Flashback Just Another Bad Day

[Solomon Black]

Fall 19th, 489 A.V. “What do you think you are, some kind of fuckin’ magician?” Sully asked calmly, letting his fist rest at his side. Fresh blood dripped from his split knuckles but it was not his. The blood was mostly his poor victims, a thin man that Sully had shoved against a wall so he can better punch him in the face repeatedly. He asked the man his question again, “Now that we established you did not make the money disappear, where is it?” He growled as he punched the man again across the chin, this time letting go of his shirt and allowing the man collapse to the ground. Sully shook the blood off his hand and pulled out a small cloth to wipe away the rest, staring down at him with his currently unscarred face. A pretty face that helped him plenty with the local girls, unlike the local fishermen. The thin man cowered and wept, but did not talk. Sully’s frown only intensified, “Man you really don’t want know what’s going to happen if you don’t give me that money.” A slight tinge of empathy gave way in his voice. He gave a deep sigh and turned around to face another two men. Both were smaller than Sully, but each were broader and honestly just scarier looking with multiple facial scars and bald heads. They were the Griven twins, his “friends” who helped him when things got tough. Today, he just needed them to sail the boat onto the lake so they could talk with their friend in piece. The older Griven scowled at Solomon, not that he knew he was older. They both looked the same, one just was fatter so Sully assumed he was older. “We should just throw him over and bring everything he owns back.” The younger/skinnier one chimed in with a shouted whisper. Solomon glared at him with daggers, then turned and faced the thin man again. “It’s the money, or you’re life.” Solomon reached over to his left and picked up a large bastard sword off of a nearby crate. The sword was very well made, well above the pay grade of someone like Solomon. The noise the blade made against the wood drew the thin mans attention who stared up at Sully with a swollen and blood covered face. Only one of his eye’s was able to see past all the swelling but it was clear he’s staring at the blade as it was pressed against his throat. “Th-th-the money is…” He paused and started crying, but Solomon had had enough. “Where?!” He screamed at the man, pulled his sword away and kicked him with all his strength right in the head. His shout echoed across the moonlight waters that surrounded their small boat and could alert any nearby authorities of their criminal lake-activities. Luckily, there was none. The twins glared at him. “Not cool Sully.” One tutted, Sully was not paying attention to which. He had just noticed the thin man wasn’t breathing. He turned back to face the twins, and motioned his sword at the body. “Just… Get rid of it. We’ll loot his house when we get back and take whatever we can.” He groaned as he dropped his sword and walked to the far side of the vessel, the others worked on lifting the corpse and dropped it off in the water with a loud splash. As they did, he took a seat near a barrel and pulled out a fruit, carving it up with a small pairing knife. One of the twins spoke up as Sully took a piece of fruit and tossed it in his mouth. “This is the third one so far this season young one.” Glancing over at his brother, the other finished. “The boss may not like that, no matter how much you are his Golden boy.” He spit out the final words like a venom. Sully stabbed his knife into the lid of the barrel and stared daggers at the two ugly, stout men. “Careful there Shaen.” Solomon warns them through gritted teeth. Slowly putting his fruit down. “He’s Shaen.” The fatter one said. “He’s Trean.” The skinnier one said. Both of them turned around, now facing Solomon. Trean reached into his jacket, pulling out a long serrated knife. “Maybe we think that our little collection service could use some less, hotheaded management.” “I see.” Sully sighed, stood up and pointed at Shaen. “Then If you’re Shaen,” He moved his finger to point at Trean, “Then I slept with you’re wife.” He smiled, and moved his hand towards his pairing knife. “You’re a dead man.” They both muttered as they started stalking towards Solomon, ready to cut him up. As soon as the men were only a few feet away, Sully struck first. He gave a strong forward kick that hit Trean straight in the chest and sent him stumbling back onto the floor, hitting his head. Shaen threw a punch and hit Solomon in the face but he came back at the fat man with his pairing knife, and managed to give him a cut across the chest. Shaen took a step back in pain, and looked down at his cut, but he got no moment to recover. With a roar Solomon rushed him, grabbed him and stabbed him repeatedly in the chest. Over, and over and over again until he pulled away and the thug fell to the ground, moaning in pain as his life bled out. Sully stumbled back, his hand and upper arm covered in the man's hot blood. Splatters of the blood are all over his shirt too. He tried to catch his breath, his heart pounded in his chest. “Too slow.” He managed to spit out at the corpse before he turned his attention to Trean as the man got up. “This did not work out for you two.” He stated coldly, and brandished his pairing knife at the thug. “I’ll fucking gut you for that, you uppity piece of shit!” Trean screamed at him, rushing forward and swinging his long fisherman’s knife around with surprising agility. They went back and forth like that for a few minutes. Trean viciously swung around with all his strength, Solomon still managed to stay out the way from any serious injury. He danced around the ships deck all the while he taunted and occasionally stabbed at Trean here and there. After one especially wide swipe that caused the man to throw himself off balance, Solomon saw his chance and swung at him. He missed, but the swing forced the large man to take a step back and stumble over his brothers body. Using the opportunity, Sully lunged forward and plunged his knife in Treans shoulder all the way to the handle and headbutted him, the force caused the young hothead to stumble back. Crying out in pain Trean fell onto the blood soaked deck of the boat next to his brothers body, holding the knife still stabbed in his shoulder. He tried to pull it out, but Solomon brought his boot down on the mans leg and snapped the bone with a loud CRUNCH. The fat man screamed at the top of his lungs, but no one was around to hear it. No one except Solomon. “Y’know, Shaen…” Solomon spoke up and moved on his way to Mercy, his sword, whose lying about ten feet away. Cut up and bleeding all over, the tall man held himself high as he could. He reached down and slowly picked up the sword, grunting from exhaustion. “This is going to be really tricky to explain to our boss.” He started walking back, his footsteps heavy on the wooden deck until the thuds becomes a thick splash and he’s standing over the defeated thug, his scream’s having died down to loud groaning and complaining. He looked up, tears running down his scarred face as he grabbed at his broken leg with his one good arm, “My name is Trean...” He said, spit flying. “I really don’t care.” Solomon replied with an exhausted sigh and plunged Mercy into the mans heart. He then down next to the bodies, the sword staying in its place. He pulled himself up against a mast only a few feet away and took a deep breath. “I really, really don’t care.” He stared up at the cloudless, starry sky. He judged by the moon it must be morning in a few hours, no time for resting yet. He needed to get home to the boss. Silently and in a lot of pain, Solomon picked himself back up onto his feet and dragged the two bodies overboard. After he dropped each of the fat, heavy men into the lake he raised anchor, took the helm and steered the boat back to the dock they left from. He wasn’t really a sailor, that’s one of the reasons the twins came along, but he managed to get to boat back in one piece to their quiet little dock-house that served as their base of operations. Solomon just wanted some basic medical supplies, but when he entered the open concept deckhouse, he found company. His boss, a man who called himself The Viper, waited for him with an entourage. He sat it the middle of the room, flanked by large thuggish men, as large as the twins and taller than Solomon. Like an asshole, he was eating one of Sully’s apples. “Where’s the twins?” He asked, his voice like oil. Thick and toxic. “And where is my money Black?” Solomon walked over to a chest and started pulling out bandages and alcohol. “He spent it. I was just about to go get his stuff.” “I don’t want his stuff, I want my money!” The Viper yelled and jumped to his feet, throwing the apple to the ground. Despite his bodyguards being an impressive crew and the Viper carrying himself like a honest noble, the man was the biggest thug Solomon had ever met. He stood at seven feet tall and had arms like small trees. Solomon was scared, though he would never let it show to a man like this. You show strength. “Where is he, I’ll ask him myself since you can’t even do one fucking job for me.” “He’s dead.” The young man replied, and knowing he’d have to give a reason why he had kept going. He gritted through his teeth as he cleaned and bandaged his cuts. “The twins were bored, started drinking and when I wasn’t looking they hit him too hard and… yeah.” “The twins killed him?” He clued into the cuts and finally noticed that Solomon had a black eye, “I’m guessing you dealt with them?” Sully nodded in response. The Viper smiled, and looke over at one of his thugs. “Good. Hold him down.” “What?” Before he could really do anything, Solomon was grabbed by two of the men and forced down onto his knees. He struggled and tried to force himself free, but he’s no where near strong enough. He can only grit his teeth in pain as one grabbed his hair and pulled his head up to look at the Vipers sick, smiling face. “What the hell Viper?!” The Viper just turned away instead of answering, and told his remaining men to go and loot the man’s house before the sun rises. Then he turned his attention back to the young man who had not stopped struggling, he nodded at one of the men holding Solomon down who then leans into Solomon’s shoulder until it gave with a loud POP and Solomon screamed. “Mr. Black… The twins, they’re my last straw.” He picked up a jagged piece of metal from a pile of scrap. “You’re a liability to our operation.” He pulled the vicious looking makeshift club back and with an underhand swing, slammed Solomon in the chin. The thugs let the young mans body collapse to the ground, the whole right ride of his face and neck torn open and bleeding profusely as Solomon gasped for air and weakly grabbed at his neck to try and keep some blood in. The viper stood over him, “Mostly though kid, you just piss me off. Good riddance.” He spit on the dying man and left, his entourage in tow. Solomon laid in a quickly growing pool of his own blood, each breath losing him more blood and time. His vision blurred, started to fade and finally gave out. —Hours later Morning light comes, dancing on what should be a dead mans face, but he’s breathing if not barely. His eye’s cracked open, and the face of a most beautiful women was looking down on him with a bright smile. Freckles dance around her face and she sais something but he did not hear it. She tried again, this time Solomon was starting to come too. “I’m Shari,” She said, her face shining like an angel. “Don’t struggle, I’ve got you, you poor soul.” Though he wanted to say something, Solomon could hold himself awake no longer and slipped back into unconsciousness.

[Rook]

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Soloman Black

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