Rhys reached home, witnessing the yellow tape that wrapped the house like a Christmas present. His eyes flinched as he ducked underneath it, ripping the tape off the door and turning the doorknob. The door was locked—a fact that he should have known. He pressed his hand against it, splintering the wood with a forceful push that broke the seal.

As he stepped into the house, Rhys was met with a puddle of bloody red that dried and pooled underneath a still-hanging rope. On the wall, an open eye stared back— mocking him.

"This can't be happening." Rhys' laughter echoed with a shrill timbre. "Scamp, you're playing games with your brother, ain't you?"

"WHO'S THERE?" A voice boomed behind Rhys as a cop walked in with a huffed chest and sunglasses. As the officer saw Rhys, he reached down toward his gun, unstrapping it and placing his finger at the ready to pull it out. "IDENTIFY YOURSELF!"

Rhys turned toward the cop, his eyes emanating an icy chill that stalled the officer's heart for a beat. His fury at being interrupted radiated outward in an almost corporeal sense. "Do you know what happened here, copper?"

"IDENTIFY YOURSELF!" The cop echoed as he pulled his gun out, panicked. He grabbed his radio with his free hand, requesting immediate backup.

Rhys shook his head in frustration, "Your kind never did listen to others very well." He jolted forward, outstretching his titan-like arm toward the officer's face, grabbing it, and thrusting him toward the floor with a loud thud.

The officer groaned as he tried to aim his gun toward Rhys, but Rhys reacted, slamming his wrist down onto the ground and dislodging the weapon. Before making sure it would not happen again, he cracked the man's wrist with a backwards bend. The cop screamed in pain, "Holy shit. Mother fucker, you're under arrest! Backup, I need backup now!" He cried into his radio with his functioning hand.

Rhys grabbed the cop's radio and broke it within his grip, sending shards of plastic and wiring clattering against the floor. "Let them come; they'll just end up like you if they get in my way."

"Are you ready to talk now?" Rhys asked with a serious droll as he tapped the man's chest. "What happened to my brother?"

"Brother?" The cop's eyes widened, "You're related to Trefor? Fuck me. You're dead!" He laughed.

"You fucking idiot, that rat tried to snitch on the Ouroboros Eye. He should have expected to die miserably the way he did." The cop spat ruthlessly, clueless to the veins bulging down Rhys' neck. "They sent a message through him. Nobody messes with them!"

"Man, no wonder you're so jumpy; are you afraid you're next?" The cop laughed, "Don't worry, baby. Come into the precinct with me; you'll be safe in prison."

Rhys' limited patience snapped. He grabbed the cop's arm; he pulled with vigor as it dislodged from the man's shoulder. "That's enough."

"You're going to tell me everything you know." He uttered as he pressed down on the man's mouth, stifling his groans and whimpers.

"First question— where's my brother now?"

"You fucking dog, fuck your mother and your brother." The cop howled, spitting in Rhys' face.

Rhys slammed his knee down on the cop's groin repeatedly until blood flowed. "Where's my brother now? Don't make me repeat myself a third time."

Stolen novel; please report.

Tears ran down the cop's face as he howled in muffled breaths through Rhys' fingers as they pincered down onto his face again. He braced, quieting for a moment, enough for Rhys to relax his grip. "His body should be at the District Coroner's office..."

"Second question—what's this Ouroboros Eye?"

The cop whimpered as he gazed into Rhys' unfeeling eyes. "They run the town— for years now."

Rhys grabbed the man's unbroken hand and snapped his fingers into a jarring angle. "Be more specific."

"Moth—" The cop was about to curse when he bit down on his lip, "They've run things for years now! They came in a decade ago, dabbling in petty crimes, and worked their way up. Now, their organization is everywhere. They control everything in the city from the top down. All of the criminals through the years have either worked for them, or have been taken over by them!"

"Third question—where can I find them?"

"Just open your mother fucking eyes, dammit!" The cop cursed, adding before Rhys could hurt him, "They all have the mark of Ouroboros on their body. Find the mark, find their people!"

"HANDS UP!" A shout echoed as another cop barged in through the door; upon witnessing his companion bloodied on the floor, he pulled his gun out in one fluid motion. "DON'T MOVE, FUCKER."

Several other officers approached soon after, entering the house like ants, searching for a meal. Rhys' lips curled into a grin; their presence was not to his dismay but to his delight.

Rhys lunged down, startling the cop who shot his gun. He weaved to the side, letting the bullet barely graze his arm, tearing the shirt off his bulbous bicep. His leg muscles tensed as he pushed off the floorboards, striking the man with all his mass. The officers tumbled out the door collectively as they rolled into the street. Rhys quickly slammed his fist into one of the officer's throats, incapacitating him in a single move.

Guns went blasting as the officers shot furiously toward Rhys. But he took cover under their partner's body, using it to sponge the gunfire up as he approached them. The cops cursed as their triggers clicked empty. Rhys threw the body down, assailing them with the unadulterated wrath of a demon. He dragged them into the house two by two. Slamming the door behind him.

He stripped the officers one by one. Searching for the mark. "Why are you searching us, moth— Sir." The first officer retorted with heavy gasps as he eyed the monstrous man before him.

"Find the mark, find their people."

"But—" The cop was about to reply when he gasped. On one of the officer's arms, a coiled ouroboros tattoo circled the all-seeing eye of their syndicate.

Rhys laughed mockingly, "Corrupt pigs acting holier than thou. When they serve the very criminals— they swore to protect us from." Rhys thrust his open hand into the tattooed man's mouth and pulled downward, dislocating his jaw in a gruesome display of cruelty.

"You asked before if I was scared," Rhys said emotionlessly, turning his hollow gaze toward the first cop. "I am."

His response made the cop's eyes widen—but Rhys continued, "I'm afraid that I won't be able to kill enough of you dirty bastards to satisfy this anger burning inside of me."

"Fuc—" The words caught in the cop's throat, "Fine! Dammit, you're one hell of a badass, ain't you? Go on then, go find them."

Rhys smiled as he walked toward the cop.

"What're you doing?" The man groaned as he crawled backward.

Rhys kneeled and replied with a whisper, "Did you think I forgot you?" He ripped the cop's shirt, revealing a large Ouroboros Eye tattoo on his ribcage. Rhys merely remained smiling quietly.

The cop shivered like a leaf in the wind, "It's not what it looks like..."

"You people like sending messages, right?"

Rhys walked out of the house with deliberate steps. Behind him, a quiet plop struck the ground rhythmically. The cop's body hung with widened eyes. Blood seeped out onto the dried-up puddle that was once Rhys' brother's life. The other cops littered the floor ravaged like meat at the butcher, their ribcages peering out as they aimed toward the wall where the Ouroboros Eye lay crossed out with blood.

"How's that for a message?" Rhys mocked as he headed toward the coroner's office, a trail of bloody footsteps following behind him—a foreshadowing of what was to come.