Gunner's Paradise

A Darker Turn 1.1

A profane smell lingered the air, as the guards proceeded down the dilapidated hall. The cages of the prisoners rattled as though coming to life as they passed. Chains attached to the men, women, and children binding them all together.

The slaves looked on at them in silence; their eyes gave a foreshadowing of the bleakness of their circumstances. Breaking the silence was a loud persistent scream that could be heard stretching through the hall as if it was trying to shatter the walls as the guards continued their duties in silence.

The guards looked at them with indifference. The slaves all carried tags on them, and it denoted which were to be sold, which were pending transactions, and those who would have to die.

These slaves were in high demand for a variety of different reasons. However, most of them were special and possessed a unique gift. These gifts created the problems that mankind faced today. They became natural resources for countries to exploit and this, in turn; lead many of them to be turned into slaves. Many of the populace did not even know of their existence, and those that did only considered them to be freaks.

At the center of the noise, a man sat bonded and tied with rope to a metal chair. Smoke rose above him as the burning acid water came into contact with his face. He shrieked in pain as his face was disfigured. Seething with anger that burnt into his mind, he stared at the man that caused him this pain.

Doyle, this bastard. I will kill you, kill you, he thought in his head. A shooting pain came over him as he gritted his teeth, knowing full well the position that he was in.

Doyle watched in silence as his actions made the smoking figure screamed in pain, and then when the smoke faded away and all that was left was the whimpering he asked in a soft-spoken voice, “where is the girl?”

“I don’t know Mr. Doyle, she just managed to escape, I had my men chasing---“

“Not good enough,” he interrupted as he filled another bucket with acid.

“Wait one moment, please Sir, I can still be of use, I can find her, no one knows this city like me.”

“Is that so?” Doyle said calmly looking at him,

“Yes, yes!” he shouted, “please, it is the truth.”

“I will give you this chance to prove me wrong, that girl is of the utmost importance she has to be brought back in one piece.” lightly touching his mustache with a grin, “If you cannot bring her back swiftly or make insufficient progress, well then, I guess you know too well what would happen.”

As he slowly walked away to leave he adjusted his tie, “Well then Mr. Damien, I bid you a farewell for now.”

Two men nervously entered the room after Doyle left and untied him from the chair once the man had left.

Damien gritted his teeth angrily, “Got something to say?!”

One of the men mustered the courage to ask, “Are you, okay boss, how could you just let that man-----?”

The punch took him by surprise and the man recoiled from the blow laying him limp on the ground.

Cracking his neck and then his knuckles, “Anything else to say?” as he looked the other man over.

The other man shook his head sheepishly for no, as he tried not to look at him directly, so he would not incur his wrath while slowly steading him up.

Damien pulled himself away and his thoughts were filled with rage, so much so that they shut out the pain and he had almost forgotten the fact of how his face was no longer the same. All that burned within was to get back his revenge on that man and to survive. He would have the last laugh.

He squeezed his fist tightly as he barked out orders to the man still standing in the room.

“Tell the boys that to get the word out to all the gangs in the city about this girl,” as he started to give the description, “ we are paying a big reward. Money is not an issue, come up with a figure and make it happen before the week is done.”

“Yes Sir,” he responded, looking down.

“Then get moving then.”

He left the room with the other man around his shoulder as he could hear the thundering sound of a chair colliding in the room he was once in.

Damien looked himself over in the mirror. His sight utterly disgusted him. He felt the pain again as his mind tried to comprehend his new look. His black favorite suit was now discolored; his long black hair had also been burnt. One quarter of his face had been disfigured, making the scar over his eye look minor in comparison. He could barely see out of his left eye without straining. He was lucky to be alive, but that did not change the anger he felt.

He returned to his office and opened the desk; he needed this to take everything off his mind. He took the pill to numb his pain. He coughed slightly before he ended up smiling. He fell on to the desk. That was good I feel much better he thought to himself, what I don’t think about can’t affect me.

Some time had passed before a perfume fragrance lingered over him. He could tell it was that of a woman as he slowly opened his eyes and saw her there standing above him. Her hair was black while her skin looked pale like snow and deceivingly soft brown eyes.

“Had a nice nap?” she stroked his face gently “although you looked like you had a few problems with your makeover.”

“Liz, I am not in the mood for you,” Damien said looking away not knowing if it was her or his imagination.

“Going to tell me what happened to you?” she asked with a face that made it hard to tell if she was genuinely concerned or not.

It’s none “None of your goddamn business here, sister, I will be fine with or without you, how is that school of yours coming along?!” Damien responded as he got up and sat on the office table.

Liz took up a cigarette out of her bag and lit it before making a single puff, “and here I am trying so hard to be a good sister and you’re trying to change the subject...tsk tsk... well, the school is coming along fine. We have so many new people coming in, it’s a success. Don’t you want to come with, you will be much safer there, I can assure you?”

Damien glanced at her at the corner of his eyes “Blackrell the carton read, seems you don’t ever change I won’t run from my challenges, you should know...”

A knock on the door interrupted them, as a tall gentleman with dark black hair entered, his features resembled them both his ear on his right side, however, was missing. He looked over at Damien before giving a nod to Liz. He closed the door and took a seat next to the office table.

Damien seemed a bit confused but Liz responded to him before he could ask, “I invited him, we have much to discuss and you should take it easier on the drugs.”

Liz sat down in the chair and faced them both. “Great, since everyone is here now, then I guess we can begin talking about our ideal plan.”

"What are you planning to do Liz?" Damien asked.

"You know the cult has its hands in everything, it's only a matter of time before they discover this place. Especially the way in which your... she paused looking at his face. " Boss runs, things here. He may have the local police on his payroll but the gangs don't listen to him per say and the cult is outside of his control?"

"Is that why you brought him here, Mr. Dalengo ?" He pointed towards the man. " Or should I call you brother?"

"Why do you always react this way towards your family, Damien?" Dalengo responded.

"Its only family for you when it's convenient, I clawed my way here without either one of your help. When things go wary, you two always have some scheme. That benefits you and not me, what sort of family is that."

" What would you like me, us to do Damien. Your not one to ask for help or rely on others even now with that mark on your face I bet you won't tell me who did it and that you plan to take care of it."

Damien looked away his eyes a bleary mess as shapes took form around him. Was it the drugs? he wondered.

"It doesn't matter, you know what I mean. When I was chased out the first time we came here you didn't lift a finger. Obviously I learned not to depend on or ask for any of your help. This cult of yours doesn't seem like a problem to me in the slightest."

"Enough Damien, you don't understand what's at stake."

" What a  few cultists members that like the taste of blood. Do you take part in their rituals too?"

Liz was silent as she puffed smoke out in the air.

"I thought so, you always talk a big ga---."

"She had no choice, from what I have seen, the cult is deep in all of high society in and outside of the city. I predict a war will come soon. It's just a matter of when that time will happen. What does your boss intend to do with the rest of the specially gifted here?"

"Are they really gifted? I mean if they are so powerful like you claim why are you able to keep them under lock and key."

"Yes, they are most of them don't know how to control their ability. Some aren't even aware that it is even there. The government has been watching and conducting experiments to enhance them after they are taken from here or so I am told."

"The government is involved too?" Dalengo replied, " How exactly does this work?"

"Yes, everyone wants a piece of the pie. Thats why your cult doesn't really strike me as a threat Liz."

"Do not underestimate them, they may already be here. I know that they are in some of the gang. Its a movement with no bounds."

Damien held his head."They are going to be transported outside the city to the highest bidder, they rank them by their skills but there is one who happened to get away. She is supposed to be the greatest prize of them all and thanks to her.  She is the reason my face looks like this and if she is that important, I wouldn't really worry about your gangs as I would worry about an intervention from outside."

"What makes this girl so special?" Liz asked as she put out her cigarette in the tray.

Damien got up and stumbled forward."It's claimed she has the ability to see the future. Maybe that was how she managed to escape this place. The girl's name is called Cindy. Don't worry  I am sure everyone in the city will know about it soon including the gang you run Dalengo. I place a grand prize for her return."

"How much is she actually worth?" Liz asked.

Damien smiled. "Billions."