something bigger

The wind howled as I stood on the rooftop, staring down at the city. Smoke curled from my cigarette, the ember glowing in the darkness. Below, the streets pulsed with life—cars moving like veins of light, people walking, unaware that a monster had just been erased from their world.

Marcus Voss was dead.

One less piece of human filth poisoning this city.

But there was no satisfaction. No relief.

Because killing him hadn't changed anything.

The world still turned. The scum still thrived.

And I was still… me.

I took another drag, the taste of burnt tobacco bitter on my tongue.

"One down," I muttered. "Thousands to go."

My work was just beginning.

I left the rooftop, taking the fire escape down to the alley. The club behind me still pulsed with music, oblivious to the corpses in Marcus's private room.

The city never stopped moving.

And neither could I.

My phone buzzed.

I pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

Unknown Number.

I frowned. Only a few people had this number, and none of them were the type to call without a damn good reason.

I answered.

Silence.

Then—

A voice. Low. Calm.

"You've been busy."

I didn't react.

"Who is this?"

"You already know."

I clenched my jaw.

I didn't recognize the voice, but the tone was familiar.

Someone who knew things.

Someone who had been watching.

I exhaled slowly. "If you're calling to make threats, get in line."

A soft chuckle.

"No threats. Just curiosity. Marcus Voss was a powerful man. His death will leave a void. One that won't stay empty for long."

"Good," I said. "That means I get to kill whoever fills it."

Silence.

Then, the voice spoke again.

"There's a name you should look into. Elias Richter."

I narrowed my eyes.

Richter.

I'd heard that name before.

A major player in the underworld.

Drug kingpin. Arms dealer. Ruthless.

And if someone like this caller was mentioning him, it meant one thing.

Richter wasn't just another criminal.

He was something bigger.

Something worse.

"Where can I find him?" I asked.

The caller chuckled. "Now, now. That would ruin the fun, wouldn't it?"

I tightened my grip on the phone.

I didn't have patience for games.

But before I could say anything, the line went dead.

I stared at the screen for a moment, then shoved the phone back into my pocket.

Elias Richter.

Another name. Another target.

And if someone was handing me this information…

It meant they wanted him dead, too.

That didn't sit well with me.

I didn't take orders. I wasn't some hired gun for mysterious voices on the phone.

But if Richter was as bad as I suspected?

He needed to die anyway.

And I was happy to oblige.

Finding Richter wasn't easy.

He wasn't like Marcus Voss, who flaunted his power.

Richter was a ghost.

No public records. No photos.

He operated in the shadows, running his empire through proxies.

But everyone makes mistakes.

And I only needed one.

So I started digging.

I hit the streets. Talked to informants. Greased the right palms.

And eventually, I found what I was looking for.

The Black Lotus Casino.

It wasn't just a casino. It was a fortress.

A high-end establishment for the elite—politicians, crime lords, the untouchable scum of society.

And deep inside?

Elias Richter.

Untouchable. Protected.

But not for long.

I needed a way in.

So I did what I do best.

I made a plan.

Step one: Get inside.

The Black Lotus was invitation-only.

Which meant I needed a golden ticket.

So I paid a visit to a man named Vincent Greaves.

A regular at the casino. A man with poor judgment and expensive habits.

I found him in a private poker game, drowning in whiskey and bad decisions.

It took five minutes to clean him out.

He bet big. Lost bigger.

And when he had nothing left to gamble?

He put up his membership card.

I won.

And now, I had my way in.

Step two: Get close to Richter.

The casino was pure excess.

Gold-trimmed walls. Crystal chandeliers.

The air thick with the scent of expensive cigars and desperation.

I walked through the main floor, blending in with the high-rollers.

I wasn't here to play.

I was here to hunt.

And then, I saw him.

Elias Richter.

Sitting at a private table, surrounded by bodyguards.

A man in his sixties, with slicked-back silver hair and dead shark eyes.

He looked like royalty.

But he was just another corpse waiting to happen.

I moved closer.

One step at a time.

Until I was in striking distance.

And then—

A hand clamped onto my shoulder.

I turned.

A guard. Huge. Armed. Dangerous.

He stared at me.

"You're not supposed to be here," he growled.

I smiled.

"Neither are you."

Then I snapped his wrist.

The gun fell from his grasp.

I caught it.

Aimed.

Fired.

The silencer hissed.

The guard crumpled.

And all hell broke loose.

Richter's bodyguards reacted instantly.

Guns drawn.

People screamed.

I flipped the table, using it as cover.

Bullets shredded the air.

I rolled, firing twice.

Two men down.

Richter was running.

Coward.

I vaulted over the table, chasing him through the chaos.

Through the casino floor.

Up the stairs.

Onto the rooftop.

He turned to face me, breathing hard.

"You don't know what you're doing," he spat.

I raised my gun.

"That's funny," I said. "Because I do."

I pulled the trigger.

Click.

Empty.

Richter smiled.

Then he pulled a knife.

I sighed.

"Fine," I said. "We'll do this the hard way."

The fight was brutal.

Richter was old, but he was fast.

Experienced.

A knife flashed.

I dodged.

Barely.

Pain exploded in my side.

Blood.

I ignored it.

Grabbed his wrist.

Twisted.

SNAP.

The knife fell.

I caught it.

Drove it into his chest.

His eyes widened.

"You… don't know… what you've done…"

I twisted the blade.

"Yeah," I whispered. "I do."

And then Elias Richter—one of the most powerful men in the underworld—was gone.

I stood over the body, breathing hard.

The city stretched out before me, endless and uncaring.

Richter was dead.

But something told me this wasn't over.

Not yet.

I wiped the blood from my knife.

Then I turned, disappearing into the night.

---