Cupio Dissolvi III [2139] It was early morning before Dominic made it back to the safe house. Well, calling it a house by any means would have been a stretch. It was an old storage area in the depths of one of the more shanty portions of Terminus. Though, given the quality of the locals, it was safe from any prying eyes from the more lawful individuals. The warehouse appeared to have been abandoned years ago. The concrete and iron building showed signs of ware, the walls stripped of paint and exposed metal beginning to rust. Roughly the size of a two story building, the facility was a simple cube in shape. Evenly spaced glass windows covered the north, east and west sides of the building. A fair few were already shattered from the looters that initially emptied the place out. The south entrance was a pair of heavy, sliding, iron doors. They made an awful screeching noise when they were pulled open. Dominic slipped into safe house, the doors grinding shut behind him. He leaned his back on the doors, panting to catch his breath. The adrenaline from the previous night was wearing off, being replaced with a mix of shock and exhaustion. Before he could dwell further, a clattering of falling objects on the other side of the warehouse caught his attention. His muscles tensed once again, his body put on high alert once again. The safe house was still dim, only illuminated by the early morning light, but he had spent enough time here to still navigate it easily. He reached towards his waist, drawing the Carnifex and holding it cautiously in his hands. Another clattering of noise caused him to swivel his head towards the disturbance. The mobster began his quiet approach towards the source. Dozens of shelves covered in boxes filled with a mix of trash and provisions created a makeshift maze. The center of the warehouse was an open area with a large table and several couches and seats to sit on. Dominic ducked into the first corridor created by shelves, slowly moving in order to not reveal his position. He could hear the faint shuffling of footsteps, though the abnormal acoustics of the room made it difficult to precisely identify its source. He only had a general sense of the direction, through the enormity of warehouse still left a large amount of ground to cover. His grip tightened around the Carnifex, though the exhaustion from the previous night was infectious. Approaching the center of the room, the sitting area expanded in front of him. He took a tentative step forward into the open area, feeling rather exposed from losing the cover provided by the bookshelves. As if confirming his apprehension, a sickening CRACK echoed through the safe house. A sharp pain erupted from just behind his right shoulder blade. The shock of the attack ripped through the exhausted mafioso, as whatever consciousness his body was hanging onto drained out of him. He lost control of his muscles, falling forward in a crumpled heap before falling unconscious. ---- A sharp blow to his stomach shocked him awake. Dominic recoiled, clutching his abdomen on the ground. His vision was blurry, it slowly coming back into focus. The jeers of a crowd was the first sensation to return. He quickly became apparent that he was surrounded by no less than twenty. They were mainly laicar, but the occasional velen and enlil were thrown into the mix. They were dressed in a mix of dress shirts and pants to those in completely casual clothing. As Dominic struggled to his feet, the jeers of the crowd became louder. It was nearly impossible to discern what any specific person was saying. It was an amalgamation of swears and threats to throw him back down. The hitman quickly realized where he was, a place extremely familiar to him. The completely granite underground lot, the broken and brittle pillars supporting the floor... He was in the execution floor below the Martinov household. Memories from the severe training he suffered as an adolescent flashed through his mind. “Silence!” On command, the crowd suddenly hushed. He could see some of the members towards the back anxiously shifting their weight. The quiet was disconcerting, a pall of respect and fear fell over the crowd. A man in a metallic wheelchair cut through the crowd, pushed by a stern looking laicar in a similar black suit. He looked startlingly similar to Dominic, though that was expected between brothers. His dark-brown hair was styled in a well-kept pompadour. He wore a white suit, with a black undershirt and white tie. A matching pair of white dress pants and black shoes completed his outfit. A set of thick, black-leather gloves covered his hands. Several scars from wounds inflicted years ago covered his face. In his hands was the Carnifex, which he twirled as a taunt. “Gabriel,” Dominic said, betraying no emotion in his voice. “Well, I finally get why people were so impressed with you. You led my men on quite a chase around Terminus,” the man replied in a deadpan voice. He gripped the Carnifex before continuing. “I knew you were reckless, but sneaking in to Dhaos’ party and killing him in such a gory fashion? You made it far too obvious Dominic.” “That was the intention Gabriel. Though you were always slow to catch on,” the hitman sneered. The wheelchair-bound man’s muscles tensed up in response, Dominic half expecting his brother to simply shoot him for his remark. However, Gabriel relaxed, the joking expression on his face turning to one that was far colder. “Still, returning to a safe house? Did you think that would actually work, or did you just not think that far ahead? Of course I know where they are, I’m in charge of the family,” Gabriel replied with his voice filled with a mix of condescension and arrogance. The boss turned towards the crowd before nodding. It appeared as the crowd understood the man’s command, as they stepped back to put more room between themselves and Dominic. Gabriel raised his hand, signaling for his bodyguard to wheel him back. “An offense against the family is punishable by death Dominic. Though, there will be plenty of time for that later.” The crowd broke open a path. An intimidating laicar stepped out. He was extremely muscular, dressed in a gray wife-beater with a pair of ripped jeans. In his hands was a taunt metal chained coiled around his right hand. The crowd began to cheer again. Chants ordering that he ripped apart, crushed and killed, melded together into wild jeers. Dominic turned back to look at his brother, who had a smug smile of superiority on his face. Of course, such arrogance only served to spur him to repair his damaged pride. It was the prerogative of those without power to feign strength by surrounding themselves with those with strength. It was mainly the idiots who allowed themselves to get tricked into thinking that they were subordinate. The hitman cracked his knuckles, eyeing his opponent with cold precision. A sense of calmness overtook him. Years of training provided him an intense focus that allowed him to ignore the exhaustion and injuries inflicted on him. While temporary, Dominic did not believe that the upcoming bout would take long. The chain wielding fighter violently whipped the chain at Dominic, the mafioso dodging with a quick step to the right. Dominic had been trained in close quarters combat since he was a teenager. He had made it a livelihood, and these were the moments that he felt that he could truly get the measure of a man. As his opponent yanked the chain back towards himself, Dominic began to pick apart the tells that the man involuntarily revealed. There was a tenseness that rippled through his opponent’s left bicep as he drew the chain back. Frustration from missing his attack, impatience that he wasn’t able to finish the fight in a single move. His eyes darted towards his left as the man whipped the chain violently once again, this time towards his other side. In a single motion, the tanned hitman stepped back just far enough to outrange the chain’s extended length. It smashed against the ground, launching flecks of concrete into the air as it chipped against the ground. Once again, the man pulled the chain back, revealing even more information. His opponent was far more muscular than he was with a considerable height and weight advantage. Still, he had made no moves towards Dominic, even though in a straight up brawl he could use his size to his advantage. The mafioso feinted a step forward, acting as if he was going to rush the man. His opponent recoiled early, already primed to defend himself from an attack and drawing back into a defensive stance. He appeared relieved when he realized Dominic was not attacking. The man’s appearance was an elaborate ruse. It was a familiar tactic Dominic. He had known many in the family who trained and built muscle to project an intimidating aura, but that brute strength poorly translated to any skill in fist-fighting. Most of the time simply looking intimidating was enough to turn things to their favor. The brutish man wound up his next strike once more. It was an identical attack to the previous two, apparently believing as if his appearance and the fact that he was armed gave him an innate advantage. However, repetition lead to predictability. From his stance, the attack was clearly going to strike to his left once again. It was just a matter of picking the right moment. As the chain unwound from the man’s hand to extend towards him, Dominic took his opening. In a brilliant burst of speed, Dominic dashed forward. It happened in an instant, as he appeared in front of his assailant mere milliseconds second. A flash of panic appeared in his assailant’s eyes as Dominic grabbed the man’s wrist. With a sudden surge of strength he twisted the brute’s arm and threw him violently against the ground. The man released his grasp on the link of metal chain, Dominic grabbing it and arming himself once more. The crowds continued to jeer at him, though it grew with an exciting fervor. The violence was enough to entertain, regardless of who was winning. A scowl appeared on Gabriel’s face. Dominic wrapped the chain around his right hand, twirling it in his left hand as his opponent clamored back on his feet. A ravenous grin covered his face as he began to walk towards his enemy. Dominic whipped the ground to the side, sending a plume of concrete chips flying into the air. The metallic crack shocked the brute. The hitman was used to wielding unconventional weapons such as chains, broken bottles, and even pieces of furniture. While he was far more skilled using handguns or his fists, on jobs it was sometimes simply more efficient to use whatever was close to him in the room. With a powerful strike, he whipped the man’s right shoulder. Hitting dead on, the bone fractured on impact. The laicar screamed in pain, clutching his shoulder while Dominic retracted the chain. Not willing to give the man a chance to recover, Dominic struck once more whipping the man’s right forearm. While the attack didn’t hit bone this time through the man’s muscle, it still would leave a painful mark. His strikes increased in ferocity as the time between each hit began to shrink. Instead of becoming tired, every attack pumped more adrenaline and strength through his body. His heart rate picked up, a fervor building with each attack. The brute collapsed onto the ground, fractured ribs and shoulders along with a battered his body. Blood pooled from the strikes to his face and chest as he fell unconscious. Dominic continued to swing, the decrepit body listlessly moving from the force of the attacks. The crowd continued to clamor for more, the macabre spectacle only increasing his strength. “Enough!” Gabriel glared at him, before signaling others to drag the broken man away from the ring. “We’ll see how long you can keep this up Dominic,” he stated ominously. He raised his hand once again. Three la cosa nostra stepped from the crowd, surrounding Dominic. Though he struggled, the onslaught of three at once quickly overcame him. His arms were pinned painfully behind his back. A white cloth was slipped over his mouth, gagging him. One lifted his legs while the others tied them together with the chain. The metal cut into his shins. He was dragged away by the family members, the icy gaze of his brother starting at him with pure malice. His gloved hands gripped around the arms of the wheelchair, tightening and crushing the metal under his fists. |