“What the hell is that bastard doing here!?” I lurched forward, taking off in a sprint towards the lacquered wooden shrine. Kayson said we'd meet our Captain at the shrine to the Stalwart Immortal. I'd expected to see Atkins, not that psycho's smug face as he relaxed next to her. But there were all the other Captains, and their Lieutenants present too, Way more people than there should have been for a simple hand-off.
Kayson gave a quick shout—in a second, my feet were kicking nothing but air; Bruno yanked me up by my collar and held me airborne with minimal effort.
“Let me go!”
“Luca! If you wish to draw blood, why not issue a challenge?” Bruno asked.
“No, he will not be doing that. Bruno don’t put any thoughts in his head. Luca, keep quiet and calm down; let me do all of the talking.”
“Fuck that!” I shouted, my voice carrying and catching the attention of the Brass Kings around the shrine. I got a few scowls, but Tristan gave me a poisonous smile. I redoubled my efforts to free myself, but Bruno was too damn strong.
“Such glorious passion for violence! We should let him go, Kayson! What’s the worst that can happen!” Bruno smiled wide at Kayson.
“He’ll make our division look worse than it currently does. Then he’ll get himself thrown out of the Brass Kings and somehow drag the rest of us into punishment. Are those enough reasons?”
“Screw that! Let me go! You can’t just get away with fucking murder!” I yelled, and the scowls from the other Captains grew darker. If I didn’t get their attention before, I had it now. But I couldn’t help it. I saw evil in those shades, saw maliciousness in Tristan’s triumphant posture. The asshole acted like he ruled the damn world.
Captain Atkins broke rank and began to close the distance to us. Her severe eyes burned into our squad. I struggled, trying to break free, and well—I didn’t have much of a plan after that. Use Fickle Fate and hope for the best?
I couldn’t take it, I knew I was acting irrational, but the rage in me had remained smoldering every second since that night at the casino. This squad had distracted me at times, but the sight of him right now brought it all back. The fucking murderer, abuser, smug little prick that only topped one horrid act with another. He’d have easily killed me and slept fine after. Yet I was the one with nightmares of him stabbing me to death in a dark alley.
Captain Atkins reached us; her hand reared back and slapped me. My head snapped to the side. She’d hit with everything she’d had.
“Right then. Presuming we’re done making scenes like children, are we ready to proceed?” Captain Atkins asked, stiffening her shoulders as she turned her eyes to Kayson. I rubbed the burning print n my cheek. Not sure how to feel. That hate in me—well, she’d broken a piece of it off with that slap. Her expression softened. “Collect yourself, Cavicchi. Never forget that people remember your actions, especially when it’s their first impression of you.”
She didn’t apologize for the slap.
Bruno dropped me, and I straightened. I felt mortified. Captain Atkins gave me a slight nod. “That is more like the behavior I want to see in this division. Kayson, lead the Alchemist to the captains.” She turned on her heels, and we followed. I fell to the back of the group, shame and embarrassment swelling in me.
Eve dropped to the back of our group to whisper to me. “Well done, slick. Wouldn’t be right if you didn’t find a way to make a scene.”
The conversations around the shrine halted; despite it being a public park, anyone in New Valentine who saw a large group like ours left as fast as they could, unless they were blind or plain dumb. Meaning that no pedestrians were wandering around here. All brass Kings. All of the captains formed a row before the shrine. The Stalwart Immortal's bald jade head presided over this prestigious meeting of delinquents.
Tristan checked his watch and impatiently tapped his foot. As if this was a waste of his time. If only I could wrap my hands around his throat. Captain Atkins cleared her throat. James, the alchemist, gave her and the rest of the Captains a weary look as Kayson directed him to stand.
“As you see, the Seventh Division has tracked down and recovered the Crimson Eagle’s Alchemist. Their only source of alchemical goods. We've achieved massive victory with this blow to their funding and strength.” Captain Atkins paused, seeming to relish in her victory.
She slowly moved next to James and set a hand on his shoulder.
“Now, we must consider what to do with the man. Keeping him in New Valentine is risky since the Crimson Eagles might attempt to recapture him, or we could catch the attention of the Segreto or Sects. I have connections in Little Kakunodate, so I propose we send him there. From what my Lieutenant had told me, James is not opposed to leaving the city for good.”
“Why would we ever do that?” Tristan snorted, taking the sunglasses off and folding them. He tucked them in the collar of his shirt. “We’re at war. We cannot afford to waste precious resources. Unless you’re willing to admit you’re a hypocrite—and that we didn’t need to maintain a useless Cultivator like him.” Tristan jerked a finger towards me. Kayson’s palm kept me from launching myself at the asshole to teach him a lesson. “The alchemist would be far more useful producing pills for the Brass Kings.”
“Your division had no part in his recovery. What right do you have to decide his fate?” Captain Atkins asked.
“The Viceroy made it clear she wants a decisive end to this conflict. If we keep the pills he produces within the gang; we’ll be able to end the war much quicker. Since they’ll be internal, the Segreto won’t care.”A couple of the other captains shuffled around and exchanged looks. To my eyes, they seemed a bit excited at the prospect. What was more natural than a delinquent bucking authority? “Let's not draw out this street war longer than we need to. The Emerald Serpents are already sniffing around Uptown. And the recent issues your division caused with the Getsu Sect have already been enough of a problem. You owe us this.” Tristan smiled, glancing at me again with that last part.
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The audacity of the smile on his face. It’s not like I went out that day looking to start trouble. Maybe Bruno had, but I had no say in it!
Captain Atkins snarled. “I dislike your proposal. This has too many risks, and more importantly, this man deserves better. We didn’t free him from a shit-hole drug den to throw him in another.”
“Like we should care what the drug manufacturer for our enemies wants or deserves. I’m sure the rest of the Captains have realized what we have to gain here. There’s no time to waste prolonging this. I’ll take possession of the alchemist and use my funds to give him a workspace and the ingredients he needs to produce more pills. Then distribute it to where we need it. There won't be issues as long as we don’t sell anything he makes.”
“No.”
“Let’s put it to a vote,” Tristan barely looked at the other Captains. “Everyone’s here. I’m sure the Viceroy would approve any decision made by the majority of us.” Tristan smirked openly at Captain Atkins, whose eyes never left his face. It was no small secret she didn’t get along with any of the other divisions, aside from the First. “All who vote in favor of trusting the alchemist to me and see how much it will, in turn, benefit them, raise their hands.”
One by one, five of the Captains voted their agreement. That left Captain Atkins and the Captain of the First Division as the sole force of contention.
“And there we have it. The alchemist is now with the Fourth Division; we shall provide for his care and see to the immediate manufacture of alchemical goods to enhance our power.” He nodded towards a couple of my former squad members—who moved forward to take the alchemist from Kayson.
“I’m sorry,” Kayson said quietly to James.
James stepped aside, dropping his head. One of the Fourth Division guys grabbed him by the arm and dragged the alchemist away—I saw his face. Pure and depressing acceptance. It shattered my heart. We’d dragged him from forced servitude in one gang directly to another.
I spat on the ground.
The meeting went on to discuss strategic planning and the allotment of resources. Tristan pushed to throw the Seventh Division further on the front line and draw attention from the Crimson Eagles. He was trying to twist our success into reasoning that we might be an asset for once. Though, his proposed jobs were attention-grabbing and downright dangerous.
Captain Atkins disagreed, informing him that no other Captain had the authority to tell her how to run her division—using what we’d managed to accomplish as backing for her arguments. She’d do as she saw fit.
In the end, Atkins stood firm and made the better argument, so the rest of the Captains sided with her. Soon the meeting came to a close.
I couldn’t get over the awful fate we’d caused for James and how our captain handed him over. From the expression on everyone else’s faces in my squad, they felt the same. The rest of the Captains and Lieutenants mingled around. But there was a bitter taste in my mouth.
“May I have a moment with my former subordinate?” Tristan asked Kayson, a fake smile on his face. Kayson shifted his attention to Captain Atkins—who gave a reluctant nod. With the rest of the Captains around, she could hardly refuse.
Tristan gestured for me to follow. A horrible indirect order passed through this shitty chain of command. My heart hammered. Was this it? Was he planning to kill me here and now? I clenched my fists, trying to keep my muscles relaxed. If it went bad, I’d have to react quickly. I scanned his jacket—looking for a knife bulge, a gun, or any kinda tool he might use to take me out.
I followed slowly.
He led me on a path away from the shrine, closer to the greenery of the park but still in view of the crowd, even if they couldn’t hear us talk. From this distance, they wouldn’t be able to reach us in time to stop anything from happening. But I wouldn’t get caught like a helpless animal.
As soon as he turned to face me, I made the first move.
My foot arced through the air—easily closing the between us in the blink of the eye. Romeo’s training was paying off.
His eyes flashed yellow; his hand caught my ankle and held it in place before the blow landed. Tristan smiled before yanking me off balance and spilling me on the ground. A thick black shadow poured from his yellow eyes—he’d pulled out his Manifested Soul.
It swirled in the space above me, a large inky blob with six constantly shifting tendrils, and a single giant horrible eyeball that was firmly trained on me. “Do you see the difference between us, street rat?” He asked, the smile on his face didn’t show in his tone. No. He spoke with pure cold and evil hate. One of those tendrils wrapped around my wrist and yanked me up—at the exact moment his fist sailed into my gut.
His Manifested Soul let me go as I stumbled back, gagging. That horrible eye never left me; Tristan had broken past the Soul Seed stage. I was in deep shit.
“I’m done with you and your Divison. You’re all just dogs that think they can run around pissing on my streets. You should have left the Brass Kings. Fled out of sight and hoped I was too busy to track you down. But now, there is no leaving my gaze, Luca. You’re mine. You and your weak division. Your existence will no longer be tolerated.” He leaned closer, eyes flashing yellow again. “The truth makes the dog cower.”
He straightened and adjusted the cuffs of his jacket. He was confident enough to check his watch. I worked my jaw. He wasn’t on guard at all anymore. Filled with supreme confidence in himself and that Manifested Soul of his. Disgusting. He thought I was nothing.
“You’re going to pay. They’ll all know what ya did ya son of a bitch!” Hate overpowered self-preservation. Tristan returned those sharp eyes of his, filled with darkness.
“I hate your type more than anything, the defiant that you think you have the right to strike back at your betters. Everything I have, I earned. Each calculated step moved me forward, one at a time. I don’t take risks like you. I deserve what I have because I worked ceaselessly for it. I do not demand respect from worthless trash like you—you owe it to me.”
He stalked closer. There was the tipping point. I felt it in the air, a crossroads of fate. Would he end me? Would I somehow overcome him?
Tristan pulled back, the emotion on his face vanishing into whatever dark hole it hid in. He looked at me once more, eyes flashing yellow; he recalled his Manifested Soul.
“You will quit the Brass Kings by the end of the month.”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
“Please. Find out.” He let the threat hang, turning around to walk off.
I slapped my hand on my chest, and it flashed blue—then I dived at his back, slamming a quick kick into his ass, flinging him to the ground.
Tristan looked up at me, his face going through a mix of emotions, confused? Angry? Scared? Some of them were so out of place that it startled me. Before he could say anything, Kayson let out a loud yell; he’d been running in our direction probably since I threw the first punch.
I didn’t get the chance to explain—he dragged me away before it could escalate further. Tristan had gone pale—not arguing but standing up and numbly walking away. What the fuck had I done to shake him so severely? Maybe the bastard realized he wasn’t as untouchable as he’d thought.
But his Manifested Soul confirmed a harsh reality for me. It was an undeniable fact Tristan was stronger. I needed to push myself. Or else Immortals knew what would happen when we reached the end of the month.