Blood and Blackmail

The shadows loosened their grip around Keno's neck as he stumbled backward. Boris closed in instantly, his fist hammering into Keno's stomach sending him hurtling across the landscape.

Boris emerged from his shadows, kicking him by the side, redirecting his course. Dissolving into the landscape he emerged beside Keno, his grip tightening around Keno's jaw, his voice taking on a suggesting tone.

"Scream as much as you like, Keno. It would motivate me to...improve my craft."

At first, Keno's screams were raw and full of vigor. But as the minutes dragged on, they lessened—until all that remained were weak, broken whimpers.

Boris sighed, his expression tinged with disappointment. "Ugh, they always break....too easily."

___________________________

Two figures reappeared in the deserted alley, Keno knelt, his body riddled with wounds, blood seeping slowly from his battered form. Boris gripped Keno's hair, dragging him up and placing him against the wall.

With precision, Boris pulled out a knife and impaled it into Keno's right arm, repeating the same move on the other arm. Keno hung from the wall, suspended by the knives, his body weight slowly stretching his arms downward.

Boris stepped back, his eyes glowing with a sadistic intensity. With swift, deadly accuracy, he flicked two more knives, which impaled Keno's legs, hanging him on the wall in an X shape.

Boris smiled, seemingly admiring his handiwork, as he began dissecting Keno with surgical precision. A few minutes later, he stepped back to admire the gruesome display.

Keno's body now hung as a bloody visage, his bowels pouring out like threads, his eyes, once full of life, now had blood streaming down his face, like tears.

Above the wall, in bold, blood-red letters, a message was scribbled, Русский призрак (Russian Ghost).

"Beautiful..... let them know, let them fear" Boris whispered as his figure dissolved into the shadows.

___________________________

Midnight.

The sounds of music echoed in a section of the district adorned by bright coloured neon lights, several clubs lined the avenue, each one booming with sound.

Occasionally people stumbled out of the clubs, arms wrapped around their companions, their laughter and chatter mingling with the music. The sidewalks teemed with people, all united by their quest for a memorable night.

A towering twenty-story building loomed over the avenue, its sleek white walls adorned with the emblem of black lotus flowers. The building's features glowed in the night lights, drawing attention to the infamous Black Lotus Club.

Within its walls, the club pulsed with energy, the thumping bass and vibrant lights creating an intoxicating atmosphere. Patrons lost themselves in the rhythm, dancing and swaying to the beat as the night trickled by.

Perched atop a building opposite the Black Lotus Club, Boris blended into the darkness, his figure almost invisible. He crouched low, his eyes fixed intently on the scene below.

"Black, is everything arranged" Boris said to himself, a voice echoing in his mind casual yet assured "Yep, been steps ahead of you."

"Good.., time to hunt a bigger fish," Boris whispered to himself, with that he dissolved into the shadows, his dark form sliding silently down the wall.

Inside the Black Lotus Club, a luxurious office occupied the top floor. The air was thick with the pungent scent of cigars. Behind a grand mahogany desk, a massive man sat, puffing on a cigar. His eyes fixed on the holographic screen projected in front of him.

"Has the cargo arrived at the warehouse?" he asked, his voice deep and commanding.

The figure on the holographic screen nodded. "Yes, Don, we've already begun distribution."

The Don chuckled slowly as he took a drag of his cigarillo. "Excellent work Marvin, I expect good news soon."

After a few more instructions he leaned back in his chair, taking another drag on his cigar, as the holographic computer powered down.

Minutes later, the holographic computer flickered back to life, casting an eerie glow over the office. The Don's eyes narrowed as he stared at the image on the screen, Keno's lifeless body, brutally mutilated.

A low, ominous voice came through the speaker, making him twitch. "Hello, Don."

The Don's expression turned calculating, but his voice remained steady. "The Russian ghost"

"Oh, you recognise my voice? That's a first." The voice replied sounding amused.

"There's only one person who's brutality matches what I'm seeing here. That and you basically scribbled your name at the top." Reaching to his drawer the Don pulled out a file and read from it. "Appeared three years ago in Gerage district and dominated the assassin circle of the underground world."

"I don't recall my men ever crossing you. No?" the Don said.

The voice on the other end was unforgiving. "They didn't, but he crossed an associate. Don't bother investigating, or I'll come for you next."

The Don snorted, still leaning back in his chair, his attitude displaying nonchalancy to the threat. "Amusing, but I'm not afraid of ghosts."

The voice on the other end of the line chuckled. "Oh, but you should be. Fifty thousand ERC, or another of your lackey joins him on the wall."

The Don frowned. "Really? you didn't strike me as the type that was into stand-up."

The voice laughed, a cold, amused sound. "Gervaine, you're playing with fire here."

"Is that the best you can do? That name's not exactly a secret. I must admit I expected better from the legendary Russian ghost." Gervaine replied his voice an up tone of confidence.

The voice replied "You're right, the name isn't a secret. How about this?"

Suddenly, crashing sounds echoed from outside the door, followed by the thud of bodies hitting the floor. Gervaine's brows arched as he stood up, his hands solidifying into metal, as he approached the door. Opening it his eyes met a gruesome sight, his lackeys lay slumped, blood gushing from their necks.

Gervaine's jaw clenched. His fists tightened, metal gleaming as his grip trembled. With a growl, he drove his fist into the wall, leaving a deep dent.

"Afraid of ghosts now, Gervaine?" the voice taunted. "Fifty thousand to this account, or someone won't see tomorrow's sundown."

"Not in the slightest. But let's be realistic, Ghost. Fifty? That's desperate. Five—five I can do. Their lives? Expendable." Gervaine replied. "Do we have terms?"

"You disappoint me, Gervaine. I expected better from a man who claims to run this district. But fine—five it is. And keep your dogs on a leash, Gervaine—next time, I won't stop at three." the voice replied as it faded.

The holographic computer screen split in two. On one side, a QR code flickered, while on the other, Keno's lifeless body remained, a haunting reminder of the Russian Ghost's warning.

Gervaine exhaled sharply, sinking into his chair. His face twisted with barely restrained rage as he glared at the screen. "That fucker, one day ghost, one day." Taking another deep breath he pressed a button on the table and the intercom beeped, "Call the cleaning crew to my office."

Tapping on the hologram, Gervaine leaned back in his seat. Minutes later, a figure appeared on the screen.

"That's one of your boys, right, Marvin?" Gervaine said, his tone cold.

Marvin hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yes, Don."

"Good. Then the compensation will come out of your paycheck. Understood?"

Marvin's expression tightened, but he gave a stiff nod.

"Good." Gervaine picked up his glass, drained it in one slow sip, and ended the call without another word.