(1) Sinless Day (Pt. 3)- Demon in the Den
--- Mercer ---
The inside of the penthouse was more lavished than the rest of the old hotel, with fresh stain free red carpets and drapes with a faint hint of gold lining. (Well, maybe stain free. I mean I did shoot that one guy, and I’m pretty sure that’s the same carpeting, so they might not be able to see the bloodstains on that shade of red.)
On either side of the room’s main entrance was a table with four or five guards sitting at them, either playing poker or counting out packages of drugs and money to be distributed elsewhere. With another pair standing at the balcony on watch in case one of the city’s numerous masks decided to make an appearance. (Such as me.)
At the center of this main room was a mildly obese man in a white suit sitting at a mahogany desk, while shifting through a number of papers. Completely unaware of the fact that his guards were incapable of spotting the vigilante using a grappler to hang above them and spy on his little operation.
For a brief moment he mourned the fact that after his fourth time smashing through it to enter the penthouse, one of the hotel’s smarter owners had the skylight replaced with a more mundane roof. (Not that that stopped him from keeping the balcony.)
He glanced at the automated turret the sixth owner installed to fix that problem, just waiting to shoot him should he use the balcony to break in. (Well, technically it’s not the same turret since I’ve broken that one like six times.)
Silently retracting his line so that he was sitting on the roof’s ledge, he began forming a plan based on all of this information as well as his various previous runs at raiding this place.
His first idea was using one of the numerous windows in the penthouse bedrooms to break into the building without having to worry about dealing with the turret or guards in his underequipped state.
He immediately rejected this idea as boring and lacking sufficient style and/or tormenting of his criminal victims.
After another moment he remembered something from way back during the Den’s seventh owner, and glanced over his shoulder at something on the roof. (I wonder if they ever fixed that issue? I mean, I’ve only done it here the one time so…)
He hopped off of the edge and onto the roof before making his way across and checking what he was thinking of. (Alright, let’s see… Where was it… ah, there it is.)
A few brief tests without actually doing anything to the penthouse below, and he couldn’t help but smile. (Yeah, this is definitely going to be more fun. Just need to do a bit more prep work…)
---
It was business as usual for the Den owner and his workers, a night of steady profits off of the various addicts of the Way and preps from the rest of the city looking for a quick high somewhere that knew the value of discretion. And given the Den’s pedigree within the city, there was no place with a better reputation for getting people the drugs they desired at a reasonable price.
Of course, their profits had taken a bit of a shake up with their newest drug seeing as how they had to work a few kinks out of the formula, but that’s why the Den Boss only ever fed the new stuff to the addicts.
After all who cared if a few of the Way’s lesser folk ODed to a needle, who was to say it was their drug responsible and not one of the numerous other substances on the streets.
Or that’s what the Den Boss told the cops on his payroll when they got a little shaky about the bodies dropping. (You’d think corrupt cops would have a bit more spine. Then again, if they had that they probably wouldn’t be so corrupt.)
Leaning back in his chair as he finished with his paperwork, he pulled out a cigar and lit it. Ready to enjoy that well deserved hit of nicotine as he puffed the cherry of his cigar and the lights killed out.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The Den Boss looked up with a frown before turning to the two on the Balcony. “Any sign of Mercer or one of the Vigils?!”
“Haven’t seen nothing boss.” One of the guards answered before turning to his compatriot. “What about you Ben… Ben?! Shit!”
“Fuck they’re here!” The Den Boss cursed seeing the empty space before turning back to the still present guard and finding him missing too.
“Shit watch the balcony!” He ordered the rest of his guards as he hit his panic button, telling the boys in the basement to pack up and run before it could be confiscated as evidence. “The moment they try to get in gun him down!”
“Unfortunately, it’s a bit late for that.” A voice rasped from the darkness.
His guards turned around, the few that managed to get their lighters going illuminating a figure in a black and red jacket.
Despite the lack of his signature helmet they all knew who this man was.
“Mercer.” The Den Boss swallowed, not allowing fear or anger to make him order his men to open fire on him. Something that at such a close range was practically a guaranteed kill, if it weren’t for the fact that by standing in the middle of all of his guards a single stray shot would lead to them all shooting each other for him.
A trick the Den Boss had seen back before he’d been promoted to his own operation.
The Demon of the Way smirked.
“You know I don’t actually mind drugs in the Way.” Mercer began as he walked forward, as if all of the guns pointed at him were no threat at all. “It’s not ideal, but people will always be looking for that high, that escape from their problems when they can’t work up the will to overcome them.”
“I-I know you’ve had a deal with some of the previous… Den Bosses.” He offered nervously, glad his voice had only cracked the once. “Given the circumstances, I’m sure we can come up with something similar.”
“We could’ve.” Mercer admitted with a sympathetic nod, at least until his eyes hardened and the dead one seemed to flash red in the light. “If you’d kept your drugs clean, and customers breathing.”
The Demon of the Way moved faster than any of them could react and had a hand around the Den Boss’s neck, while using him as a meat shield against his own guards and forcing him to stare into the Demon’s glowing red eye. “Tell me, do you like breathing, Franklin?”
“They’re, they’re junkies!” Franklin gasped, struggling to speak against the grip that somehow choked him without stopping his actual breathing. “They’re just trash, bring the Way down!”
“Perhaps.” The Demon confessed with a nod as its eye returned to its usual dead gray, before in a maneuver he couldn’t follow the Demon had him leaning half over the edge of the balcony with its boot on the railing and its hand grabbing him by his tie. The only thing keeping him from falling the fatal distance below. “But what kind of parasite does that make you feeding on them, hmm?”
“L-look, look, look, if-if you want me to-”
“No, no, no.” The Demon shushed him with a finger to his lips. “I only want one thing from you, and do you know what that is?”
He shook his head, unable to fight the terrified shaking of his body.
“I want you to leave the Way and never come back, Franklin.” the Demon told him. “You do that and I’ll let you go.”
He immediately began nodding in acceptance, willing to do whatever it took to save his life.
“Good.” The Demon smiled, its eye flashing red despite the white moon above. “Here’s hoping you survive your high better than those kids who ODed.”
His eyes went wide as the Demon let go of his tie and he toppled over the balcony edge head first, giving him a view of the quickly approaching asphalt below, until-
---
The Demon of the Way turned back to the various remaining men, his silhouette highlighted by the moon behind him as he gave them all a curious if apathetic once over.
“As I said, I have no problems with drugs in the way, and in turn have no problem with any of you.” He told them, holding his hands in the air. “You’re all men doing a job, nothing more, nothing less.”
Some of them were tempted to try killing the Demon, to take their shot but as demonstrated unlike the Vigils, Mercer had no problem killing them. And the fact that he had no reason to kill them was the only reason they were alive, something none of them were willing to change.
“You’ve families to feed and bills to pay, and in this life you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do to get by.” Mercer continued, looking them over one by one. “So take the drugs and the money from the tables, and leave just like your friends in the basement are.” The Demon’s eye flashed red. “No one here wants to be a hero.”
More than one of them swallowed in apprehension, before glancing at their fellow guards, wondering if one of them would take the first shot when they themselves weren’t willing.
After a moment, one by one they scrambled in the dark to take what they could from the tables before rushing to the elevator like the devil himself was at their heels. And when they dared to turn back, the Demon of the Way was nowhere to be seen.