"That's all of them, boss." Scar's ruthless figure loomed at the rear of the truck as his words floated on the wind. The Scissor Cleaver, a savage weapon indeed, swung lazily over his shoulder like a morbid pendulum. The air held a tang of metallic brutality; a scene of devastation fanned out before him.
The Slum Rats who were once a fraction of a formidable gang in Wranglers District, now littered the streets, disfigured and maimed. It was akin to the aftermath of a terrifying feast, the feast of a monster with a taste for death and gore. Scarlet life-juice stained the road while severed body parts lay strewn in a horrifying mosaic. Indeed, this was the masterpiece of Scar and Raven, artists with a deadly flair.
The corpses riddled with holes told a chilling tale of Vicky's lethal wheelchair, armed to the teeth. Oh, those poor souls who dared to challenge her were reduced to mounds of crimson mess, their insides decorating the grim battlefield. It was like a twisted theatre of death, mirroring their unyielding struggle to survive in this brutal world.
Meanwhile, Raven, the second artist of this deadly exhibition, busied herself at the truck's front. One could see her withdrawing her blades from a lifeless body, a gurgling fountain of crimson spewing from his mouth with each pull. The man's face displayed a shocking disbelief like his end had been too sudden, too ruthless.
Vicky manoeuvred her wheelchair to the truck's edge while scanning the bloodbath. The merchant stalls, once a hub of lively transactions, now lay in ruins, their owners were still hidden behind piles of crates and their faces masked with fear. "Good job, you two," she voiced in a solemn tone before retreating further into the truck. "Now let's get out of here before more show up."
Covered in blood, Scar hopped back into the truck. A devilish grin was playing on his face as if the bloodbath was a delightful memory. "My baby drank a lot today," he said gleefully, eyeing his sword that glistened with the life-juice of their enemies. The blade shimmered malevolently, relishing its murderous feast.
Raven then turned her attention to the man in the driver's seat. "Get us out of here," she commanded curtly. The driver needed no further persuasion.
"You don't have to tell me twice, sweet cheeks." With a heavy press on the accelerator, the truck sprang forward, its rumbling roar was a result of the carnage it left behind.
Within the jostling truck, Vicky spared a glance at their precious cargo - a small container marred with minor scratches from the battle. "We can't delay any further with the shipment," she murmured thoughtfully. Inside the container lay a trove of beautifully crafted blades, each a product of Vicky's skilled hands. These were not your everyday swords, they were works of art. Vicky intended to sell them off to a wealthy client, the profits of which would fuel an ambitious project in the pipeline.
While all this was unfolding, back at the warehouse, a riveting scene unfolded. With Lanor standing sentinel and Mentos whooping it up on the sidelines, Hao was waging a fierce battle. His adversary? A simple glass cup. The midday sun, reigning supreme in the sky, slung streaks of light across the time-worn table. Beads of sweat raced down Hao's face, adding a touch of drama to the otherwise mundane task. The salty pearls clung stubbornly to his chin before making the heroic leap into the waiting cup below. The moment the tear of exertion hit the surface, the cup shattered as if in shock, shards of glass spraying across the table.
"Blimey! Again?" Hao's words resonated with raw frustration. Minutes had been dedicated to this task, and yet, he was still grappling with the control of his new prosthetic arm, fondly named Wheelz. Every time his metal digits tried to cradle the glass, it ended up a casualty of his unregulated grip.
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"No moping around, lad! One more time!" The words were Lanor's, sharp and bracing. With a stern gaze, she placed another glass on the table. The evidence of Hao's failed attempts lay scattered around them; a reminder of the daunting task at hand. "This here is the last one I'm willing to sacrifice. You've made too much of a mess already," she chided a tad harsher than intended.
“Ok, I got you.” With his undeterred spirit, Hao readied himself for another attempt. His focus was like a laser beam, zeroed in on the fragile target. “This time for sure I’ll get it.” Wheelz moved deliberately, skirting towards the glass with agonising slowness. Success! The cup remained whole, safe in his steady grip.
A triumphant cheer erupted from Hao, "Yes!" His joy was painted across his face like a vibrant sunset.
"Way to go, Hao!" Said Lanor calmly while a touch of pride crept into her stern façade.
“Wow, that was cool.” The youngsters around them joined in with exuberant cheers.
"Not one to rest on our laurels, eh?" Mentos jumped in, swapping the glass for a guitar. "Think you can handle this bad boy?" He strummed a few notes, adding a playful soundtrack to their impromptu celebration.
"Alright, that's enough. Hand it over," Lanor intercepted the instrument and redirected it towards Hao. "Let's see if you can strum a few chords, shall we?" she challenged, making it clear that a break was not on the agenda.
Yet a resigned sigh escaped Hao's lips, "Can we take a breather? I'm famished!" His stomach seconded his plea with a guttural growl.
"No rest for the wicked, lad. Now, quit whining and make some music. It's not rocket science, just a few chords. Plus, I have other duties than babysitting you. The only reason I'm stuck here is mum's orders. So, don't make me regret this," Lanor replied impatiently.
"Gosh, mate, you've really done it this time!" Mentos mocked Hao as he wore a broad smile on his face.
"Oh, shut it, Mentos!" Hao retorted while shifting his focus to the guitar. The instrument was an unfamiliar beast, its strings and frets were confusing to his flesh and metal limbs.
With a smirk, Lanor couldn't help but poke fun at Hao's awkward attempts. "Is this your first time holding a guitar?" she ribbed. "Wouldn't be surprised if you snapped the strings with your first strum!”
"Go on, big brother! Prove her wrong!" A small voice piped up from the crowd of children, their enthusiastic support reverberated in the small compound.
Taking a deep breath, Hao adjusted his grip and flipped the guitar into position. All of a sudden, he began handling it like a pro. "Let's do this." And then, quite unexpectedly, his fingers began dancing across the strings. The melody that rang out was lively, catchy, and a perfect rendition of a professional guitarist.
Strum! Strum! Strum!
“Wow!” The kids were swaying to the rhythm while beautifully harmonizing their laughter with Hao's music.
Even Mentos couldn't resist bopping his head to the beat, surprise was written all over him. "Damn, Vee! Never knew you had this in you! Continue to tear that shit up!" His enthusiasm added fuel to the musical fire, which made Hao start singing for the kids while putting on a wonderful performance.
"Yeah! Sing it, now! Once I was a boogie signer—BURNING DOWN the rock-N-roll bands! I never had no problems—PLAYING SOLO at the one-night stands!"
Strum! Strum! Strum! Strum!
Hao's fingers kept up their agility, each pluck and strum was in perfect synchrony. The warehouse was now alive with the resonance of Hao's musical prowess, a tribute to his dexterity in operating Wheelz.
Lanor looked on, visibly taken aback. "Well, I'll be... he's bloody good!" she mumbled. She had braced for a cacophonous disaster, yet here was Hao, strumming like a seasoned pro. A twinge of envy prodded at her, compelling her to cut short Hao's musical endeavour. "Alright, that's enough. No more showboating," she decreed, slicing through the melody.
"Sounds like someone's green-eyed," Mentos jibed, earning himself a scowl from Lanor.
“I was just about to get into the meat of the rhythm.” Pausing his performance, Hao shot Lanor a satisfied grin. The guitar felt right in his hands, the strings humming under his deft touch. "What's up next?" he asked while boasting a fresh wave of confidence in his voice.
"Fine. Take a breather, you've earned it. But when we get back, it's all about the training, no more distractions," Lanor relented, though her sternness didn't soften.
“Finally I can get something to eat.” As he followed behind Lanor, Hao’s fingers were still absentmindedly tracing the guitar strings. He had grasped the soda can, and the glass cup and tamed the guitar, three feats that seemed impossible just a while ago. His journey in operating Wheelz was far from over, but with each triumph, he was ready to tackle the next hurdle Lanor would throw his way.