Reaper

Chapter 1: The Sarulean Purge

Author's Note: Here's the newest story from me, Foamy, the premier author of action stories on Writing.com! This chapter is short, and it's basically just a way to introduce the main character, Alexander Reilly, to the reading public. The action scene is a little below standard for me (read Demon Rising Chapters 9 and later and you'll see why), but it's only the first chapter. The future action scenes will be way better. And besides. Human-on-Human violence is alot harder to write then Human-on-Demon violence. Anyway, this chapter is the first in the story. It is a little graphic, what with it dealing with mobsters. Oh, and the language is a little nay-nay at times.But hey, I don't mind, and neither will you. Enjoy!


Chapter 1: The Sarulean Purge.


It was a warm night in the city of Winnipeg, Manitoba. There was a gentle breeze that danced through the buildings and whistled through the trees. The endless lawns of the city were like a giant ocean of shimmering emerald green, rippling waves caressing it’s endless lengths.

"You fucking rat bastard!"

The blue evening sky was slowly being consumed by the approaching darkness of storm clouds. The once gentle breeze rising to gusts of winds that would set off car alarms and topple streets signs. The windows of the Richardson International airport shaking slightly in their frames with each powerful surge coming from the approaching storm front.

"No! Please! I’m sorry, I’m sor…"

The Richardson International Airport was an aging building. It’s bare, brown, iron steel work skeletal frame above the terminal entrance showing signs with dots of red rust, and peeling paint which blew in the air like snow. The large square terminal building, once a light granite grey, was now weathered and beaten, small streaks or red-brown rust running down the building sides, signs of the buildings age and it’s many broken pipes that ran through it’s walls like veins in a body. The windows, usually glowing bright white, were now black and dark, reflecting the sky like so many mirrors.

The loop infront of the airport terminal was empty, it’s black asphalt surface slowly disappearing into the darkness left in the wake of the encroaching storm clouds.

The five story was the only building with any sign of life. The bright fluorescent lights lit the many floored parking tower, standing out like a giant Christmas tree in the surrounding darkness.

All life seemed to have been extinguished from the airport terminal. Usually a collage of people bustling to and from the terminal, carrying and dragging a rainbow assortment of different sized bags with them. The terminal loop, usually packed bumper to bumper with buses, vans, cars, and trucks, loud with the sound of people shouting god-byes, idling engines, and impatiently honking drivers, was now barren and silent.

With the news reporting that a severe thunderstorm and possibility of tornadoes for the city of Winnipeg spreading by the word of mouth and word of radio, everyone thought it best to stay at home with family in the safety of their homes, instead of going to the airport to pick up a cousin that hasn’t been seen for fifteen years.

Standing tall above the airport terminal, like a monument to mans conquering the sky, the Air Traffic Control tower was dark and still. The large radar dish, resembling a crown ontop of a kings head, which was constantly spinning and humming, was now still and silent, mirroring the mood of the airport perfectly. The round nest at the top of the tower, always full of bustling people with binoculars, computers and radars, guiding the approaching planes full of happy people to the ground was void of all life, the computers silent and radar screens blank.

Splaid infront of the airport tower like a large city map, the intersecting concrete runways were bare of lifeless.

Always full of large silver jets carrying people to Winnipeg, and whisking them away from, were now barren and empty, like the roads of a deserted ghost town. The largest jets were parked against the terminal wall like animals huddling for warmth, long black docking tunnels connected to their doors, holding them tight. The smaller of the planes were parked inside the many hangars of the airport that filled the edge of the airport field.

Like large, towering mountains, the hangars soared stories above the ground, casting long shadows on the ground below. Facing the many runways, were large, gaping doors wide enough for an airplane to pass through comfortably, though all of them closed tight and locked shut. For the people who worked on the airplanes, small, human sized doors were set off in the far corners of the large doors, almost like an afterthought of the gargantuan plane doors. Windows around the top of the hangar walls sat like a pearl necklace, glowing with the occasional fork of lightning that split the sky, and shaking noisily with each rumble of thunder. Narrow alley ways about the width of two cars separated the hangars like valleyies parting the mountains, though the alley’s were cluttered with boxes full of broken and worn out plane parts, shrinking their size greatly.

Everything in the airport was void of life. Everything was silent. Everything was still.

All except for the hangar ominously numbered, number thirteen.

Parked outside the enormous airplane hangar were several expensive European sedans, forming a half circle around the the human sized door at the far corner of the airplane door.

The lock on the door was destroyed, lying on the ground in a shattered heap of twisted metal. The door handle was bent and broken, several large dents marking the door like craters of the moon. It almost looked as if someone tried to batter the door down before giving up and going for lock.

The inside of the hangar was cavernous. As long as a soccer field and twice as wide as it was long, the large concrete field was barren, strangely void of any airplane sheltering from the approaching storm. The walls of the hangar were shrouded in almost perfect darkness, cluttered with long benches, covered in many different tools and airplane parts in various states of repair and maintenance. Bordering the top of the hangar was a small walkway that circled the whole of the hangar, passing underneath the many windows set high in the wall. Used mainly as storage, the walkway was cluttered with many crates of airplane parts replacement parts not yet in use,.

Though everything outside was dead and silent, the inside was full of life, and lives coming to an end.

In the center of the hangar floor was a brightly lit circle of concrete, bathed in a bright glow coming from a single light suspended high above the floor. Within the lit patch of light, perhaps fifty men stood tall, surrounding five or six men who were chained to chairs, all of them beaten and bloodied. With the only light coming from single bulb high above the ground, it was like the six men were being interrogated.

All of the men within the hangar were wearing black business suits, with white undershirts and red ties. Strapped to their sides were large leather holsters, holding formidably sized handguns, while strapped to their ankles were dark leather sheaths, many of which had glistening, polished chrome handles poking out the top.

The men chained in the center of the group were also wearing the same as the standing men, except their black suits were glistening with blood and their white shirts stained red.

All of the men appeared to have been in the middle of being tortured. Their ears had been cut off and tossed at their feet, the stumps left to bleed freely down the sides of their bodies. Their fingers had been cut off and left to spurt blood to the ground with each beat of their scared hearts. Their faces had been slashed viciously, the deep cuts in their skin like canyons, blood oozing from underneath, streaking down their cheeks. One unfortunate man had the skin of his cheeks cut in half, the flesh flapping lamely with each ragged breath.

Their eyes were wide with fear. Darting from standing man to standing man, the men waited and prayed that their ordeal was now over, hoping to be unchained and set free.

Every man in the room-save the torture victims, were standing tall. Their chests were thrown out and their hands clasped firmly behind their backs. Each man was resembling a soldier standing at attention, waiting for orders from their captain.

Every person present was silent. It seemed to be a very tense situation. Each at-attention man seemed to be holding their breath, awaiting to see what was going to happen to the chained and beaten men. The beaten men seemed unable to talk, their mouths moving wordlessly as their breath came in short, sharp gasps from their trembling lips.

The only motion in the room was from a man slowly pacing back and forth infront of the chained men.

He was a short man, perhaps only five and half feet. He was very thin looking, with thin arms and spindly legs. His suit seemed to add something that looked like muscle to his skinny frame, adding slight definition to his chest. Yet even with the suit adding this to his body, his scrawny torso was still well defined in the tight fitting suit.

His face was slightly weathered, fine lines creasing his otherwise gentle looking face with it’s bright brown eyes and pointed chin. His long, dark blonde hair was pulled back into a fine ponytail that bobbed with each of his heavy steps. His hands were clenched behind his back as he walked, looking somewhat like a detective preparing to interrogate a suspect

Despite being as short as he was, many of the other men being at least a foot taller then him, were watching him with trepidation and respect, like a soldier observing a general as they walked by.

Back and forth the man walked, breathing deeply and loudly, his shiny, black leather shoes clacking and scuffing loudly on the floor with each step. He seemed to be ignoring the chained men as he paced back and forth, always turning his back to the men and not so much as glancing at them as he walked by.

Back and forth, over and over the man paced. He’d always stare ahead of him as he paced back and forth, not so much casting the chained men a passing glance. Back and forth this continued, for fifteen minutes, though feeling much longer.

"So. You thought you could get away with this did you?", the man finally spoke, stopping in the middle of the chained group of men and turning to face them, gazing from one end to another. His gentle face was blank, as if uncaring, yet his eyes were blazing with pure, undiluted rage.

"Please sir. We didn’t think we…", a man with black hair, round face and glasses sputtered

"Shut Up!", the man roared, his blank face breaking into a look of pure hatred, "You think you can lie to me and get away with it? You think you can disrespect me and everything I stand for?"

"No Mikel! We didn’t think that at all!", another man pleaded, this time one with light blonde hair, blue eyes and a square chin.

"So then what did you think Harold?", Mikel snarled, opening his arms in an inviting sort of way and puffing out his tiny chest, "Did you think I would be fine with you six going to the police and telling them the secrets to our arms deals? Our drug supplies? Our cash flow?", Mikel finished, looking around from each of the standing men with his arms still opened wide.

"You don’t understand Mikel! We had to! They had our families! They were going to kill every single one of them if we didn’t do what they told us to!", the man named Harold pleaded, tears streaming from his eyes and down his blood covered face.

"I understand perfectly!", Mikel roared, spit flying from his mouth in his fury, "You all thought that we wouldn’t be there for you. You all thought that we’d let you six be the victim of the Bonoro Mob blackmail. Did you think we’d let you all go through that by yourselves?", he finished, crossing his arms and staring furiously from bloodied face to bloodied face.

None of the beaten men answered, but continued to stare at Mikel with utter terror. Even though he was small, in the rage that he was, Mikel seemed twice as tall and a thousand time as menacing.

"Ofcourse you did. You were always cowards,", Mikel breathed, turning on his heels and pacing back and forth once more, "You were never much for gang members. You never were able to defend my name when you needed it. Preferring to use my name as a safety tent, hiding you and your families beneath it from harm. But now that’s all changed,", he finished, taking a deep calming breath.

"Please Mikel. Let us go! We’ll do anything you ask us to do! I swear!", a man with green eyes, square face and thinning hair pleaded with the pacing figure of Mikel.

"Do you truly believe that you can make up for what you’ve done Tobbi?", Mikel replied, staring at Tobbi with eyes that glowed like fire, yet cold as ice, "Do you have any idea how long it took us to secure those weapon shipments? Do you know how hard it was to smuggle those bricks of cocaine into the country and get them past the border agents?All of that was blown to shit because you six squealed to the pigs! Do you think you can truly make it up to us by doing some simple chores and expect us to forgive you? Do you realize that ten of our men are dead because you squealed to the Bonoro Mob and sold out their safehouses to them? Do you have any idea how those men died?", Mikel finished, his body and voice pulsating with anger, his eyes blazing brighter then ever.

Once more, the chained men remained silent, staring terrified at the small man infront of them who seemed to be swelling with anger.

"Of course you don’t. You have no idea what you’ve set into motion. As it is, this could be the last time the Sarulean Mob ever meets like this, and it’s all because of you six,", Mikel hissed, his voice dripping with pure venom, "But before we fall…before we fall, the least we can do is kill you and your families, dragging you to Hell with us!", he finished, looking around at his silent men around him, and gesturing with his hand to a dark skinned man with a square head and pale grey eyes and a brush cut.

The dark skinned man nodded and retreated immediately into the darkness towards the wall. Though it was dark, the men present could see the man’s back, his hands fidgeting with something on one of the benches along the wall.

After a moment, the dark skinned man returned slowly re-emerging in to the circle of light. Held firmly in his hands, a long, shining silver axe, it’s wooden oak handle slightly bent and shining a deep brown in the light.

"Very good Paulo,", Mikel said, nodding to the man holding the axe, "Now let’s see,", he breathed, rubbing his chin and studying the faces of each of the chained men.

Each man was staring at the axe as if it was the most terrifying thing they had ever seen. Everyone knew what was going to happen, the very thought sending a jolt of fear through the ranks of mob men, but no one breaking their statue like solidity.

"Because you were so keen to beg for mercy Tobbi…I think we’ll show you mercy and kill you first. So you don’t have to watch your friends suffer,", Mikel breathed, snapping his fingers and pointing at the man named Tobbi.

Paulo, who was holding the axe, nodded in understanding and slowly marched forward, firming his grip on the handle of the axe. With each step, Paulo slowly raised the axe above his head like a sword, readying to deliver the final blow to the chained men for their mutinous actions.

"No! Please! Please!, Tobbi pleaded, straining against his chains in vain, trying to escape, "I beg you! Don’t do it Don’t do it!", he shouted, as Paulo stopped in front of him, and firming his grip on the handle of the axe one last time, brought it speeding down through the air.



***



In a far corner of the hangar, unannounced to the mob members, someone was watching them from the walkway suspended above the ground. The persons back was leaning against the hangar wall as they sat under one of the many windows high in the wall. Despite it being as dark as it was, the persons eyes were alive with excitement, watching the unfolding scene below with great interest.

This shadow shrouded figure was Alexander Rielly.

A six foot one, 19 year old man, Alex as he liked to be called, was a man with a gentle face. His light blue eyes and and slightly rounded jawline were usually alive with excitement and happiness, his mouth pulled back into a gentle smile. As a former track runner in his high school days, Alex was still very well defined, with broad shoulders, lean body, and muscular arms, legs and torso. With his light brown-blonde hair that reached half down his neck, Alex looked more like someone who would go to rock shows or movies at night, not watch men being gruesomely murdered.

Sitting against the wall, his leg bent at the knee and an arm draped over it, Alex was looking very relaxed. From his high off the ground vantage point, he could see the backs of the standing mob men, and the terrified faces of the chained men, watching as their once ally in crime met his end at the business end of a steel axe head.

"Man. These mob guys sure do go over board when it comes to punishment," Alex purred, watching as the tiny figure of Paulo drove the axe head deep into the skull of the man named Tobbi.

"They sure do. But then again, they were never ones for class Alex," a deep, smooth voice replied inside of Alex’s mind, sounding as if what it was watching was very entertaining.

"That’s right Banyuo. But then again, neither have we,", Alex replied, smiling broadly as he watched Paulo wrench the axe from Tobbi’s now cut in half skull, swinging it high over his head and swinging it back down infront of him, driving it even further into Tobbi’s now dead body.

Resting next to Alex on the cool metal walkway was Banyuo. But Banyuo wasn’t a person. No, Banyou was a sword.

Resembling a large butcher’s knife, Banyuo was six feet tip to tip. With a mere ten inch handle, which melded smoothly with the spine of the sword, the rest of it’s form was all blade, which gently curved upwards at the end, forming a long, slender point. Firmly implanted in the end of the handle of Banyuo was a bright white diamond that was constantly glowing like beacon.

Right now however, Banyuo was, as Alex like to call it, ‘sleeping’. Covering every inch of blade was a fine, bright white silk wrap that snaked and coiled around Banyuo, forming a bright white sheath and shoulder strap that let Alex throw Banyuo over his shoulder when not in use.

"So what do you think Banyuo? Jump right to it, or see what they do next?", Alex asked, as he watched the man named Paulo pry the axe from Tobbi’s head only to drive it even deeper into his already mutilated skull.

"I’m all for waiting. I don’t really feel like working that hard tonight,", Banyuo replied casually .

Smiling to himself, Alex readjusted his seat on the walkway and watched intently the closing moments of the already beaten and battered men lives.



***



It had all been over for Tobbi after the first axe strike.

Shattered completely, Tobbi’s head was nothing more then two lumps of flesh hanging split open on his neck, spread wide open like a peeled banana. Pink brain was oozing from the soft skull halves, dripping to the ground thick puddles. Shattered bone littered the ground around Tobbi’s dead body, having been ripped from his body and messily scattered with each powerful blow of the axe. The only part of Tobbi’s head that was remotely recognizable was his lower jaw, his tongue and teeth in perfect condition, exposed to the air of the hangar for all to see. Horribly, Tobbi’s eyes were still wide and staring in death in their broken sockets, even though his head was nothing more then a shattered lump of flesh and bone

The remaining chained men stared at the now mutilated body of Tobbi, horrified at what they had witnessed.

They had watched as his skull exploded with the first axe strike, shattering and deforming under the force of the blood, blood pouring from the wound as the axe was ripped from Tobbi’s dead body. They watched as his skull squashed inwards with the second strike, squeezing blood and brain from his ears and eyes like glue. They watched as with one final blow, Tobbi’s split open like a peeled banana, blood shooting from his neck like a sprinkler and brain oozing to the ground from his split open skull, his black suit now glistening deep red with the blood split in the gentle light.

Everything in the room was silent. Many of the mob members who had watched were looking a tad green, but were yet keeping face in light of what they had seen. Paulo, the man who had been swinging the axe, looked the sickest of all. His suit was now covered in thicks drops of blood and small specs of bone. Every few seconds, Paulo’s chest would heave hugely as he almost lost control and vomited. Being covered in another person’s blood and bone would do that to anyone.

The only person who wasn’t looking sick was their boss, Mikel. Infact, he looked as if he was rather enjoying it.

"Good work Paulo,", Mikel said with smile, looking at Paulo, who was taking deep, steadying breaths, "Now. Who wants to be next?", he asked the group as a whole, making a gun gesture with his pointer finger and thumb sticking up, pointing from man to man.

A smile was slowly playing across his face at the site of the horrified faces of the men, their tortured faces sweating profusely. Occasionally he’d stop on one of the men with his finger, only to shake his head and continue his decision making.

Finally, after what seemed like a life time of pointing back and forth, his finger rested on a man who had a square head,light blonde hair, green eyes, and who’s cheeks had been cut in half, from mouth to the back of his jaw bone.

"Tyler,", Mikel said smoothly, smiling broadly, "You’re next,", he finished, his thumb falling like the hammer of a pistol.

In a heart beat, a tall man with a short mustache and red hair strode forward, un-holstering a large, silver pistol with a black handle.

"No please! I’ll do what ever you want!", the man named Tyler pleaded as the red headed man pressed the tip of the gun underneath his chin and pushed up as hard as he could, tilting Tyler’s head back and burying the tip of his pistol into his soft flesh.

"All I want you to do…is die,", Mikel purred smoothly, nodding to the red headed.

BANG!

With a single pull of the trigger, the gun exploded into life.

The chained men flinched as the thunderous bang ripped through the silence. In contrast, Mikel’s body guard’s merely blinked as the deafening explosion pounded against their eardrums.

The top Tyler’s head exploded as if a bomb went off onside his skull. Pieces of bone and brain, flew from his head like shot from a cannon. Blood sprayed from the top of his head like a geyser, misting into the air. For a moment, everything seemed to hover in the air before gently raining down to the ground in a fine mist.

A gentle trickle of blood began flowing from behind Tyler’s eyes and dripping from his ears and nose. Tyler was still breathing, but each breath became slower and slower and more strained. With one last rattling breath, Tyler’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and all breathing ceased.

The red headed man pulled his gun from underneath Tyler’s chin and reholstered it. With the only thing now supporting it gone, Tyler’s head fell limply on his neck to his chest, a gentle trickle of blood oozing from the whole in his skull and dripping to the ground.

"Two done. Four to go. Now let me think,", Mikel, said rubbing his chin, "Tony and Jacob were tied up, locked in a car, doused with gasoline, and then set on fire. So let me think…", he finished, breathing deeply and looking from man to man.

Everyone seemed to scared to move or breathe. The mob men, who hadn’t flinched when Tyler was executed, broke for the first time, trepidation written all over their faces. Exchanging nervous glances, the men looked from one another, then to the back of Mikel’s head. No one wanted to disrespect Mikel by objecting, so the body guards continued their stony silence, preferring to let Mikel do as he pleased and get it over with.

The men destined for death on the other hand were to scared to talk. Their mouths were hanging open like a fish’s, their breath catching in their throat. Their bodies seemed to be paralyzed by the thought that the half of the remaining were about to be set on fire, and left to burn to death.

"Corey and James. You two look a little like Tony and Jacob, so you’ll be next to go,", Mikel said, snapping his fingers and gesturing two men, one with a long beard and scraggly hair, and another with a bald head and square face, "And after we’re done with you two, you’ll look exactly like Tony and Jacob,", he finished with a laugh as the two mob men strode past Mikel, grasped the back of Corey and James’s chairs and began slowly dragging the chairs backwards away from the remaining prisoners

"No Mikel! Please! We’re bagging you to show mercy!", one of the men pleaded, who had short, white blonde hair and a square face, as his chair was slid noisily along the ground.

"Were Tony and Jacob shown mercy when they were set on fire Corey? No, they weren’t. And that’s your fault. So why should we show you any mercy?", Mikel replied coldly, staring from Corey to the other man, who obviously was James.

"We had no choice Mikel! Please believe us!", the man named James pleaded, who had wavy brown hair and a round face, his chair coming to a halt with Corey’s some twenty feet from the others.

"Enough!", Mikel shouted, causing everyone in the room jumping slightly, "I’ve already told you what has been set into motion because of your cowardice! You deserve neither mercy nor compassion! You are only fit to die like the dogs you are,", he finished, snapping his fingers loudly.

From the back of the group, a rather skinny man came bustling through the forest of mob men, carrying a large silver gas can, the gasoline inside sloshing and splashing around loudly.

The skinny man hurried past Mikel, not looking into his enraged face, across the lit patch of ground to where the men had been dragged and setting the gas can at the bald man’s feet.

For a moment, the bald man merely stared at the gas can, looking as if he was unsure of what to do. Raising his gaze from the gas can, the man stared into the face of Mikel, who was studying him intently, watching for which choice he’d make. Taking a deep breath, the bald man looked back down at the gas can and grasped the handle, slowly lifting it from the ground.

Turning on spot, the man stared from the gas can firmly grasped in his hand, to the terrified men chained before him. Despite being given his orders, or suggestion of, the bald man seemed to be having a fierce internal battle.

The eyes of pleading men were filled with fear, the kind of fear that only those who are about to be murdered can possibly have. The look spoke infinitely more words then their mouths ever could. It was the look that, clear then crystal, pleaded with the man, "Please, don’t kill us!".

But he had been given the order to kill the traitors for selling out ten of their fellow mobsters. Ten mob men who were killed because they were to scared to think straight, and to cowardly to do anything themselves. The men before him had sentenced ten of their allies to death, and now was the time for them to pay for their cowardice.

Taking a deep breath, the bald man hesitantly placed his free hand on the bottom of the gas can, and slowly began lifting it into the air. For a moment, the bald man stopped, seemingly frozen in mid action, only inches from pouring the gas onto the two chained men. Taking a deep, steadying breath, the man turned the can upside down and let the gasoline rain down over Corey and James, soaking their skin, clothes and hair with the foul smelling liquid.

Despite how large the gas can was, it took no time at all to empty it of it’s lethal contents.

Draining the can of every last drop, the man stiffly tossed the can to the ground, which bounced loudly and ominously on the hard concrete ground. Slowly, the man began to back away from Corey and James, stumbling slightly as it seemed his legs had gone week at the thought of what he was about to do.

Reaching into his pocket, the bald headed man fidgeted around in his pocketed and fiddled around for a moment before withdrawing a large silver lighter. With his hands trembling, the man flicked the lighter open the best he could. Hesitating for a moment, the man struck the lighter to light, a warm gentle flame exploding to life at the end. Trembling, the man rose the lighter into the air just above his head, looking like an Olympic runner carrying the torch.

"Tommy! Please don’t do this! We’re begging you!", Corey pleaded with the bald man, "Don’t do this! You’re better then this!"

Taking a deep breath, the man named Tommy stared from Corey’s fear stricken eyes. Staring for a moment into Corey’s pleading eyes, who were begging Tommy not to kill him, Tommy’s eyes slid to the silver lighter in his hand, a gentle orange flame glowing on the end.

"I’m sorry Corey. I have to,", Tommy croaked, and with that, he took another step backwards and flicked the lighter into the air

Like a meteor in the sky, the lighter streaked through the air, blurring into a gentle orange arc. Hovering for a moment in the air like a star, the lighter began to slowly fall from the sky and a moment later, landed onto the gasoline soaked men.

Like a volcano, Corey and James exploded in a flash of bright orange flames that leapt into the air ten feet.

Like watching a marshmallow burn in the fire, Corey and James’s suits burned completely away into ash and smoke, leaving their flesh exposed to the flames. Slowly, their flesh began smoke and smolder turning redder and redder, blistering and searing,until it started to scorch blacker and blacker, finally falling off them in sheets of ash. More and more flesh began to burn from the mobster’s bodies, charring black and falling to the ground in sheets of ash until the flames had eaten every inch of flesh. After consuming every inch of flesh on Corey and James’ body, the flames began licking at their freshly exposed bones, charring them black from their once pearly white instantly. The mans hands, who had been bound the whole time began to slowly burn completely through their wrists as if the fire was a saw blade. In pain and screaming for their lives, the men were straining desperately to break their bonds that were holding with the burning inferno. With a final, desperate pull against their bonds, Corey and James’ wrists snapped in half at the hand and fell to the burning ground in burned and charred piles of ash, looking as if they had been cut off with a saw. Like eggs kept in the frying pan to long, Corey and James’ eyes began to boil and blister, turning turning blacker and blacker until they had been consumed completely by the intence heat, reduced to nothing except empty eye sockets in the heads of the two screaming men.

Corey and James were screaming as loud as they could, the pain of their flesh and nerves burning to ash beyond anything imaginable.

Louder and louder James and Corey screamed, their hair burning off in black clouds of smoke. The smell of burning flesh was stronger then ever, replacing the air with it’s putrid smell as the cloud of smoke hovered high in the air.

The chairs under the two men had been consumed completely by the intense fire and finally gave way, breaking in half under their weight, and sending the two men crashing to the ground in the pool of burning gasoline beneath them. Splashing down to the concrete below, the two men writhed around in pain, rolling over and over trying to put out the flames but to no avail.

As a last ditch effort, James pushed his burning body off the ground and began crawling out of the flames on his severed wrist and knees, screaming the whole time.

It was a horrible sight indeed.

No longer covered in hair and the flesh of his body almost completely burned away, James emerged from the flames looking like a burning, screaming skeletan. Exposed to the world, his skeletan was being held together by blackened muscles, which could be scene squeezing and stretching with each desperate push to safety, each strained scream of James’ echoing around the hangar. Somehow, James managed to crawl out of the pool of gasoline, scraping his way towards Tommy, who had been watching the two men burn close up the whole time. With one last desperate push to safety, James’s arms and legs pushed against the ground, and finally reached their breaking point, snapping in half and collapsing under him, bringing him crashing to the ground in a pile of burnt flesh and bone. Lying motionless on the ground, life having finally been stripped from his body.

The fire continued to crackle and snap, the flesh of the men that hadn’t been burned away sizzling and burning in the intense heat. The darkness of the hangar had been chased away by the bright orange glow of the fire, illuminating the terrified faces of mobsters watching.

"Now that’s what I call a bonfire!", Mikel laughed as all screaming stopped, and the two men laid motionless on the ground, continuing to burn and smoke as their bodies were reduced to nothing more then a giant, skeletal pile of ash.

Replacing the screams of the two dying men were now gags and heaves, followed by an endless stream of something splashing to the ground. Many of the men behind Mikel had finally lost it, and were now having violent fits of vomiting, their bodies trembling with each enormous heave of their stomachs.

The air was now thick with the smell of burning flesh and the smell of rank vomit, making it very hard to breath.

The air at the top of the hangar was now thick with smoke, clouds gently wafting past the light on the roof casting the room in occasional shadow, like clouds slowly passing over the sun in the blue summer sky.

The fire was still gently burning, having been reduced from a raging inferno to a gentle hissing fire. The bodies continued to smoke and smolder, but were now utterly motionless, death having finally graced the two men with it’s welcoming embrace.

Tommy, the man who had set the two men on fire, had had a front row seat to the cremation. He wasn’t throwing up, but yet he didn’t seem to be breathing either. His body was trembling and his hands were shaking violently as if having a seizure. Slowly turning on spot and turning his back to the charred remains, Tommy’s face was as white as fresh snow, and stuck in a look of perpetual shock. Lifting a trembling leg, Tommy took a shaking step forward, his arms and body limp like wet noodles. Taking a second step forward, his chest heaved and in a flash, he was doubled over, vomiting uncontrolably on the ground below.

Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, Tommy slowly straightened up and faced his fellow mobsters, his face set in of steely determination, as if trying to will himself not to vomit again. Taking small, trembling, slow steps forward, Tommy crossed the lit patch of concrete like a starving man crossing the blazing desert, dragging his feet and looking positively dead. Mikel who was still smiling and gazing upon the burnt bodies upon and the gently glowing fire, pulled his gaze away from the piles of ash and watched Tommy cross the floor.

"Hey, Tommy,", Mikel said, catching Tommy’s shoulder as he stumbled by, "You did the right thing. Your brother has doomed us all,", he finished, looking at Tommy with something like admiration, nodding his approval.

Tommy merely nodded and stumbled off into the darkness, bumping and jostling his fellow mobsters as he hurried past them. Somewhere in a distant corner of the hangar, Tommy could be heard continuing to gag and vomit from what he had just done.

"Well now. Four down. Two to go. Who will be the next to go?", Mikel asked the group as a whole, rubbing his chin and staring from the two remaining traitors to the trembling mobsters around him.

"You sick fuck! How can you call yourself human after what you’ve done?", the man who was sitting next to Harold shouted at Mikel

Mikel, who had been busy looking around from mobster to mobster, stopped cold. His back was to the man who shouted and his face was concealed by darkness. But from the looks on the faces of the mobsters facing Mikel, he was more angry then they had ever seen.

"What did you say Ryan?", Mikel asked quietly, keeping his back to the man who had shouted and asking it more to the darkness then anything else.

"I said how can you call yourself human after what you did to Corey and James, Tobbi and Tyler!", the man named Ryan shouted, who had baby blue eyes and long brown hair pulled into a ponytail.

Mikel didn’t answer. His back was still to Ryan and Harold, yet they could tell even in the low light that he was furious, his shoulders were heaving and his arms were shaking.

"You dare question me? After what you did?", Mikel roared, rounding on Ryan and fixing him with his furious stare.

Mikel’s face was livid. Spit was flying from his mouth with each furious breath. His eyes were blazing like fire, the pupils so contracted that his eyes looked to be almost completely white. His body was shaking with suppressed rage, his arms shaking more violently then ever before.

"You dare question me after what you did!", Mikel roared, his voice echoing around the room louder then the screams of James and Corey had ever done as they burned alive, "You sold us all out to the police and Bonoro Mob! You wrote our death warrants with that single act of cowardice! We almost had all of Western Canada conquered, but because of you, every man from Winnipeg to Vancouver is now a marked man, their families are marked, their friends are marked! You’ve doomed over five thousand men and their families, all because you were all to scared to die for us! I may have ordered these men to kill 4 traitors, but you…you have sentenced countless other men to their deaths because you were a yellow bellied chicken shit!", Mikel shouted, reaching to his side and un-holstering his pistol.

"We were a family Ryan! And you betrayed us because you were a coward and unwilling to die for us like we would have done for you!", Mikel shouted, and firming his grip on the handle of his gun, squeezed the trigger.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Like flashes of lightning, 3 flames erupted from the end of Mikel’s gun, launching three bullets through the air straight toward Ryan’s head.

In a flash, the bullets ripped through Ryan’s head. The first one tearing through his eye and exploding out the back of of his skull in a spray of blood and bone. The second whizzing right through the center of his forehead and ripping out the back of his skull. The third whizzed right through his throat, exploding out the back of his neck and tearing his spinal cord in half.

With a a feeble gasp and a hacking cough that spewed a flood of blood from his mouth, Ryan’s head fell to his chest. Blood poured from his neck like a jet, each bump of his heart squeezing more and more through his punctured neck. His breathing was becoming more and more difficult. Air merely escaping through the hole in his neck and blowing large bubbles of blood as if it was chewing gum

"The least you can do after sentencing so many men to death is join them,", Mikel said coldly, taking careful aim and pulling the trigger once more.

With a flash of flame at the end of the barrel like lightning,a bullet exploded from the end at the speed of sound. In the blink of an eye, the forth bullet rocketed from Mikel’s gun, and faster then anyone knew what had happened, crashed into Ryan chest, breaking through the bone and tearing through his heart.

With one final, painful gasp of air, Ryan’s breathing ceased, and his chest stopped rising. The jets of blood stopped spurting from his neck and slowed to a gentle trickle. All motion had ceased, all life ripped from his body. Ryan was now merely a corpse tied to a chair, dripping blood to the large pool that had already formed around him.

Mikel stared furiously at Ryan’s slain body. His eyes were still blazing like fire, and his outstretched gun hand was still shaking with rage. Each breath was fast and heavy, sounding as if the rage coursing through his veins was squeezing his lunges. The pupils of his eyes were still nothing more then black dots in a see of blood shot white.

Slowly, Mikel’s arm fell to his side, and he lazily reholstered his gun, but yet never taking his eyes off of Ryan’s slain body.

Letting out a long, slow sigh, Mikel puffed out his chest slowly turned his gaze to the last man left alive who had betrayed him, who was staring at Ryan’s body with pure terror.

"So Harold,", Mikel breathed, causing Harold to jump slightly and turn his gaze from Ryan’s dead body to Mikel, "You’re the only one left. And I have something very special in mind for you,", he finished, bending down and grasping the handle the knife strapped to his ankle.

Straightening up, Mikel withdrew a long, eight inch, silver knife with a serrated tip.

"So Harold? Are you proud of yourself?", Mikel asked, slowly advancing on Harold who’s face was frozen with fear, "Not only have you lead to the death of five of your best friends, you’ve also lead their families to the slaughter. All because you thought you were alone in this battle, and unable to trust anyone around you,", Mikel finished, spinning the knife around in his hand so the tip was towards the ground.

"No. It’s not like that Mikel!", Harold pleaded as Mikel stopped at his feet and stared down into Harold’s eyes, "They knew that I’d tell you! So they kidnapped my family and held them hostage! I had to do what I did so my family would live!", he finished, tears slowly welling in his eyes.

"And yet in the end,", Mikel breathed, slowly raising his free hand and grabbing Harold’s hair, tilting his head as far back as he could, "They’ll meet the same fate as you!", Mikel hissed menacingly, raising the knife high above his head and bringing it cutting down through the air.

In a flash of silver, Mikel plunged his knife into Harold’s throat, driving it all the way to the hilt.

Harold choked and coughed, his eyes stretched so wide they looked as if they were about to pop from his head. Blood was seeping from his mouth with each strained breath, and pouring from the wound around Mikel’s knife firmly planted in his neck.

Smiling broadly and locking Harold’s dying eyes with a vicious stare, Mikel slowly began dragging the knife downwards through his neck.

The blade viciously tore through Harold’s flesh like it was butter, ripping open his neck like a cut open chicken. Blood poured from Harold’s neck with each bump of his heart, spurting from his neck like fountains and splashing down the front of his already soaked suit. Harold’s mouth was wordlessly speaking, only able to make a soft hissing sound with his vocal chords sliced in half.

Each breath whistled loudly in his cut open neck. Blood slowly filled his lungs, spraying into the air like spray paint with each gasping breath.

Wrenching the knife out of Harold’s neck, Mickel flicked it at his side, flinging blood from the tip in large red drops, before slowly raising it over his head. Grasping the handle with both hands, Mikel took a deep a breath, and plunged the knife downwards. In a steely blur, Mikel drove the knife deep into Harold’s chest.

The knife rammed through Harold’s chest bone, shattering it instantly and cutting deep into his heart.

The blood once pouring from Harold’s neck died away, pooling within and flooding his lungs. Gone was the feeble gasping for breath, replaced by a drowning gurgle deep inside Harold’s lungs, a bloody foam frothing upwards and pouring from Harold’s neck with each dying breath, which became weaker and weaker.

Gradually, the pupils of Harold’s eyes began to grow larger and larger, until finally they consumed his entire eye, turning them into two, giant black orbs. With a last, feeble gurgle deep inside his chest, Harold’s head rolled over on his shoulder, and all breathing stopped. There Harold sat, his body void of all motion, blood gently seeping from his neck, his life finally ripped mercilessly from his body.

Wrenching his knife from Harold’s chest, Mikel flicked at his side to clear it of blood once more before bending down and sliding it back into his ankle-strapped sheath.

Straightening back up, grabbing the collar of his suit, and giving it a quick tug, Mikel turned his back on Harold’s now lifeless body and faced his men behind him.

Every man present was looking a tad green. Many of them had streaks of vomit running down their crisp black suit, streaking it yellow and green, piles of vomit at their feet. Tommy, the man who had set his brother aflame, was huddled against the way, his face in his hands and his body shaking as he cried quietly. Paulo, the man who had axed Tobbi to death, was still holding the bloodied axe, his suit covered in specs of bone and brain. His face was very white, and he seemed to be traumatized by what he had done and seen.

"Okay guys. Let’s get out of here,", Mikel sighed, staring from sickly face to sickly face, "We’ll call it a night and regroup in the morning. It seems as if we have no choice now but to fight until we die. Which if my guesses are correct, will be coming very shortly,", he finished, nodding to his men.

Nodding slowly, every single man gradually turned their back on the slaughtered gangsters and began to slowly walk towards the door on shaking legs, Mikel being the only one who seem unperturbed by what had happened.

"Aww. Are you guys leaving so quickly? Things were just about to get exciting,", a calm voice called out from the darkness infront of the men.

Every single man present stopped in their tracks, staring into the darkness. Whether by habit or instinct, each mobster reached at their side and un-holstered their gun, cocking them and slowly pointing them into the darkness.

"Come now. Put those away, you’re embarrassing yourselves,", the same calm voice called out from the darkness, followed by heavy, dull thud which sounded like a body hitting the floor.

"Who’s there? Do you have any idea who we are?", Mikel called out to the darkness, un-holstering his gun and aiming into the darkness infront of him aswell.

"I certainly do know who you are,", the voice replied calmly, gentle foot steps echoing around the hangar, "You’re the Sarulean Mob. Known gun runners and drug dealers and provider of cheap hookers for the past fifty years. Ever since your dad was the head mobster, Mikel. I’ve been saving you guys for last cause I know you’ll bring me the most points,", the voice finished as a body slowly emerged from the darkness into the lit area where the mobsters were standing firm.

The voice obviously belonged the man before them. Tall and lean, this man had brownish blonde hair that reached half way down his neck, and he looked to be no older then 19. This man who appeared out of nowhere had a gentle face with a slightly rounded jawline, his face wearing a gentle smile. Though he was wearing baggy black jeans that covered part of his shoes, which were bright orange, and a loose fitting t-shirt, they could tell that this man had a well defined body with a good amount of muscle, simply by the way he held himself.

Stretching across his chest and disappearing under his shoulder and arm, was what looked like a fine white silk strap. Poking over the top of the mans right shoulder was what looked like a long handle of a sword, which could be seen hanging off the mans back and wrapped in the same silk as the strap. What was the strangest thing of all, was that the sword appeared to be as tall as the man, maybe six feet end to end, as it’s tip was only inches above the ground.

The mysterious man stopped at the edge of the lit circle of concrete, gazing into each and evey face of the mobsters infront of him.

Every man was wearing the same look. That is to say, one of utter confusion. The men, unsure of this was a joke or not, looked at one another, their eyebrows raised in clearly questioning manner. As one, every mobster lowered their arms holding their guns and turned, looking at Mikel as if waiting for orders of what they should do. By the look on Mikel’s face however, it was easy to see that he was just as confused his men.

Like his men, Mikel’s arm holding the gun slowly fell to his side, and he stared at the man before him, confusion written all over his face.

"Who the hell are you and where did you come from?", Mikel asked, anger and confusion mixing together in his voice which was rather quiet.

"Really…at a point like this, it doesn’t matter,", Alex replied, smiling broadly.

"What do you mean ‘doesn’t matter’?", Mikel asked, firming his grip on the handle of his gun and slowly raising it back infront of him, looking down the sight and fixing Alex firmly in the center.

"Because even if I told you, you wouldn’t live long enough to tell anyone,", Alex replied casually, slowly walking forward towards the mobsters.

As one giant entity, every mobster who’s gun had fallen to their side was raised in a heart beat back infront of them, fixing Alex firmly in their sights.

"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Are you going to try and kill us all!", Mikel shouted, not taking kindly to this interruption.

"I’m not going to ‘try’ and kill you Mikel…I am going to kill,", Alex replied as he slowly reached behind him and grabbed the handle of the sword that was poking over the top of his shoulder.

For a moment, the strap stretching across Alex’s shoulder glowed a bright white, before it seemingly broke loose from the back and was pulled back over his shoulder. Behind Alex, the same white glow could be seen, looking as if Alex was standing infront of a bright white light. Over Alex’s shoulder however, the white silk was retreating from the tip of the sword over his shoulder and wrapping and snaking around his wrist. Like a snake, the silk began crawling and snaking it’s way up Alex’s forearm, wrapping it tightly up to the elbow, giving it the look of being in a cast.

Straightening his arm and lifting it over his head, Alex revealed to the mobsters the sword that had been behind his back.

Six feet tip to tip, the sword looked like a gigantic butcher’s knife, except for for the end which was gently curved upwards and tapered into a sharp point. The sword, which was probably ten inches wide, was graphite black on the back of the sword, gently fading to an astonishing pure silver for the viciously sharp blade. At the end of the handle, which looked about ten inches along, was a gently glowing white diamond that shone brightly like a light bulb.

The mobsters stared at the sword, transfixed by it’s shear size and appearance. The sword was almost as long as Alex was tall, and yet he was holding it one handed like it was nothing. The blade was so large that it looked as if it could cut through three men with a single swing without any trouble.

"W-what is that?", Mikel asked as Alex slowly drew closer and closer, gesturing to the sword Alex was holding while firming his grip on the pistol handle.

"This is Banyuo, Mikel,", Alex replied with a smile, stopping in his track and drawing Banyuo across his body and locking it at his side, "And he will be the ones that send your souls screaming to hell,", he finished, with a small smile.

Before the mobsters could even begin to understand what Alex had said, he disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving only a small dust cloud rising into the air.

The mobsters stared at where Alex had been standing a second before. It was like a Las Vegas magic show, as Alex literally disappeared from sight. One moment, he was standing before the mobsters holding an enormous sword at his side, and then he faded from sight as quickly as a light bulb being turned off, leaving not a single trace of himself behind. It was as if Alex literally disappeared from the face of the earth.

"Where’d he go boss?", one of the mobsters asked Mikel, casting a glance over his shoulder but seeing that Mikel was just as confused as everyone else.

"Right here!", a voice called to the mobsters, the voice coming from somewhere on the far right side.

Their heads turning as one giant being, the mobsters skin blanched. Bent over infront of two large mobsters was Alex, looking as he was bowing to them, Banyuo drawn at his side, looking like he was about to strike.

The mobsters in which Alex was infront of were looking down at him, their faces livid with terror. Outstretched infront them lamely, their guns were shaking terribly. Before anybody knew what had happened, he seemingly transported infront of the two mobsters without anyone noticing

"Good bye John and Simon,", Alex purred, slowly raising his face to the ceiling and staring into the terrified faces of the mobsters.

In a silver flash, Alex’s arm exploded around from his side, slashing Banyuo through the air at lightning speed. Before the mobsters knew what happened, the massive blade of Banyuo ripped through their bodies, cutting through their waists as if they were made of mush. Cutting it’s way out of their bodies, blood flew from Banyuo’s blade like rain, spattering the ground behind Alex in a delicate mist.

Straightening to a proper standing position, Alex stared into the faces of the mobsters, who seemed to be frozen on spot like statues. Their eyes were still firmly focused on the spot where Alex had been a moment before, and didn’t seem to notice him standing up. They were still breathing, yet it was with very strained breaths, sounding as if they were struggling to keep breathing. A trickle of blood was leaking from their mouths, running down their chin and dripping to the ground.

"Amazing,", Alex breathed, smiling to himself, "So life like,", he finished, raising a hand and pushing each of the men in the chest.

The bodies of the two men swayed slightly on spot, and as the terrified mobsters watched, the mobsters torsos toppled backwards and they fell heavily to the ground, leaving their legs standing, rooted on spot like an end table.

Alex’s strike had cut them cleanly in half at the waist. Lying on the ground, the mob mens arms were twitching as if being shocked, blood pouring from the top half of their bodies, forming large pools of blood around their now severed bodies. Like fish out of water, the men were gasping for breath, trying to swallow every once they could in their dying state. The legs of the men remained standing, blood occasionally spurting from the severed veins and arteries like fountains.

The mobsters stared, utterly terrified at what they had just seen.

They had just witnessed as a young, 19 year old man with a giant sword cut two of their men in half at the waist, and he seemed to enjoy it by the look on his face. It happened so fast that none of the men seemed to be able to comprehend what they truly had seen.

"So. Still think I won’t be able to kill you all, Mikel?", Alex asked, slowly turning his head and facing the remaining mobsters, his face wearing a playful smile.

"W-what are you? What the hell are you!", Mikel shouted, taking several hastened steps backward from Alex, even though he was he was forty or so paces away from him.

"What am I?", Alex asked, rubbing his chin and looking at the mobster in a wondering sort of way and turning to face the mobsters properly, "I guess I’d have to say that…I’m a reaper. I bring death to those who brought death to others,", he finished, slowly walking forward towards the mobsters and shouldering Banyuo.

As a giant unit, every mobster began slowly backing away from Alex as he advanced towards them. Like a herd of elephants of protecting their young, the mobsters slowly began packing tight together around Mikel, forming a large barrier between he and Alex three or four mobsters thick. While Alex looked cool and calm, each mobster was sweating profusely, their faces screwed up into looks of utter terror. Even though their guns were still drawn and pointing at Alex’s head, all of the mobsters seemed to scared to pull the trigger.

"A reaper? What the hell is that supposed to mean!", Mikel shouted, the arm holding his pistol trembling terribly, his face livid with fear.

Smiling broadly, Alex firmed his grip on the handle of Banyuo, and in the blink of an eye, disappeared into thin air once again, leaving another small cloud of dust where he had been standing.

"Not aga…", Mikel shouted, but was soon drowned out by something much longer.

"ARRRGGGGHHHH"

Twisting their heads to where the screaming came from, all they saw was Alex’s back and his arm holding Banyuo outstretched at his side. Behind Alex, one of the mob men was screaming, his head separating from his body as Alex had just cut easily through his neck.

The man’s head was flying backwards from his body as if kicked by a soccer player. His mouth was wide open in a silent scream and his eyes were blinking in disbelief. Blood was pouring from the man’s neck, shooting skyward like a broken fire hydrant.

The man’s head hit the floor, bouncing and rolling around like a ball, eventually coming to a rest on his ear. The man’s body swayed slightly on it’s feet, before it’s leg eventually gave out, dropping to it’s knee, swaying again then falling to it’s chest, it’s arms and legs twitching sporadically. Like a hose being turned off, the fountain of blood began dying away, to be replaced by a gentle ooze of blood.

"Kill him! Kill him now!", Mikel shouted, his free hand shooting up to the handle of his gun to steady his shaking arm.

As one, the remaining mobsters firmed their grips on the handles of their guns, and like one, they pulled the triggers of their weapons.

Like a deafening symphony, every gun blared to life, fire erupting from the ends of their barrels like volcanoes exploding. Rocketing from the end of each gun, a small army of lead projectiles rocketed towards Alex at the speed of sound.

Smiling to himself, Alex threw himself sideways and cartwheeled one handed out of the path of the oncoming wave of lead projectiles. A blink of an eye later, the bullets whizzed by Alex who was in mid cartwheel, shooting between his legs and over his feet, and peppered the metal wall of the hangar behind him, ricocheting and sparking like fireworks.

Landing gracefully right side up, Alex hurled himself sideways, running around the edge of the lit path of concrete in the enormous airplane hangar.

The mobsters, now scared for their very lives, followed Alex around the lit patch of earth, squeezing their triggers as quickly as they can, firing as many shots as humanly possible.

Like a shooting game at the fair, Alex sprinted around the edge of light as the mobsters continued to fire shot after shot at him, like a child trying to hit a duck in a row and win a prize. Over and over the bullets whizzed by Alex, shooting inches infront of his face, or past the back of his neck, streaking past and crashing into the walls shrouded in darkness, or else crashing into the ground, exploding in large dust clouds that shot skywards like geysers.

"You’re just toying with these mobsters, aren’t you Alex?", a calm voice asked inside his head.

"How’d you know Banyuo?", Alex replied with a smile as he leapt lightly into the air, somersaulting over a hail of bullets.

"Because you could have cut each and every single one of them in two in about 20 seconds flat,", Banyuo replied casually as Alex gracefully touched down running.

"Well if that’s what you wanted, I’ll do just that!", Alex purred happily, planting his feet and skidding to a halt sideways like an ice skater, letting the bullets whiz by his body, only inches from his body.

Bending down, Alex took a deep breath and launched himself into the air like a mortar shell, tucking his arms and legs into his body and blurring into a dazzling somersault. Over and over Alex tumbled, arcing high through the air, his spin seemingly going faster and faster.

The mobsters, whether they meant to or not, stopped firing and watched in awe as Alex arced high through the air, rolling over and over like a cannon ball. It was sort of like watching a soccer ball kicked from one end of the field to other getting closer and closer, the colours of Alex’s clothes blurring together in rainbow collage.

Slowly, the mobsters dropped their guns to their sides, their mouths hanging slack. They watched mesmerized as Alex arced fifty feet into the air, and seemingly hovered above the ground, rolling over and over like a ball before gravity slowly caught up with him and began pulling him back down to earth in his dazzling spin.

"What the hell’s going on?", Mikel breathed, staring transfixed at Alex’s blurring spin.

"This is what’s going on!", Alex shouted from high in the air.

Throwing his arms and legs away from his body, Alex stopped spinning instantly, arms and legs outstretched widely like a birds wings.

Gliding through the air, Alex soared high above the mobsters with his arms and legs stretched wide, looking like an eagle searching for a rabbit to eat. Gradually, gravity’s grip firmed itself on Alex and began pulling him down to earth like a skydiver plummeting to earth.

It was a truly marvelous sight.

On the ground, fifty mobsters were packing together, protecting their mob leader within their ranks. Every face was turned up to the ceiling, staring in awe at Alex. Flying towards them like a meteor from the depths of space, Alex’s blonde locks were trailing behind him like streamers on a child’s bike. His arms and legs were stretched wide, his loose clothes flapping in the air behind his limbs like flags in a violent wind.

Closer and closer Alex fell to the mobsters, his eyes fixed firmly on the staring group of mobsters, who seemed paralyzed on spot. As he rocketed to earth, Alex drew Banyuo high over his back one handed, firming his grip on Banyuo’s handle.

Gradually the mobsters began to realize something was wrong. Unsure of what to do, the mobsters began stumbling and pushing eachother back, the ones at the front pushing harder and faster then ones at the back could react, all of whom stood stalk still, paying more attention to Alex then what was happening infront of him. Desperation began rising as quickly as Alex was dropping, who was now only ten feet above the mobsters, the ones at the front of the pack pushing as hard as they could, but availing to nothing but their feet slipping on the blood soaked floor.

In the second before Alex struck, it happened.

Alex’s face broke in an insane, murderous smile. His mouth stretched as wide as it could, revealing his teeth as if they were fangs. All humanity seemed to vanish from his warm eyes, replaced by a look of nothing short of pure evil and hatred. The colour of Alex’s eyes changed, from their usual gentle blue, to a dark, intense blue that seemed to glow. With the light behind him, and his face in the shadows, Alex looked nothing short of a demon.

The last thing the mobsters saw was Alex’s murderous face before he pulled his feet under him and brought Banyuo swinging ferociously over his head.

In a heartbeat, Alex landed heavily feet first on the ground, doubled over on the ground in front of a tall, black haired mobster, Banyuo blurring into a silver flash as he arced through the air. In the blink of an eye, Banyuo’s giant blade tore through the top of the man’s head and cut cleanly all the way through his body, ripping out through the bottom of the mans body, crashing heavily into the ground below.

Before any of the mobsters could take even a single, terrified breath, Alex grasped the handle of Banyuo with both hands, and with all his might, ripped his blade from the ground and swung it powerfully sideways like a baseball bat. In a silver flash, Banyuo tore through the bodies of atleast ten men in a single blow.

Twisting his head around, Alex glanced at the remaining mobsters out of the corner of his eye, snarling slightly. Grasping Banyuo once more with both hands, Alex coiled his body like a spring and swinging his arms around with all his might, slashed Banyuo through the air in the opposite direction.

Before the mobsters knew what had hit them, Banyuo’s massive blade tore through their sides, ripping through their stomachs and cutting them in half as easily as if they were made of paper. Like a fine mist of dew, blood flew from Banyuo’s blade, floating in the air in a thick cloud, turning the light a delicate red.

It was a moment before the full effect of what Alex had done.

As if on cue, the mobsters bodies exploded all around Alex, torrents of blood pouring from the wounds Banyuo had inflicted, splashing to the ground like waterfalls. Like enormous dominoes, the mobsters began falling to pieces. The black suited mobsters swayed slightly on spot before they broke in half at the waist, falling chest and back first into the pools of blood all around him. The man in front of Alex fell backwards, landing heavily on the ground and splitting open like a coconut, his organs oozing from his sliced in half body cavity and sliding to the ground.

There Alex stood, doubled over, statue still, his face to the ground. Like a discus thrower preparing for a toss, Alex’s arm holding Banyuo was stretched high above his head, blood dripping from it’s massive blade like thick red rain.

Slowly standing straight and shouldering Banyuo, Alex stared in the horrified faces of the men that were left, smiling slightly at the looks on their face. A heap of intertwined legs and twitching torso, many of them still alive, mouthing wordlessly and gasping for breath, laid at his feet, rivers of blood pouring from their bodies.

The mobsters stared horrified as they watched their mutilated allies take their last dying breaths, the fear written over their faces as the drops of blood escaped their bodies more terrifying then anything they had ever seen. The mobsters stared into the eyes of the fallen friends, the colour slowly draining from the once alive eyes, to nothing but black, blank windows. The twitching in the pile of body parts, and the last dying gasps faded away into the cavernous hangar, to be replaced by the distant sounds of rolling thunder echoing in far off corners of the city.

"You’re…you’re a monster!",Mikel breathed, his face as white as a ghost, "You’re a monster! Nobody could do that and smile! Nobody!", he gasped, his gun hand trembling so terribly that sound of rattling bullets echoed around the hangar.

"You’re right Mikel,", Alex said, stepping over the pile of bodies and slowly advancing on the remaining thirty or so mobsters, "Nobody could do what I just did and smile about it. But then again…I’m not like everybody else,", Alex finished, un-shouldering Banyuo, and holding him straight out at his side.

"What are you?", Mikel asked breathlessly, "Tell me now!", he shouted, his arm holding his gun finally giving out and falling limply to his side.

"I already told you Mikel,", Alex replied calmly as he stepped on the head of a lifeless mobster and crushed it easily underneath his foot, squashing it to a lump of flesh and bone, "I’m a reaper. I hunt down those who have hurt others and make them pay for their sins…with their lives!", Alex snarled as bent low and pushed himself forward as powerfully as he could.

Like a missile, Alex rocketed through the air across the distance between he and the mobster pack, his face set in a look of utter hatred.

Before the mobsters knew what had happened, Alex slammed his foot into the ground and, as quickly as if he had a hit a brick wall, slid to a halt in a matter of inches of the mobsters. With his blonde hair still flying forward, Alex drew Banyuo across his body and locked his arm, ready to strike.

"You men are the greatest murders this city has ever scene,", Alex murmured, looking into the face of the mobster infront of him through his locks of hair which had fallen lightly over his face, "The points I’ll get for reaping you all will be through the roof!", Alex roared, firming his grip on the handle of Banyuo and exploding to life.

Before the mobsters knew what hit them, Banyuo slashed through the air in a dazzling silver arc with a menacing whoosh. Like a sharp machete through overgrown bush, Banyuo ripped into the wall of mobsters as if they were made of jelly, shattering bone and tearing flesh as it ripped through their ranks. Ripping out the other side of the wall of humanity, Banyuo flicked into the air, spraying blood from his vicious tip like water off a trees branch, large ruby red drops of blood flying through the air like tiny birds.

On cue, the bodies of the now cut in half men swayed slightly on spot before exploding at the waist toppled to the ground in two even pieces. All of the mobsters torsos were twitching and gasping for breath. Some of the men were pawing helplessly at the ground before them, as if trying to reach for help before they bled to death. Others were mouthing wordlessly, as if asking for help or for forgiveness. The only man left standing was Mikel, standing terrified behind a barrier of severed human beings.

His barrier of bodyguards gone, slaughtered like sheep, Mikel was all alone. His suit now covered in the blood of his fallen men, Mikel was facing the most terrible thing he had seen.

Before him was man, who by all means could only be described as monster, holding a sword aslong as he was tall. His face was wearing a look that could only be described as unhuman. The man’s face was almost completely covered by his long blonde hair, but even then, he could tell that the man’s eyes were blazing with the hatred of a thousand men, staring not only into Mikel’s eyes, but into his very soul. His mouth was pulled into a silent snarl, showing signs of utter disgust towards the man he was seeing.

Shouldering Banyuo, Alex’s slowly began advancing on Mikel, stepping over the slaughtered mobsters like they were garbage.

"Your men are gone. Slaughtered like the animals they are,", Alex breathed, stepping on the chest of mobster with long brown hair and crushing it under his weight, "You’re all alone and scared in this world. All that’s left for you is to bow to death, and except it with dignity,", he finished, flicking his head backwards and lifting the hair from his face.

"Stay back…stay back!", Mikel shouted, stumbling and falling to the ground on his backside, "Who the hell are you to come here and do this to my men? Who the hell do you think you are calling me a murderer when you just killed over 40 men!", Mikel screamed, his face alive with terrified insanity as he began pushing himself backwards with his hands and feet.

"I never said I wasn’t a murderer Mikel. Infact, I know I am," Alex breathed, his face slowly breaking into a small grin as he stared down at the slowly retreating figure of Mikel, "But the difference between you and I, is you choose to kill. I have to kill", Alex finished, slowly loosening and firming his grip on the handle of Banyuo.

"You’re insane! No one has to kill! We choose to kill on our own free will. I chose. You chose. We all chose!", Mikel gasped, his voice hysterical, reflecting the look on his face of someone who has completely lost his sanity.

"You’re wrong Mikel. I have to kill,", Alex snarled as Mikel slowly drew closer and closer to the wall, pushing himself backwards on his backside, "It’s my job to purge the world of evil like you. People who have ripped souls from their bodies before their time. People like you who have shattered families, destroyed lives, and ruined dreams. In this world, people like will not be brought to justice by human laws. You will be brought to justice by people like me. You will be brought to justice by a reaper,", Alex finished as Mikel slid back first into the hangar wall, his feet continuing to slide hopelessly on the ground.

"You’re insane! You proved it! You’re insane! No one would come up with something as far fetched as that!", Mikel cried happily, slowly raising his arm holding his gun and pointing it at Alex’s chest, "And the only way to deal with people like you…is to kill them!", he laughed, firming his grip on the handle of his gun and pulling the trigger.

With the trigger pulled, time seemed to slow down in the hangar, every second seemingly growing to a days length.

A flash of fire erupted out the end of the gun, like a volcano exploding to life. With a deafening roar and a puff of smoke, a small lead bullet rocketed out of the flames, speeding towards Alex’s heart, who was reflected slightly in the copper tip of the bullet.

In the face of the oncoming messenger of death, Alex stood his ground with Banyuo resting firmly on his shoulder, staring down the barrel of Mikel’s gun as the fiery eruption died away and the thunderous boom echoed around the hangar. Firming his grip on the handle of Banyuo, Alex waited as the bullet rocketed within arms reach of his chest before he seemingly came to life.

Faster then the bullet was speeding towards, Alex’s arm exploded downwards, Banyuo cutting through the air like a guillotine. In a flash, Banyuo’s razor sharp blade crashed into the tip of the bullet, and cut deeply into the soft lead projectile.

Like sparks from a welding torch, hot metal slag began raining from the surface of Banyuo as the soft metal bullet began sliding along his hard metal surface, glowing white hot and falling to the ground like shooting stars. The roar of Mikel’s gun was replaced by the screech of scraping metal replacing, sounding like rusty wheels rolling along a metal track.

The bullet halves whizzed by Alex’s head, passing by either ear with in inches, shooting into the darkness and disappearing.

It happened so fast that it seemed it was over before it even started. Before he knew what had happened, Mikel was staring at the vicious point at the end of Banyuo’s blade, the tip hovering only inches from his nose. At the end of the blade, Alex’s face was clearly visible, the small smile that had creased his lips now gone, replaced by a look of utter hatred.

"No…no. Y-you’re supposed to be dead! I shot you!", Mikel screamed, dropping his gun from fright as Alex withdrew Banyou and shouldered him once more, Mikel’s eyes wide with fright, his lips trembling terribly.

"Your time has come Mikel,", Alex said coldly, "Your life full of sin has come full circle, and now it’s time for you to pay,", he finished, un-shouldering Banyuo and raising him high over his head.

"No! Please! Don’t! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!", Mikel pleaded, tears welling in his eyes, trying to push himself away from Alex through the wall, "Please! I’m sorry! Don’t do it!", he choked, tears streaming down his face like waterfalls.

"Did you show mercy to those men you killed tonight?", Alex asked coldly, a very sour look breaking across his face, "Those men pleaded like you are doing now. Those men wanted to live aslong as they could, just like you. Those men had families they wanted to go back to, just like you. And just like you…I won’t show any mercy,", he finished, firming the grip on the handle of Banyuo and preparing himself to deliver the final blow.

With every passing heartbeat, Alex remained stalk still, Banyuo held high over his head, ready to deliver the final blow. The seconds passed by in silence, all except for the pleading cries of Mikel, who’s face was now soaked with tears. The seconds turned to minutes, and yet nothing happened. Mikel’s crying died away, replaced by hiccups of desperation.

There Alex stood, three minutes passing without so much as a twitch from his arm. It was like he had become frozen in time, his face broken into the same ugly look as before. His arm remained held firmly above his head, the tip not so much as quivering in the air.

Mikel stared at Alex, unsure of what he was seeing. It was as if his once pursuer was now rendered immobile by some strange force. As Mikel gazed upon him, Alex didn’t so much as sway on spot, looking exactly like an art sculpture in a museum.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Alex let out a long, low sigh through his nose.

"I can’t do it. I just can’t do it,", Alex said out loud, letting Banyuo drop to his side and slowly turning his back on Mikel, "I just can’t kill a man who’s begging for his life like he is. My friends would never forgive me if they found out,", Alex said out loud, talking more to the room then to anyone else.

Mikel stared at the back of Alex’s lean body. Tears continued to stream down his face, but he was no longer crying. With the air of realization, Mikel’s face broke into a wide, watery smile. Moments ago, he had been staring death in the face. It had seemed that his life was about to be extinguished at the hands of a man who had slaughtered fifty men before him without so much as a second thought. But now, it seemed that the same man was giving up. His nerve seemed broken, unable to deliver the final blow.

Mikel’s heart skipped a beat. He was going to live when he was so sure he was going to die. He was really going to live.

"You’re…you’re letting me go?", Mikel asked breathlessly, leaning forward from the wall, his face alive with excitement, "You’re really going to let me go?"

"Let you live? Hardly,", Alex laughed, looking over his shoulder over at Mikel and staring at him out of the corner of his eye, "I’m just gonna have to make sure my friends never find out is all,", he finished, flashing an evil smile at Mikel

Before Mikel could comprehend what Alex had said, Alex whipped around, swinging Banyuo around through the air like a mace. In a steely flash, Banyuo slashed through where Mikel’s face was, arcing around and slashing deeply into the hard concrete ground.

Alex stared down into the face of Mikel, alive with hope and joy at the thought of being let go. His face was still shining with tears, and his eyes were laughing with joy. But no longer was Mikel gasping for breath. No longer were his arms and legs shaking with fear, straining as they pushed him against the wall. It was as if Mikel had become paralyzed with joy.

Breaking across Mikel’s face, a small trickle of blood began to blossom, growing larger and larger into a full line of red, seeping blood. The line of blood stretched somewhere from above his left ear and stretched across his face to a point just before his chin. Gradually more and more blood began to seep from the wound, streaking Mikel’s face red with blood.

Steadily, the part of Mikel’s head above the line of blood began to slide sideways, sliding along the line as if it was greased with oil. With a quiet, wet echoing squelch, the top half of Mikel’s head slid off the rest of his head and fell to the ground with a dull, echoing thud, rolling around slightly like half of a coconut shell.

Fountains of blood spurted from the now severed half of Mikel’s head, splattering the wall red like spray paint. With all life taken from his body, Mikel’s body remained sitting straight before it slowly slumped sideways onto the ground, his blood oozing from his cut in half skull and flooding the ground.

Smiling to himself, Alex wrenched Banyuo from the ground and stretched his arm holding Banyuo to the ceiling. As if the silk wraps came to life, the white silk began spinning away from his wrist like a gymnasts streamer and snaking themselves around Banyuo’s blade, and wrapping it tip to tip in a matter of seconds, leaving a long piece of silk to form a long shoulder strap. Letting go of Banyuo’s handle, Alex let the newly formed shoulder strap slide down his arm and fall over shoulder.

Hitching Banyuo to his back, Alex turned his back on Mikel’s now lifeless body and over looked his handy work with amusement.

Infront of him, dozens upon dozens of bodies laid in heaps and rows, torso’s and legs intertwined with one another, swimming in large pools of blood. The bodies rose from the giant pools of blood that glistened red in the gentle light like islands in the ocean. Tied to six chairs, six men sat motionless, murdered in cold blood by their former allies. In one corner of the hangar, two piles of burnt ash and bone laid motionless in a field of scorched black concrete.

Looking over his shoulder at Mikel’s motionless corpse, Alex smiled to himself and he began slowly crossing the hangar floor to where he had been watching the murder of the six men take place.

"You know Alex. I don’t want to say it but…that was kind of mean,", Banyuo said in a relaxed sort of way, deep inside Alex’s mind.

"How so Banyuo?", Alex asked as he crossed the lit patch of floor, hopping over the piles of bodies strewn around the floor.

"Giving Mikel hope like and then taking it away. That was really mean,", Banyuo said as Alex leapt lightly into the air, sailed through the hangar air and touched down lightly on the suspended walkway.

"What can I say? I like giving people hope and taking it away. I’m just that kind of guy,", Alex replied with a smile as he dug his fingers underneath the frame of one of the windows and pried it open.

"Oh, I know what kind of guy you are alright,", Banyuo said as Alex hooked a leg over the ledge of the window and pulled himself through the frame.

"And what kind of guy is that Banyuo?", Alex asked as he pushed himself from the frame and fell to the ground.

"An asshole,", Banyuo replied simply as Alex touched down lightly on the ground below, behind the hangar he was in a moment ago.

Standing silently infront of him, leaning to it’s side, was shiny blue and chrome motorcycle. It’s sweeping front-end forks, low profile rear end, chrome wheels,up-swept exhaust pipes with a large chrome engine in the center of the frame glistened in the now rapidly retreating evening light like a star.

Alex laughed heartily as he climbed onto the back of the motorcycle, settling onto the soft leather seat and reaching under the seat, gently twisted the key.

With an baritone explosion out the end of it’s twin exhaust pipes, the motorcycle fired to life, shaking slightly with each powerful explosion of fuel.

Kicking the bike into gear, Alex slowly twisted the throttle and the motorcycled snarled forward. Trundling past the rear wall, Alex leaned to the side pulled the bike into the aley way between the hangars. Giving the throttle an enormous twist, the bike surged forward powerfully, rapidly gaining speed as he sped through the narrow alley way between the two large hangars. The roar of the engine echoed off the walls of the hangars, rattling the hangar windows in their frames terribly. In a flash of blue and chrome, Alex’s bike roared past the parked mob sedans and out onto the open airstrip, roaring down the field towards the entrance way, his long blonde hair blowing in the air behind him.

All in all, Alex thought as he roared down the landing strip field, it wasn’t a bad night. He had a bit of fun tonight, got some fresh air, and most importantly, killed two birds with one stone…or in this case, fifty birds with one stone.



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