Business As Usual

The war, had been a battle of attrition. Two sides clashed and fought for dominance over the earthly plain they had soiled with their immortal ichor- “They” being the demon overlords and the celestial angels. The sky that had once been a glorious shade of blue was now a canvas of dead stars and cosmic energies that phased in and out of the broken sky. As they fought, these divines held no remorse or guilt for the destruction they were causing to the universe and all life. Even the beings who called themselves “good” held no remorse. After all, “the outcome justifies the evil done”. The battle had waged on for years; the earthly plain turned barren and desolate. The grandeur the little blue planet had once held was turned into an abomination from the pit itself. Rivers, Oceans, seas and the like flowed and bubbled with the silver ichor of fallen angels; while the barren earth land was thickened with ink-colored ichor of the demons. Skeletons and mutilated bodies of the divine littered the earth and the very cosmos-some floating in the sky, others lying beneath the waves of the ichor sea, and more rotting on the surfaces of dead planets. This had truly been a battle of attrition…and like all wars, a victor stood. The demon overlords stood proudly over the corpses of their enemies. Their comrades dying wishes were finally achieved after a millennium of struggle. It was never about “good” or “evil”, all that mattered throughout the entire war was the best strategy, the most resilient soldiers, and total and utter foresight. Well…that was what he had gotten from the abstract painting before him. The red, black and other vibrant splashes on the once blank canvas telling him so. The man in question looked like royalty; high cheek bones, a strong jaw line and an upturned nose. He had pale skin-not the sickly kind but of the men who hailed from the north of the world. His eyes alluring, very so. They were a deep ice-blue, the perfect combination of gray, blue and white that swirled like the monstrosity that was a blizzard. His icy orbs continued to stare at the painting before him; the quietness of the hallway he stood in allowing his thoughts to speak loud and clear. With a preemptive sigh, the man raised a gloved hand to his inner coat and withdrew a silver casing from one of its many pockets. He flipped the casings lid off and withdrew its contents; a lone cigar. He plopped the cigar into his mouth and then proceeded to light it with a lighter he had retrieved from his back pocket. Once lit, he took a long draw from the cigar-letting the tobacco taste linger at the back of his throat-before he let out a large puff of smoke. His icy-blue orbs watched the smoke trail intently-watching it smash across the painting-the almost gray fog giving the painting a new meaning. Unlike one would suspect, the painting before him had not drawn him to it. Of course, he was a profound man who enjoyed indulging himself in the beauty and originality of art and the different perspectives it seemed to offer. But today was different. He was here on business. Very critical and important business. Plus, he tended not to be present when his men were handling the “business”. They often more than not turned into bloody affairs. No one likes blood. Especially on a vintage Italian suit. He took another draw from the cigar. This time using his nose as an out way. His ears twitched. The soft thud of footsteps echoing around the hall drawing his attention. Without turning around, he spoke. His tone flat and straight to the point. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t done. So I’m assuming you and Arthur have the mayor ready and prepped for my arrival, no?” The man that had just arrived sported a roughish look; a scar running all the way through his right eye. The ugliness of it giving his fiery-red hair a menacing look. And just like his boss, he rocked a vintage Italian suit with a trench coat completing the look. “Yes, sir. Everything went according to plan…though we did run into some complications.” One eyebrow twitched. He hated the word “complication”. He preferred all his activities and businesses panning exactly how he intended them to plan out. Oddities were never wanted because they brought “complications” with them. “What ‘complication’, John?” “No time to explain. You’ll…see when we get there.” Nodding his head, John turned around and led his boss in the direction of the mayor’s office. The only sign of them being there was a half-smoked cigar. The journey to the mayor’s office was short. In no time John was pushing two large ebony doors open, allowing for his boss to go in. The moment he stepped into the office, the “complication” made itself known. Seated in the corner, releasing ragged and shallow breathes, was Arthur, his left-hand man and architect, pressing his right hand onto his left thigh as he kept his bleeding to a minimum. Judging from the bloodied knife lying a few feet away from him, it was safe to say that the dear mayor had stabbed him. Ignoring the sight of the tied and gagged up mayor, the leader of the two men turned to his injured comrade. “You okay over there Arthur?” the leader asked, his tone still flat. Arthur raised his head, green orbs met icy-blue ones. A tiny smile crept up the injured man’s face. “Peachy as ever Mr. Stark! The slimy bastard gave me a good one but I gave him a better one instead. Nothing too drastic. Just something to remind him why nobody messes with the Snowflake gang.” And it was true. Aside from his current situation, the mayor was lacking his right eye. In replace of it was a black void. One sipping red and clearly painful. Despite that, the man looked well and kicking. “As long as the bastard is still able to glare at me while looking like a cyclops, I’d say that was a fair trade. Right, Mayor?” The tied up man flinched. The amount of venom he could hear dripping from the man’s mouth as he said his title was unnerving to say the least. “Well then, I believe we can get on with the meeting,” the now named Mr. Stark began, his eyes watching the mayor intently. “Now John, please do the honors of ungagging our dear mayor elected over here. I want to hear him squeal.” Nodding his head, John made his way over to the mayor and took the gag out. The mayor looked on quietly, his singular brown eye meeting icy-blue ones. “Hm. Not the reaction I was expecting but meh, on to business.” Arthur snorted despite the pain. “You should have seen him early. The man was as vicious as a Rottweiler off its leash.” “Oh. I’m sure of that,” Mr. Stark commented, his eyes still on the mayor. “In the spirit of fast business deals, I’m going to cut things short. Really short-” “What do you want!” the mayor growled out, cutting the gang leader short. Mr. Stark scowled. “I really hate being disrupted. For your own benefit in the near future, I’d advise you never, never ever cut me off. I hope I’m clear.” Defiance sat in the mangled man’s eyes. Mr. Stark hated defiance. Just as much as he hated complications. His eyes narrowed into deadly slits. “Am I clear?” The mayor wanted to spit out an insult but found his words stuck on his tongue. It was like something was holding them back. He met his captor’s eyes and gave a shaky nod. “Good. Now back to business.” Cracking his neck slightly, he began. “In my possession are very important documents. Documents that can lead to a very bright future for the people of this town-and I don’t mean the upperclassmen only. I’m talking the men who man the cities machinery, the women who toil endlessly to make sure their families have food, and the unlucky who live in the alleys of this city. Your role in all of this is very simple; I just need you to provide your signature on every one of them and the mayoral stump on the final page of every document. Very easy task if I do say so myself.” The tied up mayor gave all three men in the room incredulous looks. “That’s it!” he screamed, fury painted across his face. “You tie me up, gag me, and CUT! my eye out, all for a deal that could’ve been done smoothly?” Mr. Stark turned to look at both of his men; each carrying a variety of looks. Arthur wore a s**t eating grin, his pearly whites showing. While John on the other hand carried a smirk, his ugly scar making it more terrifying to the tied up mayor. Mr. Stark on the other hand smiled. He FREAKING smiled. A sight which twisted at the mayor’s insides. It was a cold, dead smile. One that held no mirth or any sense of joy to it. “If I’m correct-and I am correct-you physically attacked poor Arthur first. He was just following orders. And those orders were to tie you up and leave you uninjured. My partner over there took the initiative and decided to put your punishment into his hands. So my cyclops friend, I’d say we had every reason to do so. And who’s to say you would have cooperated. We just took a precaution.” The mayor seethed but his shoulders soon slumped in defeat. “On with it.” “You heard the man John. On with it!” Mr. Stark exclaimed, waving his hand forward. From the inside of his suit, John produced a khaki coloured folder. He went forward and placed the folder before the mayor. “Come on John, untie the man. How’d you expect a man to sign documents if his hands are tied up,” Arthur exclaimed from his corner. Bending slightly, John reached for the heel of his shoes and pulled out a tiny knife from a slot within it. Getting on with it, John quickly sliced of the ropes binding the mayor’s wrists. The mayor grunted as he wrists were relieved from their binds, his brown eye watching the men around him cautiously as he rubbed his wrists. Without further instruction, he reached for his pen and stump before proceeding to open the khaki folder, He wasn’t going to waste time. This “Snowflake” gang had already proved how ruthless they could be. Not even halfway through reading the first document, the mayor reeled in shock, some lines in the document being very “reaching”. “I-I can’t sign these,” the mayor mumbled out. “You can and you will,” Mr. Stark replied without missing a beat. The mayor shook his head. “Your demands…the properties listed here are too important. And just like this one, I presume the others too have outlandish demands. I will not sign these documents.” A chuckle came from Arthur. “Guess you were right boss.” “Hm. I see. Luckily for you my dear mayor I foresaw such a problem as I planned this out. John, please show the mayor over here that we aren’t kidding with this.” The mayor watched as the red head produced a smart phone from his pocket and placed it before him. His heart couldn’t help beat faster. There, on the screen of the smartphone, was a live video of his wife and three daughters being held at gun point. He watched as his wife begged the men before them not to take away their lives. “You monster!” the mayor snarled. He tried to jump at the stoic still man before him but was held back by the greater strength of John. “Please, I don’t enjoy threatening mothers or little kids but I found out its quite helpful when dealing with unproductive people such as yourself. Sign the documents. Do that and I give you my word that none of your girls or wife will be harmed.” As much as he wanted to keep the properties out of the hands of the man before him, the lives of family were more important. “Promise?” “Like I said before, you have my word.” And just like that, the mayor went on to approve the documents before him, the threat on the lives of his family helping him finish the task quicker. “Done,” the mayor muttered as he closed the khaki folder and passed it to the hulking figure of John who stood behind him. “Thank you for your cooperation Mayor. Though I do not apologise for what is to follow.” “What! I thought you-” From behind him, John grabbed his hands and held them behind his back, the stronger man keeping his movements to a minimal. The mayor struggled for a bit till he turned his one good eye to the man before him. “You can’t do this!” the mayor snarled, spitting out saliva as he spoke. “You promised me safety.” His words were met with dead silence. It went on for a few minutes till the pregnant pause was broken by the gang leader. “I did promise. I promised the safety of your children and wife as long as you signed the documents. So there’s no need to worry, It’s a promise I intend to keep. After all, I am a man of my word. The blame falls on you for not guaranteeing your own safety. Then again, even if you tried to bargain for your safety it wasn’t something that was going to happen and you’d still find yourself in the same position.” The mayor glared at the blue eyed man with contempt. Total and utter contempt. He’d been played. From the moment they walked into his office, the mayor had been dancing to the tune of the Snowflake gang. “Now, as to why my good friend John has his hands on you. Two weeks ago something was brought to our attention. We were made aware of the number of orphanages you have running in various parts of the city-” “You filth have me tied up over some-GAHH!” the mayor let out a choked scream as a knife was driven into his shoulder by John. The red headed man then began to twist the knife, digging it deeper into his shoulder blades, the action drawing more choked screams and blood out of the mayor. Mr. Stark raised a hand, the action stopping John mid twist. “I thought we already covered this part cyclops. Never ever cut me off!” Mr. Stark ordered, his tone lined with steel, blue eyes narrowed as they watched the man before him nod and squirm with fear. “As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me…two weeks ago my partners and I discovered that you were in ownership of various orphanages around town. Now what about orphanages provoked this kind of response out of us? Not the orphanages itself but the kids and the activities that seem to take place when the moon is at its highest.” The Mayors eye widened. “He finally gets it.” The statement coming from the man-of-few-words, John. The hulk of a man glaring down upon him. “When the information got to me, I couldn’t believe it. For the highest prices, you were letting upper classmen and women with sick interests walk into those orphanages to have their way with the kids. What kind of sick bastards does that to children?!” Mr. Stark was shaking with rage. Memories of a similar childhood began to flood his mind. “These “rich folk” walk into those orphanages-a place that’s supposed to be a safe haven for these kids-and proceed to take f*****g advantage of those kids. Can you imagine how those little boys and girls feel? Can you even begin to fathom how it feels to have a grown man’s phallus-a c**k-shoved up your v****a or dry anus?! A didlo a length of your arm? Or having an adult go down on you and wandering why they are licking both your privates and asshole? Tell me?! Do you?!” Mr. Stark glared at the squirming man before him with pure hatred. He was a monster; the devil parents tell children to keep away from. From his corner, Arthur stood, a cloth tightly wrapped around the stab wound. “Do you know what’s even more disgusting…the bastard has kids-three girls-and has the guile to call himself a father. I’m sure as hell that the bloody pig wouldn’t want the kind of s**t he has those orphans going through to happen to his precious little princesses!” Arthur exclaimed, a scowl sitting on his face. Children were special things. They’re supposed to be guided and natured in safe environments, not having the ugliness of the world near them. From his place, John spoke, his voice void of any emotions. “Those kids…they could have had good, bright futures ahead of them…now they’re filled with the moans and grunts of sick, twisted bastards.” All the mayor could do was whimper. The looks from all three men making him feel small. “You want to know something mayor, your fairy-godfather is here to grant your wish…your death wish!” No sooner had Mr. Stark said that than the temperature dropped. The air going from warm to a winter chill. The cyclops of a man let out a shuddered gasp-vapor forming from the cold-as he watched the former Mr. Starks blue eyes turn into orange, glowing headlights. The headlights were something of old; wisps trailed and formed from them, whispers of the dead filled the office in magnitude and tiny black spots sat in the center of them. The mayor was paralysed in fear, its claws gripping at his heart. He then watched with wide eyes as the color in the room was drained-sipping into the headlights like water did in a sink-till it resembled the movies from the early days…black and white with few splashes of gray. Mastering courage to speak, the mayor spoke. “P-Please don’t kill me!” the now sobbing mayor begged, tears flowing from his eye in streams. “I promise. I’ll cancel all the contracts. I’ll keep those children safe.” All he got in response was a cold, hallow chuckle. “Pathetic!” Mr. Stark spat, his now glowing orbs centered on the mayor, “What kind of demon begs for mercy…” “Your time is now, Churchill,” Mr. Stark whispered. Out of thin air, a revolver materialized in the gang leaders right hand. Unlike ordinary revolvers, this one had an orange hue hovering around it and a list of names emblazoned on the grooves of the cylinder-the mayors name glowing the brightest. The gun was raised, the barrel facing the tearing mayor. “Please don’t!” the mayor pleaded, his lone eye red from crying and his nose stuffed with mucous running down it. Unfortunately for him, all three men in the room couldn’t give a rats-ass if he died. “I condemn you to the fields of punishment. May the judges of the dead see this death as just, for I am the executioner,” Mr. Stark recited like he had done a hundred times before. Immediately as he was done, Mr. Stark pulled the trigger and fired the bullet. The bullet went all the way through the Mayors head, brain matter and blood splattering on the wall behind. Not even a second after his death, from his corpse, a screaming ghoul-his soul-arose. As if summoned by the ghoul’s screams, three ghostly chains sprang out from the floorboards and went on to bind the former mayor’s soul. The chains then proceeded to drag the screaming, thrashing ghoul into the floor boards before they-the ghouls and chains-disappeared entirely. With a flick of his wrist, the revolver dispersed back into air and his eyes returned back to their icy-blue as colour once retured to the office. Mr. Stark took one more look at the office before he proceeded to walk out-John following after with an arm around the limping Arthur. The quiet hallway echoed their footsteps-their minds long gone from the corpse they left lying in their wake. “What’s next on the agenda boss?” John asked from his side. “Yeah boss. How ‘bout we hit the pub and grab ourselves a few of them ladies to warm up our beds tonight,” Arthur suggested, a sultry smile sitting on his lips. Mr. Stark turned to both of his men, a small smile sitting on his face. “Screw it, why not. I’ll hit Thomas up and tell him to have our table ready with our usual’s. When that’s all done, we get back to what we do best.” “Business…” “Business.” “Business as usual,” the blue eyed man said, a smile on his face as they walked out the mayoral building.