Darkwater was that dark part of the society, the cancerous tumor that the government has been trying to rip out for years before it crippled the whole body.
It was known for its life of crime— murder, prostitution, gunfights, trafficking, rape, drugs— everything happened there.
Poison Kiss was bar that had been established in Darkwater for years; the establishment had become a home for criminals since it's opening.
The bar was dimly lit with flickering neon lights, and the air was thick with cigarette smoke. The loud sound of men and women arguing and laughing drowned out the slurty music blaring from the speakers, despite their loud laughter the air was tense— they could pull out a gun and shoot themselves at any moment.
The worn out decor— peeling purple paint and rusty fixtures— were a testament of it's age. It was filled with ironic decorations of metal skull and snakes.
It was business as usual in Poison Kiss: tattooed patrons, drug dealers, gamblers and prostitutes looking for clients. Some people were openly having sex, with no sense of shame.
At a part tucked in the edge of the bar away from the ruckus, four individuals occupied a table.
"We agreed on three million Shade, what is the meaning of this?" A lanky man with green hair and piercings frowned.
Two opened briefcases sat on the table — one contained money and the other contained small bottles with strange shimmering green liquid— between the table's occupants.
"Well there has been a a change of plans Nate." Shade smirked— he was a large man with tattooed rippling muscles that could intimidate anyone. "We have only got one million."
"Then the deal is off." The lanky man's partner— a man twice Shade's size said angrily, as he slammed the briefcase with the green liquid shut and prepared to stand.
"I think it's in your best interest to rethink that decision big guy." A dark skinned woman with orange hair which was shaved at the side flashed a gleaming knife.
It was not her knife that forced them to remain seated, but the knowing eyes of the other patrons. Poison Kiss was the territory of The Lady Of The Night; Shade and his partern were under her and most of the patrons were her people.
They were outnumbered and they could either leave here with the one million or leave dead.
"So this is how it is?" Lanky man chuckled. "Shadow will hear of this." Shade laughed mockingly at the threat, was that supposed to make him afraid?
"Are you taking the money or not, we don't have all day?" Orange hair arched a brow.
Before lanky man could argue, the door of the bar was slammed open, someone inhaled air sharply and everyone turned quiet.
Even a place like Darkwater had it's wealthy factions— The Black Empire stood above them all.
Three men entered into the bar, they looked too clean, too sharp in their black suits to be standing in a place a filthy as Poison Kiss. Everyone recognized them, the suit and the emblem they wore proudly on their chest made it hard to miss— they were men from The Black Empire.
They walked with a purpose, stalked towards Shade and threw him face down on the table— his large frame broke the wooden furniture that was already teetering on it's last life
Shade a man built like an armor tank could not free himself from the grip of the man who pinned him on the floor.
"King wants to see you." A chill ran through Shade at those words. King— Arthur Black's crazy heir that nobody wanted to cross.
A few men and women reached for their weapon, the bar turned tense.
"Are you sure you want to do that?" One of the suited men smirked. They shot a questioning look at orange hair — she was the second in command and the first was currently pinned on the floor— though they were already wavering.
The Lady Of The Night was a small fry when compared to King, and they weren't eager to make enemies with The Black Empire. Number one rule of the street was to be smart and no smart person would pick a bone with he Black's.
"Stand down." They sighed with relief at orange hair's order— it was Shade's cross to carry and they weren't eager to share in it.
"You traitor." Shade yelled. She scoffed— as though he wouldn't have done the same, each to their own. She looked away, the lady would understand.
Everyone remained frozen when Shade was dragged away. Orange hair led the rest of the gang out and the other patrons broke into hushed murmurs; would there be war between the Black's and The Lady or had Shade dipped his hands into something messy— this was going to be the talk of the town for days.
**********
Shade groaned when he awakened— bound tightly to a chair— he remembered the events that brought him here and knew his fate was grim.
"Well, well, well." A lazy voice drawled. "Sleeping beauty decided to wake up, thought I had to kiss you or something." He chuckled.
Shade turned pale, he had never seen King, but the Black's were the kind of people you must know. King was splayed lazily in a chair: long black hair styled in a side undercut, piercing blue eyes filled with a wierd eagerness, pink lips curved into a smirk, top buttons left open to reveal muscled chest and intricate tattoos as he lazily tossed a gun in the air.
"Ki...ki...king." The name felt heavy on his tongue. "I don't know anything, I didn't do anything." Grovelling didn't get you anywhere in the murky waters of Darkwater but still Shade begged— funny how hours ago he had been the one people needed to beg.
His tears and snort only annoyed King who clicked his tongue with irritation. "Well, he's here now cousin, what are you going to do with him?" King's words attracted Shade's attention as he focused on the figure head once ignored.
If King was a reaper, then this one was the devil himself; handsome in a way that seemed devilish, red hair, white mask and sitted on a wheelchair. Were King was all smiles, this one looked cold with a dark gleam in his eyes— whatever demons lived in his head were winning.
Shade's brain worked furiously, wondering how he had annoyed this man. A hint of disgust surged through him at the thought of groveling before a handicap but perhaps he could work through this one.
"Don't say a word." His voice was like a sirens call. "I ask questions and you answer, for each word you say without my permission, I will put a bullet in you." It was only now that Shade saw the gleaming black gun he held.
"Two months ago, you approached a gambler named Lin Cheng and commissioned him to kill someone by staging an accident, who gave you that order?" He asked coldly.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Shade said evasively.
A muffled shot sounded and Shade groaned— a bullet was embedded in his knee.
"Wrong answer." He said. "Let's try again, shall we?"
"I knew you had it in you cousin." King chuckled.
"Fine, I will speak." Shade groaned.
"So easily." King scoffed in disgust.
"A man approached me, he gave me the details and paid a whole lot of money, threw in some threats too." Sloane panted. "I paid Cheng to do it, he was desperate and indebted, that's all I know." He said.
"This man that approached you, what's his name?" He asked.
"I don't know." Noticing the darkening look on the man's face he rushed to add. "But I can describe him." Shade thanked God for his photogenic memory.
"Get Amelia." King ordered one of his men.
Minutes later, a young girl dressed in a grey hoodie and black jeans returned with the man.
"Describe him, she will draw." King said.
When Sloane had woke up to a tilted reality, something snapped in him. He refused to believe that the accident was just an accident, even though Amara insisted it was.
Sloane did some digging, found out that the truck driver who had hit him was not rotting in prison as expected but had been realesed. He tried to find him, but his search yielded no result.
Amara never wanted Sloane involved in the dark world of her ex husband— Arthur Black— and Sloane had never been interested, but he needed connections to find the man; he refused to rest knowing that someone had been behind the accident that had taken too much from him— his leg, his body, his pride, his sanity.
Finding the man only took a snap of King's finger. His name was Lin Cheng— an addicted gambler swimming in debts and running from loan sharks— suddenly all his debts had been cleared and he had travelled to Velwin — a small country, miles from Calonia.
Lin Cheng told them all he knew — he had been ordered to do it by a man named Shade who promised to clear his death and help him get a new life outside of the country— he was rotting somewhere in Bay River currently.
"Whatcha thinking Sloane?" King laughed.
"Get away from me." Sloane frowned.
"I heard you're getting married." King said. "I am wounded, my favourite cousin is getting married and I am the last to know." He sighed.
"You're not invited." Sloane ran a finger through his hair with irritation.
"When has that ever stopped me?" King asked.
"I am done boss." Amelia handed the paper to King.
It was a rough sketch, not fine-tuned, but it was enough.
Sloane could recognize that face anywhere— Fernandez Lopez— Hunter Russell's trusted assistant and living shadow. He crushed the picture in his grip, something hot burned in his veins— he had never been close to Hunter, yet the betrayal stung.
"Can I go?" Shade asked shakily.
"Do you know who I am?" The coldness in Sloane's voice sent a shiver down his spine.
"No." The answer felt wrong and Shade knew he was close to death's door.
"I am the man who you ordered Lin Cheng to hit." Shade shook with fear.
"Sorry." He cried. "Please let me go."
"You can go." Sloane smiled. "Just not alive." A bullet in the head and Shade's eyes had turned blank.
"Are you waiting for a special invitation or what, clean that up." King barked at his men.
"Are you alright?" King asked— his voice too soft for the man Sloane had grown to knew.
"I am not." Sloane sighed. "My father wants me dead."