The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 1063: “Dear Boss” [6]

‘One life or the lives of many,’ Mirai was lost in his gesture. He sought, Igna motioned but bro didn’t notice. The workers dropped their foreheads to the rocky soil. One man glared defiantly. He walked, the lasers focused on his chest, “-choose,” Igna thundered, “-your son or their safety,” he unholstered Tharis, “-what will it be?”

“You dare oppose me?”

“I dare do much more,” he returned, “-for example,” without so much a warning, Igna’s pistol locked and fired. A body fell from the helicopter. The barrel returned on Mirai, “-the man yet lives,” he said, “-my next shot won’t miss.” The message was clear. Intercoms from the helicopter spewed white noise. The squadron did a 180 into distant dots. The petrified expression many held remained. One monster is replaced by another. The crowd viewed with much distress. Shaky hands, avoided eye-contact, slow movements; ‘-they’re frightened,’ Igna walked to Mirai, “-you’re pathetic.”

“Why would you say that, Doc?”

“Tommy, my boy, there are things in this world that are best left unknown. Don’t interfere,” the signals were clear. Mirai bowed his gratitude, “-there will not be the next time. Get her in the jeep.”

Meanwhile, “-who was that man?”

“We don’t know, sir. He’s an unknown in our database. I will ask for further intel.”

.....

“Try and get him on our side. He might prove useful,” a suited businessman hung the call and turned towards a grand view, ‘-whoever you are, I will get my revenge. No one messes with our family,’ a strange light glowed from the wrist, “-have the wounded taken to the crematorium. Burn him if he lives. I don’t need additional cost weighting my progress.”

Time jumped for the late evening. The orangish glow turned dark outlines. The streets coughed what little light they held – like an old man gathering his strength to walk. Sewer puddles overflowed and caught the reflection of passersby and meandering vehicles.

Rat squealed. The foul stench of rotten food and decomposing flesh layered the alleys. A man in warm clothes walked. He breathed puffs. Whispers of society’s rats lingered. He paid no heed to danger, the rotten thugs watched and waited. A person’s caliber sufficed for disinterest. Said particular alley led from the harbor to a neighborhood-owned medical center. Wounded from all ages waited on benches, latter thrown onto the very alleys ruled by filth. Open wounds left to fester. Flies pranced, fumes wandered and the injured pained. Nurses bore unwanted attention – thick white stockings and white dresses prevented advances from lingerers. The outfits weren’t glamorous nor did they pay attention to their appearance. Some of the women smelt worse than the street itself.

“Next one,” said an attendant with wrinkled skin showing bone. A young boy stood. He had neither parents nor guardians, only a white now brown cloth tying his wound; an amputated arm. And so, the darkness of night encompassed the outside seats. Rain dribbled. The sick coughed blood and others hit their heads against the bricked walls. Wasn’t uncommon to see stain marks of previous head-butts.

The warmly dressed man skipped past the train of wounds, “-who are you?” lashed a stern nurse with hands inside a middle-aged man’s pants. She had bloated cheeks, red lipstick, and a mark on her chin. Her diamond-shaped glasses rested uncomfortably on her pimpled nose, “-answer my question.”

“Mirai,” answered the good-looking fellow, “-I’m here to see my fellow.”

“Mirai, huh?” she took a full-body scan and pointed back, “-down there, past the main entrance, take a right at the first corner.”

“Thank you,” he nodded nervously and obeyed the direction. Moans and grim a display flashed; one of the younger nurses was thrown over a closed garbage can and was being groped by a gang. He hung back and gasped. Her cries whimpered, and passersby from the opposite alley threw a look at the nurse and then at Mirai, “-wrong side, buddy,” one commented, “-if you want to visit, I suggest you head for the main street and circle around. The back-alleys isn’t for use for your kind,” the man took one step and breathed into Mirai’s face, “-won’t be lucky the next time.” He gulped, the tattooed man shuffled away with baggy clothes, and his entourage took turns eying Mirai.

“Ay, how’s she fair?”

“No idea,” returned malicious cackles, “-she looks good from this angle. Look at the shape of that ass, oh my god, the exotic kind indeed hit the best.”

“No, no, I want to know how she screams,” they pulled her hair, and she cried, Mirai’s heart dropped, ‘-what is this place?’ he covered his mouth and ran for the main street.

*Bump,* he hit someone, “-I’m SO SORRY!” fired instantly.

“Watch where you’re going.”

‘Keep your head down,’ he gulped, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” darker thoughts crossed, ‘-is he going to kill me, what have I done, should I give him my money, what should I do?’

“Mirai, is that you?” a familiar voice froze the frantic thoughts.

“...” He looked up from the apologetic demeanor, “-Doc?”

“What’s got you flustered?”

“Doc, it’s you,” he breathed a sigh of relief, “-I’m scared.”

“About what?” there was no need for an explanation. The distant cries were enough. Igna took Mirai’s arms, “-came to check on Nikki?”

“Yes. Tommy told me you took her here.”

“That’s about right,” he continued walking, “-thing about the slums is, you don’t get better treatment from anywhere else. The real hospitals in the city. We both know commoners aren’t allowed there. This is what the slums make do with,” they arrived onto the same alley with patients lain on rows. The wounded looked at Doc as if he were a god. The grumpy nurse turned, “-Doc, we’ve been waiting,” her hands were still inside the man’s pants.

“What’s this about?”

“Someone stabbed and dropped him there. The bleeding’s stopped, couldn’t do much but hold the artery.”

“Right,” he clapped. An army of medics dressed in white overalls and dark masks turned the corner and attended the patients, “-we’ll do a triage and start administering potions. Chop, chop people,” multiple nurses ran out of the building, “-where’s the new kid?” he narrowed.

“She’s out back.”

“Harassed?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I specifically told them not to dress up,” he looked in front, “-stay here,” and confidently vanished around the corner.

“What do we have here?” the nurse’s dress was torn by this point, her tears melted into her makeup, her leggings were used as gags as for her undergarment, they took a turn wearing it as if a crown, “-poor little lambs stumbling into my trap,” he smirked. The gag melted, the nurse’s features changed, her legs grew, her color swapped for black, wings sprouted and horns curled, her expression licked viciously, “-have your fun,” *snap,* the naked demon flipped her body and cleanly sliced her aggressor’s member. She sat seductively on the garbage can, her tail pulsed as did her inviting visage. They couldn’t breathe, much less take account of what happened. Her nails sharped and with the flexibility of a hunter, pounced. Heads, legs, feet – nothing was spared.

“Down girl,” the demoness clawed on all fours and waited at Igna’s feet. Her mannerisms were the same as one of a cat, though, the visage and part of her body were obviously female, “-did you enjoy your meal?”

“Yes master,” she purred.

“Good,” *Blood-Arts: Crimson Threads,* it gathered in a yarn, “-here you go,” it laughed and vanished, leaving her innocent laugh in the air.

“Poor sod,” Igna leaned in and strangled the man, “-you who were so confident, how does it feel, tell me, how does it feel to see your life flash before your eyes,” his own blood tore from his body in a macabre display. The flesh dried, his chest was open, and had his innards poured over the waist, “-Signed, DBK,” he etched the writings and teleported the victim on a boat left hanging on the river.

“Doc?” Mirai leaned around, “-is everything okay?”

“Someone’s confident.”

“No, I was worried something might have happened.”

“Don’t worry,” he walked past, “-nothing’s the matter. They were being a nuisance.”

“What about the girl?”

“Such is the sorry truth of the slums,” he pressed Mirai’s shoulder, “-you rather not get involved with the politics.”

“Where are the patients?” the bench was empty, “-where did they all go?”

“Healed,” Igna entered the medical center, “-running a medical center in the slums isn’t profitable. We use barter instead,” they walked past a suspiciously cold and dark room, “-those who can’t pay, well,” Igna turned towards Mirai, “-have to give something greater,” the ajar door closed slowly by a strange entity.

“Here we are,” *Room 13,* was written on white doors.

“Doc, and bro!” said from down the hallway.

“Hey Tommy, how are you?”

“Good,” the little fellow walked towards Igna, “-Doc, how’s my sis doing?”

“She’s more or less healed,” they entered the room, “-give me a moment first.” Awkward eye exchange, “-hot day, isn’t it?”

“Bro, you suck at small talk,” the conversation faded. Igna’s footstep moved towards closed curtains, “-Nikki,” he pulled, “-how’s my patient doing?”

She sat upright and watched the closed window, “-aside from the dull view, I guess I’m fine?”

“Now Nikki,” he stood at the foot of the bed, “-I’ve treated most of your wounds. You can go back to work. I recommend rest.”

“Why the grave tone, doc?”

“I’m afraid you have an incurable disease. By working the nights and looking after your little bro, I’m afraid you’ve contracted the Night’s Plague. I’m guessing one of your customers. Nothing more we can do here. If you want treatment, I suggest the main hospital. They have better facilities.”

“The night’s plague?” she covered her face, “-how long do I have left?”

“I can’t say,” he walked to the window, “-you suspected much, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” her voice softened, “-I guess I did. I knew something was wrong, my body doesn’t feel like it use to. Doc, isn’t there anything you can do?” she looked at him with widened eyes, “-is there nothing you can do?”

“If you were to choose between family or love, what would it be?”

“Family.”

“And between money or integrity?”

“Money,” her expression fastened, “-Doc, we’re from the slums. Why do you think I’d get involved in this business if not for the money? I will do what I must to protect my family.”

“Good, very good. Nikki,” he grabbed her shoulder and gazed into her soul, “-I know a way you can be saved. Matter of fact, if you accept, I will make certain one of your wishes comes true. Dit moi, tu desies quoi1?”

“Freedom.”

“Good,” he held her hands, “-starting today, you will work for me. You will obey my every command; you will do as I say.”

“Anything you want. Long as I’m safe and can live to see my brother get married.”

“You will.”

The door opened. Mirai entered whilst Igna exited. Nikki’s expression remained in shock. ‘I have a new pawn,’ he headed for the outside. Her head rang with his clamorous words, “-make Mirai yours. Make me worship you, use your body, use your charm, use whatever means you need to make him yours. Have him depend on you, become the victim, do that and get in his favor, build rapport until I make my move,” a letter was burnt onto her palm, “-if you speak about this to anyone, you’ll die, as well as your little brother. I’ll have your family become pawns to the leeches on the street.”

“Nikki, Nikki,” Mirai’s warm hands touched her cheeks, “-hey, wake up. Are you okay?”

“Mirai,” she gripped his hand, “-I’m sorry,” and pulled back, “-I can’t.”

“Why, Nikki, why?”

“It’s your father. I’m going to die if we stay together. You promised me I wouldn’t have to work the streets anymore; you promised me you would look after me and my family. What did I get in return, for all the intimate times I shared... I was pushed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sis, that’s enough. Bro, you should leave. Sister needs rest.”

“But...” *slam,* the lock clicked.

.....

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