“Ready, Brent?”

“Please, don’t!” His lips quivered as he spoke, the fear clearly showing through his breaking voice.

A powerful kick driven by the man's hip sent the poor bystander crashing into a shop window, leaving him slumped against the wall behind the now shattered glass, pieces of sharp jagged edges piercing the mans face and arms. He looked up, unable to see out of one eye, an ordinary looking man stepped forwards from the gathering crowd, flaunting a patronizing look of supremacy, an aura unlike any other encircling him.

“Why are you doing this?” No longer fearful, a new feeling caught hold of him, confusion.

Almost as if the stranger hadn’t heard him, his walk stepped up to a run and his fist pulled back, within striking range, his tightly curled fist pummelled onwards and caught the passer-by’s head, smashing it further against the wall until a mass of pulp and a blood pattern enveloped his eyes. He stepped over the glass remnants and smartly arranged his tie before walking to the curve and signalled a taxi.

The crowd thinned, yet no one asked why a seemingly ordinary person had beaten a human being within an inch of his life and acted totally normal afterwards, uneasy stares eyed up him as he uncomfortably crammed himself into the first taxi, packed full of drunks laughing to themselves.

“Watch’ a do that for, guv?” Not a single sign of fear, just curiousness.

“Blowing smoke into my face” From any other person, it would have sounded comical and overblown but he said it in a calm way.

The look on the drivers face needed no words to describe it, flabbergasted. All of his meaningless banter had been as good as stumped out at the core and he simply turned around and drove on, nervously glancing back. Idly, he peeked out of the window and noticed someone huddled over the carcass, holding it close to him and weeping, soon becoming a distant image as the taxi sped off.

Almost unnoticeable, a figure stood from afar, watching on the red stars roof the opposite side of the street, most of his features were hidden by the ever-increasing night, except for a vague pair of horns.

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“Alex, why did they…what the hell did you do?” Between the sobbing, he forced out a couple of sentences before taking a huge gulp.

In his arms, his brother’s head twisted around slightly and glared up at him, opening his mouth to whisper a few words. If you’d been there, you would have felt something down in your stomach, a knot being tied, any heartless fool would have. The smile stretching across his face etched lines into his skin, soon to fade as his head slumped back.

Those words he cherished for that one moment, “Leo, hunt that bastard down and rip

his goddamn throat out”, made him shed a tear of joy. Just for the simple fact that he actually called him Leo, they weren’t even that close, two years older and not once did his brother offer helpful advice or call him by his real name, heck, he should have hated his guts if it wasn’t for one moment in which Alex helped him out of a tricky situation involving his rear and a pointy object, something best left in the pit of forgotten memories.

Within minutes, Leo’s grief turned to anguish, taking hold of his body and forcing him to loosen his grip on the ravaged body, unrecognisable as his brother. The realization of what had happened hadn’t fully hit him just yet, still swaying on the spot, the coldness of the night barely scratching the surface. Murmurs arose, as the minutes passed, more and more people stopped too see what the commotion was all about, passing judgement with their eyes and whispering into each others ears.

Maybe it was just the emotions running through him or the disrespect they blatantly showed but when he next looked up, he found himself holding a middle aged woman by the throat and tightening his grip. Struggling, she kicked at his shins and forced his grip to falter, not caring even she clumsily fell to the floor. She looked up to find his leg raised high above his shoulder and braced for the guillotine like impact. Firm and speedy, it struck her cranium and forced it into the ground, creating a small crater from which blood poured out. Chaos surrounded everyone and from within the scattering of countless spectators, a single figure stood out, glancing upwards and smiling.

Now all alone, Leo sighed, he didn’t even know who finished his brother off, never getting a chance to see his face. Perhaps by good fortune, something caught the side of his head and sliced by it, creating a small gash. He let out a small gasp of pain and glanced around, finally resting his eyes on a peculiar blood stained paper aeroplane, which he eagerly snatched and opened up. What seemed like blood was pasted all over it, a note.

“Brent, 34 Avenue…”

Meanwhile…

“1 out of 10” A shrewd voice broke the uncomfortable silence.

“What?” confused, someone spoke up.

“1 out 10, the rating. He’s lucky, I’m adding 1 point because of the neck break, lots of love went into it” He spewed it out in such a manner that something so cruel seemed gentlemanly.

His outspokenness, something you’d learn to love about him. Anderson would have been the equivalent of a laugh at a funeral, the tanked fucker who’d be involved in a hit and run, he’d drive back and snigger before speeding away. It was one of his better qualities which overall, doesn’t say much. Slightly tubby and parading a non-shaven look, it couldn’t be helped that he’d sometimes be confused with the rest of those lowlifes, quite healthy for 50 year old though.

The other kid, affectionately known by all as squeak, was 10 years younger. He’d rarely speak, any moment in which he actually whispered something filled you with a cheerful sensation. Words get confused, actions don’t, and perhaps it was better that way. Besides Anderson, he looked like prince. Smartly dressed with a clean-shaven look, wearing a smug look on his face almost all the time, the kind you’d like to wipe off with your fist.

Two figures encircled a parked taxi in a murky alleyway, eyeing it up warily before opening both doors either side with one hand, the other firmly grasped around a couple of tattered handguns, blood still stained one of them. Behind the wheel, a man in his forty’s sat with a smile permanently plastered on his face, a face that stared towards the passenger seats; his neck twisted a minor 180 degrees.

“So much for finding any answers”

“Not entirely”

The Oldest of the two pointed towards the back seat where a couple were seemingly sleeping in the corner, each of their hands holding a bottle of wine tightly. Mutterings escaped their lips, “Dade, Dade” the same words repeating over and over again in their tossing and turning period.

They didn’t even have time to think, a cough from outside brought them scrambling to the windows. Out in the open, a horned figure stood with his back against a dilapidated wall, one arm resting behind it’s slightly flawed noggin while the other hung by his side, gripping what look liked a sword, the night hiding all detail.

“We’re going to have such a fun time, loves” It’s voice shook, driven by the barely hidden excitement.

A crashing sound brought their attention else where, the roof. The youngest brought a finger to his lips and stared around at his buddy, the hand wrapped around his gun rising up to head height. His movements and hope ended right there and then, a sword came crashing through the roof and entered his skull, diving deeper until it forced its way out through his jaw scrappily, the blood flowed in what seemed like a never ending fountain.

The sword was noisily withdrawn, pulling free from the muscle and bone, leaving the body to slump to the side, eyes still widened with a painful expression fixed to his face. Speechless, the one remaining person still aware of what the hell was happening struggled chaotically with the door handle beside him. Momentarily gaining a sense of safety, a sharp pain pierced his abdomen.

“Oh shi…” A few words escaped from Andersons mouth, silenced halfway through.

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“Now children, you’ve all done SO well but now comes the test”

A normal classroom came into focus, an unusual silencer omnipresent through out. Everyone’s attention was tied to the front where someone had there back turned to towards the rest, a young boy squirmed beside him, anxiously coughing and looking around.

“Your next target’s sleeping with a whore in a seedy hotel and you’ve got 1 bullet BUT you hope to bump them both off for the sake of it, what’s the chances of landing a double headshot?”

Silence. Quizzed looks were exchanged around the classroom, everyone knew of the consequences if no one spoke up, you were called out of the room and a scream would be the only clue as to what happened. A young boy worked up the nerve and raised his hand hesitantly, coughing ever so slightly to gain the teachers attention.

“50/50? It…all depends on how into it he is”

“…Jimmy, right? Absolutely WRONG!”

Dade heaved a sigh and turned around, staring heavily into the eyes of the youngster, his red eyes gleaming like a couple of blood red gems. No matter how many times you saw it, it never got anymore comfortable to look at it. His horns usually emitted a faint light, gladly attracting your attention from his vaguely deformed face.

In one swift move, he pulled back his fist and struck it into the boy’s stomach beside him, lifting him off the ground somewhat before drawing it back and allowing him to fall to the floor, his arms cradling his front.

“Once again, someone’s made you suffer, dear Brent. Jimmy, you’ve been such a wicked boy”

His gaze switched to the boy on the floor just in front of him, with a smile on his repulsive face, he held out a hand and heatedly, the boy grabbed it and pulled himself up.

Brent scowled and gazed at jimmy, his hands tightening into fists, he was already moving over to where he sat and before he knew it, the boy’s head was in his hand and being repeatedly smashed into the desk. Tears dwelled up in his eyes, with each excruciating blow, Brent felt his insides twist and squirm until he let go and saw blood leaking off the desk.

“Just stop, please…STOP!” A deafening drum-shredding scream echoed through the room.

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Disorienting at first, he opened his eyes to a vaguely dank apartment bedroom, searching around; Brent grabbed a ripped shirt and wiped his brow. Again, the same dream, like a bad smell that refused to fade away, it seemed clearer this time though. He sat up and groaned, rubbing his eyes until they eventually got sore and lay back down.

Light had already begun to seep through the curtains, making the view even more miserable, revealing every stain on the walls and cracks in the roof. With no job and no other civil human being around, he hated it there. The only alternative would have been to hire an oh so common hooker hanging around the reception area, besides that one good moment, they were useless, money in one hand and at best, half an hour in which it all goes away.

“Love, been up to much?” A sincere voice, not like any other, shattered the silence.

That voice, that oh so familiar voice. A voice capable of spreading anger throughout your body, it could have only been him. He didn’t mind, on he contrary, he wouldn’t have wanted anyone other than him, looks aside; Dade’s a pretty darn good conversationalist.

“Killing, living a horribly depressing life and enjoying the simple pleasures of late night porn, not bad I’d say” He couldn’t have made it sound any more dismal, failing to rise to a more cheerful tone.

“Listen kiddo, one day I MIGHT get sick of saving your ass, two more coppers lie dead in the gutter tonight, pretty fun might I add. The point is they were hanging around a piece of your work, which of course, was exceptional!”

Slightly blushing, Brent cleared his throat and was about to say something when a deafening knock from the main room caused a snap in his neck as it twisted around to gaze beyond the now open bedroom door. He massaged his neck and looked back at Dade who took new interest in shining his horns protruding from each side of his head, engrossed by them.

“Oh and me darling, that’ll be our guest, your old uncle Dade was kind enough to help out someone hell-bent on revenge, you know what I always use to say, all revenge needs to be exacted”

Dade hesitated for a moment, apprehensive as to how he should ask and fired away.

“Actually, why DID you bump off the old coot in the taxi?”

“For being his rude, ignorant self and offending my senses”

Dade didn’t have time to react, seeing as the door had literally been kicked in and flung half away across the room, out in doorway, a man covered in blood stepped through. Everything was different except for the face, the same face he’d seen with that stiff, and so full of hatred that everything he touched turned scarlet red. Brent

yanked himself out of bed, preferably wanting to at least get dressed but beggars can’t be choosers.

The look in his eyes gave off a feeling of unpolluted hatred. Even before trying, he knew no words would solve such a problem. Without warning, the intruder dashed forwards and grabbed Brent by the noggin, forcing him up into the air before throwing him down to the floor, inadvertently causing it to fall apart under the extreme pressure. Tenth, Ninth, his body finally came to a halt two floors later.

Brent sprawled him self out, luckily, a woman had broken his fall, along with half the bones in her body. He unenthusiastically pulled himself off the lifeless naked stiff and shambled to the door, caught off guard by the bloodied up person waiting for him outside, he didn’t see it coming, a cheap right hook sent him hurtling past the same corpse and through a conveniently placed window.

Besides the shattered glass blinding him in one eye and the more mentionable arm being ripped off, he couldn’t have been fresher as he landed perfectly, the impact causing a crater half the size of the street. Moments later, his arm followed, landing right in front of him along with the limey bastard himself.

“One word, ouch.” Brent breathed heavily, under the strain of pain as well as anger towards his new lovable friend.

He didn’t reply, presumably too caught up in the moment or just discourteous. A smile, Brent swore he saw a smile spread across his face. Wind swept up Brent’s boxers, briefly causing him to shiver, giving Leo the chance to charge forwards and plant a kick in his side, winding him. Swearing under his breath, he looking up just in time to avoid a guillotine kick, sweeping to the side to watch it smash into the ground, causing a mini fissure.

Momentarily stuck in the pavement, Brent clutched his adversary’s cranium with both hands and slammed a knee head into it, obtaining a cry of absolute pain from his foe’s bloody lips, not content with just one cry of pain, he didn’t stop. Even after the 20th knee to the head, he felt it was necessary to walk over to a building and crack it’s foundations with his bare fists, causing it to topple over his challenger.

“All’s well, ends well” Full of

“You…bastard” Resentment couldn’t have been more apparent in his quivering voice.

He stopped in his tracks and heaved a heavy sigh; the sound of rubble moving itself reached his ears. “No rest for the wicked” Brent thought to himself as he moved over to the nearest building and tensed himself up.

“How many buildings did it take?”

“10, the limey bastard didn’t go down without a fight, that I’ll admit”

“Ah! One might think a torn off arm MIGHT be a cause for worry, m’dear boy”

In plain view of everyone, practically surrounded by nothing except ruins, two figures walked side by side, followed by a crowd of angry individuals.

“….”

“How many buildings did you say you demolished again?”