| Cupio Dissolvi II [2626] |
| His whole body was shaking. Exhilaration? Adrenaline? Whatever it was, it flowed through his veins with such ferocity that he could physically feel it coursing through his body. Heat radiated from his dilated blood vessels; his flesh reddened from the flowing blood. While his olive skin often obscured most of the color, it was extremely noticeable on his earlobes. As a sharp contrast, the chilly night air blew against his flesh. The breeze nipped against his skin causing a mixed sensation with his body heat. However, it was not as if he was particularly paying attention to it. His mind was still racing, revisiting the previous moments events repeatedly. The sound of a gunshot continuously echoed through his brain. In most cases, he wouldn’t have had such a reaction. As a professional hitman, Dominic was used to killing. Though he was completely detached when it was a job. This time... this kill... it was a personal decision. The first skirmish in what he hoped would transform into a full out war. The Martinov family was infested and the parasites needed to be removed was a violent purge. His hands continued to shake as he walked cautiously through the back alleyways of the wealthy, residential district. Using the party as cover, he had managed to slip out undetected. However, it would not be long until people would discover Dhaos’ body. It wouldn’t be long after that that they would connect the dots to him. After all, his particularly brutal style of execution was the closest thing he had to a calling card. Having made his way out of the estate area, the city had transformed into a traditional upper-class area in Terminus. The population density was higher, with several story buildings more closely placed together. Though, these apartments were luxuries reserved for the well-to-do in Terminus. His clothes were still stained dark-red with quickly drying blood causing him to stand out far too much. He needed to make it back to the lower districts where he could simply disappear. His right hand continued to shake, the flesh still burning from the blowback of his point-blank shot. In any other weapon, this would have been treated as a defect. However, his handgun was specifically designed to distribute a portion of the explosive power back towards the wielder when used at close range. It was an old tradition of the Martinov family, one distastefully ignored by the current family. When used at proper ranges, the weapon functioned normally. However, when used at close-range, it punished the user. A long-range bout was a firefight; a close-range fight was an execution. To punish a family member for snuffing out a life in such a personal manner, they were returned a portion of the pain. It kept them grounded. The scars on Dominic’s right hand were uncountable. Stopping for a moment, he grabbed his right wrist with his left hand, trying to stabilize the shaking as much as possible. It was a sign that he was still hesitating, that somewhere in the back of his mind there was doubt and weakness gnawing at him. It was unacceptable. Twenty years prior. A black carriage pulled by a lumbering blind basilisk rattled down the street. It was a surprisingly warm day in Terminus. The air was stuffy and humid, the harsh sun in the sky not doing any favors to the situation. The carriage itself was surprisingly ornate. Black in color, it was embellished with white accoutrements. The windows were concealed with thick black curtains, making it all but impossible to look inside. A bored looking enlil in a tan suit was steering the vehicle. The road was surprisingly empty for a Terminus street. The heat had forced most people to stay inside, and those who remained outside were more focused on escaping the sweltering weather as fast as possible. The residential district area was peculiar. While the buildings clearly indicated wealthy residents had paid for them, it was a wholly unique experience unlike the other residential districts. Imposing looking guards stood in front of most of these houses wearing similar black suits. At the end of the street waited an imposing looking mansion. The building sprawled outwards, eclipsing all the other houses easily. The building was colored a deep magenta with granite pillars all along the sides. Granite stairs lead up from street level to heavy mahogany doors. Four guards stood on the front porch area. The grounds around the house were wooded with thick trees not native to Terminus. They were brought in from neighboring forests decades ago, now growing to extremely tall heights. The carriage arrived in front of the house, slowing to a halt before the enlil dismounted. He walked towards the side door, opening it to escort the passenger out. An olive-skinned youth stepped out. The teenager was wearing a pressed black suit, clearly new. The pressed outfit showed no signs of past wear. He wasn’t wearing a tie, instead the top two buttons were open. His stature was muscular for his age, akin to a professional swimmer. His brown hair was long, parted to the left with a thick hard-part. His swept bangs extended to below eye level. “Your father is waiting in the lower level Sir,” the enlil explained. Dominic Martinov nodded to the man before making his way towards the house, his home. Most days he stayed with his mother, it was a surprising treat to visit his father’s estate. As he approached, the guards opened the door for him with one stepping in to escort him to the lower level. The inside consisted of light-gray drywall. The floors were darkly-varnished and polished wood. In front of the front door was a sprawling staircase that lead up to the bedrooms and entertainment areas. Behind the stairs was a hallway that lead to the kitchens, main dining area, and lounge. However, those places were only used when guests were entertained. Flickers of light danced on the ground and walls, as the outdoor light reflected off the enormous glass chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Instead, Dominic was lead straight to the right. At the end of hallway was an unassuming door. The guard gestured towards the entrance, as Dominic opened the door to the stairwell leading down to the basement. In stark contrast to the lavishness above-ground, the basement was lifeless and barren. The ground was concrete, expanding out in every direction save for concrete pillars that broke up the monotony. The gray concrete was cracked in some places, stained with reds and browns in others. The lighting was unsettling, artificial electric lamps drenching the area in yellow light. In the center of the area stood a group of individuals waiting. Dominic recognized the gathered group immediately, his father and his three younger brothers. His father was dressed in a white suitcoat with matching white dress pants. His dress-shirt was black with a thin white tie. The man was an imposing figure, standing at roughly six foot, five inches. His body was muscular, almost brutish. His face was wrinkled from a perpetually disapproving expression. Black-colored eyes started with unflinching determination. His hair was completely gray, medium length and combed back. A well-kept beard covered the lower half of his face. A collection of X shaped scars decorated the right-side. His brothers ranged in age, from eight to sixteen. The oldest, Gabriel was even taller than Dominic, standing at six-four. He was lanky in comparison through, lithe instead of muscular. A somewhat ill-fitting white dress shirt was tucked into a pair of gray dress-pants. While his skin was a similar olive, it was a bit paler in comparison. His face was angular, the same dark-brown hair-color styled into a short pompadour. The second oldest, at thirteen, Isaiah was the runt of the family. At only five-eight, he was surrounded by giants. An equally lanky figure only served to shrink his appearance further. Wearing a similar white dress shirt and a pair of light-brown khakis, a nervous look was on his face. His skin was the same dark-tan, but even darker bags were below his eyes. His hair was unkempt and long, shaggily down to his neck. He was clutching Gabriel’s left arm. The youngest, Saul, on the hand looked practically ecstatic to be there. Even at his young age he was surprisingly tall. He couldn’t stay still, already fidgeting with the white buttoned-up collar shirt. He was wearing a child-sized pair of navy dress pants. His discomfort caused him to attempt to loosen the stuffy clothing. His youth was matched with a trimmed buzz-cut. “Father!” Dominic exclaimed, approaching the group. The stern man did not betray any emotion as his son approached. Dominic stood across from him, his brothers rushing to his side. “Happy birthday!” Saul excitedly said before hugging him. “Did you wake up and finally feel like an actual adult?” joked Gabriel. “Don’t worry, I don’t have high expectations in any sudden maturity.” “Do you have to be sarcastic all the time?” quipped Isaiah in a nervous tone. His eyes kept darting back to their father. Ephraim Martinov stepped forward, their father’s action causing the younger brothers to return to their original lined up positions. “You are officially a family man now Dominic. Do you understand what that means?” he asked in a gruff tone of voice. He reached towards his waist, upholstering a golden colored handgun. The weapon was crafted of auritium by one of the oldest craftsmen in Terminus. It was his father’s weapon, and at one point his father’s father. The weapon itself had a somewhat unique shape. For the most part, it appeared as a standard handgun. However, the Martinov family crest was etched into both sides of the weapon. The barrel of the gun was slightly shorter than normal. The firing mechanism was also partly exposed, revealing an already loaded bullet. The older man, held out his hand, offering the weapon to his son. Dominic’s right hand trembled with excitement as he accepted the weapon from his father. His birthright. His sign as heir. “With this I have been selected as heir to the family,” Dominic said, still gazing at the handgun. The older man nodded, before taking a moment to look at his son’s appearance. “The suit fits you well. To lead the family is to dedicate yourself to the job. It is something only someone with unshakeable will and dedication can do. Weakness in the man who leads the family turns into weakness in the family. To cripple the family is to harm the family. To harm the family is an unforgivable offense.” “I understand that Father. I’m the oldest. I’ve been ready to do this for years!” he retorted. “Is that so...” The older man stepped back, placing several yards between himself and Dominic. In a sudden motion, he drew another handgun. This ebon, metallic weapon was instantly recognizable to the youth. His father’s personal weapon, Lainus. The weapon was infamous, used solely for executions. With unrivaled destructive potential, it was believed that the man’s skill with the weapon could conquer mafia wars alone. Unflinchingly, he pulled the trigger, the shot roaring out towards his son. With unmatched precision, the attack pierced his left shoulder. Dominic’s first reaction was instinctive shock, staring at the wound as the bullet passed cleanly through before collapsing to his knees in pain. He cried out, dropping his weapon before clutching shoulder with his right hand. The blood drenched his suit, dripping onto the concrete. “What the fuck are you doing Father!” shouted Gabriel, as the other two brothers began to run towards their brother. They froze in their tracks as the man pointed his gun towards his other sons. “Get up Dominic.” Still in shock, Dominic continued to breath heavily. The blood continued to flow from the wound, covering the wound with his hand as he began to feel lightheaded. With dexterity surprising for a man his age, he rushed forward towards his son. With a painful assault, he kneed the kneeling teenager in the sternum. Dominic gasped in pain as the air was knocked completely out of, collapsing on his back. A trail of blood from his open wound detailed his movement. “I said get up!” Dominic struggled to his feet, stumbling forward and picking up the gun once more. His heart was beating, his mind fuzzy and unfocused. An unstable mix of emotions bubbled below the surface. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what he was feeling. It was anger, mixed with intense grief. Pain muddled these feeling further. Pride only amplified them. “Recite!” The teenager began to choke out words, his siblings frozen in terror. The youngest began to cry, grasping to the middle child. The second oldest looked on with concern, half appearing as if he was going to intervene. “A crime against a family member, is a crime against the family itself.” “Next!” “A Martinov does not bow to anyone outside of the family.” “Next!” “Weakness in a Martinov is a crime against a family member.” “Stop!” The boss pointed his gun once again towards Dominic, taking aim at his left thigh. “Stand up straight Dominic! You flinch and cringe. You writhe like an ungrateful worm. You hesitate... you disgust me!” Dominic raised his gun towards his father, his aim poor from the uncontrollable shaking in his right hand. His finger on the trigger, he continued to tremble. The older man’s expressionless face turned into anger. “Still writhing? You are unfit for the family. Every moment you wait, every moment you show even a single shred of hesitation, you show weakness in the family. What will it take for you to finally purge that insufferable weakness?” Without hesitation, the boss changed targets. In a single, uninterrupted motion he fired at Gabriel’s leg. Caught completely by surprise, the younger brother could not react in time. The lanky teenage crumpled as the shot cleanly pierced his left thigh through. He screamed, clutching his leg as he rolled and writhed in pain. Dominic’s eyes dilated, the barely contained rage reaching boiling point. Without thinking, he began to fire, unleashing round after loaded round from the weapon towards his father. The bullets flew in every direction, emotion prevailing over aim until all six shots were fired. All but two missed, with one only grazing past his Father’s right arm. The last managed to strike the man’s lower abdomen, as the older man stumbled forward slightly. However, for such a violent assault, he still remained standing. His anger still not being sated, Dominic rushed forward. Adrenaline rushed through his body, the pain was numbed through an overwhelming fight or flight response. He clenched his fists, as staggering amount of physical strength drawn from ancient laicar blood powered his assault. Lunging forward he attempted to grapple his Father, aiming to throw him violently against the ground with shockingly cataclysmic strength. Successfully gripping the man’s torso, the olive-skinned youth muscles were pushed to the breaking point, as he attempted to pin the man with unyielding force. However, his attack was sloppy, motivated more through instinct and reaction than any noticeable skill. A smirk appeared on Ephraim’s face as he ripped himself out of his son’s grasp. Raising his right hand, Lainus reflecting the artificial light temporarily, he brought down weapon. In another swift motion, he clubbed the youth’s back with the weapon. The assault lacerated the flesh below the center of his shoulder bone. The bone cracking from the force. The shock of the impact overwhelmed Dominic’s body. Serving as the tipping point for an already exhausted and wounded body, his mind went blank. Consciousness disappeared in an instant, the hard impact of concrete on his flesh being the last sensation before he faded. |