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Chapter 64: The Darkest Of Roses VI
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Most have come to a simple conclusion. The Roses were abandoned by their leaders. Even Ian has disappeared for a while now.
The crime families waited for something else to happen, but nothing did. They'd have to assume at some point that the Roses escaped in fear.
Where organizations decline due to such premises, the Roses stayed strong. Very few of them lost hope. Why? Because the family was built like a cult.
It's easier to fool someone than to convince them they've been fooled, and the Roses weren't fooled. They've been given exactly what they were promised, so their faith was strong.
Yet none even come close to her. She walked through the streets of Gotham, late at night. She was attired in a long black dress, almost like a nun's clothes.
Her black hair was falling to her waist, and one can see a few grey hairs on her hair despite not being that old. She was in her early forties.
Her face spoke of wisdom, of someone who had gone through a lot. She had seen a lot which is why Ian chose her. She was the most special person among the first Rose members by far.
To the Roses, she was the most gentle person in the family, taking care of everything but making sure everything is perfect. She especially focused on Cat's rest.
Layla was a lady of simple perfection, gentle and calm bearing. A signal of which was her never-changing smile of natural gentleness, or as some may say... It needn't be said.
Her face glowed under the fluorescent of the Rose in her gloved hand. A crimson flower with a pink hue to it.
Some kind of chemical was applied to it, giving it that luminance, almost like a ritual of sorts.
It's been almost two weeks since Ian made the deal with Neron and came back to Gotham, but he hasn't been seen since then, not even by the Roses.
Nonetheless, the Roses seem to know what they have to do... Except for Layla. Her current actions were of her own violation without anyone's knowledge.
Her steps were slow and silent as she made her way through a dark alleyway, not minding stepping on the dirty puddles of water along the way.
"Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing here?!" The peace was broken by the loud yelling of a certain man, seated on a chair next to a door.
His clothes were unorganized, and of no natural synergy whatsoever, just a bunch of different clothes put together with no thought behind them. He looked almost like a beggar, but the stench of alcohol did explain a lot to Layla.
The first thing Layla did in response was to attach the Rose to the belt of her dress. She then approached the man.
"I am here to meet with sir Dragos Ibanescu. May you lead the way?" Who wouldn't believe her with her unchanging expression and manner of speech?
"Oh? You'r..." The drunk henchman was about to speak, but he couldn't find it in himself to do so. All he could do is bring his hand to his throat and feel his still warm blood leak out, like a river streaming down a mountain.
He wanted to speak. He wanted to scream dearly for his life, but a gentle hand found itself on his mouth as a shush was whispered in his ear. Layla was delicate in her movement as she placed him on the ground and gently pushed her knife through his chest.
It was not just any knife but the knife, Ian's Kryptonian knife. It was a work of art that was able to cut through bones like butter.
She searched him for a minute before finding the keys. He had a gun but she didn't seem interested in picking it up. She was bringing a knife to a gunfight, quite the bizarre thing indeed.
Perhaps she was seeking her death? Either way, she opened the door which led to a hallway with several doors to the side. The security seemed extremely lax, allowing her to just walk out to the closest door and knock on it. She's most definitely seeking her own death.
The door was opened by another drunk individual, this one even more muddled than the last, "yhat?"
Layla noticed two other individuals inside, so she just extended her hand for him to shake and that he did in his dizzy state.
Layla then just started walking away while pulling him away with her, and before he could question her about anything, she sliced his throat, specifically his jugular as she had done the same thing thousands of times.
Layla was quick to go behind him and grab his face, not allowing him to scream or make much movement. She followed directly after with a stab to his heart.
'It's nothing like before. I wonder how Ian acquired such a weapon?' Layla wondered as she placed the body on the floor. The guy had already lost consciousness, and he was losing more blood by the second. If she didn't stab his heart, he'd be dead in a minute but the heart stab lowered that time to seconds.
Getting a clean slice on the jugular is quite hard, and stabbing the heart is even harder. The only reason she found it so easy is because of the dagger.
Her gloves and dagger were already drenched in blood, so she made sure to hide her hands behind her back as she entered the room.
The two drunkards in the room weren't aware of what happened. They didn't even stop to think for a second about where their friend has gone.
They just watched Tv in their braindead state, allowing Layla to pass by them and slit their throats in the blink of an eye. She has definitely done that many times before.
The place was a shithole, very much to Layla's liking as it means shitty people live within hence the lack of security and order.
One way or another, Layla found herself clearing all the rooms, leaving blood pools behind her every step, yet her usual gentle smile never left her.
She reached the boss' room, also known as Dragos Ibansecu. It looked more luxurious from the outside than the rest and more isolated though Layla saw two henchmen guarding the room.
She remained calm and just walked toward them with her hands behind her back, her dagger was hidden from their eyes.
The two however more alert than the rest as they pulled their guns out and aimed at her, "Who the fuck are you?" They were understandably confused.
"Hm? Did Sir Dragos not tell you? We have a meeting, you should know that because even the guy guarding the outer door knows it." She spoke with unnatural calmness and confidence. The guns pointed at her not fazing her was a show of fearlessness.
"That's a lie, right? No way would the boss invite someone while doing that... Would he?" One of the henchmen wondered though her confidence made them both doubt themselves.
Moreover, why would the outer guard allow her inside if her words were a lie? Then again, they should definitely know if an appointment between their boss and someone has been scheduled.
They were perplexed, unsure of what to do until the other guard noticed something peculiar, "Why are your hands behind..."
Her actions were all calculated. Even when she uttered those first words to them, she spoke unhurriedly while walking toward them, allowing her to shorten the distance further.
By now, she was standing a mere foot away from them, which would've still been dangerous if not for her next action.
"Nothing serious. It's just because of this." As she spoke, she turned her head to her left, seemingly paying full attention to her left hand which she extended to her far left.
From her gloved hand slipped a few drops of blood. They looked like they were almost falling to the ground in slow motion, at least from the guards' perspective as they comprehended the picture before them.
'Ahh, distractions. I always knew they were good, but Ian showed me a whole new universe, a way of life.'
She didn't dwell in her thoughts for even a second as she lowered her stance and leaped towards the man to the left. She clenched the dagger in her hand and sliced his armed hand, facing no resistance whatsoever.
She was swift in hiding to the left of the man, making him a meat shield against his fellow henchmen.
She knew a single slice to the hand wasn't enough, so before the poor man could scream, she stabbed the dagger into his armpits, her target was his axillary artery, a large artery very close to the heart, so if a slice, blood will come gushing down like a waterfall.
The poor man didn't get any break as his state of weakness allowed her to kick him toward his fellow guard just as the latter was about to fire in their direction, and he did manage to fire albeit he only added to his friend's misery.
Layla followed after the poor man, hiding behind him before sliding a little to the side, surprising the henchman with a slice to the Popliteal artery, in the back of his knee.
"Ahhhhhhhhh!!" A piercing shriek of pain resounded throughout the area as the man fell to the ground in unimaginable pain. His friend, unfortunately, didn't even get to scream.
Layla stood up behind the screaming man and put him out of his misery with odd gentleness.
She found it strange that no one within the room has reacted, then she remembered the henchmen's words. The boss was doing that?
She opened the room in her usual defenseless state. She either doesn't care about death or she's seeking her own death.
"W-WHo??"
"Oh... I see."
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