[It has been nine days since a passageway appeared around District Forty-Two, and despite the continuous efforts of the Viper Family, the beast that emerged from it has yet to be captured. We are aware of one casualty—a man named—]
Mr. Valen turned off the television, a sigh escaping his lips as he thought, 'That's strange, beasts from the passageway are never left to roam for this long, on the bright side, it may keep the Viper Family busy.'
The thought of the beast brought up thoughts of what Luna called it: a Skilion.
Driven by free time and curiosity, Mr. Valen had decided to dig up information on these beasts, but the information was out of reach even for him
It would appear that any mention of the term Skilion was flagged and removed from the Internet, to test this theory, Mr. Valen had posted said word on multiple private forums, all were removed in a matter of seconds.
«The notion of freedom is illusory in this day and age, and my typing speed has slowed significantly now that I can only use one hand.»
With that, Mr. Valen raised up his left hand, it was still bandaged in such a way that one would not know that three of his fingers were severed.
Behind him, the bedroom door creaked open, with Lia stepping out of it.
Slowly, she adjusted the cuff of her sleek charcoal-grey blazer, her eyes locked on his left hand.
"How's your finger?" Lia asked, her voice fleeting as she adjusted her hair.
"It's fine," Mr. Valen responded before chuckling. "Still hurts like hell though."
"Well, next time you'll pay attention to where you're going. How can you fall and break your own fingers?" She jabbed, but Mr. Valen just chuckled turning the TV back on.
"You're not watching that trash again, are you?" She asked, eyeing the screen before muttering. "You know it's mostly fake right?"
Mr. Valen didn't answer, but he agreed with her, he could see it on the Newscaster's face, subtle movements in her expression that showed she did not believe some of the things she was saying, but it didn't mean they were all lies.
Taking note of the time, Lia checked her phone, scrolling through unread messages before slipping it back into her bag. "This neighborhood's getting worse," she muttered, frowning as she expanded. "Last night I heard shots. People are saying the Magentas and the Brotherhood might go at it again. I'm thinking about staying at a capsule hotel near the company if things heat up."
At her words, Mr. Valen raised an eyebrow, his playful tone never reaching his eyes. "It's already that bad huh?" He intoned before suggesting. "Then you should stay home tonight, I could use the company."
Lia looked over her shoulder, half-smiling as she asked, "are you sure you could do anything with one hand cowboy?"
As she spoke she sprayed on perfume, checking herself in her hand mirror, before turning back toward him.
"Speaking of people who should not leave, make sure you don't go out, today, you're on sick leave from work so you don't get to use that as an excuse."
Mr. Valen's eyes lingered on her, a smile gracing his lips. "Yes ma'am."
And with those words she hurried off, closing the door gently on her way.
Silence returned to the room, but Mr. Valen did not feel lonely. Rather, he thought, 'The neighborhood has grown more unsafe as the Brotherhood members stay on guard against the Magentas. It would seem Lucien followed through.'
Mr. Valen had not heard from Lucien since he last spoke to him at the club and frankly there was no need to hear from him.
«He has served his purpose.»
A moment passed, then two, and Mr. Valen after pondering for a moment stood up and wore his hoodie. 'It's time to pay the Brotherhood a visit,' he thought to himself.
Just then, his phone which was on the table buzzed once drawing his attention to it: the number on the screen was an unknown Number, but he had a vague idea who was calling.
«I know exactly who is calling.»
Picking up the phone from the table, Mr. Valen's gaze sharpened as he answered—yet he did not speak.
But the voice at the other end had no intention of waiting for him, rather, it spoke first, a low voice coming through the receiver. "Valen, I know what you did."
"It's a pleasure to speak to you too Lucien, I'm sorry for your loss," Mr. Valen consoled.
Lucien, who had spoken in a threatening tone was surprised by how earnestly Mr. Valen responded, said surprise shown in the short moment of silence before his next response.
"I know it is not your fault that Rigg died, but if you fail to deliver on what you have promised-"
"Don't worry Lucien," Mr. Valen responded before adding, earnestly, his blank expression not matching his tone. "I promise you'll see results by the end of the month."
"It's not about promises Valen, if you fail me, I will kill you." Lucien warned, his tone grave.
"Beeeep!"
A prolonged beep told of the end of the call, it was clear that Lucien did not fancy speaking to him any longer.
Ignoring this for now, Mr. Valen stepped out.
-----
Upon leaving the apartment building, the first thing he noticed was that the streets were basically deserted.
Of course, a few people walked by but they all seemed to be either not from around here or carrying a concealed weapon of sorts.
The time was 7:23 AM and the sun was already up—yet there were still no taxis on the road.
Mr. Valen waited for a while, seconds turning into minutes, minutes to hours and yet still no taxi.
'It appears that the trouble between the two gangs has caused more public unrest than I anticipated,' Mr. Valen thought as he began to stroll.
He planned to walk all the way to his location, his form twitching in pain as he put his left hand in his pocket.
His wounds impaired his ability to perform everyday tasks properly. Thankfully, he had managed to change the bandages and disinfect the wound with hot water multiple times while recuperating at home."*
Of course he waited for Lia to leave first as she would probably freak out if she discovered that his fingers were severed and not broken.
-----
Although the east side of the slums was densely populated by members of the elusive Magentas, it was not the only part of the slums.
There was also the west side which housed an old, abandoned cathedral or if one decided to be honest, the hangout of the Brotherhood.
The cathedral's Gothic architecture remained intact, tall stained glass windows, towering spires but with Brotherhood symbolism replacing religious iconography.
They seemed to be trying to depict some kind of demonic face or something of that sort.
The compound was teeming with people wearing one piece of black clothing or the other, if they could even be called regular people.
They had an intensity to them, pierced ears, pierced noses, pierced mouths and everything they could put a hole in.
Vivid tattoos ran through their bodies like snakes depicting some kind of demonic figure, but of course this only described the majority of the people in the compound.
One thing to note was the fact that the ones who had no tattoos all at least had one piece of black clothing on them which told of their affiliation with the Brotherhood.
Metal music boomed largely through the compound, booze, pipes and weed exchanging hands so much that one would not know who it originally belonged to.
These people looked like your regular highschool or college students going through a phase, the only difference was the fact that they were most likely armed.
And of course, this was Mr. Valen's destination, his eyes narrowed as he walked into the compound.
The time was 11:56 AM and he had spent the majority of his time walking, but he did not mind.
Mr. Valen stuck out like a sore thumb, hell anyone would in a place like this, his slender frame attracting curious and cautious gazes.
"Hey, hey, hey, wait up," A voice, calm in nature suddenly stole his attention promoting him to come to a sudden stop.
He had been stopped by a youth with a mesomorphic build, short afro black hair and black eyes.
Said youth wore a blue singlet, and a pair of jeans dropped below waist level exposing his underwear.
"Yes how can I help you?" Mr. Valen asked expressionlessly, not feeling threatened in the slightest, his hands hidden within his pockets.
The youth looked him over, observing his dark hoodie and rumpled jeans before asking, his tone civil, "this is an invite only party, who are you?"
Unfortunately, his question remained unanswered, as Mr. Valen did nothing but stare at him expressionlessly.
The youth noting Mr. Valen's reluctance to answer stepped closer, his volume increasing in what could only be described as an abrupt shift from civil to confrontational.
"I asked you a question, white boy." He stated.
The music was not loud to begin with, so a shout like that certainly attracted attention, a crowd forming around what seemed to be a potential confrontation.
The youth was closer to him than he'd like, but there was nothing to be done, so Mr. Valen spoke, "who I am is not important, I'm here to see Jax."
"Jax?" The youth and some people in the crowd echoed with a curious expression on their face with some even losing interest in the situation and going about their way.
They might be gang members, but they weren't animals who would just jump to confront an unknown man just because he was looking for a person.
No matter how a person looked one must understand that they too were humans who were capable of rational thinking.
Mr. Valen noting their indifference sighed, as though this was not the outcome he had expected.
«It would seem that his legal name is not widely known by his subordinates.»
Meanwhile, upon hearing Mr. Valen's words the Youth who was confronting him backed off a bit as well.
But then Mr. Valen's voice sounded out again.
"DOG HEAD!"
He yelled, his words resounding in the compound with an intent that shocked everyone, which was not a good thing.
He had startled the young man before him.
"Shit," The youth cursed before quickly pulling out a small pistol, a click sounding out as he removed the safety.
The rest of the people around him also did the same and suddenly, Mr. Valen was standing in the middle of a compound with at least half of its inhabitants pointing a gun at him.
The compound erupted into chaos, with a bunch of armed and intoxicated youths either yelling or scrambling to get in on the action, their voices drowning out the music in the background.
"Shit!"
"Try something white boy!"
"Who the fuck is you?"
Mr. Valen in the midst of all this remained unspeaking his face blank as he observed these young adults who wanted to feel powerful.
In this situation he had no control, one of them could fire at any time, but he had no choice but to resort to this, why?
Because Dog Head was not an easy man to meet.
Despite his lack of control, he was not worried, rather, after observing them for a while a subtle smile graced his lips as he thought, 'that's more like it.'