"Hey, old man, I sent the money back to you. Go talk to Ascended Phoenix. They are a solid group, will take most jobs without questions, and are cheaper than my rates." Roger texted,
"Shame. I wish you had kept your word about doing the job. Times sure have changed. Okay, well, can you tell them about me at least?" he replied.
"I already got them up to speed on the details. Also, I never said I would do it. You just handed me the money before I could say no, so that's on you. Anyway, they won't fail you. Goodbye."
Quickly, he grabbed a small backpack from his closet. Going through his dresser, he packed an extra set of clothes. Walking to his closet sat a good-sized gun safe. Opening the safe was an array of weaponry and armor. All were meticulously placed in such a way that seemed chaotic to everyone else but orderly to him. Placing magazines in the pouches, he clipped a few flashbangs to the inside of the bag. While loading armor plates into his vest and backpack, a little tinge of excitement slowly crawled up his body. Grabbing a pistol, he slid it into his waistband. Taking a knife, he slides it up his left sleeve for easy access. Extra magazines were thrown into the bag, along with some miscellaneous medical supplies.
Patting himself down, he checked to see if he missed anything. Roger headed out the door with his bag packed and on his back. Stepping out of the apartment, he quickly glanced around the area to see if anything could be considered a threat. Indistinct screaming and shouting, along with sparse gunshots, could be heard throughout the floors. The building made its own various noises as if it were alive in its own way. As he was locking up his apartment, his eyes were barely adjusted to the darkness of his barely lit hallway. The sounds of multiple footsteps could be heard. Coming from the end of the corridor.
"Hey, dick head, run them pockets and hand over the bag. Now!" One of the thugs said while waving a machete in the air with his small pack following closely behind.
"I'm armed, so y'all should go bother someone else. I have errands to take care of. Find another mark. There's plenty out there." Roger said calmly with his back to the thugs.
"Fuck you, Bitch! I didn't know you were in charge of us. But you're right; there are plenty of marks. And I'm staring at one right now. So do us a fucking favor! And run them fucking pockets! Now! I have no problem choppin' you up. My dog needs food anyways," The thug said while chuckling.
"Are you deaf? I am armed. Like with a gun. You know, compressed metal that spits out hot metal projectiles at incredible speeds the human eye can't really see. Again, leave while you can."
"Bitch are you stupid, or are you dumb. There are more of us than you. You're cruising the sky if you think you can take us on."
"Fine, I'm done talking. You win."
The thugs all looked at each other, smiling, watching an easy lick fall into their laps.
Turning to face them, Roger sighed slightly, drooping his posture. Placing the bag on the ground, he used his foot to move it as close to the wall as possible. Furious at his calm behavior, the thug lunged forward, swinging the machete sideways. Leaving no room for error, He dropped to the floor, dodging the first attack. As the thug was about to strike again, Roger sprung up from the ground, getting an inch from the thug's face, slicing the guy's throat and splattering blood on his face. The second one drew their pistol shakily, aiming at their supposed victim. Ignoring the gunman, he walked forward, determined to finish what they started. Time seemed to slow as the tension in the air rose to great heights. Seeing everything unfold, Roger watched as the thug slowly squeezed the trigger. Just as the trigger was half-pulled, Roger quickly rolled forward, coming up and shooting them repeatedly in the stomach. Before the body could fall, Roger gave a sharp roundhouse kick to their temple, sending the body over the balcony. A pool of piss formed around the final thug's leg. He stood there in horror as his own fear betrayed him, holding him hostage to the events that just played out. Roger's breath was heavy and accelerated with his head down. Slowly, he walked forward. As he got closer, the lights in the corridor seemed to go out, and as he passed each light, it created an image of a demon coming to get him.
"You wanted this. But now your two friends are dead, and you're the only one left, congratulations. But don't think that I take pleasure in this. You stepped into the deep end and wouldn't leave."
Trembling, the thug dropped his weapon and held up his hands, but it was too late. Looking up to meet their eyes, Roger's eyes filled with a dark crimson hue, screaming with a bloodlust that needed an immediate sacrifice. Standing before him just a breath away, Roger smiled crookedly as he calmly put his hand over the thug's mouth. Leaning in closer still, he hushed him. Graciously reaching around, he stabbed him in the back, puncturing their lung. The thug's eyes went wide as a sharp pain filled his body. Walking away, the crimson hue in his eyes seemed to fade away, but the devilish smile had grown bigger. The thug flopped to the floor, wide-eyed, wondering where he was and what was happening. Slowly blinking, his vision doubled, even tripled, but he could still not make out his surroundings. Breathing became difficult, and he was never really able to get a fresh breath, just quietly gasping for air. Dying slowly with each gasp getting fainter, he reached out to grab him but missed entirely. The image of Roger walking away forever stained his eyes as life finally left his body.