Chapter 2: Funboy

The city was an open wound that never stopped bleeding. On the darkest nights, when the rain fell incessantly, it seemed that the earth itself was trying to wash away the dirt of the men who inhabited it. But even the most violent flood could not wipe away the blood stains that accumulated in the forgotten alleys, in the corners where lost souls congregated to sink a little deeper into their own hell.

And Vladimir, in the midst of that storm, was an implacable spectre, a force that walked among the living with the weight of the dead on his shoulders. The city had seen his violence, his rage; it had felt the edge of his revenge. But revenge was never enough. He did not heal the scars that were marked on his soul, those that time and death had only deepened.

The raven cawed over his shoulder, like a herald of the inevitable, as Vladimir walked through the empty streets. The name echoed in his mind like a constant drum, an echo he couldn't ignore.

Funboy.

The addict. The sadist. The man who had laughed while Vladimir's world was falling apart. He was the next to fall.

The alleys of the Abyss

The city seemed to know. In every shadow he crossed, in every broken window and every abandoned building, darkness seemed to close around Vladimir, recognizing him as one of their own. He no longer belonged to the world of men. His place was among the ghosts, among the ruins, among the spoils of a life that no longer existed.

The seedy den where Funboy was hiding was at the end of a series of twisted alleys, as if even the very places he inhabited had warped under the weight of his corruption. Vladimir knew such places. They were spaces where hope came to die, where pain and addiction became religion.

The rain was falling harder, turning the streets into rivers of mud and waste. But Vladimir hardly noticed it. All he felt was the cold in his bones, a cold that did not come from the outside, but from the emptiness inside him. A void that was only filled by the death of the men who had destroyed it.

Two guards were at the door of the club. Tough men, with tired eyes and clenched jaw, as if life had snatched away any trace of humanity they once had. It didn't matter. For Vladimir, they were nothing more than obstacles. Pawns on a board where he was the only player.

The crow cawed again, louder this time. Vladimir knew what it meant. It was time.

With the precision of a hunter, he lunged at the men. There were no screams, there were no warnings. Only the cold and brutal efficiency of death. The first one fell without even realizing what had happened, his neck broken with a dull crack. The second tried to draw his weapon, but Vladimir was already on top of him, throwing him against the wall with a force that broke bones and left the man on the ground, gasping for his last breath.

Vladimir did not wait to see them die. They didn't matter. They were not the real culprits. They were not the target.

He pushed the door of the club and entered.

Funboy's Last refuge

The interior of the place was a portrait of hell that Funboy had created for himself. Thick smoke from cigarettes and heroin floated in the air, mixing with the sour stench of sweat and hopelessness. The walls were covered with graffiti, distorted images of nightmares that seemed to come to life in the dim light of the broken lamps.

In the center of the room, on a grimy, sunken sofa, lay Funboy. The needle was still hanging from her arm, her pale skin glistening in the dirty light. His eyes were half-closed, lost in some corner of his mind where reality could not reach him. There was no one else in the room. All the other bodies lying there, addicts lost in their own chemical escape, didn't matter. Funboy was the only one who mattered.

Vladimir looked at him for a moment, feeling the fire inside him burning even stronger. Funboy was a shadow of what he had been that night. The energy, the carefree nastiness, everything had drained out of him. Now, he was just a withered body, one more ruin in this cemetery of living souls.

Funboy babbled something incoherent as he tried to move. The drug prevented him from coordinating his movements. His fingers closed over the empty air, searching for the gun he'd left on the table beside him, but his muscles weren't responding.

Vladimir advanced towards him, each step echoing like the drumming of death.

- No... you can't be here... Funboy murmured, his voice barely a whisper, carried away by the poison in his blood. You... you're dead.

"I was," said Vladimir, his voice grave and cutting like the edge of a razor. But I came back for you.

Funboy tried to sit up, his body shaking pathetically. The needle slipped from his arm, leaving a small thread of blood running down his skin. Fear finally broke the heroin fog. His eyes suddenly opened, meeting Vladimir's.

There was something primitive about that encounter. A hunter in front of his prey, the predator staring at the creature he had been stalking for so long.

Funboy recoiled on the couch, his back pressed against the worn-out backrest.

- Wait! - he cried, his voice trembling -. I can give you money! Whatever you want!

—There is nothing you can give me—" Vladimir replied, coming closer.

Funboy started shaking, his body caught between fear and the remnants of the drug. He desperately searched for a way out, a way to escape from the sentence he saw in Vladimir's eyes. But there was no way out. There was no escape.

- Please! she begged, her voice breaking. It wasn't my fault! I'm on my own... i just did what I was told!

Vladimir stopped in front of him. His shadow covered Funboy, enveloping him in a darkness that was deeper than anything he had ever known before.

—You were part of this," Vladimir said, with deadly calm. You laughed while she was being killed. You touched her. You hurt him.

Funboy tried to shake his head, but the words died in his throat. The memories of that night came back to him with a clarity that fear amplified. The laughter, the screams, the sadistic pleasure of seeing Vladimir and Alina destroyed. I knew I had no excuse.

Vladimir took him by the collar, lifting him off the sofa with a force that did not seem possible in a living man. Funboy kicked, his hands clung to Vladimir's arms, but his grip was unbreakable. The raven's eyes shone from the shadows, watching with a cold and ancient wisdom.

- Did she beg you too? - Vladimir asked, his voice echoing in the room like thunder. Did you hear her when she asked you to stop?

Funboy could not answer. The spasms of terror consumed him, his breathing became short. He tried to speak, but there was nothing to say. Nothing that could save him from the inevitable.

Vladimir tightened his grip more.

—Now you're going to listen to her—" he said, before twisting Funboy's neck with a quick, precise movement.

Funboy's inert body fell to the ground with a dull sound, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Vladimir looked at him for a moment, his mind flooded with memories of Alina, of what was taken from her. But, as before, death brought no comfort. It just left more empty.

The crow cawed again, and Vladimir knew that there was no time for lamentations. There was one more left.

Top Dollar. The architect of pain. The man who had ordered everything.

Vladimir left the body behind and went out into the rain. Each death brought him closer to the end, but the end would not bring peace. Only justice. And, perhaps, forgetting.

One step closer to the abyss

The rain was falling harder as Vladimir walked away, his figure merging with the darkness of the city. The alleys welcomed him, the shadows enveloped him. It was his world now, a realm of death and revenge, where every step he took brought him a little closer to his ultimate goal. The storm was carrying with it the echoes of the past, and with every drop that fell, the weight of his mission became more unbearable.

He wandered into a maze of soggy streets, where neon lights flickered with an almost poetic sadness. The shadows danced on the walls of the buildings, projecting grotesque figures that seemed to laugh at their pain. But Vladimir was not fooled. I knew that laughter was a poison, an illusion that hid the true suffering that lurked in every corner.

The echo of Alina's screams still echoed in his mind. The memories of that night haunted him, his laughter turned to tears, and the images of his fading love took his breath away. His mind was a battlefield, where pain and rage fought to dominate him, and every death he caused was a failed attempt to heal the wound that consumed him. But justice was not a straight path; it was a dark labyrinth in which the light barely filtered through.

The Shadow of the Top Dollar

His next stop was the club where Top Dollar, the master of manipulation, ruled with an iron fist. He knew that man was a predator, a being whose evil knew no bounds. He had woven a network of criminals, extortionists and murderers that stretched all over the city, like an octopus with tentacles that clung to every corner. Top Dollar was a man who knew how to play with the lives of others, and that's why he had to fall.

As he got closer to the club, the sound of pulsating music and the laughter of the carefree became louder. But behind that facade of fun and nonchalance, I knew there was a world of pain waiting to be unleashed. Darkness clung to every corner, and Vladimir was its harbinger.

The guards at the entrance looked at him with disdain, as if they were the guardians of a kingdom that did not allow intruders. But he wasn't just an intruder; he was a force of nature. With a quick movement, he knocked them down, leaving inert bodies on the ground. Violence was an art in his hands, and every blow was a note in the symphony of his revenge.

The interior of the club was a spectacle of lights and shadows, where the faces of the attendees were distorted under the brightness of the lamps. It was a place where life and death intertwined in a macabre dance. The music was a siren song, luring the unwary towards doom.

Vladimir moved through the crowd, his sharp gaze searching for his prey. The energy in the air was palpable; I could feel the tension, the anticipation. In the background of the club, one figure stood out: Top Dollar, with his arrogant air and contemptuous smile, surrounded by a group of men who adored him. He was a king on his throne, a puppeteer who controlled every aspect of the show that took place.

The inevitable encounter

Vladimir approached, each step resonating with the determination of a warrior who had passed through the fire. The crowd was moving away in his wake, as if they sensed the coming storm. The murmurs turned into silence, and the bustle of the club slowly died out, leaving only the sound of Vladimir's heart beating hard.

Top Dollar looked up, his smile fading as he recognized the approaching figure. There was a flash of surprise, followed by a hint of fear. Vladimir's gaze burned like fire, and all the horrors he had suffered were reflected in his eyes.

"Vladimir Corvo," said Top Dollar, his voice a soft whisper, almost a bark. I thought you were dead.

"I'm not here to remember the past," Vladimir replied, his tone grave. I'm here to collect what belongs to me.

A sepulchral silence took over the place. The men around Top Dollar exchanged nervous glances, unable to comprehend the magnitude of what was about to happen. Top Dollar slowly got up, shedding his arrogance and assuming a defensive posture.

- Do you really think you can come here and... -he started, but Vladimir did not give him the opportunity to finish.

With a quick movement, he threw a knife that plunged into the table in front of Top Dollar, causing the crowd to recoil in a stifled scream. The threat was clear, and Vladimir knew that there could be no more words. Only the action remained.

"You are the real monster," Vladimir said, his voice booming loudly. You've been playing with lives, destroying what never belonged to you. But tonight, the game is over.

The coming storm

Top Dollar smiled sardonically, regaining his composure. He was a man who had always had an ace up his sleeve, and his eyes distilled a dangerous madness.

- Oh, but dear Vladimir, you don't understand. This is a game that never ends. There will always be more like me—" he replied, pointing to his men. Do you think you can beat all of them?

But Vladimir did not answer. Inside, the fire was burning brightly, and the crow on his shoulder cawed like a call to war. There was no room for fear or doubt; only the need to fulfill his revenge.

In an instant, the club became a battlefield. The Top Dollar men rushed towards him, but Vladimir was ready. He moved with the grace of a dancer, his movements fluid and precise. Every blow he dealt was a flash of revenge, an echo of the life he had lost.

The struggle broke out, a symphony of pain and violence. The laughter turned into screams of terror, and the air was filled with the sound of bodies hitting the ground. The lights flickered, casting shadows that danced like ghosts in the gloom. The crow cawed, as if enjoying the violence unleashed, the chaos that overflowed.

Vladimir moved between his enemies, knocking down one after another. The taste of revenge was sweet on his tongue, but also bitter, like the echo of the memories that tormented him. At the climax of the fight, Top Dollar tried to escape, but Vladimir caught him, throwing him against the wall with a force that resonated throughout the club.

- Where is the pleasure in playing with the life of others? - Vladimir asked, his face inches from Top Dollar's, who was visibly terrified.

—It's not a game, it's a way of life," Top Dollar replied, his voice trembling, as he tried to free himself.

The end of a tyrant

With a quick movement, Vladimir drew his knife, the blade gleaming in the dim light of the club. I knew there was no turning back. This was the end of his story, and also that of Top Dollar. The justice he had sought for so long was at his fingertips.

"Today, the darkness will take back what belongs to it," Vladimir said, his voice a deep whisper like the abyss. Then, like a flash, the knife plunged into the heart of Top Dollar, who let out a stifled scream as the life faded from his body.

The echoes of death echoed through the club. The music stopped, and an absolute silence took over the place, as if the city itself was holding its breath, witnessing the fall of another tyrant. Top Dollar fell to the ground, his body inert, a puppet without strings.

Vladimir stood up, feeling the weight of what he had done, but also a release. Each death brought him closer to redemption, but he knew that there was no peace in his heart. Just the echo of an endless struggle.

With one last glance at the scene of chaos around him, Vladimir turned his back on the club and walked into the darkness of the night. There was more to do, more shadows to face. And even if the road got darker, he couldn't stop. Not when the abyss was so close

A step towards redemption

As I walked through the soaked streets, the city lights were reflected in the water, creating an unreal landscape. The rain was falling like a siren song, and the crow was croaking, as if he was celebrating his victory. However, deep in his heart, Vladimir knew that such a victory did not mean peace. It was an echo of the inner conflict that had haunted him since the loss of Alina.

The night was slipping around him, a cloak of shadows hiding the truth from the world around him. Every puddle on the ground reflected not only the light, but also the scars of a harrowing past. The fight against Top Dollar had been just one battle in a much bigger war. There was still a lot to do, and she couldn't afford to faint.

As he went on, a flood of memories flooded him. Alina's laughter, her love, her hope. Everything was fading into a sea of darkness. He paused for a moment, leaning against a graffiti-covered wall, feeling the pressure of his pain. He wondered if he could ever escape from this darkness that embraced him so fervently.

The flashing lights of a diner across the street caught his eye. It was a place that had witnessed countless stories of love and loss, a refuge for those seeking warmth in the cold world around them. Vladimir felt drawn, like a castaway to the shore, looking for answers in the smoke and echoes of other people's conversations.

The search for solace

As he entered the diner, the aroma of coffee and fried food enveloped him, a sense of home that he had long lost. The conversations were mingling, creating a comforting murmur that led him to a lonely corner. He sat at a table by the window, watching the customers with a mixture of melancholy and nostalgia.

A group of young people were laughing at a nearby table, oblivious to the shadows lurking in the city. Her laughter was a reminder of what she had lost, of the life she had left behind. His hands were shaking slightly as he poured himself a cup of coffee, the hot liquid contrasting with the cold he felt inside.

The waitress, an older woman with a warm smile, approached her table.

- Is everything all right, honey? - he asked, his eyes full of understanding.

Vladimir nodded, forcing a smile. She did not want to share her pain with a stranger, but the kindness in his gaze was a balm for her wounded soul.

—Just a little tired," he replied, his voice softer than he intended.

"Life can be hard sometimes—" the woman said, leaning a little towards him. But there is always a way back. Sometimes, you just need to find the place where you really belong.

The words echoed in her mind. Where did he belong? In his heart, he knew that his quest for revenge was a way to escape from the void that Alina had left. But I also knew I couldn't go on like this. Redemption was a thorny path, full of difficult decisions and sacrifices.

The echo of the past

As he took a sip of coffee, a figure appeared in his mind: the man he had been before the tragedy, before his life turned into a cycle of violence. He remembered a Vladimir full of dreams, of hopes, of love. He wondered if he could ever get that part of himself back, if there was a place for him in a world that seemed to be in constant chaos.

Suddenly, a noise broke his trance. The door of the diner burst open, letting in a group of men, all with cold and defiant looks. He recognized one of them; he had been a soldier under the orders of Top Dollar. Anger and revenge sizzled in his eyes.

"Vladimir Corvo," one of them said, his voice deep and threatening. We knew you'd be here.

The tension in the atmosphere grew, and the customers of the diner began to murmur, aware that the calm was over. Vladimir felt the air becoming heavy; the darkness had found him again.

The storm unleashed

The men approached, surrounding his table with clear intentions. There was a glint of fury in his eyes, and the memory of his old boss, Top Dollar, seemed to give them strength. They knew that the fall of their leader meant that the power vacuum had to be filled, and they were determined to make Vladimir pay for what he had done.

—This doesn't have to end like this," Vladimir said, getting up slowly, his heart pounding. He could feel the darkness calling to him, whispering to him that violence was the only way.

- Do you think we're gonna let a traitor get away with this? - one of them replied, and with a gesture of his hand, the scene turned into chaos.

The men rushed towards him, but Vladimir was ready. Anger and pain united inside her, transforming into an explosive energy. With a fluid movement, he dodged the first attack, launching a precise blow that connected with the jaw of one of the men. The fight broke out like a storm, and the diner became a battlefield.

The plates and cups flew, the lights were flashing and the screams of the customers were mixed with the sound of fists hitting the meat. Vladimir moved like a shadow, every blow he gave was an act of redemption, an attempt to release the weight he was carrying on his shoulders. But deep down in her being, she knew that violence would never bring the peace she longed for.

The inevitable outcome

As the fight progressed, the echo of the fight echoed in his mind. Every blow he landed was a reminder of what he had lost, of the life he had left behind. But the determination to get ahead was driving him. He knew he couldn't afford to be caught up in this cycle of hatred and revenge.

Finally, with a final blow, he knocked down the last of his attackers. The breath was burning in his chest, and the chaos gradually calmed down. The room was filled with silence, except for the sound of his heart pounding.

Vladimir looked around, seeing the mess he had left behind. The waitress was watching him with eyes full of concern, and the customers, stunned, began to slowly walk away. In that instant, he understood that violence was not the path to redemption, but a cycle that kept him trapped in darkness.

He left the diner, the rain was still falling, but it was no longer just a reflection of his pain; it was a symbol of renewal. Every drop that touched him was a reminder that life went on, even in the midst of tragedy. He wandered into the night, looking for a new purpose, a new reason to keep going.

The search for a new dawn

As it moved away, the storm began to clear, revealing a sky full of bright stars. There was something beautiful in the darkness, something that promised hope. He knew that his journey was not over; there was still a lot to face. But this time, instead of giving in to anger, he decided to look for answers. He wanted to find the way to redemption, not only for himself, but for all those who had been affected by the evil he had reaped around him.

With each step, he felt stronger, more determined. He would not be a hero, nor a savior, but he could fight for something bigger than himself. She could be the light that illuminated the shadows, the voice of those who could not speak. And so, under the cover of night, Vladimir Corvo began his new quest, a journey towards redemption in a world that often seemed to be in darkness.

With the wind whispering between the buildings and the echo of his footsteps echoing in the silence, a new chapter of his life was beginning. A chapter full of possibilities, of struggle and, above all, of hope. The road would be long and difficult, but I was ready to face it. Redemption was his destiny, and he would not stop until he reached it

The echo of the shadows

Vladimir Corvo stepped further into the night, his dark figure projected against the moonlight that shone like a beacon amid the urban chaos. Every step he took resonated with the weight of his past, and the murmur of the wind seemed to whisper warnings to him. The city, her former ally, had become a labyrinth of betrayals and bitter memories, and every street was a reminder of the life she had lost.

As he advanced, the shadows of worn-out buildings stood up like forgotten giants, and the distant sirens sang an ominous melody. A feeling of unease clung to his chest; although he had knocked down his attackers, the internal struggle continued. He was a warrior in a perpetual battle, facing not only those who had caused his pain, but also the ghosts of his own soul.

The faces of the past

Every corner he turned brought him visions of his former life. He remembered how he was walking down those same streets with Alina, laughing and dreaming of a future they would never see. The echo of her laughter echoed in his mind, like a distant song that faded with every step. She wondered if there was any way to retrieve those memories without the burden of her grief.

He stopped in front of an old mural, a vibrant painting depicting hope and resistance. His gaze stopped on a painted face, a child with a bright smile. In that instant, he understood that his struggle was not only for his own redemption; there were others who were suffering, others who needed someone to raise their voice on their behalf. The city was not just a battlefield; it was a home full of lost souls, of crushed dreams, and he should be the protector of those dreams.

The echoes of darkness

Determined to find a purpose beyond revenge, Vladimir headed to a bar known for its motley clientele. He knew that there he could find information, perhaps allies in his search for justice. As he opened the door, a dense air of smoke and stifled laughter enveloped him. The dim lights danced over tired faces, each with its own story of sadness and hope.

He sat at the bar, the polished wood reflecting the sparkles of the bottles lined up behind the bartender. With a gesture, he asked for a strong drink, looking for a break amid the deafening noise. While waiting, I watched the customers, each trapped in their own world, ignoring the storm that was hovering over them.

A scruffy-haired man approached him, his eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and distrust.

—I haven't seen you around here before," he said, his voice raspy. Are you looking for something?

Vladimir stared at him, aware that life in that city was a dangerous game. In an instant, he could be a friend or an enemy. But the time for playing riddles was over.

- Information. About Karlos and the others.

The man arched an eyebrow, but the spark of interest flashed in his eyes.

- You're looking for death, man. Karlos is not someone you want to approach. But... maybe I can help you.

The revelation

The man introduced himself as Leo, an informant who knew more than he was letting on. He told her about Karlos' operations, about how he had taken control of the underworld, and how he had manipulated those who were once loyal to Top Dollar. But he also talked about a place, a hideout that Karlos had turned into his fortress, an underground club that served as a front for his illegal operations.

Vladimir listened carefully, Leo's every word was a stone on the road that would lead him to his revenge, but also to his redemption. He understood that the road would be difficult, that the confrontation with Karlos would not only be physical, but a battle of wills.

When Leo finished, Vladimir felt a renewed impulse. He knew he had to prepare himself, that the darkness he had faced so far would pale in comparison to what awaited him. With a nod, he stood up from the bar, the sound of music and background laughter fading away as he made his way towards the exit.

The inevitable encounter

Outside, the rain had stopped, leaving a fresh and renewed air. Vladimir took a deep breath, feeling the world come to life again. However, I knew that this feeling of renewal was temporary. Every step brought him closer to the confrontation with Karlos, and although he was determined to confront him, he was also aware of the cost it could have.

As he walked through the streets, his mind kept returning to Alina. He wondered how she would have reacted to her new mission. Her memory was a burning fire in his chest, and her absence a void he could never fill. With every heartbeat, she promised herself that even though Karlos and the others must pay, she would not allow their revenge to consume her soul.

The calm before the storm

Arriving at the hideout, a dark and pulsating nightclub, Vladimir felt a mixture of nervousness and determination. The flashing lights danced, and the sound of music echoed, enveloping the place in an electric atmosphere. It was a place where secrets were whispered and pacts were sealed with blood.

He glided through the crowd, feeling how the gazes rested on him, some with curiosity, others with disdain. He wasn't there to make friends; his mission was clear. With the raven flying low, his presence was with him, a reminder of what he had lost and what was still to come.

In the center of the club, Karlos was surrounded by armed men, the very image of arrogance. Their laughter rang out, full of contempt. He was the kind of man who believed that life was a game, and he was always the shrewdest player.

Vladimir felt anger bubbling up inside him. At that moment, time seemed to stop. It was the moment he had been waiting for, the moment when he would finally face the shadow that had ruined his life. He came closer, his heart pounding, the echo of his determination echoing with every step.

The confrontation

When Karlos saw him, his laughter stopped abruptly, and an eerie silence settled into the atmosphere. The gazes were turning to Vladimir, and the air was charged with tension.

"Vladimir Corvo," Karlos said, a contemptuous smile peeking out on his lips. I didn't expect to see you here. Are you going to beg me for your life, or did you just come to do a show?

Vladimir did not answer. His heart was pounding, and he knew this was the time to act. The hatred he had felt for so long transformed into a palpable energy, a flame burning in his chest. Without further words, he threw himself forward, determined to face the darkness that had marked his life.

The denouement is approaching

The fight broke out, the club became a battlefield. Fists were flying, bodies were colliding, and the sound of music was mixed with the screams of pain. Vladimir was in his element, every blow he dealt was a step towards redemption, an act of resistance against the shadow that had darkened his life.

Karlos and his group did not expect the ferocity of their attack. Karlos' men fell one by one, terror and surprise reflected on their faces. But Karlos was no ordinary adversary; he was cunning and quick, and when they finally met face to face, the intensity of the confrontation reached its peak.

Vladimir looked into his eyes, and at that moment, everything that had happened in his life was condensed into a single truth: revenge would not bring peace, but facing him was necessary. It was a fight for freedom, not only from her pain, but also for Alina's memory.

As the world around him crumbled into a chaos of lights and shadows, Vladimir felt more alive than ever. And in the midst of the battle, he understood that, although the road to redemption would be arduous and difficult, it was a road that he had to travel.

A new dawn in the darkness

At the end of that tumultuous night, as the club lights flickered and the echo of the fight faded, Vladimir Corvo emerged from the darkness. The fight against Karlos hadn't just been a physical confrontation; it had been an affirmation of his existence, a declaration that the light could still shine in the darkness.

With the raven flying by his side, Vladimir strode into the night, ready to face any shadow that stood in his way. He knew that his journey was just beginning, and that each step would bring him closer to the peace he so longed for

End Of The chapter.