In a dimly lit building, a man sits on a chair, his right arm resting casually on the armrest, a shirt draped over it. Five men stand before him, their faces obscured by red cloths. To his right, two women stand guard: one holds a long gun, her eyes narrowed.
The other woman, positioned a little behind him, carries a sword at her back, her aura giving a silent warning.
"Salion," the man calls.
"Boss."
"Where's my agent?"
"She's not in commission right now. She's still on the mission."
"She's taking too long!" Boss barks.
"Daniel, go investigate the issue. Make sure you return quickly."
"Roger."
"Nathan, go tell Fatty we meet tonight. Tell him it's important."
Nathan hesitates to move. His gaze drifts as if his mind is struggling to process something. He steps forward.
"Boss. Fatty is dead."
"Huh!!" Boss raises an eyebrow, challenge dancing in his face.
"When and where?"
"At Latvilo casino, just a few days ago."
"Wait. How'd you know this?"
"I heard."
The boss gazes aggressively. "You heard this information-why didn't you tell me!?" Boss barks.
Nathan's voice breaks. "But... But... I thought... I was..."
"You incompetent fool! I will cut off your head. Failures are not allowed..." his eyes blaze with aggression.
Daniel returns. "Boss, I got news."
"Speak."
"My spy reported that the mission failed. The agent faced some crew that tried to steal the Chuppah."
"Was she outnumbered or...?" Boss asks.
"No. My spy reported that the incident was swift. They engaged in battle, the Chuppah broke, men assembled, and they fled."
"Let me get this straight. The Golden Chuppah breaks?"
"Indeed. She reported that the Chuppah was a fake, probably to lure enemies in, given the siren in it."
The boss's hands clench over his jaw, wallowing in thoughts. "That means the Nightshade Keep is smarter than I thought... Prince Chille... Hmm, I'll beat him... He's just a kid."
"She asks when to return?" Daniel says.
"She's a failure... This time I want absolute victory. Nathan, go get me Jessie. She'll handle the mission from now on."
"Jessie is not available right now."
"Why? What is happening!? Why are all my workers going out without my notice!?"
"It's the stranger, sir..."
"Who?"
"The stranger that murdered the Red Carpet. I informed her to pass the news. She insists she'll handle it. Says you're not to be disturbed."
"Hmm... Perhaps I'll slam the chips. Jessie's hunt will prove the man's strength. Formidable enough to survive Jessie, I'll recruit."
They all widen their eyes in unison. Nathan speaks. "But Boss, the man just murdered the Red Carpet. I thought he was supposed to be the enemy?"
"Not if he refuses my offer... that is, if he survives Jessie's assault."
"What about the deal?" Nathan asks.
"Shut it. I lose Fatty, I gain a subordinate. Lose and gain."
Boss turns to Salion. "Go get me Satan's Soul. She'll handle the mission."
"Roger."
Satan's Soul arrives. "Boss."
"Go to Nightshade Keep at night. Kill everyone you wish and get me the Golden Chuppah."
"Everyone?"
"Kill those standing in your way. Make sure you bring me the Chuppah. Once found, leave at once."
"Aye, sir. Consider it done. I'll gather my subordinates. We'll head there tonight."
"Good. I'm done toying with that little teenage Prince. Now he'll taste my fangs.
Sky!"
"Sir."
"Go tell the agent to return to Nightshade Keep tonight. A team awaits there; she'll join them. I want victory this time."
"Right."
----------------------------------------
"This is frustrating... I've searched for more than 9 blocks in the previous town. Each pass yields nothing but indifferent strangers."
A hum of laughter spills out from a nearby bar. She follows the noise as her feet carry her across the street. "This will be the 21st bar I've searched so far. The dude's a phantom."
She enters the casino. A small cluster of men, drinks in hand, their mouths running like a well-oiled machine. The atmosphere is warm and gentle, full of rainbow blooms.
The woman advances close to the bartender. She leans in, voice low and urgent. "Hi. I need intel," she says, locking eyes.
The bartender's expression twists, his face morphing into a stoic mask, sizing up the situation. "What intel?" he growls, low and gravelly. "I'm not an agent or a spy..."
The woman's eyes flicker. The clink of metal echoes through the air as she drops a few coins on his desk. "Just listen. I'll pay more if you get more to tell," her voice drops in persuasion.
His lingering gaze focuses on the coins as he swallows. He looks at the woman with narrowed eyes. "Lady... Spill."
"Okay. Have you seen a man, or heard of a man who wears black? He is said to have a murderous reputation."
"I've known many men with a murderous reputation. Specify-maybe I might know this dude."
"Well, I don't know him in person. But have you heard of the killing in Latvilo casino? The one that involves a man killing the Red Carpets?"
"Indeed. I've only heard. But I can help you, only if you toss more coins."
Metal jingles on the desk. More coins drop. "Okay... I'm all ears..."
"I know his former fiancée's best friend."
"Okay... What about her?"
"She'll tell you more. Maybe even a name and precisely more information on where to find him."
"Okay, so where can I find this woman?"
"Just go outside, walk straight 3 km. A tiny road sits left. Follow that tiny road; you'll encounter a hood. Knock the first 4-foot wooden door."
"Hope no gang members live there?"
"None. A kid will come out. Tell him Luke sent you. Tell him to take you to Cynthia. If he hesitates, tell him I said payments on the desk-a huge cut for all. He'll listen to you."
A knock sounds at the door. The door opens. "Hey! Who are you?"
"Luke sent me. He told me to tell you payment on the desk. Huge for every cut."
"Who's making the payment?" the kid asks.
"I am. Gave the payment to Luke. Said you take me to Cynthia."
The boy steps out. "So, what's my cut?"
"Luke pays. Discuss that with him."
"Fine... Let's go."
The door bangs loudly. The boy's fist pounds on the door. "Cynthia! Cynthia!"
"Hello! Orlando, is that you, mate?"
"Open the door, woman..."
The door opens. "Hiya, who's the lady... she is a customer? Sorry, I don't service women-men only."
"Don't be a prude. She's not here for that. Luke asks you to give her intel. Good payment. Fine cut for all."
"Ouch! A chill under my spine... I love payment, but what's the verdict? Sure, I'm no informant."
"Trust me, it's something you know," the girl says.
She opens the door wide. "Well, come in... I'll be happy to help..."
She enters. Cynthia stands in front of Orlando. "Nope... Not you, kid."
"Stay out. Go to Luke and fetch my cut."
"Not until I know you can help. Payment comes after you prove useful, bitch!"
"Just go... I'll deliver." She bangs the door.
"Oops... Sorry, my room is dark." Cynthia draws a small bench. "Take a seat."
"No. I'm fine."
"Okay, tell me. What's it you got?"
"I'm looking for a man who... Although I don't know his name, he is famous for wiping out the Red Carpet gang."
"Ooh, that man... He's got quite a reputation." A faint smile plays on Cynthia's lips, a low menacing tone.
"That's Johnny."