The City of Ionia

"So, this is the place? Some… worn-out warehouse in Lexen?" Sitting in the van, Ruben flipped through the holographic screens to gather last-second intel on Jason McNiel.

Through intelligence and collecting debts on favors from others, it was believed that Jason had been stationed here since the raid on his nightclub.

Lexon is a smaller town east of Ionia. Home to roughly 30,000 people, it had one of the lowest crime rates of all the cities within the wall. Granted, the crime rates were low to begin with. There weren't lots of SCAR agents compared to Ionia. Instead, Lexon and cities outside Ionia in general relied on a private organization called Nightwatchers.

Nightwatchers handled crime in every city except for Ionia. The reason is that SCAR wants to keep its units focused on Ionia, rather than the other cities. SCAR still patrolled the other cities, but their appearances and impact were much less than in Ionia. Because of this, the Nightwatchers were created to help keep the other cities safe.

Ruben clicked his tongue. "Seriously, he couldn't have picked a place with more class?" He spoke to himself, exited the vehicle, and adjusted the cuffs on his suit.

The warehouse itself was on the smaller end, abandoned as though no one had been here for years. Oddly enough, abandoned places weren't unusual. They were mainly failed businesses, and the property never got sold.

Inside, stacks of wooden planks and half–rotted beams leaned against the walls. Sawdust clung to the cracked concrete floor, giving the place a pungent, musty odor reminiscent of old, dusty wood. Every sound echoed, and footsteps creaked on wood.

"Bad guys… come out, come out wherever you are." Ruben walked through the darkness with glasses that provided enough light to see ahead.

He entered an open area with a table across the room. Three people were there, silent. Ruben smiled and walked into the open area without hesitation.

"Ah, what do we have here?" He asked.

"I've been expecting you. Please, take a seat."

An empty chair in the middle screamed Ruben's name. That wasn't the only thing that caught his eye. Ruben smiled and said, "Blackjack?! Count me in. I love me a good gamble." He proudly took his seat and waited for the dealer to proceed.

The dealer was no other than Jason McNeil, Ruben's target.

"You seem uninterested in this entire setup," said McNeil with a sturdy voice. "Is it your unwavering confidence? Or your foolish arrogance?"

McNeil sat with pride as though nothing could take him down. The other two, besides Ruben, were the opposite.

On the right was an older gentleman whose hands shook. He was barely able to handle a glass of water.

On the left was a high schooler. His collar was uneven, and his tie was absent. His hair was a mess, and he sat in silence with his head down.

"Not interested," Ruben said. "Say, why don't we make a deal? A favor, if you will."

Jason McNeil rubbed his long, bushy beard and smacked his lips, almost like he had eaten something rather delicious. "A deal with the devil? I'll pass."

"A devil? Rather rude of you."

"That's what you are. A cunning, manipulative devil who bends people's minds to go along with your will. The mockery you make of the people's favors is unforgivable."

Ruben squeezed his chest. "Mockery?" His playful voice was nowhere to be heard. "Favors? In the same sentence? Calling me a devil is one thing, but claiming I don't follow through deals… in your words… is unforgivable."

Jason remained quiet and dealt cards. Ruben received a 17. The man on the left got 9, and the other on the right got 14. On the other hand, Jason had a 10 with a card flipped over, hidden from everyone.

"Before we begin, let me provide an introduction to the men besides you. On the left is a boy no older than 17. A former Branded 7 of yours quit. Your response was to murder his girlfriend. He came home one day with a pool of blood on his kitchen floor, and you were sitting in the living room, unbothered by your horrific acts. That woman you murdered was this young man's older sister."

Ruben fixated his attention on that boy. He tried to recall that lost memory.

That's when it clicked. It was a former Branded 7. He knew exactly who it was.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"You cannot leave the Branded 7 without repercussions. That's how it goes," said Ruben calmly.

The boy whimpered like a puppy living a nightmare. His shoulders shivered, and he stared at his cards without blinking.

"This boy has fallen into despair since then. And you show no signs of empathy."

Ruben waved Jason off. "Nothing like a little character building to do the trick."

"Mockery after mockery. No wonder people started coming to me. I wish to dethrone you, Ruben, and steal his system of favors, and mold it in the absence of fear."

Ruben didn't appreciate those words. He bit his lower lip before saying, "Congradulations. You are taking advantage of people's feelings. What a mockery!" Ruben laughed and shook his head. "To be brutally honest, Jason, you stood a chance to begin with. Roll over why you still can."

"As for the older gentleman, he is the grandfather of Temos, the child who was brutally murdered by one of your people."

Temos… that's the child Sydney accidentally killed, which made her go insane.

Jason smiled through his bushy beard. He flipped over his hidden card. "An Ace."

The older gentleman on the right sniffed with tears rolling down his face. Ruben noticed a faint bulge beneath his coat, a blinking switch tucked against the fabric.

"A bomb?!" Ruben jumped out of his seat.

He focused on the boy. His head tilted down, silence, stiff.

Jason's grin widened at Ruben's realization. "They signed up for this. With nothing but despair in their lives, they resorted to being a sacrifice for the greater good. Mockery shall no longer be tolerated."

The older man shook under the weight of the explosives. His whisper cracked like glass. "I—I don't want to die…"

A blinding white flash tore through the table. It wasn't enough to destroy the building, but the confined explosion turned the center of the warehouse into a smoking crater. The older gentleman and boy vanished in an instant. The blast knocked Ruben back in his chair with minor cuts and burns.

Jason didn't flinch. His beard smoldered slightly, but he stood steady with eyes gleaming with triumph.

Ruben rose slowly, his expression caught somewhere between annoyance and amusement. "Bloody hell, that's it?" He gestured to the smoking wreckage, to the smear of what had been the older man. "All this theater… for a firecracker?"

Jason leaned into the smoke, his grin unfaltering. "It wasn't the blast that mattered, Ruben. It was the message."

Red dots flickered across Ruben's chest, his throat, his temple. Half a dozen beams aimed right at him from above.

"That little blast was a curtain rise. The real performance has you standing center stage." Jason said without dropping his smile.

Ruben stood perfectly still, eyes narrowing. He didn't flinch, didn't blink, even as the red dots burned brighter against his suit. "I seriously don't understand where you're getting to." His voice was calm. "But I'll admit it's an unique trick."

Jason's laugh echoed against the burning walls. "They volunteered to be sacrifices for the greater good. Weeping in despair, their lives have been destroyed by you. They had nothing left to offer but their body. You infiltrated my nightclub and killed my men. The bravery, no, the foolishness to stand in the predator's den before me. People will come to me as a savior. I shall cherish them individually and grant them their wishes without having death as a worry. Your life ends right here and now, Ruben Brickford."

"Jason, how much of a fool do you think I am? Do you honestly believe I came here alone and unprepared? Everything I do is calculated to the utmost perfection. Every detail of intel I gather is equally valuable. You are naive and believe favors can be friendly. I was that too, once. I learned the hard way that to incorporate favors, the subject cannot be a friend, but a slave to that favor. And if a slave cannot fulfill their duty, then that slave is as good as dead. Don't worry, Jason McNeil, you won't need that advice. You won't be alive to use it anyway."

"Confident for a man who can perish at any second."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Ruben asked as he pointed towards the ceiling.

Gunfire erupted above them, not at Ruben, but elsewhere. The sound of weapons spitting and bodies colliding echoed through the warehouse.

"What? They are fighting each other?" Jason said, standing.

"I have to admit," said Ruben, "you caught us off guard at the nightclub with your absence. There was a rat, nevertheless. We took care of that, phoned in a few buddies, and gathered more intel on your operation like never before. Prior to my arrival, someone from within replaced one of your men. Knocked him out stone cold, or killed, I don't know. Regardless, he is up there fighting yours."

Jason cleared his throat and grinned. "One against my five. Your man is outnumbered."

"Being outnumbered is no problem for the best gunslinger in Ionia. While Fernando takes care of that, why don't we amuse ourselves?" Ruben slowly crept forward with his hands balled up into a fist.

"I never put myself through harm's way. However, I put an exception to you, Jason. The copycat will be destroyed by the Almighty." Ruben's eyes turned a vibrant blue, indicating a Defense type.

"Referring to yourself as the Almighty is a mockery of the Lord's name. You, the devil, shall never taint Ionions as long as I live." Jason reached behind his waist and whipped out a small but powerful railgun. It whizzed, charging up to its maximum power. "This railgun is meant to kill Defense types like yourself."

Ruben smiled. "You're aware of my ability. Unfortunately, you are wrong about something. That railgun is intended to kill Defense types in their base power. However…" Ruben's skin glowed a soft blue. "It won't get past Ascension."

"Ascension…?" Jason took a small step back in shock. "There was no intel about you containing an Ascension form."

"It's simple. Those who could tell the tale are no longer alive."

With a shout, Jason fired the railgun. The railgun discharged a blinding beam of energy that could slice through steel and vaporize human organs. The shockwave rattled the warehouse.

Ruben didn't flinch. The blue glow around his body remained. His chest absorbed the impact like it was nothing.

Jason stared in disbelief. "Impossible." His voice was a mix of fear and anger, his eyes wide and dilating quickly, as though he had accepted his fate.

"As the devil, according to you, I wish you all the best in the underworld. See you… not anytime soon."

A bullet pierced through the side of his head. Jason fell with a pool of blood underneath his head. Standing over him were Ruben and Fernando, who took care of everything above.

Fernando lowered his revolver, which killed Jason. "Wanna grab a drink?" He asked with a cigar in his mouth, tilting his broad–brimmed hat down.

Ruben sighed. "I can use one."