Chapter 23

Prague, 1994.

Two gunmen sprinted down the hallway of an opulent mansion, one of them already sprayed with the blood of a previous victim. The mansion reverberated with the sounds of gunshots, violence, shouts, and screams - curses in Russian from the defenders of the house, and Czech from the attackers.

The larger gunman glanced at the smaller man, the one with the blood on his clothes, and said, "The old man's through there."

The smaller man, determined, asked, "Are you sure?"

The bigger man let out a sinister chuckle and replied, "I'm certain, my contacts are excellent."

The smaller man mocked, "We're going to make ourselves, unless he has his pet monster with him."

The bigger man, excited and fueled by adrenaline, tried to be blasé as well and said, "We'll be even more made if we kill the old man and the Golem."

Sniggering, one of them meaning it and the other not so much, they came to the door, locked eyes, and with a coordinated movement, entered the room.

What they expected was to find the old man, the General as everyone called him; a Russian bastard who had controlled the underworld of their city for decades. However, his reign would end that night. Jan Kokourek was to take control of things, and these two unfortunate but ambitious young gangsters intended to be the ones to put him on the throne.

But what they discovered upon their coordinated entrance was not what they could have hoped for, dreamed of, or even imagined in a nightmare. The old man, the General, was indeed present, sitting behind his desk at the far end of the opulent study. However, between him and the two men stood something else - the Golem, full-grown and terrifying.

The big man cursed and said, "No fucking way…"

The smaller man shook his head in disbelief and uttered, "It's...the fucking thing is real...no..."

The Golem stepped towards them slowly, keeping itself between the intruders and the older man behind the desk. Its skin seemed to glow darkly, the coal-like scales glistening with a strange hunger. The sharp teeth appeared brighter and whiter, contrasting with its jet-black skin. The immaculate gray suit and lavender tie the monster wore should have made it seem ridiculous, but somehow the incongruity only made it all the more terrifying, like a fever-dream monster from a twisted mind.

The big man actually backed away, cursing and muttering under his breath, possibly even praying. The smaller man, the real natural killer of the two and the one with the most to prove that night, stepped forward and raised his pistol, aiming it at the slowly approaching monster.

His first clue should have been the lack of any reaction from the monster, but in those adrenaline filled final moments it might be understandable that his primary focus wasn't on non-verbal communication. The Golem didn't break its stride, nor did it dodge or even seem to deem the weapon worthy of noting. As the smaller man fired a flurry of shots at the creature, the bullets ricocheted off of it, whining like they were striking granite. The Golem showed no effect.

The beautiful grey suit, however, wasn't to be the only victim of the hail of lead. As the bullets whined away the smaller man heard groaning from behind him.

Managing to rip his attention away from the approaching incarnation of a biblical demon, the smaller man glanced behind him at his companion. The bigger man, now clutching his stomach in pain, groaned weakly as his blood soaked his clothes. A ricochet had hit him.

The smaller man, his fear starting to grow, returned his attention to the Golem and fired again. His hands shook, and the shots were no longer confident death sentences but rather plaintive cries, protests against the impossibility that was unfolding.

As the smaller man's final shots reverberated in the opulent, book-lined study, the Golem advanced confidently. No pause marked its progress across the room, its relentless stride unhindered by the fear and chaos now dominant in both gangsters' minds. The monstrous figure moved with graceful precision, its every action calculated and measured as befitting one of supernatural origin.

Moving closer still, the Golem's demonic black eyes narrowed, reflecting the trembling figure of the smaller man caught in a web of terror. Darkness whispered through the creature's veins, fueling both its growing hunger for violence and its superhuman strength.

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With an almost casual flick of its wrist, the Golem snatched the pistol from the smaller man's quivering grasp. The weapon crushed within its grip, metal rending in its palm like putty, a continuous growl emanating from the depths of the monster's soul. The smaller man managed only a weak gasp before the Golem clasped a powerful hand around his throat, effortlessly lifting him off his feet.

Panic peaked as the small man's feet kicked uselessly at the air, hands grappling helplessly at the black-scaled arm that choked the last gasps of life from him. The Golem's stony grip slowly tightened, its vice-like strength squeezing the air from the man's lungs until he could do nothing but go limp..

In those glacial moments, the leopard-print shadows of the Golem seemed to meld with the crimson splatters that had become all too common in this opulent slaughterhouse. The creature relished the sensation of life leaving its victim, its hunger for gruesome violence momentarily sated.

Foam and blood seeping from his clenched teeth, the broken body of the smaller man crumpled to the floor, discarded like refuse.

The Golem turned to face the larger man, who had gathered the last of his fear-addled wits to stagger to his feet. Watching the beast cross the room, his only desire was to stumble back out into the corridor and flee from this harrowing nightmare. But the Golem would not let him escape so easily.

With an otherworldly swiftness, the creature closed the gap between them. Gripping the larger man's injured arm, the Golem squeezed down on the fresh wound, causing a terrified scream to erupt from his throat as blood and pain flooded his senses.

Their eyes locked, with the Golem's black orbs boring their way into the despairing, hate-filled gaze of the Czech enforcer. The Golem exulted in the pure terror its presence inspired, prowling ever deeper into that dark abyss within the man's soul.

The Golem grasped the larger man's bloodied shoulder, wrenching him close before delivering a sickening punch to his stomach. A cacophony of bones fracturing as they met the Golem's unyielding strength filled the air, the man's body convulsing from the agony as his internal organs suffered catastrophic damage.

In a final burst of savage force, the creature thrust its free hand through the man's rib cage, tearing his heart from its resting place with merciless intent. Blood rained across the opulent room as the man's life was extinguished in one final, gory spectacle.

Silence conquered the room. Satisfied, the Golem stepped back, allowing the carcass to slump lifelessly to the floor. Its grisly task complete, the monster turned to the General, its scales now adorned with the slick, red sheen of violence, its grisly work done.

The Golem looked back at the General, his father figure, with smugness and pride. He had defended him and displayed his prowess. For a moment, the creature wanted to revel in his accomplishment, in serving the General so well. But his demonic satisfaction faded in an instant, his visage becoming something far more human as distress and concern filled his onyx-hued features.

The General leaned on the desk, weak and clutching a bloody wound at his neck. In an instant, the creature's supernatural speed was employed as it swept to the old man's side.

The Golem, agonized, said, "General? General?"

The old man waved his free hand, unconcerned but pained. "It's just my flesh," he replied, his voice strained but confident. "I've had worse. It hit nothing important."

The Golem hesitated, assessing the older man with deep, genuine affection and concern radiating from his eyes. The General's physical pain was mirrored by the Golem's emotional distress, his monstrous facades dissolving to reveal a devoted guardian beneath.

The Golem whirled as more footsteps filled the hall and more bodies entered the room. His tension evaporated as he recognized them as the General's own men, Russian bodyguards. The lead man's face reflected the Golem's concern as he saw the General.

"General, you've been hit," he said. Turning to one of his men, he commanded, "Get the fucking doctor, quick man, fucking move it!"

The Golem, unhappy with the General's state but satisfied that he was not in immediate danger, approached the lead guard, his air of authority massive and complete.

The Golem asked, "Did you get the rest of them?"

The leader nodded and replied, "There were a lot, more than we ever anticipated. We've lost a lot of good guys tonight."

The Golem growled, "They'll lose a lot more than that before this night is over. Those were Jan Kokourek's boys."

The leader looked unsure and asked, "What are we going to do?"

The Golem walked to a chair where an overcoat hung. Gathering the coat, he said, "Call everybody. When the sun rises, there won't be a Kokourek gang, and there won't be a Kokourek family. We know where he lives; we know where his family lives. He started this, but we're going to finish it."

The man nodded, turned, and left with his men, full of purpose.

The Golem put on his coat and faced the door. He felt an arm on his shoulder. The General stood alongside him, a little pale but determined and unfazed. The man said, "I am proud of you, not for the way you killed those two pieces of shit. Being proud of you for having bulletproof skin and superhuman strength would be like being proud of you for having ten toes and ten fingers. I am proud of you because of what I know will come next, how you will handle this night."

The Golem held his gaze a moment longer, not revealing on his face just how much joy the General's words instilled in him. Then he walked down the hall, towards a night of bloodshed and carnage that would be remembered in certain circles in this city for generations to come.