The sword flashed—a head rolled, and arterial spray painted the walls crimson. A figure clad in scarlet armor stood motionless in the conference room, surrounded by the butchered remnants of the scavenger gangs. Blood pooled across the marble floor, transforming the chamber into a slaughterhouse.
Vega Pendleton radiated a demonic aura, his very presence suffocating the survivors. None dared meet his gaze; men twice his age stared at their shoes, trembling. One councilor audibly gulped, his throat clicking like a misfiring pistol.
With the last enemies carved apart, Vincent raised his cursed blade. The blood-red armor dissolved into mist, revealing the sharp-jawed killer beneath. He stepped over severed limbs toward Councilor Jack Thornton and Remaining council. Each footfall echoed like a executioner's drum.
The bodyguards clutched their weapons, knuckles white. They'd just watched this man slaughter a hundred people with the ease of a gardener pruning weeds.
"Jack." Vincent's voice was liquid nitrogen. "Explain why rat gangs infested this meeting." His sword tip lifted the councilor's chin. "Kevin told me you opened the gates for these vermin." A muscle twitched in his jaw. "Did the Pendleton family's territory seem like fair game?"
Jack Thornton—a fifty-year-old political shark—felt death's breath on his neck. One wrong word, and his head would join the others on the floor. Sweat soaked his tailored suit as he stammered, "V-Vincent, a misunderstanding! I intervened to prevent violence between the gangs and your—"
"You expect gratitude?" Vincent's laugh was a razor dragged over bone.
"N-no! The Pendletons needed no help! These fools brought their fate upon themselves!" Jack bowed like a scolded servant, shocking the onlookers. This was Nacro City's most powerful councilman, groveling before a 25-year-old enforcer.
Vincent leaned in, his whisper carving into Jack's soul: "Next time, write your will first."
Jack's knees nearly buckled. "There won't be a next time."
"Good." Vincent claimed the head chair, boots propped on the table. "Now. Let's discuss Nacro's new management." His glacial stare swept the room. "The Pendleton family will govern this city. Any objections?"
None came. The councilors stood like chastened schoolboys, their earlier scheming ashes in the wind.
Jack exhaled through his nose. Of course. Half the United States of Armen was ruled by syndicates. Why should Nacro be different?
As Vega outlined his terms, the councilors nodded like marionettes. The age of politicians was over.
The Pendleton Era had begun.