"The greatest cruelties I ever committed would astound you, both in the lack of life lost and imagination they took."
-Avan The Asura: BA M12-030
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Am I alive?
The mind shattering pain across the entirety of my body was both a blessing and a curse, a blessing because I was still alive and a curse because I almost wished I wasn’t. There was pain everywhere, the shoulder I thought I had dislocated hurt far worse than I thought it ever would, my skull was most definitely fractured and from the fierce burning in my chest I could tell my Altered abilities were working in overdrive to stop something from causing more damage than already done, possibly a punctured lung? Definitely some damaged organs at the very least. Attempting to open my eyes at first I couldn’t see anything through the veil of red, as apparently while I was out the blood from the glass table cutting me had poured into my eyes.
Attempting to push my aching body upright, my hand felt something cold and rough. Is that hair?! Almost entirely consumed by shock I started to rub the blood out of my eyes, made more difficult by the fact it had almost completely dried and entirely blinded me. After several moments of clearing it I had managed to get enough of it off to see, and in front of me was a similar hole in the bar I'd seen before I had been knocked out, except this time the hole was in the front of the bar instead of beside it.
She launched me through the bar while I was unconscious, did she kick me through it? That’d explain my shattered ribs and burning inside my chest. Wait-
Looking down, my earlier suspicions were correct, as a barely recognizable corpse only resembling Larrell by the expensive pants and rings on his hands was lying cold on the ground.
Oh god they tore him apart. I never would have accepted this damn job if I knew it’d end like this.
Larrell’s entire body had been ripped apart above the waist, it almost looked like a wild animal had torn him apart before spitting him out. His rib cage was almost entirely caved in, while his head was simply missing,
Did those sick fucks take his head with them?
The almost instant shock mixed with horror and disgust, coupled with the smell of spilt liquor and bloodied corpse instantly caused me to almost throw up. Regardless of the pain I had begun to double over and heave, doing my best not to throw up over the corpse and leave obvious evidence I had ever been there. Attempting to crawl out of the back side of the bar, and away from the corpse, proved even more difficult than I would’ve thought. My left shoulder may have not been dislocated, at least not anymore after giving it what I guessed a few hours to heal by the dried blood and coldness of Larrell's body, but the tissue and muscles inside were still in the process of healing and the entire arm was practically worthless. My right arm was barely any more useful, she’d definitely hit me something fierce because the whole thing felt like shattered glass, if not broken in several places then definitely fractured. My body, as I'd already realized, was damaged so using any of my torso to move felt like grinding rocks inside a blender full of fruit, while the pelvis felt like I'd been shot in the crotch by a rocket. My left leg, thankfully, was almost entirely fine, but my right…
Why the fuck does it burn so goddamn much? It’s like molten lava inside my knee. I’ve broken the damn thing before and it never felt like this, so why the fuck does it hurt so much?
As I got up I attempted to slowly walk, or more realistically limp, my way towards the door. The room was entirely empty of anything of previous value while the entire building was quieter than a tomb.
The party never stops here, 24/7, so either everyone closed shop after those Cartel dudes killed Larrell, or the cartel outright cleared the building so that they could lift everything inside.
The slow limping crawl had brought me to the door, which had been at some point torn straight off the hinges and tossed to the side, leaving an empty staircase and an even bigger issue ahead.
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If any of them are still here then they’ll kill me the second they see me, and if they have been gone for a long time the Beaters are gonna be here soon, if they aren’t already. Even with how shit this neighborhood is, you can’t butcher a Pitboss without someone showing up with some kind of badge to ask questions, even if it's days after the fact… Actually let's hope it's days after the fact in this scenario.
Even if it's just the Beater of the week showing up for payments someone will eventually get here, I don't want to be here when they do.
Slowly, and as quietly as was possible while covered in filth and injuries that’d kill an Unaltered a dozen times over, I made my way down the stairs, silently praying the gaming hall below was entirely empty, cursing myself out mentally every time I nearly slipped or the stairs creaked under my weight.
As I got to the first floor I kept my ears out, hearing nothing. I crept up to the door at the bottom and thanked god the door was missing from this hinge as well.
She must’ve kicked them down on the way out, was she so furious that I apparently died so quickly that she didn’t get to have any fun? RSC members are known for employing batshit crazy Altered all the time, she must’ve been one of them.
Slowly peeking around the corner, examining the entire building as quietly as I could from left to right didn’t follow up with a dozen gangsters immediately gunning me down as the building appeared entirely empty - if not entirely barren. The betting pools were entirely stripped, even the gambling machines had apparently been just outright picked up and taken with them.
Leaning further around the corner I looked at both the front and back entrances, before deciding on the back one, the last thing I needed was to walk out the front door and immediately come across the bastards as they were loading the last of the loot into whatever vehicles they had brought with them.
Practically shambling across the walls to make it to the back door each step reminded him of his knee, the pain refused to recede like most of his injuries in the past, fucking around with a bandsaw in shop class and nearly sever a finger? Stitched up and fully healed in less than a week, get jumped by several people several times his size by hoodrats who thought he was an easy mark? Any bruises didn’t make it to morning if he even got any at all, even stab wounds generally healed up by themselves after a few days of eating food to put his metabolism and in extension his healing in overdrive.
God I’d trade my kidneys for a fucking painkiller
The knee was relentless in telling him he was fucked up badly, practically screaming at him as he got to the back exit.
Did Jeremiah get out? As much as I didn’t know him I didn’t hate him either, and It’s not like any of this is his fault. I doubt he’d react well to Larrell’s death, being cousins and all. I hope he ran when I got grabbed, smelt the danger and booked it. Only chance in hell he stood against those monsters would be by not fighting them at all. What the fuck are Bravo Classed Altered's doing in a city like this anyways? Even if they bribed someone the government doesn’t let fuckers like that roam around for a reason.
Moving through the silent building was like walking through a graveyard, with most of the building emptied the only real sounds were of my breathing and the thumping of heart in my chest.
Finally making it to the back door was worth the effort, as sneaking it open and peaking outside proved to be the good choice, or at the very least it had worked. No one was in the alleyway, save for some rats eating food out of the dumpsters around me. I began moving as fast as I could, trying for the life of me to ignore my body’s signs of stress. As I kept moving it was almost creepy how quiet the town was, no homeless people on the streets, which was a sign either some huge fight had happened recently or someone had cleared them off. Looking around and seeing no one to cause issues with me I began moving towards the next block over, where I'd parked before the fight.
They must have cleared the entirety of the street while moving the shit out so that no one would call the cops, after all if they get pinched and they know exactly who they cleared off the streets they know who to target for reprisals.
Thanking whatever gods existed for the small miracles they kept sending his way today he kept moving towards his parking spot, already halfway there.
I have to be both the unluckiest son of a bastard in the world or the luckiest, getting fucked over on the deal would of been a 50/50 split on whether I even got paid, or outright silenced, but the cartel? Those fuckers would’ve slaughtered me and my Ma if they were angry enough about the loss. Fucking Larrell what was he thinking putting that much shit over a fucking Pit game? Let alone the fact I know he had the cash to pay them, he probably was just skimping out thinking they wouldn’t do anything to him because he was a designated class C. God fucking damnit!
Getting angrier and angrier every other step I took I looked forward and was happy to see that my car was still fine, or at the very least the shitty thing hadn’t been broken into or smashed into pieces. The car was nothing special, I’d gotten it in a Pit fight, one of my first. One guy talks a lot of shit, bets his car over my wallet that he’d beat my ass in a fight, then 20 minutes later I’m taking the car off of him. Luckily the guy was from a rather well off family so he didn’t make much of an issue over me beating him, especially since it was a piece of shit he was only using while in town. If anything he was happy because he had a new sparring partner that could keep up with him.
Gotta get home, get some sleep, this pain is killing me.
As I walked up I put my hand on the car handle and it clicked open, having spent more money on a removable Magi-lock was worth it in times like these. Quickly ducking in and buckling into his seat he started it up and began reversing out of his spot, before speeding out of the lot and hopefully far away from the pits, and the cartels for the rest of his god forsaken life.
I hope to god I didn’t eat all of that insta-fry rice yesterday.