Grando and Ion went strolling to the other
corner of the room, while Grando ruffled in his pocket. He finally
dug out a small chit of paper, and handed it to Ion. Ion pocketed
the slip that held the sum of money he was entitled for this
job.
Grando gave him a friendly smile, patting
him on the shoulder. “You’re the one person I really couldn’t have
done without, old friend.”
Across the hall, Ion could hear the man in
the centre, who had come around, screaming. And the rest of the men
laughing and jeering.
“Anyone else you need me to hunt?” asked
Ion, hoping for a ‘yes.’
Grando mulled over the question for a long
moment, his eyes unfocussed as he thought.
“Plenty,” he said finally. “but not right
now.”
“Tell me when you do,” said Ion, feeling all
of the brutality and senselessness that he had carried for years
return to fully seize him again. “Cause killing is too fun to miss
out.”
And I can’t believe a few hours back I was actually
questioning that …
Grando gave a savage chuckle. “I feel so,
too.”
The screams of the vigilante had grown loud
enough to leave ghastly echoes in the hall.
“Well,” said Grando, licking his lips. “We
don’t wanna miss out on the fun, do we?” He beckoned to the corner
where the men were torturing the vigilante.
Ion cracked his knuckles. “Of course
not.”
Gritting in teeth in hungry anticipating, he
followed Grando down the hall, to where the group of men stood
around a helpless, writhing creature on the floor between them. He
had his head wrapped in his hands, shaking violently. One of his
legs had a nasty cut around it, so that the cloth around it was
soaked in dark crimson.
One of the men turned and handed the man’s
iron mask to Grando, who chuckled looking at the iron helm, before
tossing it aside. The helm bounced on the floor with a metalling
clang.
Ion pulled his sword out and ignited it.
“Shall I?” he asked, looking at Grando.
“Help yourself.”
Screaming wildly, Ion let his sword sink
right through the side of the man’s torso, away from his vital
parts so as to ensure he didn’t die. The agony choked the man’s
screams, his hands trembling as they clutched his head. The men’s
laughter boomed after his scream, revelling in the anguish of the
whimpering creature amidst them.
“I guess we can end it now,” said Grando.
“put him off his misery.”
“We don’t have to.” said one of the men,
wagging the gun he was holding – a Stinger. “We gave him five shots
of it. He’s gonna die anyway.”
“No need to leave chances,” said Grando. “We
need this one dead far too crucially.” Pulling out his Sparkler, he
walked up and sent a hurling kick at the body on the ground. The
man rolled over on the ground, so that Ion saw his young face … a
familiar face.
It was Eol.
To be continued …