I was left standing with a sense of emptiness.
Gerth Carbone, the man whose actions had indirectly killed my family, now lay dead at my feet.
The founder and leader of the experimental branch that developed the nightmare drug more than a decade ago.
The leader of the most ruthless and violent men the seventh district had ever seen.
I had been searching for Gerth for many years.
Killing him had been my priority... No, obsession, for close to a decade.
Now he was dead.
Could my mother and father now rest in peace? Would my brothers feel proud of my actions?
Whatever the case was, I felt nothing.
...
I crouched, inhaling the smoke of my cigar.
A thin layer of steam still emanated from Gerth's body, even if the mechanisms that generated had died together with him.
Still, I did not have the luxury to wait until it cooled down.
I forced my palm against his nape, a sickening and foul sizzle echoed inside the empty room.
The faint smell of grilled meat drifted into my nostrils.
Needless to say, it was not pleasant.
I sat down in a meditative position and closed my eyes, letting out a long, deliberate exhale.
Once more, I deployed my mark.
The familiar sensation washed over my body like a tide. Like an exhilarating high of lethality and tyrannical power.
The flesh that animated the body, the blood that nourished it, and the nerves that governed them all.
I felt every one of them dancing in the palm of my hand. That I could sever and destroy this fragile creation. Just the same as I grow it and stitch it back to its original form.
It was not just a feeling, though.
It was the reality of the power I wielded.
The same cold, hard reality that had killed every single enemy standing on my path. Down to the last of them.
It didn't matter the man was dead.
As long as it was fresh, it would answer my call.
My focus sharpened and narrowed.
Sensations outside became blurry and distant until I could not sense them anymore.
It was only me and the body before me.
Down to the last muscle fiber, down to the last blood cell, and down to the last neuron.
I ignored all of them.
I continued searching.
Diving deeper.
Eventually, I found it. Something alien and otherworldly.
I called for it.
It answered.
...
I looked at the clock.
Fifteen minutes had gone by in a heartbeat. However, I had what I wanted.
I stood up.
Still mesmerized by the small vial in my hands. Lusterless, pitch-black essence contained within, dancing to the tune of a heartbeat.
I delicately stored it in a sealed box, the sealed box I put on my inner pocket. Safe.
...
The wooden, poorly maintained door creaked ever so subtly as it closed behind me.
My eyes narrowed, slow to adapt to the bleak darkness outside.
The rain had long ceased, leaving behind a thin veil of mist and washing away the blood.
Eleven corpses in total.
Each of them belonged to the same men who had allowed my entrance a few mere minutes ago.
Each one of them with a clean bullet hole in between the brows.
...
All but one, actually.
It was the one at my feet that was... different than the rest.
I wondered what he had done to deserve such a death.
Chuckle.
Not my business.
It was exactly 01:00 AM.
It may have been the case that I finished earlier than anticipated, so I had to wait.
Sigh.
My fingers reached down to one of my many pockets, picking a lavish 'Cuban' cigar. The only one I owned.
A relic of old my father had left behind.
The only one he had left, actually. He was never a big smoker.
Its smell, it exuded a soothing, deep, oaky aroma.
It did remind me of him.
...
I had been saving this cigar for... close to a decade.
Patiently waiting for this day.
...
I put it back in my pocket.
A loud exhale escaped my lips. I watched the smoke rise and vanish.
It was a moonless night.
'Smoke, huh...'
Strangely enough, I had never liked smoking.
Not until a few months ago, anyway.
...
I stood silently for a few minutes before sitting on the curb of the nearby road. Next to the corpses.
Subtle enough not to disturb the silence.
I leaned back as I waited.
A hand pressed against my chin in something resembling boredom.
For some reason, my mind felt restless.
I recalled the young woman I had seen before entering. I had not seen her face, I never would, but I found some solace in the fact that her corpse was not here.
Another puff of smoke.
'I wonder how they are doing.' - I pondered.
I remember hearing some gunfire in the vicinity not long ago... It was not impossible that something had gone wrong.
...
The fact that I could not communicate with them. Or rather, that my way of communicating was so limited and... one-directional.
Another thing on my long list of things to research.
I had to admit, though, there was a certain magic to the suspense of that uncertainty.
There is something about he remote possibility that something had gone completely wrong... it sparked something weird inside my gut.
I couldn't put my finger on what it was exactly, but it was there.I decided to reload my firearm. Just in case.
...
It had already been ten minutes since I sat down.
No further gunfire, shouting, talking, or even whispering as far as I could tell. Either everything had gone as planned, or the opposite was true.
I decided to bet on the former.
...
Of course, I won the bet.
'Mmh?'
My eyes flickered open, sensing a movement in the corner of my vision.
My attention aimed at a solitary shadow, a rather tall, slender figure cloaked in clad gray suit. His face covered by the veil of shadows cast by his designer fedora hat.
None of those details caught my attention, though.
My eyebrows raised imperceivably as I discerned the faint shape of a shotgun cunningly hidden under the thickness of his coat.
"You've actually learned." - I muttered.
The surprise was genuine.
The shotgun's barrel still reeked of gunpowder. Much like the silencer of the pistol hidden in his pocket.
It had been used to kill not long ago.
The man's presence was a sinister kind of elusive.
His steps were surgical, calculated.
Most importantly, they were silent.
Not even I could hear him approach.
Not until he was right before me, that is.
Grrl.
The being... It emitted a long, low-pitched growl.
His shadow loomed over me for a couple of seconds, ominously blocking the nearest light source from view.
...
Mysterious today, aren't we?
"Hey." - I saluted.
...
Silence.
Someone had had a rough day, it seemed.
Well. It couldn't be helped.
Not 'saying' anything else (he could not speak), Gray finally buckled, sitting right beside me.
It's attention lost in oblivion.
'He must've seen some things...' - I clicked my tongue.
Another puff of smoke.
'Hmm.'
How impolite of me...
I reached into one of my pockets.
"Cigar?"
I offered in a monotonous tone.
Only then did Gray come back to its senses.
It hesitated for a couple of moments but ultimately accepted it.
I felt a tint of curiosity coming from him.
He reached out, the black leather surface of his gloves smeared in blood.
He picked a stray shotgun case, squishing it in between his fingers, lighting the smoke with a muffled bang.
'...'
We sat in complete silence for a couple of minutes.
None of us said anything.
Both of our jobs were finished.
...
Or so it seemed.
A subtle, rhythmic clack coming from the opposite end of the street caught our attention.
Just faint enough for us to hear.
Like the rustle of leaves in the autumn breeze.
Both of our gazes turned to meet the new arrival. A feeling of tension lingered.
Another tall silhouette.
It stood motionlessly a few yards away from us, much like Gray, his face carefully hidden behind the thin edge of shadows.
The man dressed in a smokin, only this one had a noticeable tint of dark-blue. A matching designer top hat firmly sitting on his head.
He peeked from a nearby corner.
The rest of his body remained inside the alley with a hand raised. Signaling us to follow.
...
My eyes narrowed.
My jaw tightened for an instant.
Something was up.
There was no need to exchange gazes.
I exhaled one last puff of smoke before standing up.
My steps did not make sound. Much like theirs.
I followed after Blue. Gray followed closely behind me.
We soon vanished in the shadows.
...
Our silhouettes advanced elusively, casting long shadows on the floor.
The halogen lights flickered.
The floor of the backstreet was covered in litter. The smell of urine, feces, and death lingered closer with each second.
I could tell we were nearing.
...
Clank.
Blue halted before a particular metal door. It was half rusted and chipped in many places.
A flower of fresh blood tattooed on its surface.
It belonged to the corpse at my feet.
I examined it.
A clean bullet hole on its forehead, much like his friends.
My gaze slid back to the door.
It looked like another abandoned storeroom.
The same as the other ones we'd ignored.
Yet I knew better.
Blue's hand reached for the pommel, opening the door without making a noise. Quite a feat.
I gave a passing glance at the stairs leading down the interior,
A basement reinforced with thick concrete walls that betrayed its unassuming appearance.
It was another one of their assets.
...
The scent of death was thick.
Most importantly, something prevented me from sensing anything past this point.
I frowned.
Words were unnecessary.
Gray disarmed the safe of his weapon before submerging into the darkness of the dungeon below.
There were no good moods anymore.
Blue followed his actions, and I followed behind them.
I kept my hands in my pockets, but my senses sharp.
There was an unnatural lack of noise.
Even with my senses reduced, I could tell whatever lay down here was either dead or too weak to pose any threat; however, with each step, my body tensed firmer.
We reached the end of the flight of stairs.
A second, much heavier, larger steel door lay in our way.
Far from unyielding, it was cracked and bent at strange angles.
I could tell at a glance this one was in a much worse state than the one upstairs.
...
We stepped inside the room.
The opposite side of the steel door had been struck by several rounds of light ammunition.
The intense smell of gunpowder and nitroglycerin still reeked inside.
'What a mess...'
It was not a pleasant scene.
A long corridor. Roughly a couple of dozen cells distributed along the walls of the passage.
Its concrete walls bearing the fierce scars of battle.
A long shot from the clean sweep-through we had planned.
Infiltration had failed.
I brought my attention back to the scene.
Brains, blood, and guts all splashed wildly like some macabre piece of art.
I did not know the exact number of corpses, but the puddles of blood reached the far end of the passage.
"This is disgusting."
I could not help myself.
I knew in advance this hideout existed and expected a strong enemy.
I had underestimated them.
'This should not have happened. I should have brought at least one more.'
I gritted my teeth.
My gaze slid towards the unresponsive silhouette tanding at the opposite end of the corridor.
He was dressed in a coat smeared in blood, a black smokin and a matching hat.
Much like the others.
I looked at him, then I looked at the mess.
"I'll handle that thing." - I muttered.
I glanced back at Blue, Gray, they stood close behind me, guarding the entry.
My eyes glinting with cold, subtle menace.
"You two, prepare to burn everything."
Their reinforcements would arrive soon. We had minutes.
The three complied with a calculated nod.
I turned around and kept moving toward the far end, parting a puddle of blood at my wake.
"I should have known."
I really should have, and looking back at every piece of evidence, it should have been obvious.
The elite unit that had been tasked with protecting Gerth Carbone.
We knew in advance they used this place as hideout in case of emergency. We had seen them come and go for many days.
I always felt the infrastructure and logistics did not make sense. Now I knew.
I picked a blood soaked spreadsheet from the floor.
The accounting was off by a wide margin, it was barely readable, but I understood.
My frown turned deeper.
These men were the ones getting their hands dirty. The bottom of the barrel.
The ones securing the grip of steel over the people and most importantly, squeezing back the profit of those that wondered to deep down the debt trap.
They were relatively weak and unorganized bunch.
They were pathetic, spineless, fragile even... and yet no one would touch a hair on them.
Not as long as they worked under the Night Hand sigil.
I was getting distracted.
They had taken hostages.
The scent of death was thick because the lives of innocent people had been lost.
Partly because of my incompetence.
I wasn't playing hero.
I had no interest in doing so either, but this could have been avoided.
...
I let the scene of death sink. Cell by cell. The weight of their lives hung heavy.
I advanced along the corridor, eventually reaching the last door.
The metal entrance lay split open, letting ragged heave escape from the inside.
Even within the relative darkness of that inhuman cage, the source of the sound was not difficult to locate.
Still, I delayed contact.
My gaze glided along those bloodied concrete walls.
On the left lay the brutalized body of a thin, malnourished, and naked sixteen-year-old girl.
Her glassy eyes stared at the ceiling.
A barrage of numerous bullet holes through her chest. Most of her blood now soaked the floor.
...
Right beside her lay another one of them.
A slightly overweight adult male, lusterless black tattoos covered his hands.
Much like Gerth and I, he was a mark bearer. Albeit a weaker one.
It was now obvious why Black and Blue had struggled to sweep through the location.
It also explained the butcher.
'Either way, he is dead now.'
He was dead, and his essence was too precious to abandon.
Time was not on my side, though, I needed to be quick.
I focused back on the scene.
It didn't interest me that the man was dead.
It interested me how he was dead.
Marksmen were stronger, they were faster, and sturdier. Superior in all aspects.
Gerth's knees had eaten a full mag yet walked just fine.
I had seen some shrug off bullets to the face.
...
I could spew out more examples, but you got the point.
I addressed the elephant in the room.
Not the dead man, but the subtle soul fire that was slowly consuming him.
A fire gray, lethargic, and eldritch.
Like a candle.
...
I looked at her.
The only living human left in this forsaken shithole.
She was leaning on the wall at the opposite end of the cell.
She looked lifeless. Covered in sweat and dust, blood dripping down her forehead, dry tears smeared on her face.
A woman. No, most likely a girl.
Her eyes looked dead. Numb.
She was staring right at the ground, her hands, shackled loosely to the walls, were shaking.
"Please, please. Sto-" - She pleaded.
Not at me, her imagination playing tricks.
My gaze darted left for a second. The other girl... She was around the same age.
Bullet holes infested her lithe body, she had been the one held hostage when the gunfire broke out.
That also explained the trail of a grip around her lifeless neck.
Back to the living.
No matter how fragile or pitiful she looked. The girl before me had just lived through hell.
She had survived it.
She had become a marksman and the rightful wielder of the aberrant flame.
The dead man was her doing.
"Please, don't, I don't-." - She mumbled. Her words were a jumbled mess.
'This...'
Most of her body lay bare; the long captivity had reduced her clothes to rags.
Her body was kept malnourished and weak. Yet it nested a subtle ferocity within. A searing flame.
The mark it danced over her clavicle, just above her breasts.
It depicted what resembled a human skull, enveloped by an unearthly and ancient flame. All slowly dancing on her skin, glowing in shades of gray.
Truths of numbing fire, cold chaos, and the nature of the soul.
I lost myself within the short lapse. Knowledge sank in. That was all it took to understand.
"What an intriguing power." - I unveiled my presence.
...
The sound of my steps echoed.
My shadow eclipsed the faint flickering light coming from the flames, in an instant, the girl halted her wailing.
Her eyes burned with hostility.
...
"Who are you..?"
She uttered. Her voice turned hoarse like a cornered feral beast.
Threatening and dangerous.
Even for me.
A dull glow formed on the palms of her hands. The marks under her skin revolted in chaos.
She was not thinking straight.
My face turned sour.
"I'm not here to hurt you."
...
It was already too late.
I clenched my teeth together tightly, a wave of blistering agony descending upon me.
'Shit!'
There was no choice. My hand raised on instinct. A brilliant purplish spark lit my irises.
Then the ground shook to a thunderous clap.
My mark was triggered for an instant; With a violent flicker, her hostility vanished, the flame lighting her eyes died.
Her body fell limp to the side.