Black Lanterns
1382 Words
The safehouse smelled of cold metal, old sweat, and secrets that had been buried too deep. Liam stepped inside slowly, the door shutting behind him with a heavy finality. This wasn’t home. This wasn’t safety. This was a bunker — a place where people vanished into the night and only few returned.
Nia walked ahead without looking back, her boots clicking sharply against the concrete floor. Taye limped in behind Liam, clutching his ribs as if even breathing was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
“Sit,” Nia ordered.
Liam obeyed. His legs were shaking, but it wasn’t from running — it was from the weight of everything he didn’t understand. The case felt heavier by the minute, like it carried the gravity of a world he’d never meant to enter.
Nia circled around the metal table, her eyes cold, sharp, calculating. “Start from the top.”
Liam took a breath and told her everything — the wrong house, the gunmen, the chase, the phone call. His voice quivered only once, when he described the moment the shots rang out behind the warehouse gate.
When he finished, Nia leaned back and crossed her arms. “You’ve made the biggest mistake of your life.”
Liam blinked. “I didn’t mean—”
“That doesn’t matter,” she cut in. “The Black Lantern Syndicate doesn’t care about intention. They care about results. And the result is you stole from them.”
Liam’s stomach clenched. “Taye said they’re dangerous. But who exactly are they? A gang?”
Taye shook his head. “Not a gang. A network. They own streets, cops, businesses… the whole city. You cross them, you don’t get a warning. You get buried.”
Nia tapped the table. “And the moment you picked up that case, you became a liability.”
Liam swallowed. “Then let me return it.”
Nia’s eyes hardened. “If they wanted it back politely, they’d have sent a message. Instead, they sent the Rooftop.”
The name sent a chill through the room.
“The who?” Liam asked.
Taye lowered his voice. “The Black Lanterns have one enforcer — one man they trust with impossible jobs. They call him the Rooftop because he always attacks from above. He watches. Follows. Studies you. You won’t hear him until the last second.”
“And he’s hunting me?”
Nia nodded. “He’s already close. Too close.”
As if summoned by her words, the lights in the safehouse flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then died.
Darkness swallowed the room whole.
“What the hell—” Liam whispered.
Nia was already moving. “Backup generators don’t fail on their own. Get down!”
A second later, the front windows exploded inward.
BOOM!
Glass showered across the room, bullets tearing through the walls in a deafening storm. Liam ducked, covering his head as splinters and metal fragments sliced through the air.
Taye dove behind a toolbox, shouting in pain as a shard scraped his arm.
Nia rolled behind the metal table and slammed a button under its edge. A hidden compartment snapped open, revealing two pistols. She tossed one to Taye and kept the other.
“Cover fire!” she shouted.
Bullets hammered into the walls like relentless rain. The safehouse wasn’t built for beauty — it was built for last stands.
Outside, a voice called out through a megaphone, calm and collected:
“Liam Oduor. You have something of ours. Step out now, and we may spare your friends.”
The words echoed like a death sentence.
Taye spat angrily. “Lies. They’ll shoot all of us.”
Another round of gunfire ripped into the building, punching holes through metal. Smoke crept along the ceiling. The room shook as a small explosive detonated outside.
“They brought military-grade toys,” Nia muttered. “They’re not leaving without blood.”
Liam’s heart pounded as he crawled to her side. “What do we do?!”
“We survive,” she said coldly. “Follow me.”
Before they could move, something slammed into the back door — once, twice — a battering ram. The hinges shrieked.
“They’re coming in from both sides!” Taye yelled.
Nia grabbed a smoke canister from her belt and pulled the pin. She tossed it toward the front. Thick gray smoke billowed through the room, swallowing the gunfire.
“Back exit!” she ordered.
Liam helped Taye up. Blood soaked through Taye’s sleeve. “It’s just a scratch,” Taye grunted.
The back door buckled.
“Move!” Nia shouted.
They sprinted down the narrow hallway, dodging falling plaster. The building groaned under the assault, dust raining from above.
They reached the rear emergency door. Taye kicked it open.
And froze.
A tall man stood just outside, face expressionless, pistol in hand. Black tactical armor hugged his body, the Lantern emblem on his vest gleaming beneath a streetlight.
“The Rooftop…” Nia whispered.
He raised his pistol without hesitation.
Pfft!
The suppressed round hit Taye in the shoulder. Blood sprayed across the doorframe. Taye dropped with a gasp.
“Taye!” Liam lunged forward, but Nia yanked him back.
The Rooftop stepped forward, calm as a priest approaching a confession box.
“Give me the case,” he said softly. “You don’t know what you’re carrying.”
Liam’s hand tightened around the bag strap. The hitman’s voice was steady, controlled — like a surgeon asking for a scalpel.
For a moment, Liam felt himself breaking. Maybe giving it up would end this. Maybe everything would stop.
But then he looked at Taye, curled on the floor, bleeding because of him.
“No,” Liam said through clenched teeth. “You want it—”
He lifted his chin.
“Come take it.”
The Rooftop blinked once. Almost surprised. Then he fired.
The bullet tore past Liam’s ear, chipping cement. Nia fired back instantly, forcing the hitman to step behind a dumpster.
“Run!” Nia shouted.
Liam grabbed Taye’s good arm and hauled him up. Together they stumbled into the alley. Nia backed out while firing controlled shots.
The Rooftop didn’t shout, didn’t curse. He simply advanced — steady, precise, unstoppable.
They turned the corner. More bullets zipped past. Liam’s lungs burned. His legs felt like they were carrying anvils.
“Keep going!” Nia barked.
They reached the end of the alley and burst into the street. A delivery truck swerved, nearly clipping them.
“Watch where you—!” the driver yelled, but Liam was already dragging Taye toward an old metal pedestrian bridge.
The steps vibrated from distant explosions. The roof of the safehouse collapsed behind them in flames.
Halfway up, Taye stumbled. Liam hauled him over his shoulder.
They reached the top of the bridge. The city stretched below — a maze of lights, smoke, and sirens.
Nia emerged moments later, panting.
Behind her, the Rooftop stepped into the street — walking, not running. Calm. Almost serene.
He looked up at Liam, their eyes locking across the distance.
And then — he smiled.
A small, chilling curve of his lips.
Nia grabbed Liam’s face and forced him to look at her. “Listen to me. He isn’t after just the case.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s after you. Someone put a personal order on your head.”
Liam felt the world tilt. “Why? I didn’t do anything!”
Nia shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. In this city, intent is irrelevant. Only leverage counts. And right now… you’re leverage.”
Taye coughed violently beside them. Blood spattered onto the metal floor.
“We need a doctor,” Liam said desperately.
“No hospitals,” Nia snapped. “The Lanterns have eyes everywhere.”
“Then where?”
She hesitated — just long enough to scare him.
“I know a place,” she said finally. “But getting there? That’s the hard part.”
Far below, the Rooftop holstered his pistol. He wasn’t frustrated, or angry, or rattled.
He simply walked away.
Like he already knew exactly where they were going next.
Liam clutched the bag, chest heaving.
The city no longer felt alive.
It felt hungry.
And tonight, it wanted him.
- Writer
