Dante looked over the pages inside of the folder he was just handed. It was over a job that just seemed too much of a mess.

"I'm not doing it." Dante closed the folder, scooting it back towards the man standing across from him. It was some guy from Chicago. He didn't give his name, not even an alias. He just said he was representing a "very powerful man."

"Why not?" The man leaned across Dante's desk. He was a thin man, barely any muscle. He dressed like a business man, but his face had a scar on the cheek. He looked rather thuggish. "It's not a hard job at all. Just go in, whack this guy and all the money's yours."

Dante put his feet up, attempting to relax. This guy felt very off to him, so it was difficult to keep his hands off his guns. "I run into your type all the time: You think you can come in and pay me to 'whack' some guy just because he pissed off the wrong man." Dante closed his eyes. "I'm not a hired gun for some mob boss."

The man was silent after that. He nailed it right on the money. The man then picked up a large briefcase he'd carried in earlier, slamming it on the table. "This man isn't someone who pissed off a mob boss." His voice went from thuggish and cocky to downright evil. Dante had to open his eyes to believe it was the same man. "He is a mob boss. Alone, he's killed hundreds of my associates."

"Turf war, huh?" Dante sat up normally. He wasn't in the mood for this. "I'm not a hit man."

"I know. See, I am here because we've heard of your skills going up against the 'supernatural'." Dante eyed the man as he pulled out an envelope from his jacket pocket. "These are why I am speaking to you and not some average mercenary."

Dante opened the folder. It was full of pictures. The one on top showed the disgusting image of a man torn completely in half vertically. A sick little smirk hit his lips. "What the hell is this?"

"That is what this man has done to my associates." He nodded towards the envelope, egging Dante on to look at more of them. As he looked through each picture, his sick little grin slowly got bigger. They were disgusting, like something tore through them. Like an animal. Bodies were torn in half, limbs were scattered, corpses were impaled with objects and there were bullet holes along with all of this mess.

"Couldn't show me these earlier?"

The man just stood there, sizing Dante up. "I figured you'd go for the job as soon as I said the amount of pay. These were a last resort."

Dante put the pictures down. "Tell me who you really are." The man didn't say anything. "Tell me who you are or it is a definite 'no'."

"Who I am isn't important and my employer wishes to be kept secret. All you need to know is everything I've told you. This man is dangerous and needs to be put down, but no normal man can do that." The man smirked. "You, Dante, are no normal man."

"I don't know how you know that and honestly, I really don't care." He grabbed the folder again, opening it to the first of many pages. "You have proof this guy did this?"

The man pulled out one last picture from his jacket pocket. "Here it is."

It was a picture of a man, standing above a corpse. Long, dark hair covered his face and a pistol in his hand. What interested Dante wasn't any of these details. It was the black mass behind him. It looked as if it was connected to him. It looked alive.

Dante was silent, grinning at the picture. "How you wanting to pay?"

The man put the briefcase on his desk, opening it. Inside was the money offered for the job: $25 Million. "Up front. We're also covering travel expenses for you as well."

Dante whistled. "That's a lot of cash. This guy really worth it?"

"Worth more, if you wish."

Dante closed the briefcase, patting it greedily. "Alright, I'm sold, but if I find out you're lying about any of this…" Dante pulled out his pistol, aiming right for the man's head. "I will find you."

"Trust me, I'm not lying and even if I was, you would never find me."

Dante scoffed a bit, smiling at the briefcase. The man threw down one last envelope before walking out the door, not saying another word. Dante opened it to find a plane ticket to Chicago for tomorrow morning. They must've known he'd take the job. Dante didn't really like the assumption, but for $25 million, he'll let it slide this time.

"Alright, I guess you're life just got a bit shorter." He put the picture down, going into his bedroom to prepare for this new hunt of his.

He'd left the folder with all the papers on his new target on the desk. On the front cover was the name of his target typed in bold print on a sticker:

Estacado, Jackie