Death:
A Decision
(...but not yours)
"Bring him here," a low voice commanded from the recesses of the newly uncovered chamber, the tone quiet and almost weak, but with a deep timbre that called for nothing short of absolute compliance.
Shaad was completely unresponsive as the six drugged swordsman he'd previously grievously wounded picked up his limp body and carried him into the large hidden cavern where the mysterious, haunting echo originated from. Head hanging idly, he couldn't hear the noiseless murmurs being exchanged over his pliable form or see as the man he'd assumed to be the leader stood up, brushing himself free of the dirt and debris that had collected on top of him after Shaad's final attack with a sneer before dropping to a knee and bowing his head in the direction of the authoritative voice, silent and complicit even as Shaad was dragged over by him.
With an order to rise from the as yet unseen figure, the man then turned his gaze over to the fallen young fighter and donned a condescending smirk as the boy's obvious last ditch attack merely left him with a single scar running off center down his torso and a few minor scratches and bruises marring the solid muscle of his chiseled chest and sculpted arms.
"Is this him?" the masculine voice questioned. The owner of which seemed to be a frail, weakened old man covered in an oversized cloak that seemed to engulf his small frame, his spindly limbs making him look more like a fleshy sack of bones than a feared faction leader, even with a gorgeous woman, dressed in what constituted little more than a loincloth, flanking him on either side. However, the eerie tune created as his inch long fingernails, peeking from underneath the sleeves of his cloak, rapped on the armrest of his simple, yet elegant, throne in impatience - the same BM logo as was on the women's backs embroidered onto the seat - as well as the sharp glare that struck out from beneath the cowl of the hood belied the image of an old man approaching death as did the cusped falchion leaning against the seat.
"Yes, that's him," a soft female voice hesitantly responded as the brunette who'd been complicit in stealing Shaad's things stepped from the shadow of the enigmatic leader's high-backed throne. "That's the man that killed Rooster."
The old man's deep inset eyes stared at the unconscious Shaad as if trying to discern the young man's entire history though all he saw was the back of the pirate's drooping head. Several tense seconds passed as his gaze lingered on the helpless youth before he finally spoke again with one direct command. "Wake him."
At those words, two of the still masked warriors grabbed one of Shaad's arms each and hoisted his upper body up while the presumed vice-leader grabbed his chin in a strong hand and looked down at him with a combination of contempt, admiration, and disgust. "Nap time's over," the muscled man mocked before roughly twisting Shaad's head and slugging him across the jaw with a solid cross. When Shaad showed no reaction, the second-in-command delivered another stinging blow across his face, followed by another, and another, and another, at increasingly shortened intervals until the leader's frail but powerful voice demanded the punishment cease.
"Stop. At this rate, he'll die before he wakes up; I want him awake first." Even as his chilling voice spoke such harsh words, the aged leader lifted a bony finger in a silent command.
Almost immediately, another tanned girl wearing nothing but a small loincloth covering her privates ran up beside him with a bowl of powerful smelling chips and shavings submerged in an aromatic liquid and covered with a thin rag. "The hartshorn, Master."
"Good; place it before our guest."
Just as the bowl was placed on the floor in front of Shaad, his head was shoved down into the concoction, only the small rag keeping him from drowning as the heady scent invaded his nasal passages and lungs and breathed life into his weary, worn body.
Shaad's eyes gradually opened to a sloshing blackness as he opened his mouth and struggled to draw breath through the wet rag that filled it. He struggled against the force holding his head down, but he was far too weak, only able to squirm in futile resistance. With his vision fading to a darker, more solid black and the inability to draw in fresh air, Shaad began to feel as if he'd been revived only to be killed. It wasn't until he started sputtering for breath into the ammonia laced liquid that he felt a hand yank his head back where he greedily sucked in lungfuls of air, the deep burning in his nasal cavity and lungs a secondary concern as he feasted on precious oxygen. He was still breathing in deep, ragged breaths when his eyes finished adjusting to the light in the room, and once he was able to make out distinct figures, the first thing his eyes settled on was the raven haired ebony female. Immediately recognizing her, a fierce scowl took hold of Shaad's features as he glared at her, too weak to do anything more. But, as his eyes shifted to the right, it took all of his self-control not to shrink at the deep set, imposing eyes staring back at him from under the dark brown cloak.
It was then that Shaad became aware of the hands pressing down on his shoulders while simultaneously holding his slack body up. Shirking under the weight of the pressure, Shaad noted the masked men bearing down over each shoulder. But, an unparalleled rage flashed in his eyes at the sight of the man he'd previously assumed to be the leader, standing obstinately (albeit with clear reverence to his present superior) in only the dress pants of his previous three piece suit and suspenders stretched over his broad, only slightly scarred, chest. It was hard to tell which was more upsetting to Shaad - the fact that the man was still alive or how relatively little Shaad's desperate last attack actually did - but his attentions were immediately yanked elsewhere as the obvious leader and elder spoke to him in a low, bone chilling voice.
"You're young and foolish enough to attack the Black Mafia Family," he stated with a fair bit of scorn. "How'd you like to come work for me. There's always room for someone as fearless as yourself, provided that fearlessness has limits. . . and you're willing to. . . atone for your transgressions."
Shaad chuckled lightly, letting his head fall forward to obscure the demented smirk he wore. "Fearless," he questioned. "I'm scared shitless right now. . . But, even so, I'd never join you."
"Why you little -" The shirtless second reached out to strangle Shaad, and the brash pirate was powerless to resist as the pair of strong hands locked thick fingers around his throat.
"Stop." The authoritative command halted the second before he could begin wringing out Shaad's neck, and Shaad gave a defiant smirk at his fortune before the leader declared, "If not fearless, that leaves one option: completely stu-"
"Mad," Shaad interrupted. "Mad at being toyed with by the little girl on your side and her friend. Mad at being stripped, drugged, and robbed. . . And, pissed the fuck off at having two goons sent to kill me. But, I dealt with all that when I found the guy that sent 'em, your boy. . . Rat, Rudy, whatever. I wanted the girls, but I could settle for him; I was sated. Your mans here, though," Shaad declared, motioning his head to the muscled man on his right as he continued, "that wasn't enough for him. He riled me up and invited me to take a shot for the top - which I thought was him. After all that, it'd be rude of me not to come, especially when the opportunity for closure was so close at hand." Shaad's last sentence was heavy with sincere sarcasm, but the leader remained unresponsive, listening closely as Shaad finished his tale.
"Is that true," were his only words, speaking to no one in particular but, at the same time, everyone involved. The ensuing combination of awkward silence and wary expressions gave him his answer, and his response was straightforward and succinct. "I'll take care of mine, but you must pay for your crimes as well." His voice then took on a new energy as he lifted his frail body upright and added, "As a special prize, I'll show you why you aren't scared enough."
With those words, the leader reached a bony hand under the folds of his cloak and withdrew a small plastic baggie that contained a white powder substance. Using one of his razor like nails, he then cut an opening into the baggie and ripped the sleeve covering his resting arm before spreading the baggie's contents on his arm in a fine line, specks of light blue twinkling in the pristine powder. But, it was all gone in an instant as the elderly man snorted the entire line in a single go, taking pleasure in the shivers it sent through his entire body.
As soon as the tingling passed, he gripped the arms of his throne and stood tall, his whole being emanating a newfound strength as his musculature seemed to shift before Shaad's very eyes. The changing man lurched forward, bony fingers wrapped around the aged, leather bound hilt of the cusped falchion on his hip being dragged lazily along the ground. The sound of his old bones straining and creaking filling the air as they straightened and strengthened, bringing him to an impressive height while his muscles expanded to stretch the loose, elastic skin taut, providing enviable definition. A look of sadistic joy covered his face as his body shifted from that of an old man of over 100 and on the verge of the death to one of a man in his late 50's/ early 60's who worked out constantly and possessed a musculature that world class sprinters and gymnasts would be envious of. With his body being altered and expanding, the worn cloak fell from his face first, exposing the narrow, sharp features and hooked, almost pointed, nose before falling off completely, revealing a chiseled chest and arms in addition to the strong legs that were already visible, all covered in a myriad of old scars as well as two large ones that stood out crossing over his torso under the ancient armor themed tattoo that painted his upper chest and shoulders.
Once he'd fully undergone the unexpected metamorphosis, he stood almost half a foot over anyone else in the room, and when he spoke, his voice no longer sounded tired and weak, only further increasing the uneasiness and fear his new presence incited as killer intent and bloodlust poured off him in thick waves. "Let this overwhelming fear freeze your soul in the afterlife. Prepare him."
The masked men then yanked Shaad to where his body was upright from the knees up. He'd regained enough energy to hold this position himself, but wouldn't make it that easy on them. . . until two sickles hooked around his neck by the muscle bound lieutenant compelled him to be especially compliant and straighten his back completely. Both the boss and underboss exchanged foreboding looks causing Shaad to swallow the growing lump in his throat, the blades around his throat making themselves known as he did so.
And, with the blades biting into every side of his neck, taunting him, Shaad's eyes remained open and glued on the man slowly approaching him. The leader moved with deliberate steps, flexing his fingers and cracking his joints as if adjusting to his altered body. Shaad knew death was near and readied for it with a defiant glare, refusing to show weakness in the face of insurmountable odds.
But, just as the leader began to deliver Shaad a slow, torturous death, pained screams escaping through gritted teeth and pervading the isolated cavern, he was interrupted by the loud ringing of a distant den den mushi.
"Put it on speaker," the leader commanded of one of the nearly naked female attendants that stayed near him, ceasing his planned execution as a commanding voice emanated from the other end, foregoing the usual formalities and getting straight to the point.
"Tell me why one of my biggest business partners just called and demanded I immediately stop the leader of my West Blue operations," the voice boomed.
"Boss, to what do I owe the honor?" the leader replied, his voice shaky like a child being scolded by his father.
"Answer my question or you'll have the honor of finding out how vicious my business partners can be," the domineering voice threatened. "Upsetting them is my pleasure; do so without my permission and the consequences will be all yours."
Shaad listened intently as the man on the other end admonished his subordinate, inadvertently saving Shaad's life in the process. The young pirate's brow creased in a bewildered expression, though, as Shaad thought he recognized the voice. Once the last sentence was spoken, Shaad's eyebrows shot into his hairline and instant recognition flashed over his features as it suddenly came to him. "Uncle!?" he called out in surprise and questioning, drawing perplexed stares from others in the room.
The voice on the other end lightened up significantly as he responded to Shaad's sudden outburst. "Of course. I should've known when he called making demands," the man chided himself. "Tell me, Cornelious, how is your father? He wasn't exactly in a chatting mood."
"Uncle, help! They're going to kill me!" He was able to scream as the blades around his neck were loosened and remained lax on his shoulders.
"Tsk tsk," the man admonished Shaad. "Cornelious, this isn't like you. I don't remember you being so prone to overreacting in the past. . . My men are smart," he commented. "I'm sure they saw the two swords you're no doubt carrying on your back and immediately recognized them as the infamous Chiryoku and Tairyoku. They were probably just testing you; you're destined to carry a lot of responsibility after all." Even without allowing time for a response, the man opened the floor for Shaad to tell his story. "But, all that aside, why don't you tell me why you think they want to kill you."
While Shaad succinctly summarized the main points of the night's events, he felt the blades that had been around his neck completely leave his person. The vice-leader had tucked them back into his belt on the small of his back and used the time it took for Shaad's recounting of events to inform his direct superior that there was an unwanted guest listening in.
Before either of them could do anything to quietly be rid of the hidden person, though, their attentions were claimed by the voice of their shared superior. "You've grown quite a bit since I last saw you (cowering behind your mother); to think my men weak is no small feat. However, I can't just let you walk out of here after killing hundreds of my men."
"But -," Shaad's objection was cut short by a sudden newcomer hastily barging into the room, screaming, "Daddy, no," in a panic.
"Luna, go back to your room," the branch's leader commanded of the adorable little girl of no more than eight years old. Luna sucked in a deep breath and puffed out her cheeks, stomping her foot defiantly from her spot in front of a kneeling Shaad.
"Lulu," Shaad sounded in surprise.
"Cuzzie Sha," Luna squealed happily, glomping him in a tight hug, her small arms squeezing his already sore neck in her excitement. Shaad weakly returned the hug, simultaneously attempting to pry himself free, though she soon relented anyway to voice her displeasure with her father. "You can't hurt Cuzzie Sha, daddy."
"I'm not going to hurt him, sweetie," the fear inducing man answered softly through the den den mushi. "Cuzzie Sha here just has to leave soon, but I'm sure you'll see him again. Now, be a good girl; go back to your room, sweetie, and let the grown-ups talk. Cornelious may need some first aid, though. You can take care of that, right?"
"Uh-huh." The little girl was highly pleased at hearing that, but before she could skip out and do as her daddy asked, she was stopped by the once fragile, elderly man. "Wait, Luna," he called. "How long were you listening through the door?" While the man was fearful of interrupting his boss, he needed to know the answer. It would be difficult to explain his previous actions to an innocent, albeit naive, little girl.
"I started listening when I heard daddy's voice," she answered cheerily. "I can't wait to see daddy again." The man was relieved and let a small smile cross his face as the little girl left, but that was quickly replaced by a serious scowl as Shaad spoke directly to the boss.
"What did you mean by that; I'll be leaving soon?"
"Exactly that. Word will soon spread across that island about how a lone man went against the Black Mafia Family. You can't be allowed to just stay there without consequence or it would reflect poorly on my men and my name, and that would cause trouble."
"How am I supposed to leave without a ship?" Shaad asked.
There was initially a sigh over the line as if the man was growing increasingly exasperated with Shaad's continued questions. "A cargo ship under my command will be arriving there in two weeks' time. You'll be on that ship when it leaves or else I won't guarantee your safety. In the meantime, keep a low profile."
"And, what of my friend?"
"Same goes for them," he answered. "But if you're foolish enough to think you're ready to take on a marked man from my organization, go right ahead." At those last words, Shaad looked at the leader as if it was his first time seeing him. Surely enough, on his right hip, the top of a 'Z' was barely visible, and Shaad, remembering what it meant to be 'marked' in his 'uncle's' organization, knew this wasn't a fight he could win, not at his current level. While those thoughts ran through his head, the boss on the other end of the call spoke to the leader of the area they were in. "Luo Qan, I'll arrange for reinforcements to arrive in the coming weeks; use this chance to bring your house under control."
The leader, Luo Qan, promptly nodded his head and answered with a forceful "Yes, sir," but Shaad was quick to interject with a completely unrelated proposal of his own.
"Wait, uncle. Let me take LuLu, I mean Luna, with me; this is no place for her. I'll bring her straight to you."
Everyone immediately saw the threatening scowl the man wore through the imitative den den mushi and the air was still for a second before he responded in a bone chillingly serious tone. "I'm doing you a favor because of who your father is and our shared past; don't push your luck. My daughter is there for likely the same reason your dad pushed you out: you're both too weak to survive in this world. I'd hate to have to start a war because your weakness got my youngest daughter killed."
Shaad hated being called weak, but he knew better than to oppose this man and simply swallowed his pride and took the insult, not registering anything else until a command came over the receiver a short while later. "Send him back." The next thing Shaad felt was a sharp pain in the back of his neck before his whole world went black and he was out like a light.