as written by Calcos and Saarai
The bodies dropped in pools of cooling blood, the body temperatures of each victim dropping rapidly as the cold clutches of death enveloped the fresh cadavers. Nelson signaled his men to follow behind him, the enforcer holstering his pistol as he moved forward, bringing his rifle back to point, mounting it on his shoulder as he clutched it tightly, finger ready to grasp the trigger and unleash hell.
From the shadows, the men were pursued by a lone phantom, draped in black and all but invisible, his existence unbeknownst to them as he trailed closely behind, ready to make his move, ready to strike at a moment's notice. He saw, in the corridor, that he had arrived too late, noting the pair of corpses now serving as blooded throw rugs on the floor. He cursed internally, painting a mental picture of how awful his retaliation would be. As the soldiers neared the sauna, he decided it would be best to act faster and move in while he still had time to prevent further bloodshed.
He crept forward, quickly, careful not to allow his footsteps to be heard.
Nelson stood in front of the sauna, the muffled blaring of music emanating from within. He and his men ducked down beside the door, the enforcer peering ever so slowly into the small, six-inch-by-six-inch window perched at the top of the metal frame. He found it fogged up, however, and couldn't see inside. Taking a hand from his rifle, he reached for the door handle, turning it downward easily, the faint click of the latch releasing barely audible over the roarous music from within. He eyed his men, his expression telling them to be careful.
This seemed too easy.
Taking a deep breath, Nelson burst into the room, gun at the ready and a team of highly-trained operators at his back, similarly armed and just as ready to fight and die for their cause. However, when they entered the room, all they found were empty wooden seats and speakers blaring so loud that the noise assaulted their eardrums. The steaming pile of rocks coated the atmosphere in a hot and heavy condensation that made their choice of attire rather uncomfortable in the moment. However, their biggest surprise yet would come in the form of a device resting on one of the nearby wooden benches.
A device that looked suspiciously like a bomb.
"Fuck!" Nelson screamed over the music. The other soldiers took note of the source of warrant for his outburst, they themselves reacting in a similar manner. From behind them, the Raven seemed to notice their panicked states; the room was empty, but he couldn't see what was happening. It seemed obvious that some trap had been sprung by the Russians, as he could faintly hear them shouting, startled and frantic.. The music, however, was becoming an annoyance, rendering him incapable of hearing exactly what they were saying. From his belt, he procured his multi-tool, receiving the signal to the building's PA and shutting it down, the music cutting out instantly.
"-damn bomb!" one of them shouted, the sudden disappearance of the music shocking them. The Raven's ears perked up, eyes widening beneath the mask he wore. 'A bomb?' he thought. Thoughts raced through his mind, contemplating on what to do. He wouldn't have enough time to engage all of the Society thugs and disarm the bomb, so he did the only thing he could think of doing: the Raven stepped forth from his hiding place among the shadows, sauntering forward, arms by his side. "I might be able to help," he said.
The collective of them whipped around, confusion and incomprehension gripping their hearts, twisting them with fear of what they didn't understand. "The fuck is this?" one of them asked. Nelson, although just as baffled and afraid as his men, steeled himself, forcing a calm composure in order to confront this unknown entity. "Hands where I can see 'em, asshole, or we light you up like a Christmas tree." The cloaked figure was silent a moment, having stopped walking towards them. The silence permeated between them, a thicket of tension that was ready to erupt into a full-scale conflict at the drop of a pin. "That would be unwise," the figure stated. Nelson afforded himself a laugh. "Yeah? And why's that?" The Raven was silent for a moment longer, his eyes wandering, scouring the immediate vicinity for anything to help him gain the upper hand in case things went south from here.
"Because I'm the only one in this building who can diffuse that bomb," he said flatly.
____
The RDV member pedaled his hardest towards the Russian, lunging from his bike to tackle the man as Andre came charging across the street himself. The Russian and the RDV gangster were tangled up on the ground fighting for the phone as Andre grew closer.
People on the street were starting to watch, other RDVs rushing over to stop the brawl.
Andre grabbed the Russian's hand and the phone, wrapping his own around both. As the other RDVs grabbed the Russian and picked him up, Andre slid a switchblade from his pocket. Before he could use it the Russian drew a pistol with his free hand, firing off several shots that prompted his attackers to flee.
The Russian and Andre fell over, the phone hitting the ground near them.
Andre reached for the Russian gangster's wrist, struggling to keep the gun away from him before he could get to the phone and save Nelson from the bomb.
____
Nelson cocked an eyebrow at the strange figure before him, guns still trained on the shadowy apparition's person, each of them prepared to fill him full of lead should he even hint at making the wrong move. Suddenly, however, Nelson shouldered his weapon, standing straighter in a comfortable position. "Alright, fine, weirdo. We'll let you take a crack at it," he said with a grin. He shuffled forward, his signalling for his men to follow behind. As they walked down the hallway, the Raven strode forward himself, passing them. Once he was nearer to the sauna, Nelson turned. "We hope you don't mind if we take our leave while you try your hand at it, though," he said, sauntering away. With that, the Raven stopped in his tracks, slowly turning and glaring in the soldiers' direction. The bodies of the two Russians decorated the flooring beneath his feet, their blood spattered erratically about the room.
They wouldn't be missed.
"You got two choices: try and stop us, or let the building burn. Better pick fast," Nelson said, continuing to walk away. The Raven turned away from them, resigning to let them go. There was still a chance that he could catch them if he dealt with the situation quickly enough. Looking over the explosive, he couldn't help but marvel at how neat it was for an improvised device. He noted the wiring running along it, the circuitry attached to a cell phone; the detonator.
A bomb like this one -one that utilized a cellular device- was quite easily disarmed if one had the proper tools and know-how. Fortunately for the Raven, he had much better than that: from his belt, he produced an insulated aerosol canister containing a gaseous mixture that, once it collided with a surface, would induce a rapid freezing reaction. Aiming the can at the cell phone, he let loose a rather heavy coating from five inches away. The idea was to damage the phone's internal components and render it useless as a detonator.
However, all electronics are built differently, and depending on the phone's durability and resistance to exposure to cold temperatures...
Elsewhere, the Society soldiers were making their way towards the rear exit of the building. They needed to get as much distance from the costumed freak inside as they possibly could. The sooner the better.
____
Andre slammed his elbow down into the Russian's face, stunning him long enough for Andre to pull the gun from his hand. It went flying into the air and away from the two. Andre made a leap for the phone, only for it to be cut short by the Russian gangster grabbing his ankle and pulling him back.
"Not today, kid." The Russian said, punching Andre in the face. He made his way over to the phone to pick it up, "Watch your friends burn." He said to Andre, raising the phone up high as he let it autodial the only number it had.
He turned to the sauna to watch it go up in flames.
But, it never did.
He hit redial. Still nothing. Again. And nothing.
A gunshot rang out, followed by another. The Russian dropped to his knees, the phone falling from his hand and finally shattering as the Russian's face joined it on the street.
Andre was sure no one in this neighborhood would tell the police what he had just done, but the RDVs were going to be in the crosshairs of the law. Two incidents in one day.
The DA was going to smell mob war and swoop in like a vulture.
____
Exiting through the back, the Society members were greeted by two unconscious bodies laying nearby; probably victims of the costumed freak they left inside. Nelson had one of the men tend to them, checking their vitals and such. They didn't know how much time they had before the stranger finished with the bomb, but they didn't care to find out. "Bring 'em with us," Nelson ordered.
Suddenly, their attention was caught by the sound of gunshots ringing out in the midnight air. "Move!" Nelson said, thinking the RDV members could be in trouble. Dashing from the cover of the dark alley and into the street, they had their guns collectively ready to open fire on any potential hostiles. However, all they saw was Andre standing over the bloodied corpse of one of the Russians, proverbial smoking gun in hand. Nelson looked down at the corpse, noting the smashed cell phone by the body's head.
His heart skipped a beat once his brain allowed him to fathom how close he'd been to greeting death.
From across the street, Mandela shambled forward, holding his head as if it were due to split in half. "What the fuck..." he said, barely aware of his surroundings. He saw a dead body on the sidewalk, and his friends gathered around, the two sentries being carried on the shoulders of two other soldiers. "Let's get the fuck outta here, boys. We don't have time to linger," Nelson said, getting everyone rounded up into their vehicles.
From inside the sauna, the Raven could see out the front entrance where they were gathering. The sniper was back on his feet, though he probably wished he wasn't, and the two men posted at the rear were being carried fireman-style by two other cronies. They were all making steps towards their cars, ready to vacate the premises.
He couldn't let that happen.
Taking steps backward, he braced himself for what he was about to do: running forward, he hurled a blunted throwing knife at the window, producing a rather nasty crack down the center, weakening it just enough for him to jump into the air, arms covering his head as he dove through, the glass pane splintering into several shards of transparent razors. He rolled across the ground, coming to a halt on one knee, one foot and one hand planted on the ground, his head raising to meet the shocked and appalled visages of his enemies.
"Fuck! Kill him!" Nelson said, raising his gun and pulling the trigger. The Raven ran, his feet pushing him across the street as he unleashed a trio of smoke bombs, each of them procuring a thicket of gray, ghostly smoke; enough to render his opponents completely blind. He, however, could see them perfectly through the thermal imaging embedded into his lenses. Rushing them would be suicide, so he had to think of a better strategy. He unleashed his grapple from his belt, using it to scale the building beside him. The thugs would be too focused on the smoke to notice he had taken a vantage point above them.
From the rooftops, he would be able to unleash an attack that would catch them all off guard. From his belt, he procured a flash-bang grenade, picking a spot on the ground just outside of their perimeter to lob it. The canister sailed through the air with a whish, bouncing a few times on the concrete with sharp metallic sounds that betrayed its identity to the wary. It stopped in the middle of the street, ready to do its damage.
"Shit!" Nelson said, before the world went white. He struck then, gliding across to them, his feet planting firmly into one soldier's chest, before he turned to clothesline another, driving them to the ground with a behemoth's force. He grabbed another's rifle, using it to jab them in the face, crushing cartilage and possibly breaking parts at the front of the skull. He'd work his way around, getting as many as he could before sobriety found its way back to them.
____
"Dre! Dre!" An RDV member yelled at Andre, the young man snapping out of his stupor to turn the gun he held towards The Raven. Or at least to where he was before. He couldn't see him anymore thanks to the smoke.
The flashbangs were rendering everyone else incapable of fighting back. Dre figured that he had to do something.
But, could he?
"We gotta go!" Andre shouted, "It's getting too hot here."
____
Several of the thugs had managed to make some semblance of escape by staggering away, drunk on disorientation as they were. More still were slowly starting to recover, sobriety finding its way to them at a crawling pace, but still enough to make them more dangerous than before. One of the more troublesome individuals belonged to the RDV, calling for an individual named "Dre," snapping the latter's attention to the vigilante.
The young man seemed to be observing the situation; the freak ahead of him was swatting his friends like flies left and right, and sirens started to wail in the distance. It would be foolish to risk trying to get a shot off on the vigilante for fear of hitting the others. He made a snap decision, deciding to call for a retreat. Society and RDV personnel alike started to flee the scene.
He couldn't let that happen.
The Raven immediately whipped his grapple from his belt, seeking to snag Dre, or his friend, both of whom currently headed the line. He placed his aim carefully, ready to release the wire...
Suddenly, he was hit from the side, falling on the hard concrete with another body atop him, his hands pinned and his midsection compressed. "Go!" Nelson shouted as he attempted to pin the vigilante down. A few of the Society's soldiers stopped, looking back at their leader, debating on whether or not they should stay to help. The sound of sirens drew closer still, and they didn't want to just leave him there for the cops to take away. "I'll be fine! Move your asses!" The seriousness of his tone compelled the others to move, scrambling to their vehicles. The Raven, cognizant of the potential backfire that would come from letting them escape, attempted to shift from underneath Nelson's weight.
The enforcer had, however, been in many a tussle, especially with fighters more skilled than himself. He kept his weight pressed on the vigilante, his knees squeezing the Raven's sides so as to make movement more difficult. "You're not goin' anywhere, pal," he said through gritted teeth. That didn't stop the vigilante from struggling, attempting to pull an arm free from Nelson's vice-like fingers, the enforcer trying with all of his might to keep his opponent's hands fastened to the concrete. However, the Raven's superior wit would be his enemy's downfall; tucking an elbow nearer to his torso, the vigilante was able to make Nelson falter, to loosen and open him up for a counter. As the enforcer staggered, the Raven was able to free his right hand, delivering a swift yet brutal strike to the underside of his assailant's chin, allowing him to open Nelson up even more. Struggling free from where Nelson had him straddled, he was able to get his legs free, placing a hefty boot into Nelson's chest and rocking backward, using what little momentum he had gained to hurl the Society thug backward, flat on the concrete.
The Raven gave no pause as he jumped onto Nelson, planting a firm knee on the man's sternum, his foot pinning his left arm, while his own hand held down the right. Nelson, still delirious from the blows he had just suffered, took a moment to get readjusted, his vision becoming clearer as the disorientation shook off. Finally, he had a clear view of what was above him, staring into the very face of something he couldn't quite describe.
As Nelson stared at the concealed visage of his attacker, he felt confusion. 'Is this thing even human?' he asked himself. The more he looked, the more questions he had. The eyes, seeming so hollow and devoid of humanity, stared back into his soul with a piercing iciness, making him even more confused about who -or what- this thing was.
That confusion made him fearful.
The cars revved to life, peeling out as the sounds of sirens wailed more violently now. The Raven lifted his head, scowling as the cars made their collective getaway. Once they had gone, he returned his hateful gaze back to Nelson, who lay flat, mouth bloodied and unsmiling. "What the fuck are you?" he said weakly.
Grabbing the man by the collar, the Raven hoisted Nelson up. "I've been given many names by your kind. 'Freak,' 'weirdo,' 'monster,' 'nightmare.' But, for your sake, you can just call me...the Raven." The cold voice echoed in Nelson's ears, his eyes widening as the terror of ignorance washed over him again. He couldn't fathom this thing's presence, couldn't decipher what it was. However, he'd seen it take down his men like they were common rodents, and that gave him cause for alarm all by itself.
The not knowing only added to the dread.
Suddenly, police cruisers rounded the corners, swarming in to where Nelson and the vigilante stood. The Raven dropped Nelson's exhausted frame on the ground, ascending to the rooftops via grapple. The officers filed out of their cars, barely catching glimpses of the shadowy thing that had just fled the scene, pointing lights and guns upward so as to get a better view. Once it had gone, however, they radioed in for possible backup to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary; a rather funny descriptor to be thrown around Van Leugen. Their focus finally turned to Nelson, who lie crumbled on the sidewalk. Two officers walked up to make the arrest, reading the enforcer his rights before hauling him to the back of a patrol car. "Nelson Kepler. Must be my lucky day," one of the officers said.
"Enjoy it while it lasts."
____
Detective Oliver Cornell was making his way over to the crime scene to join the other detectives and law enforcement on site, the crowds being kept at bay by the VLPD.
Unfortunately for Cornell, a reporter was able to sneak through and rush him. "Detective, care to comment on the recent surge in gang related crime in the city?" She asked, "This is an ongoing investigation, there is nothing to comment on until we find something." Oliver answered, never once looking at the woman.
"Witnesses say members of a local gang, the Rogue Dog Villains, or more specifically, the Rockford Drive Villains, were involved in the shooting and murders today. Is any of that true?" The reporter asked, "This is RDV territory, so they might have been involved." Oliver said, gesturing for a police officer to intercept the woman.
"Wait, I have another question!" The woman called out as a cop got in front of her, "Sorry, duty calls." Oliver said with a shrug and a smirk.
____
Nelson sat rather uneasy on the leather sofa in Mr. Samedi's office. He was trembling, a lit cigarette in one hand and a glass of stiff scotch on the rocks in the other. Mitch was there as well, arms across his chest as he leaned against the wall, that cold murderer glare in his eyes remaining, ever-present as usual. Samedi himself sat behind his desk, looking over some paperwork. His composure suggested calm, for once.
"I just dunno what I'm gonna do, boss," Nelson said. He was quite thoroughly perturbed by the arrest; the Society had arranged for his bail to be posted, of course, but that didn't keep him out of the crosshairs of the law. "The mayor is pretty damn serious about these crackdowns on people like us. Hell, since he's been in office, police response times have upped at least fifteen, maybe twenty percent. It's ludicrous." He knocked back the drink, feeling the fiery-yet-smooth sensation of the liquid entering his bloodstream, shivers ransacking his body. Mr. Samedi put his papers down, folding his hands as he looked to Nelson.
"You've got nothing to worry about, my boy. All will be handled." He held up a hand as he spoke, calm and soothing; a rarity for the crime boss. Nelson took a drag of his cigarette, an honor not normally afforded in Samedi's office, but the boss made an exception in this case as Nelson's nerves were shot through the roof, out of the atmosphere and into the next planetary system. "Pardon me for speakin' outta line Mr. S, but, how exactly are we gonna be able to handle this? These ain't the good ol' days anymore; the mayor's made sure of that. We don't have people in our pockets like we used to." As Nelson finished, Mr. Samedi cast his gaze to Mitch. "Speak," his eyes had said, causing Mitch to nod in understanding.
"Then we remind them who they work for," he said, his smooth, ominous baritone voice filling the room like a snowstorm, "Everyone's corruptible Nelson, you know that. All we gotta do is find out what it'll take to make them come around." He looked to Mr. Samedi once more, nodding his head as if giving the boss the floor again. "The commissioner, for instance," he stated with an air of humor about him, "He likes to visit the VIP lounge once in a while, get his fill of cocaine and sample the local flavor before he takes one to one of the hotels down the street..." his words danced like a soft wind into Nelson's ears, calming his thundering heart.
It brought a smile to his face.
"You see my boy," Mr. Samedi said, "We've got everything under control. All it takes is a little phone call." With that, Samedi picked up the phone on his desk, speed-dialing a number and waiting for the rings to subside. "Ah, Commissioner Stern, how lovely to speak with you." There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by incomprehensible chatter. Finally, it was Mr. Samedi's turn to speak again. "I have a little...favor to ask," he said chillingly.
Everyone knew that Mr. Samedi didn't ask for favors.
____
"Tell me more of this...thing you encountered, Nelson," Mr. Samedi said, hands folded in front of him. He'd just finished letting the commissioner know that it was in the best interest of his health to make sure all charges against his enforcer were dropped, immediately. Now, the crime boss was interested in hearing the details concerning the strange entity that had been intruding on his business.
"God. Where do I even start?" he said, nervously scratching the back of his head. "He looked like...well, a bird. Clothed in all black, had a hat and a beaked mask. At least, I hope it was a mask. He looked a real fuckin' weirdo." Mr. Samedi payed closer attention, letting Nelson spill his guts without interruption. Mitch listened also, soaking in the details.
"Trying to put the bastard down was...we might as well not have bothered. He was quick. Gone in a flash every time we turned our heads. Kicked our fuckin' asses when he got the drop on us." He shook his head. "I had him pinned for a minute. Felt like forever. He countered me, but it was enough to let the guys get away. He spoke to me. I'll never forget that voice, it was so damn haunting. Called himself the 'Raven'." Samedi cocked an eyebrow; he understood the allure of adopting a persona. It almost made him want to respect this person.
That is, if this thing were indeed a person.
"Well, whoever or whatever this 'Raven' is, they're intruding on my business. I can't have that." He looked over at Mitch, a hard gaze staring into the eyes of his employee. "I want to know everything about this Raven. I want you to find information on them, and track them down. I want them buried by the end of the week. If they're working with those fucking Russians, that could pose a problem."
Mitch nodded, cocking his head towards Nelson, signalling him to follow. "We'll snuff him out, boss," he said finally before exiting the office. Descending the stairs, the two gangsters didn't speak a word. After they reached the bottom, Mitch spoke as he continued to walk, "We're gonna go see an old friend. He might know something about this Raven character." Nelson didn't speak, silently acknowledging what his superior had said.
The sooner they swept this fucker into a shallow grave, the better.