The night was moonless and overcast with grey clouds. The silence marred by the sounds of drunken revelry. Connall breathed softly as he moved across the rooftop. Each silent step rolling from heel to toe on the outside edge of his foot. Any noise he might have made covered by the clubgoers below. He stopped 20 feet from the edge.

In front of him was his target, a hooded figure cloaked in darkness. It crouched at the edge of the rooftop watching the clubgoers as they exited below. It seemed to be waiting for something to happen below.

Connall knew he didn’t have much time and that he needed to remain completely silent. The need for silence solidified in his mind as he drew his blade from the sheath on his hip. The blade was short, only about 16 inches long thin near the handle and growing wider towards the tip. Its front half tilting forward making it perfect for chopping. He lifted the naked blade and stepped forward once again in preparation for his next move.

Now close to the perfect striking distance, he took one final step. The hooded figure, seeming to notice a change in its surroundings, abruptly stood up and turned to look behind it. However it was already too late as Connall’s blade was moving swiftly towards its neck. The figures hood fell from its head as it moved, revealing its sharp red eyes and pale face. It snarled in anger revealing its teeth to have enlarged canines as sharp as a viper’s.

The blade made contact with the creature’s neck biting deep and chopping cleanly through its vertebrae. Blood sprayed from the wound and the creature’s eyes widened in surprise not believing the fate that had befallen it. Connall didn’t manage to chop all the way through its neck. The head still  hanging on by the last vestiges of muscle and flesh. So he swung again to completely sever the creature’s head allowing it to fall to the rooftop and the body to topple over.

Leaning down he wiped the blood from his blade on the creature’s clothing. Sheathing the blade he drew a wooden stake from the holster on his left thigh and a pair of pliers from a pouch at the small of his back. Moved to the creature’s chest and drove the stake into its heart ensuring that it wouldn’t be getting back up. He proceeded to grab the creature’s head and using the pliers, he removed it’s fangs and placed them into a small leather pouch hanging on his hip.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

With a small smile Connall reached across his chest to the radio placed in one of the many pouches attached to his vest. Pressing the talk button “The target is down with no collateral damage cleanup crew requested.” The voice on the other end responded “confirmed, proceed to extraction zone alpha.”  Acknowledging Connall took a deep breath, shook the adrenaline from his hands and climbed from the rooftop heading towards extraction zone alpha.

Once he arrived to the extraction zone the rest of his squad was waiting for him in various states of relaxation waiting for the helicopter to arrive. Smiling he raised his hand in greeting saying. “Damn don’t you all look like a lazy bunch of assholes.” Laughing Alejandro looks up in surprise and says to the rest of the squad mates “Pinche Connall always appearing out of nowhere. Damn near had to change my chones. I have no idea how your big ass moves so fucking quietly. If only this cabron over here could be as quiet as you life would be much nicer.” pointing his thumb at Jason.

Before Jason had a chance to reply Murphy barks at him and Alejandro telling them “enough of the bullshit we’re still on mission.” Motioning for Connall to come over he holds out a smartphone for him saying. “You got a phone call MacHagan it seems urgent go ahead and find out what they wanted” Taking the phone Connall frowns looking at the phone saying. “It says it’s from my brother. Looks like he left a voicemail. Must be important he never leaves voicemails.” Murphy looks at Connall’s frown, a change from the normal carefree smile he usually carries and gives him permission to walk off to the side and listen to it.

Walking a few paces away from the group Connall listens to the voicemail. His frown deepens, his eyes open wide and his hands go limp. The phone falls from limp fingers as tears threaten to pour from his eyes. He drops to his knees letting out a soft sob of pain. Hands lying lifelessly at his sides he forces back the tears.

The rest of the squad look at each other in surprise. All confused by the sudden change in their squad mate and friend who is always so jovial. They rush to his side and Duffy, gently laying his hand on Connall’s shoulder, asks in a soft voice “Oy mate whats wrong?”. With a deep sadness in his eyes Connall looks at his friends and brothers and steeling himself “That wasn’t my brother. it was the police. Apparently there’s been accident him and his wife were killed by a drunk driver. They need me to go and pick up Tristan since I’m going to have to take care of him now.”