The low hum of conversation in the dimly lit bar was overshadowed by the thick cloud of cigar smoke that hung in the air. Brick Thorne sat at a large, round table near the back, his bulk filling the chair almost to its breaking point. His presence alone was enough to command attention, but it was his reputation that truly inspired fear. The leader of the "Iron Serpents" had earned his place through a combination of brute force and cunning, and tonight, he was in no mood to play games.
Brick leaned back in his chair, a cigar clamped between his thick fingers, a smirk playing on his lips as he addressed the grunts gathered around him. They were a rough-looking bunch, hardened men who had seen more than their fair share of violence. But even they knew better than to cross Brick Thorne.
"Listen up, boys," Brick began, his voice a deep rumble that commanded attention. "We've got ourselves a little situation. Seems some bitch named Satsuki thought she could play both sides, tried to cover her ass by warning me about someone gunnin' for us."
He took a long drag from his cigar, exhaling a thick plume of smoke that curled around his face like a serpent. "But that bitch is dead now. I made sure of that," he added with a dark chuckle, knowing full well that Kairi was the one who had done the dirty work. It didn't matter to him, though; Satsuki's betrayal had sealed her fate.
One of the grunts, a wiry man with a scar running down his cheek, shifted nervously in his seat. "Who's the target, boss?"
Brick's grin widened, revealing yellowed teeth that had seen too many years of neglect. "A name I ain't heard before—Kairi. Or 'Pacifist,' if you believe the rumors. But I'm not the kind to put stock in nicknames. What I do know is that this one's been making waves, and anyone who makes waves in my territory needs to be dealt with."
The men exchanged uneasy glances. The Iron Serpents were no strangers to violence, but the stories they had heard about Pacifist were enough to make even the most seasoned killers nervous. A woman who could take out entire gangs by herself, leaving nothing but bodies in her wake—she was like a ghost, a force of nature that couldn't be stopped.
One of the men, a burly brute with tattoos snaking up his arms, spoke up. "Boss, you sure this Kairi's not just another ghost story? Sounds like bullshit to me."
Brick's eyes narrowed, and the room went deadly silent. He set his cigar down in an ashtray and leaned forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over the table. "You think I'm worried about some fairy tale, huh?" he growled, his voice low and menacing. "I didn't get to where I am by ignoring threats. I got here by crushing anyone who dared to stand in my way. And this Kairi? She's just another obstacle. One we're gonna remove."
He straightened up, his voice rising in intensity as he addressed the room. "So here's what we're gonna do. I want every man on the streets, asking questions, digging up dirt. I don't care how long it takes, you find this Kairi, and when you do, you bring her to me—alive. I want the pleasure of dealing with her myself."
There was a collective murmur of agreement, though the unease was still palpable. Thorne wasn't blind to it; he knew his men were scared. But fear was a tool, and he wielded it with expert precision.
"You scared?" Brick asked, his tone mocking as he eyed the room. "Good. Fear keeps you sharp. But don't let it stop you from doing your job. Kairi's dangerous, no doubt about it. But she ain't invincible. She bleeds like the rest of us, and when we find her, I'll make damn sure she learns that the hard way."
He picked up his cigar again, taking another slow drag as he let his words sink in. The room was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, Brick leaned back in his chair, satisfied that his message had been received.
"Now get out there and start looking. And remember—failure ain't an option. You either bring me Kairi, or you don't bother coming back."
The men quickly got up, eager to leave the oppressive atmosphere of Brick's presence. As they filed out of the bar, Brick watched them go, his smirk never fading. He was confident, almost arrogant, in his belief that no one could stand against him—not even this mysterious woman who called herself Pacifist.
Once the last of his men had left, Brick leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. He knew better than to underestimate an opponent, but there was something about this one that intrigued him, something that made him eager for the confrontation.
"Kairi," he muttered to himself, rolling the name over his tongue. "You may have scared a few small-timers, but you haven't met the Iron Serpents yet. And when you do, you'll wish you never crawled out of whatever hole you came from."
He crushed the stub of his cigar into the ashtray, extinguishing it with a final twist before standing up. As he made his way toward the door, a sense of anticipation thrummed through his veins. He hadn't had a real challenge in years, and the thought of finally facing someone who could push him to his limits sent a thrill down his spine.
"Let the games begin," he muttered with a grin, stepping out into the night, ready to hunt down his next target.
…
The hotel room was quiet, the dim light from a flickering streetlamp outside casting long shadows across the walls. Kairi lay on the bed, her body still humming with the remnants of adrenaline from the night's events. The silence was almost suffocating, pressing in on her from all sides, but she welcomed it. It was a brief respite, a moment of stillness before the chaos resumed.
She turned onto her side, pulling the thin sheets up over her shoulders, trying to find comfort in the softness of the bed. But comfort was a foreign concept to Kairi—her mind was a battlefield, haunted by memories that refused to stay buried.
As her eyes drifted shut, the darkness behind her eyelids began to take shape, forming into the familiar contours of a place she had tried so hard to forget. The nightmare crept in slowly, like a poison seeping into her veins, and before she knew it, she was back there—back in that hellish place she had once called home.
The room was small, cramped, and filled with the stench of alcohol and stale sweat. The walls were bare, the paint peeling, revealing the ugly, mottled wood beneath. It was a place of nightmares, and yet, it was all too real.
Kairi stood in the middle of the room, her younger self—small, fragile, and terrified. She was just a child, barely old enough to understand what was happening, but old enough to know that it was wrong.
The door creaked open, and she tensed, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew what was coming, but no amount of preparation could ever make it easier.
"Get over here, you little bitch," a voice snarled, dripping with venom and malice.
Kairi's eyes widened in fear as a large, shadowy figure stepped into the room. It was a man, his face obscured by the darkness, but she knew him well. He was the source of her nightmares, the monster that haunted her every waking moment.
"No…" she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper as she took a step back. But there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. The walls seemed to close in around her, trapping her in this suffocating hell.
The man's hand shot out, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her forward. His grip was like iron, bruising her skin as he pulled her close, his breath hot and rancid against her face.
"You think you can hide from me?" he hissed, his voice low and menacing. "You think you can escape?"
Kairi tried to pull away, her small hands pushing against his chest, but it was futile. He was too strong, too powerful. She was nothing compared to him, just a helpless little girl caught in the clutches of a monster.
"Please…" she begged, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please don't…"
But her pleas fell on deaf ears. The man's grip tightened, and he shoved her down onto the floor, the rough wood scraping against her knees as she fell.
"Shut up," he growled, his voice filled with rage. "You're nothing but a worthless little whore, just like your mother."
Kairi cried out as he struck her, the force of the blow sending her head snapping to the side. Pain exploded in her jaw, radiating through her skull, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.
This was her reality—this was the life she had been born into. A life of pain, of terror, of endless suffering at the hands of a man who was supposed to protect her.
But there was no protection here, no safety. Only pain.
Kairi's vision blurred as the man loomed over her, his hands reaching for her, tearing at her clothes, her dignity, her soul. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but her voice was gone, swallowed by the terror that gripped her heart.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The man was gone, leaving her lying there on the cold, hard floor, broken and bleeding, her innocence shattered.
Kairi curled into a ball, sobbing uncontrollably as the darkness closed in around her. She was alone, utterly and completely alone, and there was no one to save her.
Kairi bolted upright in bed, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Her heart pounded in her chest, the echo of the nightmare still ringing in her ears. She was drenched in sweat, her body trembling as the aftershocks of the dream rippled through her.
"Fuck," she muttered under her breath, wiping the sweat from her brow with a shaky hand. "Not again…"
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, planting her feet on the cold floor as she tried to steady her breathing. The room was dark, silent, but the echoes of the past still clung to her, refusing to let her go.
"Get a grip," she whispered to herself, her voice harsh and strained. "It's over. It's all fucking over."
But even as she said the words, she knew they weren't true. The past was never really over—it was a part of her, woven into the very fabric of her being. No matter how far she ran, no matter how many people she killed, she could never escape it.
Kairi buried her face in her hands, trying to push the memories back into the depths of her mind where they belonged. But they refused to go quietly, clawing at her sanity, dragging her back into the darkness.
She let out a bitter laugh, her voice choked with emotion. "Pacifist… What a fucking joke."
In that moment, she wasn't the feared assassin, the ruthless killer who struck terror into the hearts of men. She was just a broken woman, haunted by a past she couldn't escape, trapped in a cycle of violence and pain that she couldn't break free from.
With a sigh, Kairi pushed herself to her feet, crossing the room to the small sink in the corner. She splashed cold water on her face, hoping to wash away the remnants of the nightmare, but it did little to calm her.
She stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror, her eyes hard and unforgiving. "You're stronger than this," she told herself, her voice firm and resolute. "You've survived worse. You'll survive this, too."
But even as she said the words, doubt lingered in the back of her mind. How much longer could she keep running? How much longer could she keep fighting?
Kairi clenched her fists, anger replacing the fear that had gripped her moments before. She wouldn't let the past control her—not now, not ever. She was Pacifist, and she was going to take down anyone who stood in her way.
But deep down, she knew that no matter how many enemies she killed, she could never destroy the one enemy she feared the most—herself.
…