A trail left in blood
early morning hunt · 06/09/15

Glimmering under the natural lighting of the sky, the blade slipped through flesh, cracked beneath bone. A clean pass was made with enough force to cause internal hemorrhaging. Blood soiled clothing like an inkblot from a wound that no one could be revived from. Impaled all the way towards the hilt of his sword, a boot kicked back the body that got into his way, while scouring back alleys of the South end. Answers, clues of people that were a threat to something of his security, were searched for. The little knot of peace Slade's counterpart had in such a woman was sacred; so sacred that his entire furor spun out of balance to take it through the night.

Perched in a squat, he leaned on the handle while the tip of the blade bent not under weight. Blended in the shadow with a body piled just a few inches away, a tally was counted. One was down, and there was one more to apprehend. Talking to gain reasons why left him little choice to do as he swore he would do while leaving in the middle of the night while Nathan's girlfriend suffered from consequences of snooping in places she had no place of being.

Processing precise whereabouts, he reached over to pickpocket the cellular and began thumbing through for a name. He gained it easily when making a quick round the bar that was off a ways unseen by most. Subjects of dense intellect cowered around, waiting to perform acts of violence against unsuspecting victims, or those who were targeted for business reasons. He knew the types when midnight ushered in a different class of people. It was a meeting place were deviants communed and exchanged info for cash, goods for cash, something for cash but he would find that no one would be making any money that evening.

An impersonating text was sent, gloved hand tossing the phone towards the guy with the unpleasant tattoo. He was easy to track, waiting at the edge of the bar, studying his every move. What drink he ordered, the conversation thrown to and fro with his comrade, and constant travel to the rest room. It was how he managed to reach, listening to a cryptic conversation betwixt him and another individual over the phone. His ears were disposed of a sensitivity that gathered words he couldn't pick up any other time. Scent was different, and so was his sharp sight with having one eye active. Slade saw it play out before it ever did, understanding the perimeters that were left to uncertainty and factors beyond his control.

Lady luck was there or he felt just that good. An unwavering chance of confidence helped his chest pump further outward. He stood taller when presented. He walked with untouchable machismo. Feeling closer if not as is, the man he had pined to be this past year. Whoever had the strings, he would personally thank them but really did not. His idea changed every minute, wanting more of something but he had no way of finding out so. It was with skill and that of an infamous mercenary, he would destroy all who traipsed on what was his. Headlights lit up the dead end of the alley. Light bouncing off the dead vehicle, a wasteland of trash, and accumulated run off from the side building's drainage.

His smirk was masked. Light on the feet, he wielded the blade swiftly on a spin of its handle between palm, then pulled back to sheath the blade from view. The light grew brighter and eased into the crevice of darkness, waiting as the unseen. Breath still as he watched onward, listening to a door opening even with whirring of a buildings' fan just a few stories above. Footsteps, a good size boot splashed in a puddle. Noise drew near towards the text alert vaulting through the air. He heard a stagger, believing it was the injured one. Quickly patched up and made to fight through what shot rung out from defense.

He sensed the swiftness of fear gather in range. He waited for jaw to make a click, knowing it would part to emit a burly yell. As blood's pattern was disrupted under the soles ears picked up, the closer he felt him. The limping footwork around the body, and erratic breathing that followed. Slade made no movements, still in the fold of darkness, until the moment the cohort of his victim was back facing. Stealthily he lurched from the area, snagging the man that met the description, much like his pal that was crumpled over breathless. Like a clutching cobra, he rustled with the grapple, disarming with force about the neck. He wanted to crush his neck, in the process of shattering his voice box.

Resisting was expected, and so was the struggle to yell as he applied enough force in the lock but not without dragging him towards the same corner of darkness that kept him out of sight. Slade's reappeared for no one to see as he hummed hoarsely for only the man to heart. "You've sealed your fate this evening, just as your friend had by preying upon someone dear to me. G'night." A sputtered breath rained in his ears as his hold tightened with strain, airway crushed but ended it all with a snap of the neck. Dead weight dropped at his feet. One for another, the final payback came to this. Clean up would be a nuisance but worth it as security was restored at least for a passing night.