It had been a couple of weeks since his fight with that impressive Guardsman—the best fight he'd had in a long time, and certainly not one he'd expected to find in this so-called powerless city. "I'm sure they're enjoying the little moment of respite I've graciously given them," Joshua muttered to himself with a smirk as he turned to survey his latest hideout.
The warehouse was nothing extraordinary, but it was sturdy and well-structured, perfect for his operations. Half a dozen of his men bustled about, carefully measuring and mixing the ingredients he'd provided to manufacture his prized drug. Another group worked in tandem, hauling small wooden crates filled with the finished product into neat, organized stacks by the far wall.
Joshua folded his arms and allowed a low chuckle to escape. "When I kick things back into gear, the Guard's gonna lose their damn minds. Running around like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to put out fires while I watch the whole city burn." The thought drew a sharp laugh from him, his smile twisting into an almost caricature of villainy. "Ah, I can't wait to see that," he added, his voice dripping with sadistic glee.
The sound of something landing behind him broke his revelry. Without even turning, Joshua spoke, his tone tinged with irritation. "I thought I told you to guard the other warehouse, Philip. What are you doing here?"
From behind him, Philip stepped forward, his boots crunching softly against the cold concrete. Light snow clung stubbornly to his tail, the crisp bite of winter already creeping in despite the season's early start. "My boys can handle guarding it just fine," Philip growled, brushing the snow off with an annoyed flick of his tail. His green eyes glinted as he continued, "I came here to talk. About what I said earlier."
Joshua let out an exaggerated sigh, his expression shifting to one of pure boredom as he finally turned to face the wolfman. "This again? You're a real persistent mutt, you know that?" he said, his sharp tone carrying clear disdain. His words hung in the air, heavy with annoyance, as he stared at Philip with barely concealed impatience.
"We could've killed them right then and there!" Philip roared, storming up to Joshua until their faces were mere inches apart. "We could've gotten rid of that bastard who can actually hold his own against you, and taken out those two fucks I've been itching to kill this whole time!" His voice was a raw snarl, his tail bristling with pent-up rage. "But no, instead you knock me out and run away like some goddess damn coward!"
Joshua stared back at him, his expression unchanging—utter boredom, as if Philip's tantrum was nothing more than a buzzing fly in his ear.
"And now," Philip pressed on, his voice rising even louder, "you've given them time to breathe! Time to regroup! Leaving them alive means they know who we are. We're trapped here, stuck in the slums like rats because of your idiotic games!" His fist shot up, trembling with frustration. "With this power—our power—we could rule this city with ease! But no, you'd rather scheme and play around when you could be—"
Before he could finish, Joshua's hand lashed out, gripping Philip's mouth in an iron vice. The wolfman's words were cut off instantly, his muffled protests dying as Joshua lifted him slightly off the ground, his eyes cold and unyielding. "What part of," Joshua said, his voice low and dangerous, "'I do whatever I want' do you not understand?"
The pressure of his grip increased, and Philip's eyes betrayed the first flickers of fear. Just as the tension reached its peak, Joshua released him, letting the wolfman stumble back onto his feet. Philip glared down at the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he silently seethed. *Soon,* he thought, the words burning in his mind like a mantra. *Soon, I'll rip you to fucking pieces.*
Joshua could see the murderous intent in Philip's eyes, but he didn't care. The thought of Philip ever being a real threat to him was laughable—goddess herself would descend to Aetheria to fool around before that would happen. With a dismissive smirk, Joshua spoke again. "Be grateful I still find you even mildly entertaining, Philip. Otherwise, I would've abandoned you in the gutter long ago. You're an utter failure, and you're lucky I haven't thrown you away yet."
Philip's lips curled back in a silent snarl, but he said nothing. Instead, his gaze wandered to the workers scattered throughout the warehouse. He gestured toward the piles of crates. "How much of this shit do you even need? Between this place and the other warehouse, there's enough to get the whole damn slums hooked," he muttered, arms crossed, his voice dripping with disdain.
Joshua turned his back on him, surveying the operation with a faint smirk. "That's not your concern," he said coolly. "But I'll humor you—let's just say my plans stretch far beyond this pathetic little city." His smirk faded, and his tone dropped, sharp as a blade. "Now get back to the warehouse I told you to guard, and stop wasting my time."
Philip huffed and looked away, his arms tightening across his chest. "I already told you, my boys are guarding it. Nobody's stupid enough to mess with us anyway," he muttered.
As if summoned by fate itself, the sound of hurried footsteps broke the tense silence. Both men turned to see Nunin, the dwarf, rushing into the warehouse, his face pale and drenched in sweat. "S-Sirs, there's a problem!" he stammered, doubling over to catch his breath.
Philip's ears flattened as he stormed toward the dwarf, his voice a bark of fury. "What the hell are you doing here, Nunin? You're supposed to be guarding the damn warehouse!"
The dwarf flinched under the wolfman's anger, his voice trembling as he stuttered out, "W-we were, b-but they burned it down!"
Both Philip and Joshua froze, their eyes widening at the words. For a moment, there was nothing but the hum of machinery and the muffled sounds of the workers. Then, Joshua's calm facade cracked. His chi flared around him in a visible surge of energy, casting an eerie glow as his hands clenched into fists. A rare and dangerous fury flickered across his face.
"Who'd dare?" he growled, his voice a low rumble that promised vengeance.
**At the other warehouse**
The once-intact building was now a roaring inferno, flames licking the night sky as smoke poured upward in thick, black plumes. A rugged man stood a short distance away, his copper prosthetic hand glinting faintly in the firelight as he raised a cigarette to his lips. His face, worn and lined, spoke of sleepless nights and a weight that came from years of hardened resolve. His brown hair was unkempt, and heavy eye bags framed his sharp gaze, giving him an almost ghostly air.
Beside him, a younger man with a snake tattoo coiling down his arm watched the flames with wide eyes. "What do you think they're feelin' right now, boss?" the man asked, his voice voice tinged with cathartic satisfaction.
Copperhand took a long drag from his cigarette before flicking it to the ground. He crushed it underfoot with a deliberate motion, his lips curling into the faintest smirk. "Undeniable anger."