Vengeance Protocol.

It was raining, the kind that made everything feel personal. The kind of rain that didn’t just fall it pressed down like it wanted to drown the whole city slowly, just to see who’d fight back. An eleven year old boy sprinted through the alleyways like a ghost with lungs. He had nothing but a stale sandwich clutched to his chest and a stomach that hadn’t known fullness in weeks. His breath came in wet hiccups, chest hollowing with each step. When the boot came down on his back, it sounded like wood snapping. The sandwich flew from his hands. Cain hit the pavement, gasping, clutching a cracked rib like it might glue itself back together if he tried hard enough. But they weren’t done. One man dragged him by the ankle like garbage. Another brought down his fist like Cain owed him money. “Should’ve died in the gutter, mutt,” one said. Cain spit out blood and stared up at the man with a slow, twitching grin. “Then aim better.” A pause. Like he wasn’t supposed to talk back. A fist came harder this time less to hurt and more to shut him up. He didn’t shut up. Didn’t beg either. Not when they broke his nose. Not when they laughed about feeding him to dogs. Not even when he lost vision in one eye. By the time they left him in a wet alley with a loose tooth and a busted lip, Cain couldn’t tell if he was bleeding or dreaming. Cold fingers clung to his skin like death was clocking in early. But someone stepped into the alley and death stepped back. A man in black. Slicked silver hair. Eyes that looked like he’d lost something a long time ago and forgot to grieve. He knelt next to Cain like a priest, but smelled like gun oil and ash. “You’re still alive?” he asked, voice calm, bored even. Cain coughed. “Unfortunately.” The man gave a half smile, not unkind, but like he was looking at a weapon that hadn’t finished sharpening itself yet. “You want to die?” Cain blinked at him. “I want to eat.” The man stood. “Good answer.” And just like that he turned his back. Cain hesitated. Then he followed. Because he’d already been dead once. Might as well chase the devil who offered him teeth. Fifteen Years Later One body. One blade. One coin. Cain stood over the corpse, his coat draped loosely over his shoulder like a shadow that didn’t like sticking to walls. He stared down at the dead man in the leather chair and plucked a polished silver pin from the guy’s suit pocket a fox curled around a dagger. That was the sign. Proof of execution. A gift for the boss. He tucked it into his glove and sighed. “I liked your taste in scotch,” he muttered to the body. “Pity.” No answer. The dead rarely argued. Down the Hall at Vallis Lounge Cain passed through the golden hallway with the quiet dignity of someone who didn’t feel the need to be loud. His boots echoed across marble floors that reeked of perfume and murder. He wasn’t halfway to the exit when two familiar voices slithered from the shadows like gum on your shoe. “Look who’s back from petting his master’s ego.” Cain stopped. Slowly turned his head. Two associates Vin and Marco were leaning against the wall like unpaid extras in a mafia film. Marco grinned like a weasel. “Cain the Clean Up. You know, they say the boss doesn’t even wipe without your blessing.” Cain tilted his head. “Must be nice. Living life as a glorified mop.” Cain didn’t blink. “Y’know, I always wondered what mediocrity smelled like. Now I know it’s cheap cologne and daddy issues.” Vin sneered. “You think being the boss’s pet puts you above us?” Cain smiled faintly. “No. But I’ve buried men who thought the same thing.” They stepped aside. Cain passed through them like fog. Alucard’s Office – The Estate Alucard’s office looked like the inside of a cathedral if the church worshipped gunpowder and money. Cain walked in and held out the silver fox pin. Alucard didn’t reach for it right away. Instead, he just smiled behind his cigar, swirling a drink like the world owed him time. “Clean?” “Cleaner than confession,” Cain replied. Alucard finally took the pin and inspected it like it was art. “You always were surgical. No fuss. No mess. Just the sweet scent of loyalty.” Cain stayed silent. Alucard looked up. “Tell me, do you ever wonder what your life might’ve been if I hadn’t found you in that alley?” Cain shrugged. “Short.” Alucard laughed. “Fair. But soon, I think… you’ll be more than my Clean Up man. Maybe even something close to a son.” Cain’s brow ticked, just slightly. Alucard noticed and grinned. “Keep your eyes open. The week’s only just begun. Could be today. Could be tomorrow.” Cain’s Apartment – 2:00 A.M. The lights flickered when he walked in. The place was small lived in, soft around the edges. The kind of home you didn’t brag about, but protected with your life. Amelia was dozing on the couch, one hand cradling her belly, the other on a dog eared novel. Their orange tabby, Meatball, blinked at Cain like he was late. Cain knelt by the couch and brushed hair from her face. She stirred. “You smell like danger and aftershave.” He smirked. “That’s my cologne.” She yawned, then winced rubbing her belly. “The baby was kicking like he’s training to be a little you.” Cain sat beside her and kissed her hand. “Let’s hope he’s got your temper, not mine.” She gave a weak smile. “You still think there’s an ‘out’?” “Alucard said something’s coming. I think this is it. My last run.” “You said that last month.” “This time, it felt different.” Amelia studied his face like she was memorizing it. “I don’t care if we’re broke. I just want you alive, Cain. Just come home.” “I will.” 3:12 A.M. – The Call Brrt. Brrt. Cain opened his eyes. The phone buzzed again. He answered. “Cain,” Alucard said, voice smooth as midnight. “Remember that exciting news?” Cain sat up. “Yeah.” “No sense waiting. Meet me at Warehouse 7, Dockside. Bring your best coat.” Click. Cain stood. Amelia turned in bed, groggy. “Cain… please. Can’t it wait till morning?” He bent and kissed her. “It’s good news. I’ll be back before sunrise.” Her eyes begged. “Promise me.” “I promise.” The door closed behind him. She watched the hallway light flicker once. Then she whispered into the dark “Liar.”