A group of six people entered from the west side of E6-A. All of them were seated on an old but heavily modified car. The car had long lost its original looks, and was now a collection of dangerous equipments like spikes, rammers, guns etc. The bonnet and bumper were funished with metallic and bony spikes. It's sides were welded with thick metal plates. The back open bed was filled with cans of deisel and water. The top was made from thick hide, almost impossible to penetrate through common weapons. The wheels themselves were far thicker than the usual. The front was armed with machine guns, but it's working status was questionable. It wasn't definite whether it was for show or for true killing. But no one ever wanted to check.
"Are you sure it's here? This city has long been picked clean." Asked a lanky young man. His dirty blond hairs were short cut but carefully maintained. His face was not clearly visible under the mask. But a long scratch could be seen, starting from his eyes and vanishing underneath the mask. Rest of him was covered in an odd assortment of defensive gears like gauntlets, pads, thick leather etc, but all of them were in pristine condition. A red skull was painted on his chest plate, showing his alliegiance to Red Skull gang from the Liberty Tribe. The gang wasn't exactly a big shit, but still it wasn't part of the low scums. It was doing good and could be counted among the middle rankers.
"Dont worry! Don't worry, Sir Hound, I am 80% sure about it. The warehouse was buried underground during the Wipeout. Not many would be able to find it without proper directions. Infact if not my gramps worked here, even I wouldn't be able to find it. He told me about it " Answered back an average sized man. He was dressed in dirty rags. Everything from his hair to clothes were covered in a thick layer of dirt. So neither his actual face was visible nor his figure. The whole thing looked deliberate if observed carefully. The statement was carefully structured to sound flattering and at the same time, it stood as a warning, that all the information was in his head, so they shouldn't think about harming him.
The lanky young man flinched in disgust and cursed under his breath. If not for the treasure, he would never even glance at this beggar. He really wanted to kill him and obtain the map. The problem was, everything was strides in this bastards brains. When they had learnt about the news through their 'Rats', their team had rapidly taken over the man's business forcing him to share the treasure. According to their advisor, if what the beggar was saying was true, they would be able to get around few million in exchange. That would be enough to see them for life.
Following him were four of his captains personal guards. Although they were called guards, Hound was sure that they were here to look over him...in a prisoners sense. All four of them had been brought up by the captain and were his trusted aides. This didn't wnet well with him. He grumbled and cursed the captain for not trusting him. He had been working for him for around 5 years and the captain still didn't trust him. But deep down he understood why the captain was doing so, and respected him for it. In an age when parents could kill their child for food, trust was a rare commodity. But still...five years!
Besides him the dirty clothes man kept a flattering look on his face. He had obtained the map from one of his debtors. The problem was the location was near the outskirts of sector E6-A and he wasn't strong nor brave enough to try such a risky venture. So he decided to form a partnership with a local gang. Who knew, by the end of the day the gang forcefully took over his business and now treated the treasures as their own. He couldn't help but curse his foolishness. It would have better to sell the information for a small fee.
The four guards dressed in identical clothings and sporting an identical crop hairstyle guarded them silently. One of them carefully drove the Jeep with its trailer around numerous obstacles. The rest two walked ahead of the car, clearing the way for it. They would move the bigger obstacles like cars and bikes. The last guard stood behind the beggar and the leader, keeping a lookout for enemies and variables.
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While the Hound and beggar cursed each other and lamented about their lives while thinking about the treasure, a hunter had already marked them for dinner. A bloody raw dinner with six course of bloodiness.
After an hours they had almost reached the city centre and were crossing on to the south side. Unlike other sides the south side had numerous tall buildings. The tall shadows created by them covered the whole way in a despressing darkness. Not even the moonlight could enter. As they moved deeper, all of them turned more silent and alert. Every chirp, every swing of the wind would make them raise their weapons. Every shadow had turned into monster. Every corner seems to hide one.
"Umm...why don't we take a break." Suggested the beggar. The empty city and the depressing darkness was scaring him to death. It was difficult keeping himself from howling and burying himself under layer of blankets. Usually he would be fucking one of his concubines or counting his wealth. He wasnt scared of darkness. But the darkness of this city was not just darkness. Like the city, it had it's own story. It's own residents. And from what he had heard from others, no one ever came back alive after meeting these 'residents' and 'storytellers.'
Hound looked at the beggar, and nodded after a while. The darkness was not a good time to travel. Soon it will be midnight and it would be time for ghosts and spirits to rise. He looked at his guards and gestured them to stop and make camp. Two of them saluted and ran towards the nearest building to look for a place to camp. Meanwhile the rest two prepared the camping bags and patiently waited.
Meanwhile the black figure on a building not far off grinned in delight. It was time to dine, and today it would be Libertian Blood and soul. He raised his bow and stretched the imaginary string. Wind started gathering in the center, forming an arrow. The tip was made of sharp spinning wind, ready to shred everything in its way. It was an arrow perfected for killing. Whether it was the sharp winds on the tip of the arrow, or the slow spinning wind on its body. Everything about it spoke stability, precision and murder. A small amount of blood lust had seeped into it from the bow, making it far more fearsome.
"Boreas, strike true..." He ordered, and the arrow shivered in reply. He let the arrow go. With a silent swish the arrow cut through air. It passed through the gaps of the building and open windows in a straight path and struck one of the two guards responsible for finding a camp.
The wind arrow struck the guard's head and vanished. The wind seeped inside his head and cut his nerves. The cut was extremely tiny, but enough to leave them incapable of working.The bloodlust and killing aura from the bow which had seeped inside the arrow, immediately attacked the guards soul and overwhelmed it. Everything happened in a few seconds and the guard was killed without any outward evidence. If anyone with spirit sight would observe , they would find that the soul of the guard seemed to be pulled towards the black figure, along with his vitality, as the bloodlust and killing aura returned back to its owner. Few seconds later it entered the bkack figure and through him to the bow.
The bow shivered with delight and asked for more. Sensing it's delight the figure in black grinned and spoke, " Hush dear, you have more five to enjoy..."
Down below the dead guard was still standing still. Since the arrow had killed him from inside and with no external force the man was still completely balanced. His legs were still following the brains first order. In short, the body hadn't realised that it was now dead.
Few steps ahead the first guard was still looking around for a safe and easily defendable camp place. He was humming a local song with broken tunes and lyrics. His gruff voice made the already funny tune, even weirder and unlistenable.
"Number 3, what do you think about this one... " Before he could speak further, another arrow struck him and silently took another life.
Like this two guards died with no sound, and with all their grievances unaddressed. The resentment floating in the air like a beacon for all those dead ghouls and spirits.
Now just four more to go. Four more different tastes to be tasted.