One Week Ago...
Well-" I paused, looking down at the handiwork beneath me.
From high above, on the rooftops of the city skyline, I peered down to the docks below, witnessing the aftermath of the assault that had just taken place. I had been perched on the ledge for over an hour, watching ceaselessly for the long expected shipment of weapons I had ordered. I had only exuded stillness in my patience. Not an inch had I moved, not a breath had I taken. Instead I had become one with the building, my only companion the stone gargoyles.
Beneath the cover of darkness I had waited, the shade of a neighboring high-rise building concealing me from the sight of any of those who would be watching. Water from the moisturized ground seeped into my clothing, clinging to my skin and spreading its cold touch along my body. All alone in the dead of night, waiting, had left me time to ponder on my actions, on why I was doing this...what I knew had to be done.
Some would say that there was hope for this city. That there were heroes who helped this place time after time, making it safer, making "real change." There was a bright horizon for it, new opportunities for the place to become a decent place to live, to raise children and grow old; there was still time for these 'heroes' to save it.
No there was not. I was evidence of that. I knew what this place was, I saw its truths. What it did to its heroes, how it refused to just lay down and die? Gothic City was a perversion, an weed that needed to pulled straight from its roots, and then doused in flame. I knew that there was no saving it. That's why I was here, to put the damn place out of its misery, give it the death it so richly needed. My plan was to introduce these so called, Toast Masters, to the local gangs. These weapons were apparently powerful, so it wouldn't take long for them to spread throughout the populace. If I had things my way, everyone would be wielding these tools of destruction.
So, when I saw these "heroes" slow down that progress, I was less than happy.
I watched as the pair took down the men at the docks, laying absolute waste. They were two blurs of motion, moving fast and efficiently. It wasn't long before they left the scene, chasing a truck that held the remaining supplies. Not wanting to let the rest of their little adventure happen without my supervision, I turned to the high-rise that I hid behind, and with a quick shift through time and space, phased to the top of it, again gaining sight of the ongoing action. By the end, they had evaded the law. Focusing my senses on them, I watched as the two departed the one with the quiver taking with him the last of the toast masters. Behind my hooded figure, my teeth pressed against one another, a distinct chip reverberating in the air. Ignoring the taste of iron, my thoughts shifted to my ruined plans, and what there was to do to salvage them. First I would need to go deal with those left at the docks....
Another phase shift had me quickly by their unconscious forms. The police had been too busy following the actions of the two vigilantes to come and deal withe the criminals. I let a breath of cool air escape my lips as my hand drew back, grabbing the grip of my sword. Fingers that had remained idle for far too long tightened, my eyes staring hungrily at the motionless forms on the ground. While the fact they were unconscious took some of the fun away, it would have to do.
My blade flashed, and the heads of a dozen men fell rolled. Quickly sheathing my weapon, I examined my handiwork. A clean death for each, as painless as possible, with little to no blood spillage. However, as much evidence as possible had to be erased. Lifting EsDeath over my head, commanded fire to appear, and cover the docks in their cleansing heat.
Soon I heard the sound of sirens in the distance, signaling the arrival of officers, paramedics, and firefighters. Not wanting to stick around to deal with them, I tapped into my powers for one last phase shift, teleporting far into the heart of Gothic City. I had work to do. Whoever the two heroes were, they had interuppted my plans, something I was not planning on letting them get away with. In order to stop them, I had to know their names....
The hard part wasn't finding out about Thunderfist. Apparently she was a rather popular name in the mercenary game. Highly sough after, but rarely acquired. This merc was notoriously known for only taking on jobs on the lighter side of morality, always straying from hurting the innocent and punishing the guilty.
This Ronin character though, it had been some time since he'd been around. Where had he been, what had he been up to since the last time I'd heard about him? Frankly I didn't care, all I needed to do was to find wherever he may have stashed the weapon. Chances were, given the nature of a mercenaries profession, she would be able to find that out.Through a string of favors, contacts, and several dead men, I found the person who had originally contracted Thunderfist to locate and destroy the toast masters. After that, it was as simple as "convincing" them to contract the mercenary again.
The contract? There was someone who was aware that the last toast master was planning on getting it from Ronin. This person was known as the Ashen One (a alias I had given myself). If Thunderfist took the contract, I would be waiting, watching her in hopes that she could lead me to Ronin.
This time I didn't have henchmen though. Clearly, if you wanted things done right, you had to do them yourself.