Who else would know about us?” He looked at his oldest enemy, now a desperate mirror of his own fear.
They moved with awkward cooperation, two old enemies relearning how to read each other. Clarissa had always been the mischievous chord between them, favouring arguments as much as peace and keeping them tethered. She always believed that Daniel and Jonas were different from Aether and Knox, even when they themselves didn’t.
The windows in the dull room were boarded, and the shadows were thick and alive. The only light came from a broken overhead bulb, swinging lazily and throwing jagged patterns across the cracked concrete floor. Jonas pressed his back to the wall, knife raised, and Daniel mirrored him from the other side, his silver blade glinting.
Neither spoke for a long moment. Every creak and distant drip made their nerves tighten.
“Are we… really doing this?” Daniel finally asked, his voice low and strained. “Working together, I mean. It’s been years. You’ve tried to—”
“Kill me?” Jonas interrupted sharply. “Yes, I’ve tried. But Clarissa’s life isn’t a score to settle, Daniel. She—she’s ours to protect, or… or not at all.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.“And what happens when she’s gone? We’ll be back to knives, and grudges, and blood.”
Jonas let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head.
“No, I know that. I live that. But right now, we’re out of options. You follow procedure; I follow instinct. Clarissa’s somewhere out there, and she trusts us both, whether we trust each other or not.”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “Instinct… right. What if this is a trap?”
Jonas’s fingers twitched on the hilt.
“Then we die. But the point is, if we can’t even pretend to cooperate, she’s already lost. Look at her note, Daniel. Stop chasing your petty ego… Whoever took her knows us. Knows exactly what will make us kill each other before we ever reach her.”
Daniel’s blade dipped slightly. “I… I don’t like it.”
Jonas smiled thinly, sharp and bitter. “Good. You shouldn’t. Trust me, I hate it too. But this isn’t about you or me. It’s about her. Clarissa. And right now, she’s the only reason neither of us has our throats slit.”
They stood in silence, knives raised, the tension dense. A fragile thread of understanding wove through the fear and anger. They weren’t friends. They weren’t allies. But they had to be, at least long enough to find her.
