'Fredi, huh?' Avendial mused, seated in the back of a hall filled with hospital staff and visitors, all looking at him and the lifeless body lying before them.
He was flanked by four guards, guns aimed at him, his hands steady and eyes closed—not in prayer, but in the knowledge that they would not dare to pull the trigger.
After all, they were bound by the law, unlike him.
Instead, he focused on the gains of the day, particularly the removal of an obstacle named Fredistian.
Of course, until the staff members had cried out Fredi's name after his death, Avendial hadn't even known the man's name.
Yet, Avendial could clearly remember the faces he had seen in a past life, including this one: the ambitious man who had allied himself with witch doctors—a race notorious for using human organs to augment their strength.
