As the body of his last remaining henchman thudded heavily to the ground, the man backed away in terror. His panicked gaze searched for a way out of the room, but in vain: the attacker was standing between him and the main exit. There was another door behind him that led directly outside the building, but after the display of speed and skill that he had just witnessed, in which all twenty-five of his best men had been crushed in a matter of moments, he knew perfectly well that he would be cut down before he could even take three paces toward the escape.
He was a dead man.
Just a few minutes ago, he and his men had been making merry, drinking and gambling as they always did; just another ordinary day in which they passed the hours until the sun went down. Only then they could go about their real business under the cover of the night. None of them had had any idea that, in the blink of an eye, this ordinary day would turn into a gruesome nightmare when the devil incarnate materialised among them, right in the middle of their own headquarters.
His men were all well-trained, and had responded instantly, leaping up with all weapons drawn. Poker chips, cards, mahjong tiles and cash had been sent flying, but his men had joined them on the floor in a bloody sprawl too soon after.
Now, the young man who had spelled carnage on them was straightening up to look right at him with piercing silver eyes. The blood dripping from his hands and daggers marked the dark trail of his entrance through the door, and told the weaponless man that there would be no hope for reinforcements even if he screamed his throat to shreds.
The invader spoke. "You've been surprisingly difficult to get hold of, Yenga." The greeting was unhurried, borne on a low, even voice which carried no hint of any effort from the slaughter.
"What…" Yenga's voice quivered in fear, "what does Dagger want from me?"
The dark head tilted as he regarded Yenga. "You know who we are. Good. That saves some time."
How could Yenga not know? Was there anyone in the underground world of this city who hadn't heard of the silver-eyed demon, this weapon of mass destruction contained in human form? Even if there had been a time in which anybody had come face to face with him in battle and lived to tell the tale, that time had long passed into forgotten and untold history.
But Yenga had been careful to stay out of Dagger's way. He had even reneged on a couple of jobs in the past, just because he had heard whispers of his target having paid the infamous Steel a visit to request protection. As far as he could help it, he was keen to avoid putting himself and his men in a position where they would face certain death.
But Death had now come to his very doorstep, not even caring to hide his face under a mask, and Yenga didn't have the faintest clue what they could have done to invite this. Had one of his men been foolish enough to come up against them? Had they gotten in the devil's way? Why was he the only one left standing now, shaking so hard that he could barely remain on his feet?
"Steel." A tall young man appeared at the door, rust-red hair and amber eyes visible over his black mask. "I swept the other wing, but their leader doesn't seem to be— oh."
"Don't worry. He's right here." Argent gaze never leaving Yenga, Death took a step toward him.
Yenga fell to his knees, dignity thrown to the wind. "NO!" he screamed. "No no! Mercy! Whatever we did to offend you, I'll make any amends you require! Just please, don't kill me!"
"This isn't revenge. Let's just call it a professional practicality."
"Wha—?" Yenga's head snapped up, his mind fumbling to make sense of the words. "Did someone send you?" he cried. "I can pay you more, whatever you want!"
"No. This is an eviction notice, from me. You have three days to clear out."
Silence fell in the room. Yenga waited, trembling, but the young man with hair and eyes the colour of blood just looked on, unspeaking, from the doorway, and Death didn't approach or say anything more. After a long, still moment, Yenga took the deadly quiet as permission to take his leave.
Pushing himself up on quaking limbs, he edged toward the emergency exit. As he reached for the door, however, he heard something whip through the air. His hand flew of its own accord to the wall, and stayed there, pinned by the knife that had pierced clean through his palm. The pain sliced up his arm as his brain registered the injury, and he screamed.
"Three days," he thought he heard Death say through his agony. Then the demon melted away into the shadows, departing as abruptly and as silently as he had arrived, leaving Yenga alone in the room with the bodies of his fallen gang members.
...
"Three days, huh?" Nigel gave a low whistle as they stepped out of the building. "That was unusually generous of you. Are you, maybe, in an exceptionally good mood today or something?"
Keary snorted. "Maybe." He paused to light up a cigarette.
Nigel watched him, then said, "But you know, this group actually really wasn't that big of a deal. They've never opposed us, or fought with us for jobs, and don't ever attempt to enter into our turf. Was this really necessary?"
Keary's only answer was a cloud of smoke. He knew that what Nigel said was true, and that this particular gang was miles away from actually posing a threat to any them. Yenga was clearly frightened of him. He knew that the man wouldn't have dared to risk attracting his attention.
But Keary had not been truthful when he'd led Yenga to think that this was business. It was, in fact, exceedingly personal.
Nigel hadn't been there at the bar when Keary had rescued Cardin from Kaesar's hand. Nigel wasn't aware of the depth of Kaesar's hatred for Keary, the indissoluble grudge he held, nor the full scale of the morningstar wielder's power. Keary, on the other hand, knew full well that a man such as Kaesar would stop at nothing to make good on his threats. He would be aiming straight for Keary, and for anyone who stood around him. In addition to Kaesar having his own wealth of resources, which Keary hadn't yet figured out how to dismantle, Keary was uneasy with the fact that there were too many other mercenaries out there who would be willing to be of use in exchange for the right price.
So he had made Mikka put together a list of all the other mercenary groups and gangs in the city, and had been clearing out the nests one by one, sometimes bringing one Dagger or another with him, whenever Cardin was preoccupied with school matters. He couldn't simply wait around for Lisette's vengeful brother to find himself more tools that were just hanging about, ready to be commissioned to ambush them at any time. Not if it meant even the slightest chance of Cardin getting caught in the crossfire.
Keary, too, had promises to keep.
God, he missed Cardin. The house had been deafening in its quiet today without him. He couldn't wait to hold the boy in his arms again, and listen to that sweet voice tell him all about whatever he'd been up to all day.
Tossing away his half-finished cigarette, he headed towards his bike.
"Let's go. I need to wash this blood off before Cardin gets home."
...