Feast or Mammon

Sam rolled down the window and leaned out. Between the wind and his fuzzy vision, he wasn't going to be very accurate at all, but he knew that suppressing fire was all that was really necessary to buy them just a few more seconds. He aimed the pistol in the direction of the men and let off several shots, firing until the magazine was empty. After he heard the click of an empty pistol he tossed it back in. "I'm out." He wheezed. "Get us the fuck outta here."

The men ducked behind whatever they could find, mainly the other cars. Eventually the bullets stopped and one of the men stood up, watching the car drive off away from the location. He picked up a radio and activated it. "They're moving down the road....gotta be at two hundred meters by now" the man said.

On top of the roof, the assassin had set up a sniping location, using a tripod attachment on his weapon to make sure that he was balanced and accurate. Next to him, he had a small device that allowed him to see just how strong the wind was. He looked at it before moving his eye to the scope, watching the car drive for a few more moment before seeing where two cars were parked on either side of the road. They'd have to drive down the middle to get through them. Just as Mute made the turn to go between the two cars, he pulled the trigger.

The bullet pierced the back window, shattering the glass as the car veered off course. Bumping into one of the cars, the car crashed, sending Sam through the glass windshield and behind a nearby dumpster. It would take Sam a few moments to fully collect himself, but as he looked back he'd see a horrifying pictures. Mute's limp body was laying over the hood of the car, a bullet wound going from the back of his head through his forehead. His mouth hanged open limply, his injured tongue hanging out lifelessly.

Mute was dead.

Sam stared at the scene before him, stunned. The adrenaline pumping through his body and the sight of Mute's corpse brought a resurgence of energy through his body. He needed to evacuate, and he needed to evacuate NOW. It was a sniper shot, and it came from the building they had just driven away from. He had to avoid direct line of sight with it, so he ducked down the alley way he had been thrown into, making his way to the street on the far side. With the number of buildings between the two and ways back to main roads, the sniper would have no chance of being able to keep up with his movements. Still, once Sam was in the open, he broke into a powerful sprint, running significantly faster than the car they had just been driving in. Even if the assassin had kept track of him, at this distance, the sniper would have one hell of a time lining up a headshot; not even Hawk could hit such a small target moving at such high speeds from that distance, and Sam felt convinced there was no better sniper in the business.
Once Sam felt confident he was out of range of any further sniper fire, he ducked into an alleyway, pulled out his cell phone and dialed Charon's number. He paced impatiently back and forth, scanning the streets in case anyone was coming by. "Pick up the damn phone, Charon... Pick up..."

The assassin was good, but he wasn't that good. He had only hit Mute because the cars had forced him in to a choke point. Sam would be moving in such a confusing manner that the assassin knew he couldn't hit him. He just lifted up his gun and looked to the car where Mute's corpse was left abandoned. "One down" he said quietly before turning and walking away from his perch.

Charon glanced down at his phone as he saw that Sam was calling him. "Record time boys" Charon said to himself before answering the phone and placing it on speaker. "Sam, how much were you able to score tonight? Give me an estimate" he said, assuming that Sam was calling to report a job well done.

"Mute's dead." Sam panted, deciding it better not to mince words. "Place was a trap. No drugs, no cash, no nothing but some super and reinforcements." His breathing was labored; he had pushed his body to its limit in his escape, and the pain in his shoulder was starting to get to him. "Sniper shot to the back of the head while we were making our escape. I have no clue if they're following me or not, I'm gonna lay low in a safe house until I'm certain I don't have a tail."

Silence, that was all Sam received from the other end of Charon's phone. Sam would hear a few background noises, but nothing that directly came from Charon himself. The silence was likely more concerning to Sam than anything else. "The super, I take it he was the one responsible?" Charon asked in a seemingly calm voice. "What's the info, what do you know about him?"

"Some sorta sound suppression. Negates all sound when he's nearby. Apart from that, highly trained assassin. Pistols, hand-to-hand combat, blades, sniping... This guy has some serious training under his belt. Never heard of anything like this before, must be some new pet of Mammon's." He wiped his forehead. "Held his own in pitch black against Mute and me."

"I'll have to do some research, see if I can learn anything about this" Charon said quietly. "Keep your head down, message me with your location and anything you might need if you're going to stay low for a few days. Nurse your wounds and get ready, I'll have need of you soon" Charon said quietly before hanging up the phone and not giving Sam the chance to say anything again. Charon just stared at the floor as the conversation ended. For the first time in many years, Charon felt alone.

"Yes sir." Sam said, not realizing Charon had already hung up. He ran his fingers through his red hair; Mute was dead. He died, right there next to him. Who was this guy? Where the hell did he come from? Father had long kept an eye on Mammon, and NEVER did he mention they had an assassin of this caliber, and that's the sort of thing Sam would immediately be notified about. Sam made his way to the nearest safehouse, a building that used to be a butcher's shop, but was put out of business a few years ago due to gang pressure on them when the owners didn't pay protection money. Sam was going to keep his head down and try to avoid popping his head up until his shoulder was fixed; as skilled and strong as he was, he didn't think he could do much fighting with only one arm...


Simon Brushwell smiled as he hung up the phone. The trap had worked wonderfully; while he was hoping the Red Diamonds - or "Typhon" as they were called these days - would send more men to die, taking out one of their officers would be a wonderful swing in their favor. They had the numbers to afford losing the ten men who died. With Father out of the picture and their officers getting picked off one by one, their new leader would have to submit sooner or later.

It would be later that night when someone came in to the office. "Beg your pardon sir, but I thought you'd want to see this for yourself" one of his men said before turning to the door. "Bring him in boys" he instructed.

Two men walked in, carrying a man who was slumped over. He was covered in blood, multiple deep cuts over his entire body. They weren't deep enough to do anything lethal, but someone had planted these injuries in several key areas on purpose. These were injuries made to hurt, not to kill. The man just looked to Simon, his breathing heavy as it seemed like he had to fight to stay conscious. "He came out of nowhere boss...HIM" he said, knowing that Simon would understand he was referring to Charon. "He did this to me, and he wanted you to have this" the man said as he looked down to his exposed chest. In the middle of his stomach an envelope had been stapled in to the man's stomach. It looked like there was something slightly heavy in there along with a note...

Simon was jarred by the scene, but refused to let it show in front of his men. He walked around his desk and ripped the envelope off of his man's gut, causing him to let out a scream of pain. "Get him some medical attention, immediately. And keep on your toes from now on; things seem like they're only gonna be getting bloodier..." Once the men left, he allowed himself to go pale. He was expecting retaliation, but this... Well, if the stories about him were true, Charon certainly did have a flair for the dramatic... He looked at the envelope, nervous at its contents. He lifted his shirt over his nose, just in case it was laced with something like anthrax, and cautiously opened it...

The first thing to be removed was a letter. It was written by hand:

"Dear Simon,

Our work is a costly one, we sacrifice men everyday in our attempts to gain more power. While I am aware that you and I were on a road that was going to lead to a collision, I must admit that you did something I didn't expect. You surprised me, and I'm rarely surprised. Hiring a Super like this was something I didn't take in to consideration. It was one of those things that I just assumed we'd leave off the table for this bout. However, you did it and now you've struck down one of my most loyal men.

This is your one warning. You've started playing the war drums, you are opening a door that you can no longer close. The death of every single one of your men is the cost of your actions today. You, your family, and your friends, all of them are dead. No matter how old, young, or innocent they are. I'm pissed off because you just signed all of their death warrants. You have now let loose the dogs of war. Enjoy the last few days of your life. I'm coming for you.

Charon"

After reading the letter, Simon would still feel the weight of something in the envelope. As he turned it over, two golden coins landed in his palm. The price had now been paid.