Chapter 1 || Brakstone City 

I watch with mild interest as the moon made its ascent on the shadow of the evening, my feet dangling at the top of a dilapidated oil tanker parked and abandoned on the outskirts of Brakstone City. Like every evening the sky was devoid of its twinkling stars as it was blocked with the thick smog of the city. 

As I stared at the inky blank sky saved for the faint silhouette of the crescent moon, I tried to search myself for any emotions. 

I don't feel sad or happy, I feel empty.

I took out my phone in my pocket and dial a number. It was picked up on the fifth ring. 

“Babe, where are you?” I asked just as a familiar truck zoomed past my hiding spot. My eyes turned into slits, chasing the back of the truck with my eyes. 

“Luna, I can't come to you right now. Something came up.” his voice was crisp and clear even with the wind blowing in the background. 

“But you promised,” I whined, putting as much emotion in my voice as necessary.

“I know love, but this is really important.”

“Who are you with?” I asked trying to imitate the sound of a suspicious girlfriend.

The other line went silent for a second before I heard his voice again, “I love you Luna and I would never cheat on you. I swear on my life. I'm working right now.”

“Work? We've been together for almost a month now, Nic and you won't even tell me your job, in fact, I don't even know anything about you. You don't even want anyone to know about us. I felt like I'm just a side hustle.”

“Hey, hey, I already explained this to you. It's for your own good that you don't know.”

“That's not fair,”

“When I'm done with this, I'll make it up to you. Okay?” 

“Sure,” I mumbled before I hang up. 

I stared unseeing at my phone, thinking we have just had our last phone call.

After a minute I snapped out of my daze. 

It's time to move on.

The smog and the stench of death had hit me instantly like a sledgehammer as I climb down from the top of the tanker. I huff as the hood of my jacket flew from of my head, revealing the swatch of cloth strategically coiled around my head except for my eyes to hide my identity. The cloth was drenched from my father's blood and many others who tried to harm me after his death. It was a constant reminder of what made me different from the rest of the world.

I walked briskly as a passed a busy alley, littered with addicts and prostitutes. I internally cursed, keeping my head down.

The city was alive on a late Sunday night but it was barely breathing from the inside. Crime and corruption had strung out every color and beauty the city once possessed replaced with the fumes that block any lights and the stench of death in every corner. 

As I ventured towards the back alley where the truck was parked, cloaked in the shadows the smog rose from the ground, drifting to the air like a thick column of molasses, turning everything in front of me almost non-existent. But my eyes had years of practice from being orphaned at a very young age scavenging from one trash to another without being seen by gangs of homeless teenagers. 

I stopped in my tracks, my head leaning sideways while I watched in total interest as the three men who rode the truck entered the meat shop laughing and hollering, oblivious to my presence behind the cloaked of shadows; ready to pounce and lick their souls clean. 

As far as the town knew, the shop was already closed due to the police investigation. Either they are too blind to see things or they don’t really give a fuck about what’s happening just below their noses. Actually, I’d like to think the latter. 

Three weeks after the incident someone had claimed that the place has been sold to him a month ago. A bullshit coincidence, I know. The meat shop was perfect to operate any illegal business because of the underground basement that covered the whole block and has numerous exit tunnels for getaways. 

I licked my lips in anticipation as the establishment’s door clicked shut.

I know who they are. I know what they did. And I perfectly know what would happen to them. 

‘Later.’ I told to myself. ‘Be patient, there’s a lot of time to play later.’

Thinking about what had happened three weeks ago in this very place sent ugly chills down to my spine. They’re going to pay and I would make sure of it. Mr. Lockhart which was the rightful owner of the shop was tortured and found dead inside, leaving his family in full agony from his loss and the loss of the only business that had been supporting them financially.

And besides, he had been one of the few people in the city that had been kind to me even before my mom, Rose Davis adopted me. 

Lucky him, I just have the impulse to avenge his unjust death.

The morning he was found, the police can no longer recognize him. His left arm was cut off up to his elbows and when they said it was cut off the authority didn’t mean it was cut clean, it was minced into very tiny pieces of flesh. 

His mouth froze into a silent scream or probably because it was stretched to its limit with his tongue missing inside. His ears were also missing which was suspected of being on the aluminum basin with his minced left hand. The brutality of the murder hadn't stopped there. His head was mercilessly skinned revealing the thin layer of flesh on his head masking his face with red dried fluid as he bleed to death. 

In conclusion, Mr. Lockhart's face was a mask of pure horror and agony before he took his last shuddering breath. 

I admit they’re good but not as good as me. I peeked at the small gap of the closed window beside me and a triumphant smile blooms through my face.

They’d just walk on a trap.

Now, for the fun part of the evening.

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