Zach wasn’t sure how it had happened, but he found himself enjoying the night he was having. The mission he’d been handed from Princip was simple: play muscle until the weasel Princip had trusted to make a deal with one of the local gangs inevitably messed things up. After that, all there was left to do was clean up.

Several weeks of slaving away for the unscrupulous that was Princip, had done nothing to improve Zach’s opinion of the man. He put his faith in thugs and bureaucrats. If a person needed a favor, he’d gladly hand them out; for a price of course. If he ignored the fact that he was one of those people, it was easy for Zach to stick his nose up at the ambitious and incompetent help the philosophy attracted. Anyone willing to make themselves a slave for personal advancement wasn’t just tolerated, but actively encouraged to join. From what Zach could tell, much of Princip’s valuable man power seemed to come by recruiting ambitious whelps from the low-level gangs up top. A policy which apparently didn’t win any endearment from those gangs, who didn’t appreciate losing members of their “family” for some work for a petty tyrant trying to keep his kingdom together.

That was why he was there, with the slimy man in a worn out suit slouched next to him. The man, who’s name was Gerald apparently, had once been a public worker. From what Zach could glean from him, he was on the fast track to move up in whatever stuffy bureau he worked. That is until a few enemies and a drug addiction forced him to quit, and he lost everything. After spending a few years scrounging in the sleaziest joints he could for whatever high he could get, he finally made his way to Princip. He jumped at the chance of translating his “skill set” in exchange for a chance to get his life back together, or at least a more frequent dose.

Zach had pegged the scrawny, greasy haired man as worthless the moment he’d set eyes on him. Still, he didn’t set the missions or the personnel. He was just there to do a job in exchange for protecting Emily. As long as he did what he was supposed to, the rest could fall apart for all he cared.

Zach for his part, wasn’t wearing a suit. He was donned in an oversized hoodie, despite the heat. He wore the hood up, covering his face in shadow. He hoped that the garment’s size would make him seem bigger while simultaneously hiding the true nature of his strength. He preferred people underestimate him if things were going to go to blows. He also thought the hood provided somewhat of an air of mystery, even if he knew that idea was somewhat childish. It didn’t matter if people knew his face, all sorts of people had seen what he looked like and what he could do. Still, he liked having the illusion of anonymity; it was comforting.

They were in a park, one of the few places where one could enjoy the delightful scene of shriveled foliage and drug addiction all in one glance. Both men positioned themselves at the edge of a flickering lamp casting a dim light on a half broken bench. Gerald had chosen this as the meeting place. It was deep in hostile territory and easy to surround. Zach had little doubt that they were already being enclosed as they waited patiently for the other party to arrive.

They weren’t kept waiting long. Three men in tattered trench coats strolled casually into the light not five minutes later, their hats cocked low over their faces. One of them smoked a cigarette, as the other two flanked him, cracking their knuckles and trying to look menacing.

It seemed to work on Gerald who shivered visibly as he looked at them. Zach, for his part, just stepped nonchalantly into the light, letting out a small laugh.

“Humphrey Bogart called; he wants his style back.” Zach snarked as he approached them, a mocking glint in his eye.

The men, for their part, just stared at him dumbly. It was clear they had no idea who Humphrey Bogart was or why it was so funny.

“You making fun of us?” One of the men, it was hard to tell which, hissed from under his hat.

“Now why would I ever do that?” Zach retorted before he could stop himself. “Maybe it’s just too easy with those halloween costumes you’re wearing. Have you ever thought of trying something a little more modern? I’ve heard the mummy look is in vogue right now, or maybe you can try the cyberpunk look. It’s sleek, fashionable, and nobody can tell if it’s a body modification or just your natural face that makes you so ugly you want to desperately hide it.”

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One of the men on the side made to lunge at Zach, but was held back by the man with the cigarette. He puffed calmly on it as he gripped his compatriot, undeterred by Zach’s jeers. After a long drag, he pulled it from his lips, tipping his hat up as he did so.

To Zach’s surprise, it revealed a handsome face underneath. There was no sign of the etched scars or pockmarks that were typical of those who insisted on covering their faces on the streets. Instead, the skin was smooth and pale, with full, unadulterated features.

“We don’t wear these because we're like those other freaks.” The man responded, his voice steady and calm. “They’re victims of circumstance, born to be hated and cast out of society. They become dangerous because they have to be. We, on the other hand, chose violence as our profession, our way of life. Which is why we’re here.”

“W-what do you mean?” Came the quavering voice of Gerald, so suddenly it made Zach jump a little. He stepped hesitantly out of the shadows and into the flickering ring of light. “W-we’re here to make a deal. That’s why we arranged this meeting.”

The man with the cigarette laughed grimly before taking another puff. He blew the smoke haphazardly into the air above before speaking again, his tone never wavering from its steady confidence.

“That’s why you arranged the meeting with those bottom feeders, but we decided to take the reins. You see, while they act all tough and parade their freak show around, we’re the ones who’re really in charge.”

“How so?” Zach chimed in, curiously.

“Don’t worry about it.” The man responded with a smile. “Just know that if we tell them to do a handstand, they’ll hold it until they’re blue in the face if we don’t tell them to stop.”

“So what would make such great and mighty men, such as yourselves, to see fit to negotiate with lowly scum like us?” Zach returned, earning himself an indignant glare from his partner.

“Like I said, they’re idiots. They wouldn’t know a good deal if it spat in their faces. Though, if I’m being honest. I don’t really care about your people drawing from their ‘family’. I’m here to represent my employer and his interests, not the interests of some half-baked criminal wannabes.”

“S-so, what do you want from us?” Gerald quavered.

“Nothing.” The man answered, his smile broadening. “Just let Princip know we’re intercepting his delivery as we speak, and that my employer will gladly consider it payment for what he owes him for his help.”

Zach’s eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean?” He inquired, a sharp edge to his voice.

The man guffawed loudly, as he pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. Carelessly, he threw it in their direction, letting it drift gently to the ground. Zach rushed forward to grab it, as the men turned away, stepping casually back into the darkness.

Grabbing the sheet roughly off the ground where it had fallen, Zach hastily scanned it. It only took him a fraction of a second to grasp its contents. His hands shook as he stared at it. He’d been betrayed.

Crying with rage, he charged after the men, his powerful legs launching him forward like a freight train. In a microsecond he had left the dome of the light of the streetlamp, plunging himself into the darkness of the night. His eyes strained, as he plowed ahead, searching the darkness for the men he desperately wanted to tear limb from limb.

He found no one. It was as though they’d just vanished in the darkness, leaving him sprinting alone in the night. His powerful body left grooves where he stepped, and his momentum carried him onward even as his hope left him.

When at last his power faded, and his rage gave way to despair, he puttered to a halt. He wasn’t in the park anymore, having been carried across its edge into the dim lights of the city proper. Resting his hands on his knees, he crumpled to the ground.

Whipping his head back he let out a scream. In it he threw everything that was bottled up inside him, all his rage, his frustration, and fear, contained in one long, tormented cry of agony. It seemed as though it would go on forever, shaking windows and waking the dead, until suddenly it cut off. He didn’t have any more. Instead, Zach got to his feet and walked into the night.