The office was a small building, unassuming while still imposing. The sharp, metal fences resembled a prison, each black stake rising out of the ground as if a dead man's arm was grasping out. Small sprigs of vegetation crawled up towards the roof. Opening the doors, Nikolai was quickly greeted with the noxious fumes of embalming chemicals. The front room was devoid of life, the air still, rivers of airborne dust visible through small streams of sunlight. Each breath he took filled his lungs with the unpleasant scent of formaldehyde. He wandered into the building, the doors shutting quietly behind him. It wasn't a particularly bright day, but the sun seemed to shine its refulgent rays into the room with a spectacular intensity.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" His gaze falls towards the coffins, their ethereal gleam basked in sunlight from the nearby window. He ran his fingers along each mahogany stripe, in thought.
One day, I would be in one of these, buried beneath the earth in eternal rest.
A ceramic vase was situated into the corner of the windowsill, with a few solitary chrysanthemums nestled in the soil. Their soft, white petals looked disheveled, like the drenched feathers of a dove after a heavy shower. The stems were green, but not the vibrant green of summer grass. Rather, it was more so the dull green of a clump of decaying spruce needles — alive, although barely. The plants were staring, almost enviously, towards the fresh dewdrops that had been collecting on the vines outside.
"Hello?" Nikolai hears a voice from behind him, soft and delicate. A young woman stood by the front counter, her chestnut hair draping over her shoulders. She wore a plain work dress, with eyes of hazel and the expression of a small animal. Her hands held a small canister of water. She continued to speak, her tone gentle. "Did you schedule an appointment?" Nikolai adjusted his coat and replied.
"No, uh, I was just looking for the director." She set down the canister, producing a weak metallic sound as it made contact with the wood. The water inside sloshed around.
"Well... I'm the director," she said in a serene voice. "What did you want to meet for?"
"I just had some questions."
"Regarding?" She tilted her head.
"Oh, uh, I need to know where this is." Nikolai handed over the photograph of the graveyard. She glanced over it, before quickly giving it back.
"I see... Please follow me. I should have a map of the surrounding gravesites in the city."
She gestured for him to follow her to the backroom. As he trailed behind, the stench of chemicals only grew stronger. They eventually reached what seemed to look like an office space.
"Take a seat," she said, pointing at an old rickety chair. The director rummages through a cabinet, eventually retrieving a manila folder, which she promptly passes over. Nikolai's fingers tremble as they slowly open the envelope, giddy like a child during Christmas Day.
That was until he felt the chill of cold steel at his throat.
"Listen carefully unless you want your neck opened up," he heard her say, all sweetness that was once in her voice replaced with growling malice. He could feel his palms begin to sweat.
"Keep your hands out on the table," she ordered in a low tone. "Don't scream, and answer my questions. Which one sent you?"
"W-what do you mean?!" Nikolai replied frantically.
"You know damn well what I mean! Tell me who! Cherpakha? Suzaku?" She hissed, spitting out each name with vituperation.
"What the hell are you talking about?!" Nikolai pleaded in desperation. "I don't even know who those people are!"
"Don't fucking mess with me right now!" She threatened.
"P-please! I don't know!"
"I know that you! Fucking! Know! Spill it, bastard! Or I'll spill you-" Before she could finish, a knock came at the door. Slowly, it creaked open.
"Lena? I heard some shouting. Are you alright?"
Another woman appeared at the door, speaking in a pleasant and dainty manner. She looked similar to the lady holding Nikolai hostage, albeit younger. Her chestnut hair was pinned together neatly in a bun, contrary to the other woman's mane, free and unbound.
"Don't make a sound," Nikolai's assailant whispered quietly into his ear. "Or you die." The new arrival slowly stepped forward, cane in one hand, her gaze unfocused and relaxed. She waved it around, tapping on the wooden floor.
"Ah, Lena, is someone here?" the blind woman asked softly, stepping cautiously into the room. Her cane tapped gently against the wooden floor, each sound precise and measured. Her presence immediately shifted the air—calmer, yet no less tense. Lena's hand stood frozen, the knife still cold against Nikolai's neck. Her voice tightened, masking her earlier fury.
"It's nothing, Nastya. Just... a customer with some questions." Nastya's cloudy eyes swept vaguely over to our direction.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude with your business, dear guest!" She smiled gently. "Would you like some tea?" Nikolai opened his mouth to speak, but Lena cut in before he could say anything.
"What a wonderful idea, Nastya! I'm taking him to the showroom later. We'll be out shortly!"
Nastya smiled slightly. "Oh, alright," she said, her voice soft with a hint of excitedness. "I'll leave you to it, then." She gave a polite nod, then turned and left the room, her cane tapping softly as she disappeared down the hall. Lena kept still, listening keenly to the volume of each clack decrease. When the sound completely stopped, she removed the knife from his throat.
"Don't even dream of getting up," she said, closing the door and then turning to him. Although Nikolai was still at her mercy, the anger she had shown just a few minutes ago seemed to calm significantly. He sighed in relief. "So," she spoke, leaning on the door. "Who're you, and how did you get that photo?"
"S-so you're not gonna kill me?" He asked, his tone hopeful.
"If I like your answers, maybe." She didn't even consider looking at Nikolai's way anymore, now more focused on inspecting her knife. "Well? Talk. I'm busy."
"I work at the East Bay Gazette, a bit south of here," Nikolai's voice shuddered, traces of fear still lingering on each word. "I was just chasing a lead when..."
He swallowed back thoughts of uncertainty.
This is it. The little bit of information I had told no one, now revealed to a complete stranger.
"When what? Do you need help talking, huh? Am I speaking to a retard?"
"When I witnessed... a murder, the killer he – he gave me two photos." Lena's eyes widened. She stared at – no – through Nikolai. Her pupils dilated, her grip on the knife tightened.
"The killer," she said, slowly and concisely. "What did he look like?" Nikolai quickly racked his head in thought, trying to reconjure the image.
"Tall, freakishly tall. He must've been well over two meters. He had a black trenchcoat and a hat, and some gloves, if I remember. He was quite burly too, and he had a very thick beard, but he didn't look any older than his mid-30s."
Lena's stance stiffened as she gazed towards the ground. She muttered something under her breath, but Nikolai couldn't quite catch it. As she looked back up, her expression was filled with what one could only describe as barely-contained fury straight from the depths of hell itself.
"That man," she said, gritting her teeth. "Did he give you anything else?"
"A briefcase," Nikolai said, a little shaken. "Why?"
"What. Was. In. It." If words could kill, then each syllable that escaped her mouth would've contained a lethal dose of venom.
"A gun and a knife," Nikolai replied. "He handed it to me before the murder, though. That was the first time I met-"
"Strip."
"Excuse me?" he spat out, flustered.
"You heard me. Strip." Lena looked unfazed at her brazen request.
"Could I know what for at least?"
"Checking for weapons and anything that would... identify you."
"What do you mean, 'identify me'?"
"Strip. Now." She pointed the knife at him. "Or I could just check your corpse." Nikolai quickly jumped out of his outerwear, fearing for his life.
"Happy now?" Nikolai said, waving his arms above his head, shielded only by his underwear.
"Everything."
"You couldn't possibly be serious-"
"I could gut you, and do it for you, if you're that shy about it."
"Ok, ok!" he responded. It was his life or his dignity. Now, the only things protecting his sanctity were his hands.
"Turn." He complied, begrudgingly. She inspected Nikolai from afar as he turned. "Alright, you're good. You can put your clothes back on." He scrambled, throwing on his garments.
"You trust me now?"
"Yeah," she said, putting down her knife. "Enough to not kill you."
"What were you looking for, by the way?"
"Tattoos," she said. "All Red Sky members have the emblem tattooed somewhere on their body, the grunts at least. The-"
"Wait wait wait." Nikolai interrupted, confused. "What the hell is Red Sky?" Lena took a seat on a worn leather chair.
"You really are clueless about this, huh?" Lena scoffed. She lit up a cigarette, produced from God knows where. "I guess I can give a history lesson right now. The Red Sky Triad, better known as just 'Red Sky', is a criminal group that's been hiding underground for... Give or take, the last six decades." She puffed on the cigarette. "Not to say they're weak, or anything. In fact, they're probably the biggest organization this half of the world."
"And what does this group have to do with you sticking me up at knifepoint?" Nikolai asked, curious.
"I've been their target for a while, so I thought you were one of their lackeys."
"And why were they targeting you?" She put out the cigarette, smothering it on a nearby ashtray.
"Guess I've been disrupting their business." Nikolai pinched his nose bridge.
"Why in the world would you pick a fight with a group like that?" He reasoned.
"They killed my parents." A moment of silence clung to the air.
"Oh... I'm sorry for-"
Lena bursted out into an uncontrollable laughter.
"Don't be," she said between giggles. "They were, quite frankly, garbage. I couldn't care less about trash being thrown out." Nikolai tried to shift the topic.
"How long have you been doing this for?"
"Doing what?"
"You know, messing with a crime organization." She looked up at the ceiling.
"Uh... I think four years now?" She smirked. "Still kickin' though."
"Aren't you afraid, like, at all?"
"Why would I be?" She chuckled. "All the ones they've been sending to off me are rotting as fertilizer in my back garden."
"Oh," Nikolai said, now nervous again. He had almost forgotten the person in front of him was a little messed up in the head.
"What were we on again?" She reminisced. "Oh yeah, tattoos. So, all the low ranking members got a little red tattoo. Kinda looks like 4 lines. Wanna see?" Before Nikolai could respond, she pulled out a jar. Inside were little slices of leather floating in some chemical, each containing the same marking.
"Uh, I see." He wasn't sure whether to be fascinated or disgusted.
"Cool, right?" She grinned. "Seven in total. Missed two though, only started collecting them at the third guy." Nikolai almost vomited in his mouth, but held the urge. She stashed the jar back under her desk. "Anyways, the grunts all have just the singular mark. But the executives, far as I know, have different identification." She pulled out a piece of paper. At least it wasn't human skin again.
"What is this?"
"My hit list," she smiled devilishly. "I guess it also works as a structure map for their group." Nikolai glanced over the chart. There were a few names, a few pictures, and some blank spaces.
"How did you figure this out? You know, who's higher than who and whatnot?"
"After four years, you know some people. I got a good information network out right now. Plus, for an underworld organization, they're not exactly low-key about their activities." Nikolai scanned the names. One, however, caught him off guard. His blood froze. He slowly pointed towards it.
"W-Who is this?"
"Oh, I don't know either." Lena admitted. "This one's a bit of a mystery. No ones heard of their name or knows their face. All we know is that they're Red Sky and working with these three people."
She turned the paper back to Nikolai.
"Let me introduce to you my biggest obstacle in dismantling Red Sky." She guided his eyes to the aforementioned three names. "Red Sky's elite special operations squad, the Four Gods Division, consisting of... Guess how many? Four executives and some change."
She pointed to the fourth name down from the triangular structure. "Vanguard of the Red Sky, fourth in the chain of command, and leader of the Division, codenamed Qinglong, or Azure Dragon. His real name is Wei Long." She pointed at his portrait. "Mean-looking motherfucker."
The man indeed had a menacing demeanor, sporting a large vertical scar across his right eye. His dark black hair was slicked back, with a few small twigs of gray intermixed within.
"He took in a few orphans and raised them to be the group's hunting dogs. The best of which," she continued, pointing towards the other names, "ended up being the other three execs."
"I see."
"I think you're acquainted with this one." She pointed towards the second name of the three. "Codenamed Cherepakha, or Black Tortoise. Real name, Mikhail Chitayev."
It was the man from the pier, and the same man who had appeared in the alley that misty night.
"Giant of a guy, I tell you, but you've already seen him. Wonder why he didn't dispose of you when you saw him... working."
"I don't know either, and I'd prefer to stay ignorant. Anything that keeps me alive and able to sleep at night is a good thing."
"Maybe he thought you were too much of a puss to do anything," she teased. "Every other guy I've held at knifepoint would at least try to fight back. Not that it would go well for them, but hey – they had spirit."
"Why-"
"Hey, the teacher isn't done speaking yet." She said, annoyed. "God, I hate people who interrupt. So rude."
Lena continued onto the last name of the three. "No picture for this one. But they got a name, at least. Codenamed Suzaku, or Vermillion Bird. Real name, Kiyomi Shirakawa. Probably Japanese. That's all I know." She shrugged.
"And finally," she pointed at the words which Nikolai had frozen at previously. His hands trembled as his heartbeat quickened once more.
"No name, no portrait, real enigma. Location unknown, status unknown."
Nikolai felt his stomach twist at the name.
"Codenamed – Baihu."