While keeping his gun trained on the butcher's head, Ali stepped back and casually perched himself on one of the industrial fridges in the warehouse. He spent the next thirty minutes interrogating the terrified man, pressing him for every bit of information he could squeeze out.
"Please, l've told you everything! I don't know anything else, I swear! Please, spare me-l've got a little girl at home. She's just a baby. She won't survive without me! Please...!" The butcher's voice trembled as he broke down in tears, his face streaked with sweat and desperation.
Ali stood up slowly, his footsteps deliberate and measured as he approached the butcher. The look of terror in the man's eyes didn't stir an ounce of empathy in him. He gazed down at the snivelling butcher, his lips curling into a grim smile.
'The human condition' Ali thought. 'When butchering the bodies of kids, they show no remorse, no hesitation. But when their own life is on the line, they fall apart like frightened children.'
Without a word, Ali bent down and picked up the bloodied meat cleaver that lay discarded on the floor next to the butcher. He held it up, inspecting the weight and sharpness of the blade.
"You know," he began, his voice almost conversational, "there's a lesson I learned early in life. Every evil you inflict on someone else has a way of finding its way back to you. Karma, if you will. So, if you can't handle what you dish out, maybe you shouldn't be doing it." He flipped the cleaver into the air, caught it by the handle, and in one swift motion, brought it down onto the butcher's neck.
SPLASH
The sound of the cleaver slicing through flesh and bone was sickening. The butcher's head rolled across the floor, leaving a bloody trail in its wake, while his decapitated body slumped forward, spurting blood from the gaping wound in his neck. A pool of crimson quickly formed beneath the body, spreading across the cold concrete floor. Ali stood over the butcher's corpse, sighing as he wiped the cleaver using the dead man's clothes.
'The best butcher in Tokyo Ghoul', Ali mused sarcastically as he surveyed the grisly scene.
Now that the immediate threat had been neutralised, Ali turned his attention to the remaining bodies. He methodically dragged each one, including the bald gangster's corpse, into the centre of the warehouse. One by one, he hoisted the bodies onto a high table, grabbing the cleaver again and expertly dismembering them.
His movements were swift and precise, like an artisan performing a practiced craft. Within minutes, he had reduced each body to pieces-arms, legs, torsos, and heads, all neatly separated. Ali stuffed the remains into the empty freezers that lined the warehouse, their lifeless forms stored like unwanted stock.
The process took less than thirty minutes. The last severed head, from one of the younger gangsters, was unceremoniously dropped into a freezer. Ali glanced around to see that all nine freezers were now filled-seven occupied by the gangsters, two by the dismembered remains of the ghoul siblings whose bodies the gang had butchered earlier in the night.
In the far corner of the warehouse, a smaller freezer stood apart from the others.
Curious, Ali walked over and opened it. Inside was the red stinger of the young ghoul, encased in ice. The Bikaku, a weapon grown from the body of a ghoul, was still intact.
Ali picked up the Bikaku, examining it with interest. 'It's solid like metal, and the tip is razor-sharp. The base is thick, solid muscle-this is a powerful weapon. And to think it came from a young ghoul... The older ones must have even stronger versions. We'll see!' He placed the Bikaku back into the freezer and turned his attention to the siblings' bodies, which were stored in two of the larger freezers.
Kneeling beside the remains, Ali carefully studied the anatomy of the ghouls, particularly where the Bikaku had extended from. He found an unusual organ embedded deep within their bodies. 'This must be responsible for the supernatural strength and the creation of the stinger. I'll need more information before I can make a clear conclusion, but it's a start' Ali thought as he closed the freezer door.
His next stop was the small cleaning room the gangsters had used to wash off the blood.
Ali turned on the sink, scrubbing the blood from his hands and splashing water on his face. A few stray droplets of blood had landed on his cheek during the earlier skirmish. Once his hands were clean and his face refreshed, he slicked his hair back using the cool water. He paused for a moment, catching his reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink, he liked to admire himself from time to time.
Ali had searched the bodies before butchering them, retrieving a set of keys from one of the dead gangsters. The keys belonged to the van parked outside. Heaving a deep breath, Ali used his enhanced strength to lift the heavy freezers, one by one, and load them into the back of the van. Each freezer was cumbersome, but his supernatural muscles made the task more manageable. By the time he was done, nine freezers had been packed into the van, along with a smaller freezer holding the Bikaku.
With the job complete, Ali climbed into the driver's seat of the van, placing a wooden box on the passenger seat beside him. The box contained his rations, as well as valuables he had taken from the gangsters-keys, phones, money, and their weapons. Starting the engine, Ali navigated the van out of the warehouse parking lot and into the quiet streets of Tokyo.
The early morning sun broke through the horizon, casting golden light through the windshield. After the long, bloody night, the sight of dawn felt oddly serene.
He drove for about thirty minutes before parking the van in plain sight outside the same shop the bald gangster had visited earlier. The rumble of the van's engine echoed in the empty street, alerting anyone inside to his arrival. Ali exited the vehicle with his usual confident demeanour, striding toward the entrance of the shop. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The shop was small, its walls lined with shelves of books. Ali walked up to the empty counter and waited, his sharp hearing picking up the sound of footsteps approaching from the back.
"We're not open at this time," came a female voice from behind a door at the rear of the shop. The door creaked open, and a tall, black-haired Asian woman stepped into view.
She had striking green eyes, and her cold, detached beauty made her stand out immediately. She was tall, standing at six feet, and her posture was confident but wary.
When the woman laid eyes on Ali, however, she froze. She had never seen a man so handsome in her life. His sharp features, black eyes, and the air of arrogance he exuded were almost intoxicating.
"You're cute. What's your name?" Ali asked casually, leaning on the counter with a small smirk, his tone light.
The woman blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Himari. My name's Himari," she responded, her voice steady but her gaze locked onto his.
"Himari, who's out there? Himari?" Another woman's voice called from the back of the shop. The door opened again, and another figure stepped through.
The second woman wore a metallic half-mask covering the left side of her face, revealing only her right eye and part of her cheek. Her remaining eye was a brilliant blue, and her short, black hair framed her face. Like Himari, she was tall-around six feet-but her figure was even more striking. Her voluptuous curves and ample cleavage caught the attention of anyone who laid eyes on her.
This woman, Fumiko, was the owner of the shop. She looked at Ali with equal parts suspicion and intrigue. His good looks were undeniable, but the dangerous aura that surrounded him set her on edge. She was no stranger to dealing with dangerous men, but there was something about Ali that made her even more cautious.
"Wow, I really lucked out today, huh?" Ali said with a grin, openly admiring Fumiko's assets without any pretence.
"I'm sorry, but our book club is closed right now," Fumiko said, stepping forward to shield Himari from the stranger.
Ali's smile widened. "Book club? Really? I could've sworn this was a place for second-hand goods," he said, mocking her with a tone that dripped with sarcasm.
Fumiko's eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry, you've got the wrong place. This is my private book club."
"What a shame," Ali said with a smirk. "Guess I'll have to find somewhere else to sell the corpses."
At the mention of corpses, Fumiko and Himari's demeanours shifted. Their eyes turned black with red irises, and their predatory instincts flared to life. They only dealt with clients they knew, and Ali's sudden appearance and his talk of corpses immediately put them on high alert.
Ali remained calm, meeting their demonic eyes without flinching. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he raised an eyebrow. "Does this count?" he asked, his tone laced with mockery.
In that instant, his left eye darkened, turning pitch black, its iris completely consumed by darkness. Black veins began to spiderweb across the left side of his face, creeping up from beneath his collar and trailing toward his temple. The effect was both eerie and menacing, a clear signal that Ali wasn't just any ordinary human.
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Five extra chapters on patreon.com/Rondo312