No Rest for the Wicked: Chapter Continuation

The air inside the warehouse stank of blood and burnt powder.

The dead lay sprawled on the ground limbs twisted grotesquely, faces frozen in a rictus of agony.

And yet, it wasn't over.

Not even close.

Renji's fists closed, blood seeping from his knuckles.

The katana was gone, smashed to bits like glass, but he didn't need it. He'd killed with less.

His body was the weapon.

The Syndicate muscle invaded the warehouse like the predatory wolves that they were, merciless, methodical, and armed to the teeth.

No wasted movements.

No hesitation.

There was a glint of the challenge in their eyes.

Renji exhaled. One breath.

Then the first man lunged.

He arrived fast, a combat knife glimmering in the low light.

Renji avoided the thrust, deflected it with his forearm, and then snapped the assassin's wrist with a precise, brutal twist.

Renji whirled with his new human shield.

The man scarcely had time to scream as Renji snapped the broken limb.

POP. POP.

Gunfire erupted.

The enforcers had not hesitated; they had shot straight through their own man in the chance to hit Renji. Cold-blooded.

Efficient.

The bullets would tear through flesh and bone.

The human shield spasmed, blood spraying Renji's face.

He didn't flinch. Instead, he pushed himself ahead, using the corpse's momentum to throw himself at the next attacker.

Impact.

Renji crashed into the second enforcer, elbowing him in the throat.

With a sickening crunch, the man's trachea collapsed.

No hesitation.

No mercy. SNAP of the enforcer's pistol snatched from midfall, two shots: one to the head, one to the gut.

Two down.

"Renji, heads up!"

Ayame's warning came at the perfect time.

He ducked just in time to escape a machete blow aimed at his spine.

The attacker, a heavily tattooed killer with ice-cold shark eyes, grinned as he continued his rampage.

Renji ducked.

The blade whistled by his ear. Too close.

He countered instantly, closing the gap, pinning the machete arm with his own, and using a knee to smash into the man's ribs.

Cartilage popped.

The enforcer gasped. Renji pulled out the machete and plunged it deep into the man's chest.

A wet, visceral rip.

The shark-eyed girl spilled blood, but Renji was already on it before the body hit the ground.

Sora's Last Stand

Sora sat in the Free States with static clinging to the edge of his vision.

A jackhammer throbbed in his skull, the psychic reverberation of his abomination trying to rip his skull in half. He was tapped out.

No power left. Just raw instinct.

But instinct was of limited use when it came to two enforcers coming at him at the same time.

He narrowly dodged the first company man's baton swing.

The second, a wiry bastard with razor-thin daggers, had already lunged.

Sora turned, but he wasn't fast enough.

Chill steel skimmed his ribs.

Pain lanced through his body.

He staggered, clutching his side.

Blood hot and sticky between his fingers. Fuck.

The original enforcer jumped at the chance.

A boot slammed into Sora's belly.

He felt his body gurgle, drop down to the ground heavy, his eyesight fading.

The two murderers dwarfed him. Grinning.

"Not that tough without your little tricks, huh?" one snickered, cleaning a blade stained with Sora's blood."

Sora gave a bark of laughter, a foul, bloody noise.

"You talk too much."

The enforcer frowned.

"What."

BOOM.

A gunshot rang out. His head snapped back, with a hole drilled directly through his skull.

Sora didn't fire.

Ayame did.

She leaped over a corpse, firing both barrels into the final enforcer's chest.

The man recoiled as the bullets shredded his sternum.

He collapsed.

Sora whined and clutched at his side.

"F*cking hell, Ayame."

Ayame smirked.

"You're welcome, dumbass."

She crouched down to extend a hand.

Sora took it.

They had no time to rest.

More enemies poured in.

Renji vs. the Monster

The last man left was the brutish guy with the war hammer.

His comrades were dead.

He didn't seem to care.

He stretched his neck and shrugged his shoulders.

"You're good. But not good enough."

Renji spat blood and smiled.

"I hear that a lot."

The assassin charged.

Renji avoided the first blow, the hammer smashing down into the concrete.

A cloud of dust and debris blasted out.

Too strong. Too slow.

Renji rushed in, aiming a blow at the assassin's throat only to have his wrist caught in a vice of a grip.

Shit.

The brute yanked him inside and slammed a knee into Renji's ribs.

Something cracked.

White-hot agony exploded through Renji's body.

He bit down ignored it.

But then came yet another blow, a hammer fist to his back.

A direct hit.

Renji fell, smashing against the ground, spitting blood.

Fuck.

"You're not invulnerable," the brute rumbled.

He raised the war hammer to smash Renji's skull to a pulp.

But Renji was already moving.

A feint. A misdirection.

He dove between the brute's legs, grabbed a fallen combat knife, and jabbed the blade into the bastard's Achilles tendon.

The brute screamed.

His leg buckled just enough for Renji to leap back up, his arm shooting around his throat and choking violently.

"Let's see if you bleed like the rest of us," Renji had whispered in his ear.

The assassin thrashed.

Clawed at Renji's arm. Futile.

Renji clutched harder, squeezing, throttling, and mangling.

Seconds passed.

The brute's struggles were becoming weaker.

Then stopped.

Renji let the body drop.

No mercy. No survivors.

Silence.

This: only the drip of blood and crackle overhead of a dying light.

Renji stood with a heavy chest, breath sluggish.

Ayame reloaded her pistols with a flick of her wrist.

Sora spit out blood, tired, but he was still alive.

"Are we done?" Sora rasped.

Renji cast a look at the entrance.

More figures. More killers.

They weren't done.

Renji clenched his fists.

His body burned.

His lungs screamed for rest.

But his heart?

Cold. Steady. Unrelenting.

He stepped forward.

"Let's finish this."