The young man—towering, broad-shouldered but tapering down to a lean core—walked right down the middle of the street, its cobblestones adorned with body parts.
Blood dripping from his hands painted a gruesome trail, a crimson shadow following his every step.
He halted before a single-story shack, an anomaly sandwiched between massive glass-fronted shops, letting a small pool of blood gather at his boots. The death throes of a city being slaughtered echoed from all directions, yet a graveyard's silence reigned behind the wooden planks before him.
Mel wrenched the handle; the door exploded from its hinges, smashing into the wall across the street. Within the gloom, a pair of eyes glinted in the invading light.
"Took you long enough!"
A flint sparked, illuminating the silhouette of a man lighting candles on the counter.
"Where is the boy?"
