Two men sat across from each other in an otherwise vacant lounge room. One sat confidently on a couch with his arms resting on the back of it and one leg crossed over the other. A scar marred his forehead and nose. His neat dress shirt, pants, and vest wrinkled due to how tightly they fit his tall physique. On the other side of the table, the second man sat on a simple metal chair one might find at a low-class restaurant with his head lowered. He glowered at the half-finished glasses of alcohol and in-progress card games sitting abandoned on many of the other tables and grimaced.
“So, Mason,” The well-dressed man calmly spoke while maintaining an outwardly relaxed demeanor, “It seems you weren’t able to follow my directions this time. Others here have also mentioned how soft your methods are. I’m starting to wonder if leaving you in charge when I left was a mistake?”
Mason sighed through his nostrils and bit the inside of his cheek. After a few moments of silence, he said, “I’ll be more thorough when relaying orders in the future.”
“You don’t need to change yourself, but as a Green Devil branch leader, you’ve allowed this district’s branch to fall into mediocrity. We can’t have that.”
Keeping his silence, Mason simply scratched his forehead while waiting for the inevitable.
“Looks like you understand what we want from you, but,” The well-dressed man paused for a moment, reached into his vest pocket, and pulled out a rectangular device shaped like a large can-opener with a circular hole wide enough to fit even the fattest of fingers before continuing, “you’ll still need to give up a finger. Rules are rules.”
Without speaking a single word, Mason placed his left hand on the table. Since he was already missing a pinky, the well-dressed man slid the device over Mason’s ring finger and pressed a button. A sharp zap sounded from the device. Mason clenched his teeth and shuddered. The veins on his arms and face bulged as he held back his voice. A barely noticeable scent of burnt flesh wafted upward into both men’s nostrils. The device cauterized the wound, but it did not negate the pain.
Ignoring the finger sitting on the table, the well-dressed man set down the small device and said, “Bring in those three who ignored your orders.”
Gritting his teeth so that he could bear through the pain, Mason struggled to nod and walked toward the lounge entrance while holding his wounded hand tightly against his chest. The burning sensation from the fresh stub reminded him of the reason behind his past actions. His gaze hardened, and he approached the lounge door. Swinging it open, he saw several men sitting around with annoyed expressions. Aside from the three younger guys he had dragged here and left standing against the wall shaking with nervousness, they were all guys who had been drinking and gambling until Mason returned to the base.
“You three. Seth wants to see you,” Mason grumbled, immediately turning back into the lounge room.
The three younger members shivered at the frustration oozing from Mason’s tone and quickly followed him inside. A few guys sitting in the hallway chuckled or jeered at them for being green enough to get on Seth’s bad side.
* * *
Carrying Merci’s body in his arms, Sigmarus walked up to the front gate of the Fallen Leaf base. The base used to be a prison in the past, but it now served as both a home and center of operations for them. Numerous barricades built from scrap metals lined up along the street leading up to the old prison formed a singular alleyway that could prevent anyone from sneaking in while also serving as cover for the gang when necessary.
A couple of guards posted at the sentry stands noticed him approaching when he arrived at the illuminated section of road leading up to the gate. They immediately pointed their kinetic rifles toward him.
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“Who are you?” One of the guards called out.
Hmm? They seem more on guard than normal, Sigmarus noted while answering, “Sigmarus. Climber.”
“Eh? You’re that new guy? We haven’t seen you before, so gimme a sec to find someone who knows you,” The guard replied, suspicion evident from his tone.
A few minutes later, another Fallen Leaf member Sigmarus had met a handful of times at the gym arrived at the gate and verified his identity before letting him in. However, he squinted and backed off when he saw the body in Sigmarus’ arms.
“What are you doing with that... thing?” The man asked.
“Is there a casket or something I can put her in?” Sigmarus asked in return.
“Errmm… Lemme go find a box or something. Stay here.”
“Thanks.”
The man ran off to find a box for him, though the action didn’t seem to be done out of kindness based on the man’s irritated expression. Considering the long-held superstitions in the underground, a severely mutated person like Merci would probably cause unease in most of the people here. The guy probably wanted to avoid issues as much as Sigmarus did.
Before long, the man returned with a rectangular box and a bag full of a sand-like powder. He set both down at Sigmarus’ feet while saying, “Make sure you use the powder. Keeps bodies from smelling bad.”
“A deodorizer, huh? Thanks.”
“Yeah, sure. Duke’s here, by the way, and he’s been looking for you. Go find him when you’re done.”
Without waiting for a reply, the man walked off toward the communal housing area while yawning and rubbing his eyes.
Guess it’s pretty early in the morning, if I’m not wrong, Sigmarus thought while gently lowering Merci’s body into the makeshift casket. He then spread the deodorizer over her before replacing the lid. Afterward, he hoisted the box onto his shoulder and walked toward the main building where Duke usually stayed.
Carrying the casket with him inside the building since he didn’t want to risk someone finding and tossing out Merci’s body, Sigmarus looked around the empty lobby area and tried to remember where everything was. While he was trying to guess where he could find Duke, a startingly muscular woman walked out of a nearby room and stared at him with hazel-colored eyes. Her brown hair was cut short, and she wore only knee-length shorts and a military-style tank top undershirt. She was a bit shorter than him, but compared to other muskrat women, she was quite tall. On top of that, her skin tone was moderately dark, but she had facial traits from multiple ethnicities.
Staring back at the woman he had never met before, Sigmarus raised a brow and asked, “Who are you?”
“You that Sigmarus guy Duke’s looking for?” The woman replied, not bothering to answer his question.
“Yeah.”
“He’s sleeping, but he won’t mind if we wake him up now. Follow me.”
“Uh… okay, then.”
Sigmarus followed the woman up a nearby stairwell to the third floor in complete silence. Her gait was filled with confidence, but Sigmarus also noticed that she refrained from looking in his direction at all. Eventually, he sighed and decided to ignore it.
On the third floor, the woman led him to a pair of double doors and gestured for him to wait. He heard a few grunts and some mumbling on the other side of the door but refrained from focusing on it. Moments later, the door swung open, and Duke walked out in just his briefs. Dark bags under his eyes made him look like he’d just woken up. The moment he saw Sigmarus, a sigh of relief slipped from his lips. Then, he looked at the box and raised a brow.
“I’m glad you’re alright, but what is this?” Duke asked, unable to ignore it.
“You know that girl I was helping out?”
“Mhm.”
“It’s her sister.”
Duke’s right eye twitched. Then, he pinched the bridge of his nose and slowly started to laugh with anger hidden within. His laugh lasted only a few seconds before completely cutting off. His eyes turned distant as he mumbled, “Those bastards never change, do they?”
“I don’t think their big guys wanted to kill her. She is… was… a ‘goblin’ as some people call them. Anyway, it caused some issues.”
“That so?” Duke mumbled, turning back inside the room. His face didn’t change at the mention of ‘goblins’, which improved Sigmarus’ impression of the man. While walking inside the room, Duke said, “Leave the box outside and come in. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“Alright.”