The year is 1930, a strong winter had hit London hard. Snow filled the streets like a thick sheet of paper. Winds were chilly, freezing to the bone. People with common sense were inside drinking hot beverages.
It would've been a rare sight to see a lone person walking through the seemingly desolate streets. In a store a young cashier noticed a man walking past the building. A strange sight. The temperature was at about 20° F but the man had only what looked to be a thin black shirt.
The cashier quickly ran out the door scared that the man might have been too drunk to even register the cold. Something that has caused the death of meany people at this time of year. Once he's outside the man in question had already dissapeared.
The cashier quickly rubs his eyes and shakes his head believing he was just hallucinating. But he couldn't be more wrong. Because on this very night something gruesome will happen, involving the man in black.
A figure walks down the street in a slow fashion. The cold not affecting him in the slightest. His long, wavy, black hair moves with the wind.
His sea green eyes are slightly illuminated by the lamp posts at the sidewalks edge. His boots crunch the snow under his feet, the sound echoing through the empty street. His long strides make it so he looks like he's walking fast.
The clothing on his body is few. A thin black silk shirt, with some dark blue jeans on his lower body. Some black boots, and leather fingerless gloves on his hands.
What makes his attire even more strange is the fact of two blades strapped to leather belt on each side of his hips. Blach sheaths that matched with his whole apparel. They were somewhat hidden due to his shirt.
The way the the man carried himself was intimidating. His posture and his presence seemed to scream warrior. Eyes of a man who has seen unimaginable things. As well as a serious look that would make you want to submit to him.
In total this man was a total badass.
The black haired person turned the corner walking into an alley. The place was dark and errie. Only a single light illuminated the small alley. And it smelled like a rats behind.
Two men in the distance could be seen right next to a big wooden door. He had arrived to his destination at last. With one last step he stopped in front of the door. "Hey you can't get in. This is private property." The man on the left side of the door told him.
The man was tall, with a funny hat on his head. Red hair, and green eyes adorned his head and face. A big coat to keep the cold out, some black slacks, and some tan boots. His face was contorted into a type of scowl mixed with a frown.
"I don't think he can understand you, the little twit." The man on his right laughs at his insult. His voice is slightly raspy and deep. This man is also tall with brown hair and hazel green eyes. With the same attire but with black boots and a black scarf looped around his neck.
The black haired stranger is annoyed by their accent. Added with their condescending tone and their insults made it harder for him to keep his cool. Throughout the years the only thing he could not stand was peoples accent.
The man on the left puts his shoulder on the strangers shoulder. A small smirk forms on the strangers mouth. You shouldn't have done that. The stranger says in his mind.
The sound of air being cut rings. A flash of a black glints from the moonlight. In an instant the stranger had pulled out his knife and cut the mans throat. Blood erupted from the jugular spilling everywhere staining the strangers clothes. The crimson liquid flowed done his neck staining the mans clothes.
The other man reaches for his gun, one that was hidden in the back of his slacks."You piece of shi-"
Before the man can even finish his sentence or take out his gun a knife had already pierced through his skull. Just like before crimson liquid ran down the mans face painting the snow red. The stranger pulls the knife out the skull while watching the mans eyes roll to the back of his head.
"I just got this washed." The stranger pulls his shirt and griamces at the stains. His voice is a bit deep but he doesn't sound like he's old. The man wipes his wicked looking knife on his jeans.
The knife is incredible looking. The whole blade is black and hollow. From the tip of the blade up there is a three inch sedated piece sicking out. It then bends back in, then where the blade touches the hilt is also serated.(look up archeage daggers and you'll know what I'm trying to describe.) The grip is wrapped around with a dark grey, durable leather. What would catch the eye even more is the strange runes that are engraved on both sides of the blades.
The man, kicks the door open and walks in. Stairs that lead up to the second story creak as he walks up them. Exhaling he stops in front of a another smaller wooden door. A slight feeling of anxiety picks up in the man. A small smile forms on his face.
He pushes the door open and let's himself in. "Ah Tom, I need y-" A man behind a desk filled with money looks up at the stranger. His eyes widen seeing his blood all over the strangers clothes. "Who the bloody hell are you?!" The man behind the desk screams out.
He reaches under the desk for a gun that's strapped to the bottom of it. In a second a knife slices through his hand pinning it to the desk. A scream of agony reverberates of the wall. Surely due to the room being soundproof. So sounds never leave the confines of the place.
Tears flow our of the man's blue eyes. A hat that was once on his head reveals his blond hair. The stranger pulls his grey coat then puts his hand on the back of the mans head. The hand quickly slams the mans face into the desk. The blond groans loudly in pain.
A red liquid flows our of his nose. The blonde hissed and cusses, he looks up at the stranger and glares. If looks could kill, then the stranger would have died a hundred times over.
"Is your name Frederick Moores?" The man claimed to be Frederick spits blood on the floor a sign meaning fuck you. The black haired man grabs Fredericks hair and slams his face once again on the desk. This time effectively breaking his nose. The stanger knew for a fact that this man was Frederick, but he wanted the man to outright say it.
Tears flow out of Frederick's face even more. Blood stains the money and his clothes. The pain from his broken nose was nothing compared to how his impailed hand hurt.
"Who the fuck are you?" Frederick manages to get out. Him not neglecting the name Frederick means the black haired man had the right person. The stranger pulls up a chair in front of the desk. Sitting down he takes out his other knife twirling it on his fingers.
"I'll take you asking me for my name as a sign that you are in fact Frederick Moores. The name is Ark. Like an ark of destruction or something like that. Though my name is not important. I want to know about what happened in a little town close by Chicago." The name Ark was made up. The strangers original name was thrown away after he lost everything.
"I'm not telling you shit!" The blondes head snaps to the side. Teeth fly out of his mouth skidding on the floor. Ark's punch had almost knocked him unconscious, even if he had been holding back a considerable amount. The stranger rubs his fist not satisfied with the force the punch had.
"Next time you say the wrong thing-" Ark twirls the knife close to the other mans face scaring him. His eyes widen and he starts to breath heavily. "-this knife will go straight through your head." Stabbing the desk he sticks the knife into the wood, leaving it there as sign. A sign that Ark is serious about wanting the man to answer correctly.
"Now, what do you know about the town of Aldeene." Frederick looks at the knife then at him. He does it a couple of times before he stays completely quiet. "I'll give you three seconds to answer."
"1..."
Beads of sweat flow down Fredericks neck. The fear in his eyes are the only thing you can see in his blue orbs.
"2..."
The man opens his mouth. Ark looks at him, he raises an eyebrow waiting for words to come out his mouth. Quickly Frederick shuts his mouth closed. The knife weilding man sighs in dissapointed rubbing the back of his neck.
"3.." Ark leans in, grabs the blondes other hand, then runs his knife through it. "Gahh!" A loud shout of pain erupts from Frederick's mouth. Excruciating pain is the only thing Frederick seems to register.
Now both of the mans hands are pinned down to the desk. Frederick bites his lips trying to stop himself from uncontrollably crying. "I'm going to ask again. What do you know about the town of Aldeene?" Arks voice is cold and distant sending a cold vibe down the whimpering mans spine.
Ark sits back down on his chair and scoots it up closer to the desk. "Ok, a few years ago a man came in. He was dressed in a fancy suit looked like a filthy rich type of guy. At first I thought he had the wrong place but he told me that he knew what I was. So I asked him what he wanted. He said that he didn't want me to hunt in a few specific areas. The guy paid me a few million pounds, I haven't seen that much money in my life." Frederick barely manages to utter the words before he starts to breath heavily once again
Ark leans forward propping his elbows on the desk intertwining his fingers together. "Do you remember what this man looked like?"
Frederick unconsciously moves his eyes to the left. Meaning he's actually trying to recollect what the man looked like. "He had long black hair, like a women's, green eyes, and he was white-skinned. He also carried a staff with a blue diamond on the top of it. He never let that thing go."
Ark leans back in his chair taking it all in. A rough sketch, provided by what Frederick told him, had been made in his mind. Considering how he looked, he roughly estimated he was about 6'0. And also a skinny man.
Frederick looks at his hands fearing that he will no longer be able to use them In fact he was right. The loss of blood was too much, his hands would have to be amputated if he wanted to live. Of course anybody would want to live even if they had to sacrifice their hands.
Silence. Neither Ark or Frederick say anything. Ark is thinking at a hundred a minute trying to figure out many things at a time. Like what might be the current position of the man coukd be by the small informstion he had. Frederick is silent in fear of getting his head sliced clean off by the man in black.
"So where are these locations you are talking about." Ark breaks the silence. The scared man looks at him, he then looks at another desk across the room. Ark turns around. He notices what Frederick had been looking at.
The desk looks reinforced. Metal covered every inch of it making it impossible for a person to break into it. Four locks on the door so it would be unpickable. All in all it looked like a safe.
But why would they have such a thing here? Crusaders are known for being secretive but not that much. They have their own organization which keeps all of the files. Maybe some backwater deals have been made here by some corrupt Crusaders. Then in a second the stranger manage to come up with an answer for the unusual safe.
"Interesting, you didn't tell me you had left the Crusaders. That's why you had taken a job like that, no Crusader in their right mind would do that. In fear of the brotherhood coming down to wipe everybody out. Anybody who's inside the crusaders know that it has to go through a superior for a bribe to work.
Before Frederick can say anything a knife had cut his head off with precision. The head rolled right under the desk. Ark stops the head with his foot, not even fazed by gruesome sight. A pool of blood had accumulated on the floor filling the cracks between the wood.
Ark kicks the head away. Getting up from his chair he puts one of his knifes back into its sheath. He walks up to the safe. Taking his other knife he slices the top part of it off.
The safe was filled with paper and loads of money. But not Pounds, it was money ranging from US currency to Japanese Yen. He goes back to where the beheaded body of Frederick was and grabs a messenger back that was slung around his chair.
After filling the bag with all of the documents and money Ark walks out of the place. it was still dark out and the alley was still only slightly visible. A few feet away from the front door Ark encounters some other ex-Crusadors. "What the fuck were you doing in there?!" One of the crusadors yell out.
Due to it being dark, they don't see the bodies of their fellow comrades on the ground. The man who yelled walked a few paces forward. All of sudden the man gurggled out blood from his mouth falling face first into the snow.
Ark flicked his knife free of the excess blood on it. The rest of the ex-Crusadors stood there in shock, they hadn't even seen the strange man move before he had killed on of their best fighters. The stranger was well versed in hand-to-hand combat so killing a fee people was easy for him.
A younger man took out his gun and tried to shoot Ark. Key word, tried. When the gun went off the knife weilding man dissapeared. Then a scream of pain permeated through the night. The young man's intestines fell out of a hole in his stomach. The young man tried to prevent his guts from spilling out but to no avail. He fell to his knees then, crashed onto the snow dead like the other one.
By now all of the other men had their guns out shooting at Ark. All of their shots missed. Not one even grazed the seemingly invincible man. Something incredible, not able to be accomplished by any normal human.
The sight of this man had sent fear into the ex-Crusadors hearts. They who have encountered monsters that dwell in their nightmares of man were terrified of this lone man. No, beast. A beast who struck his enemies down mercilously.
One after another the men fell. Like swatted flies their life ceased from an attack they didn't even see coming.
Ark grabbed a handful of ice and cleaned his knifes. He sheaths them, then proceeds to walk away from the disaster he has caused.
His whole body was stained with blood. Every time he stepped a sloshing sound would go off due to the blood and ice mixing together making a smoothie like substance.
The men's bodies were left as is. A sign that someone had come for the people who were involved with the ex-Crusadors. A sign that meant you are next to anyone who had thoughts of taking revenge.
Ark walked down the poor lit main street once again. Once again the young cashier had seen him walk pass by again but thought it was just imagination again.
As the night passed and the sun rose a loud scream of terror woke even the heaviest sleeper up. People ran out of their house to see what could cause such a scream. The sight of bodies littered on the ground, body parts spread around the alley scared the people.
Many people couldn't hold it in, throwing up what little they had inside their stomach. The stench of iron and bile swept the air. No one could even look at the terrifying sight for more than ten seconds before they were scarred for life.
A local priest made the cross sign with his hands muttering a few prayers. Children were taken home and not allowed to leave to keep them from seeing the travesty.
I'm summary everybody was tripping ball.
The police had arrived thirty minutes later moving all of the spectators out of the way. In the group of spectators were the man who had done this and the young cashier. The young cashier went back to take care of his store.
In the middle of ringing up a customer, Ark had walked into the store. Now wearing a grey coat with a top hat on his head. A way to try to blend in with the other people in the city. "Quite a terrible thing that has happened, am I right?"
The cashier tries to start a conversation with Ark. He had seemed familiar so the cashier thought he might say something that could help him identify Ark. "Yes, but maybe they had it coming."
The knowing tone send a chill down the cashiers spine. How could this man day such thing? Mayne because he was crazy? No. It looked as if this man knew something.
"Well, maybe sir, I really didn't know them that well." Ark puts a roll of bandages on the counter, the cashier raises an eyebrow. He was going to say something before he made eye contact with Ark. Eyes so deep it felt like you were being pulled in stopped the cashier. His gaze made the cashier feel almost insignificant, as though if he wanted to would easily kill him without thinking twice.
The cashier instantly looks down. "That'll be ten pounds sir." Ark puts the money on the counter before walking out of the store.
Walking down the sidewalk Ark looked at the police men taking photos of the bodies. He heard a few things the police officers had said, making him scoff.
If any of you knew what these people let happen, then you too would've wanted to kill them with your bare hands.
An hour later Ark was walking done a plain dirt path making his way towards the next town. Opening his bag he took out a map. The map had places circled and labeled in red. Ark traced a a specific part in Europe that had a red X right next to it.
X marks the spot.
Next stop Madrid, Spain. Hope it's not hot there, I can't stand the heat.