《Abattoir》


 Chapter 0: Prologue

    "Hey, Aeron. Why do you let them talk down to you like this?" A teenage boy asked, pointing rigidly toward a shorter boy who mirrored his appearance.


    "It''s not their fault!" Aeron replied with puffed cheeks, "They''re just having a hard time, big bro. I know they''re just joking."


    "Damn, little scamp." The teen muttered, ruffling Aeron''s hair. "You have to be stronger, kid. I don''t want to spend my entire service worrying about you, you know that?"


    "It doesn''t matter what the fuck they''re going through; that doesn''t give them the right to pick on you, you got that?"


    "I know... Don''t worry. I''ll grow up and be as big and strong as you by when you return!" Aeron sniffled before he hugged his brother.


    "Aeron Trefor, I believe in you, kid."


    That was one of the last times the two boys spoke freely with their innocence intact, for the boy¡ª would go off to fight for his country. Little did he know back then the horrors he would face in his daily life and how he would yearn for those simpler times. A culmination of experiences¡ª five years of extended service¡ª they changed him beyond recognition.


    The one thing that remained true was his love for his brother¡ª his only kin.


    Five years later, Rhys Trefor returned. Honorably discharged¡ª a chance to relax, at last.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "Bro¡ª You''re finally back!" Aeron shouted, waving aggressively at the airport. His bright-eyed smile shone even in the nighttime airport atmosphere.


    "Scamp, look at you! You''ve grown up." Rhys'' laughter boomed across the arrival point, startling several other weary travelers.


    They turned toward the man but turned away just as quickly. The man looked over two hundred centimeters tall¡ª with visible muscles taut against his dull tan t-shirt.


    The two men left the airport and returned to a life of peace and enjoying one another''s company.


    Everything was perfect until several weeks later when Aeron returned to their home with a bruised eye. Aeron walked into the house, weary and tired, and threw himself on the couch.


    When Rhys saw him, he jumped. "What happened?"


    "It''s nothing, bro. Forget about it." Aeron replied through a muffled voice with his face glued to a cushion.


    "What the fuck do you mean nothing?" Rhys snapped, lifting Aeron off the couch aggressively and setting him down to face him. "What happened, Aeron Trefor? Don''t make me ask again."


    "It''s nothing, really... It was one of the scumbags that always try and sell drugs by my workplace." Aeron replied reluctantly. If he had known the tides that reply would cause, he never would have spoken or come home that day.


    It took only one day before the police called him. His brother had been arrested.


    It took a long time to find a balance in their strange circumstances, but Aeron worked hard to resolve his brother''s issues. Finally, Rhys agreed to settle into a rehabilitation facility; it was the opportunity they both desperately needed to bring normalcy into their life.


    At least, that''s how their story should have ended.

 Chapter 1: Ouroboros Eye

    Empty streets and silence painted the night an eerie black. Only the sound of pittering footsteps smacking against the concrete echoed with a dull thud. One man¡ªagainst the world. Aeron ran with desperation on his face, a pale contrast to his once bright appearance.


    "You can''t run forever, rat!" A man''s voice echoed from behind Aeron, breaking the silence from its serene calm.


    Aeron ignored his voice and kept running. He did not know where he was going, but he had to run. He could not afford to die here. He weaved through the city''s alleys and confining streets, hastily pushing his body to enlarge the gap between him and his pursuers. But he made a mistake¡ª the alley he turned into¡ª was a dead end.


    The men in pursuit skidded into the alley hot on his tail with grins plastered with malicious intent and hostility. "Lookie here, boys, we cornered ourselves a rat."


    "Dammit," Aeron muttered before turning to the men. "Guys, you don''t want to do this. Please¡ª walk away." Aeron waved his hands raised in defeat.


    "Oh? Is that a threat?" The leading man laughed. "Don''t worry, rat. We will walk away¡ª with you in tow."


    "Get him!" He waved, unleashing his dogs upon Aeron.


    They pincered him at a moment''s notice, slamming into his body with wooden bats wrapped in barbed wire. Blood covered his body from small slits that appeared with every thwack.


    "Please¡ª you can''t do this. YOU CAN''T!" Aeron roared unwillingly; he thrashed against the men in a meager attempt to defend himself, but he was outnumbered and outclassed. He stood no chance. Darkness consumed his vision, and he slumped to the ground unconscious.


    "Let''s take him back; we''ll see what the boss says."


    Aeron''s body slammed against a concrete floor. His consciousness came in slowly as his eyes opened. The warehouse was spacious and hollow, dimly illuminated by a line of lights that loomed high overhead. He turned his head from left to right, taking in the space. Men lined up in perfect lines on both sides of him, the only difference being in front of him where two men stood beside one other man¡ª the boss. The man sat atop a crate arrogantly with his linen shirt half unbuttoned and his legs spread.


    "So, you''re the little rat, Trefor?" The man asked, his hoarse voice stirring a chill in Aeron''s heart. "Tell me, why did you do it?"


    Aeron kneeled in silence¡ª he could not justify himself.


    "Nothing to say, huh?" The man chuckled. He rapped his fingers against his large thigh in silent contemplation. "Well, we have a problem now, Trefor. Even if I have the heart to forgive you, look at my boys here." He pointed to the men who lined the warehouse with their presence. "Does it look like they can forgive you?"


    They all glared coldly at Aeron. Their venomous tipped fangs bared to strike if given a green light.


    "You see that, Trefor?" The man shrugged innocently. "It seems our discussion comes to an end simply like that."


    "Break him." He uttered as he waved to the men. "When you finish breaking him, take him home and hang him up for all to see. Send a message. None may dare play games with us."


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    "Yes, Boss!" The men roared in response. Their steps encroached on Aeron slowly as they assailed upon him.


    "No¡ª Please, you can''t do this!" Aeron begged. "You can hurt me, but you can''t kill me!"


    "YOU CAN''T KILL ME!" He howled in pain, "YOU''LL REGRET IT¡ª I''M THE ONLY ONE THAT CAN CONTROL HIM."


    The only response he received was a fist to his face. The men barraged him relentlessly with fists and knife wounds to his limbs. Kicks peppered him without stopping as the flaring pain stifled all rationality within him. Aeron could not speak; it was not the pain of his body that upset him, however¡ª but the fact that he betrayed his brother.


    Instead of Aeron''s life flashing before his eyes, it was one thought alone. ''I''m sorry, Rhys... It looks like you won''t get to relax.'' Tears rolled down his face¡ª he was unwilling, but he was powerless in this situation to fight it. Death blanketed him with its cold finality as his dull eyes stared at the dimly lit ceiling lights. His lips curled up imperceptibly¡ª one final smile of satisfaction.


    The men dragged his body away and tossed it into a sturdy sack, which they threw into the back of their car. They drove to Aeron''s home and set up a thick and sturdy rope, which they hung his corpse off of. Before leaving, they spray painted on the wall an eyeball with a coiling serpent that looped around it. It was a message for the world¡ª ''The Ouroboros Eye is all-seeing.''


    It didn''t take long for someone to discover Aeron''s body; after all, the men made plenty of noise. They did not care for being discreet¡ª for they believed they ran this city. The police came with their sirens blaring, a display of power that did not go unnoticed by most of the common people who stood with watchful gazes in the crowd.


    Phones recorded the whole process¡ª the sight of Aeron''s body dangling limp and lifeless and the Ouroboros Eye. This was their intent all along; they wanted the people to know.


    Within a mental rehabilitation facility, Rhys sat in a padded room of pristine white. His hands were restrained tightly behind his back in thick restraints¡ª a safety precaution for everyone involved.


    A woman walked up to his room surrounded by half a dozen hulking men who looked more like security than orderlies. She opened a small, latched window and looked into the room.


    "Patient Trefor, I have some unfortunate news..." She spoke softly and carefully. "Your brother has unfortunately passed away."


    Silence¡ª dreadful and eerie. Finally, he spoke. "What?"


    His husky voice drilled into their ears with cold vigor, "What did you say?"


    "I''m sorry, Rhys. Your brother got caught up with criminals and got killed. I know it''s difficult¡ª"


    "Hey, I can''t hear you. Can you come closer? I don''t know what you''re saying." Rhys replied with a flat-toned voice, neither happy nor sad.


    The woman bit her lip softly before unlocking the door. "Let''s go in." She whispered to the orderlies.


    ...


    Rhys walked out of the cell with blood dripping down his maw. The once pristine white walls became splattered with a bright crimson that drew wings on Rhys'' back with every step he took. He popped in his dislocated shoulder as he craned his neck. His cold eyes blinked with a seething wrath. He took off the restraint jacket, revealing a bare torso peppered with hundreds of wounds. Rhys took his hand to his ear, slamming it against his head. "What''s with my hearing?" He mumbled under his breath. "I seem to be hearing things that make no damn sense."


    Behind him, the orderlies'' limbs were bent and broken in horrifying ways; they gurgled blood with dazed eyes. The woman shivered in a corner in a deluge of blood that layered across her dress and overcoat. "Monster..." She whispered as her nails dug into his arms.

 Chapter 2: Interrogation

    Rhys reached home, witnessing the yellow tape that wrapped the house like a Christmas present. His eyes flinched as he ducked underneath it, ripping the tape off the door and turning the doorknob. The door was locked¡ªa fact that he should have known. He pressed his hand against it, splintering the wood with a forceful push that broke the seal.


    As he stepped into the house, Rhys was met with a puddle of bloody red that dried and pooled underneath a still-hanging rope. On the wall, an open eye stared back¡ª mocking him.


    "This can''t be happening." Rhys'' laughter echoed with a shrill timbre. "Scamp, you''re playing games with your brother, ain''t you?"


    "WHO''S THERE?" A voice boomed behind Rhys as a cop walked in with a huffed chest and sunglasses. As the officer saw Rhys, he reached down toward his gun, unstrapping it and placing his finger at the ready to pull it out. "IDENTIFY YOURSELF!"


    Rhys turned toward the cop, his eyes emanating an icy chill that stalled the officer''s heart for a beat. His fury at being interrupted radiated outward in an almost corporeal sense. "Do you know what happened here, copper?"


    "IDENTIFY YOURSELF!" The cop echoed as he pulled his gun out, panicked. He grabbed his radio with his free hand, requesting immediate backup.


    Rhys shook his head in frustration, "Your kind never did listen to others very well." He jolted forward, outstretching his titan-like arm toward the officer''s face, grabbing it, and thrusting him toward the floor with a loud thud.


    The officer groaned as he tried to aim his gun toward Rhys, but Rhys reacted, slamming his wrist down onto the ground and dislodging the weapon. Before making sure it would not happen again, he cracked the man''s wrist with a backwards bend. The cop screamed in pain, "Holy shit. Mother fucker, you''re under arrest! Backup, I need backup now!" He cried into his radio with his functioning hand.


    Rhys grabbed the cop''s radio and broke it within his grip, sending shards of plastic and wiring clattering against the floor. "Let them come; they''ll just end up like you if they get in my way."


    "Are you ready to talk now?" Rhys asked with a serious droll as he tapped the man''s chest. "What happened to my brother?"


    "Brother?" The cop''s eyes widened, "You''re related to Trefor? Fuck me. You''re dead!" He laughed.


    "You fucking idiot, that rat tried to snitch on the Ouroboros Eye. He should have expected to die miserably the way he did." The cop spat ruthlessly, clueless to the veins bulging down Rhys'' neck. "They sent a message through him. Nobody messes with them!"


    "Man, no wonder you''re so jumpy; are you afraid you''re next?" The cop laughed, "Don''t worry, baby. Come into the precinct with me; you''ll be safe in prison."


    Rhys'' limited patience snapped. He grabbed the cop''s arm; he pulled with vigor as it dislodged from the man''s shoulder. "That''s enough."


    "You''re going to tell me everything you know." He uttered as he pressed down on the man''s mouth, stifling his groans and whimpers.


    "First question¡ª where''s my brother now?"


    "You fucking dog, fuck your mother and your brother." The cop howled, spitting in Rhys'' face.


    Rhys slammed his knee down on the cop''s groin repeatedly until blood flowed. "Where''s my brother now? Don''t make me repeat myself a third time."This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Tears ran down the cop''s face as he howled in muffled breaths through Rhys'' fingers as they pincered down onto his face again. He braced, quieting for a moment, enough for Rhys to relax his grip. "His body should be at the District Coroner''s office..."


    "Second question¡ªwhat''s this Ouroboros Eye?"


    The cop whimpered as he gazed into Rhys'' unfeeling eyes. "They run the town¡ª for years now."


    Rhys grabbed the man''s unbroken hand and snapped his fingers into a jarring angle. "Be more specific."


    "Moth¡ª" The cop was about to curse when he bit down on his lip, "They''ve run things for years now! They came in a decade ago, dabbling in petty crimes, and worked their way up. Now, their organization is everywhere. They control everything in the city from the top down. All of the criminals through the years have either worked for them, or have been taken over by them!"


    "Third question¡ªwhere can I find them?"


    "Just open your mother fucking eyes, dammit!" The cop cursed, adding before Rhys could hurt him, "They all have the mark of Ouroboros on their body. Find the mark, find their people!"


    "HANDS UP!" A shout echoed as another cop barged in through the door; upon witnessing his companion bloodied on the floor, he pulled his gun out in one fluid motion. "DON''T MOVE, FUCKER."


    Several other officers approached soon after, entering the house like ants, searching for a meal. Rhys'' lips curled into a grin; their presence was not to his dismay but to his delight.


    Rhys lunged down, startling the cop who shot his gun. He weaved to the side, letting the bullet barely graze his arm, tearing the shirt off his bulbous bicep. His leg muscles tensed as he pushed off the floorboards, striking the man with all his mass. The officers tumbled out the door collectively as they rolled into the street. Rhys quickly slammed his fist into one of the officer''s throats, incapacitating him in a single move.


    Guns went blasting as the officers shot furiously toward Rhys. But he took cover under their partner''s body, using it to sponge the gunfire up as he approached them. The cops cursed as their triggers clicked empty. Rhys threw the body down, assailing them with the unadulterated wrath of a demon. He dragged them into the house two by two. Slamming the door behind him.


    He stripped the officers one by one. Searching for the mark. "Why are you searching us, moth¡ª Sir." The first officer retorted with heavy gasps as he eyed the monstrous man before him.


    "Find the mark, find their people."


    "But¡ª" The cop was about to reply when he gasped. On one of the officer''s arms, a coiled ouroboros tattoo circled the all-seeing eye of their syndicate.


    Rhys laughed mockingly, "Corrupt pigs acting holier than thou. When they serve the very criminals¡ª they swore to protect us from." Rhys thrust his open hand into the tattooed man''s mouth and pulled downward, dislocating his jaw in a gruesome display of cruelty.


    "You asked before if I was scared," Rhys said emotionlessly, turning his hollow gaze toward the first cop. "I am."


    His response made the cop''s eyes widen¡ªbut Rhys continued, "I''m afraid that I won''t be able to kill enough of you dirty bastards to satisfy this anger burning inside of me."


    "Fuc¡ª" The words caught in the cop''s throat, "Fine! Dammit, you''re one hell of a badass, ain''t you? Go on then, go find them."


    Rhys smiled as he walked toward the cop.


    "What''re you doing?" The man groaned as he crawled backward.


    Rhys kneeled and replied with a whisper, "Did you think I forgot you?" He ripped the cop''s shirt, revealing a large Ouroboros Eye tattoo on his ribcage. Rhys merely remained smiling quietly.


    The cop shivered like a leaf in the wind, "It''s not what it looks like..."


    "You people like sending messages, right?"


    Rhys walked out of the house with deliberate steps. Behind him, a quiet plop struck the ground rhythmically. The cop''s body hung with widened eyes. Blood seeped out onto the dried-up puddle that was once Rhys'' brother''s life. The other cops littered the floor ravaged like meat at the butcher, their ribcages peering out as they aimed toward the wall where the Ouroboros Eye lay crossed out with blood.


    "How''s that for a message?" Rhys mocked as he headed toward the coroner''s office, a trail of bloody footsteps following behind him¡ªa foreshadowing of what was to come.

 Chapter 3: Reinforcements

    Sirens blared as a dozen cars stormed into the neighborhood. Dozens of officers ran out with weapons locked and loaded as they split across the neighborhood, cordoning it off.


    Behind them, several men of importance walked at a slowed pace, their suits ironed to perfection and measured to the centimeter. They reached the Trefor residence with its splintered door and trail of blood. The foul smell of bodily excrement and blood mingled in the air as a few officers retched to the side, silently heaving into a bush.


    "Someone tell me why the hell my men are mangled worse than a dog''s chew toy?" The man in the centermost position asked flatly with his brows furrowed.


    "We''re looking into it, Chief." One of the officers replied with sweat coating his brow.


    "Hurry it up."


    "Yes, Chief!" The officer ran off to join the others canvassing witnesses.


    After ten minutes, several officers returned to report.


    "Chief, we have witness reports that a large man broke into the Trefor residence approximately an hour ago. An officer still on patrol in the area confronted him, with more officers coming later for backup. But, the man lashed out, and" The officer paused and gulped. "... did this."


    "Are you fucking with me, Rogers? One guy ripped my guys into fucking beef jerky strips, my fully armed¡ª fully trained¡ª f-u-l-l-y fucking capable men. Tell me how that''s supposed to make any damn sense?"


    Another officer approached with a laptop in hand. "Chief, we checked Trefor''s records; he has a living kin." The man showed the screen to the Chief.


    [Rhys Trefor ¡ª D.O.B. June 19th, 1998.]


    [National Defense Agency ¡ª Honorable Discharge]


    [REDACTED]


    [REDACTED]


    [...]


    [Arrested for manslaughter - All charges dropped due to faulty processing.]


    [Entered into Orchard Hills Mental Rehabilitation Facility.]


    [ACCESS DENIED - ADDITIONAL CLEARANCE REQUIRED]


    The Chief''s scowl spread across his entire face. "Those secretive bastards always do this shit. Redacted, redacted, redacted! Redact my bloody asshole, you pricks. And what the hell, he''s already in our system?"


    "So, you''re telling me this military Rambo found out about Trefor, and our guys got mixed up in his little tantrum? And he''s a known killer? AND A MENTAL PATIENT? God dammit. Clean this up and order a manhunt ASAP. Don''t let this bastard run."


    "Yes, Chief!"


    The Chief sighed as he craned his neck, massaging it. Through his fingers, the image of scales peered through. "Retirement can''t come soon enough. Why must all these crazy bastards come to my part of town."


    ...


    Several hours passed, and Rhys arrived at the District Coroner''s Office. The lights were on, but in contrast with the night sky, the place looked devoid of life. Rhys broke through the door, setting off a blaring alarm that slammed against the inside of the building.


    Rhys silenced it within a moment, leaving a battered display of electrical components scattered across the floor. He walked through the corridors quietly, his steps an emotional hollow. His heart raced in his chest as he reached the mortuary. The metallic doors shone with silvery coldness from one corner of the wall to the next. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    The tags marked each locker. One by one, Rhys walked and read the names out. With each locker passed, his heart raced faster. None of them were his brother''s. He was nearing the end of the row of lockers with nothing to show for it.


    As Rhys reached the final column, his fist slammed into the middle locker, denting the metal plating. The bottom locker was unlabeled and left ajar, with blood staining the side of it. His breathing became ragged as he opened the door, revealing the bloodied body bag lying inside of the locker. He pulled out the examination slab and unzipped the body bag in silence.


    Rhys'' hands grabbed onto the examination slab, his fists clenching against the metal as his vision blurred. He held himself up as the sight of his brother burned into his retinas. Rope marks dug into his throat, yet they added insult to injury by slitting his throat after the fact. They gouged Aeron''s eyes out from his skull. And his body was so bruised and battered he resembled a war veteran and not a normal human.


    But the worst insult was the carved marking that sat on his chest. The same eye stared back at Rhys. Mocking him.


    "Ouroboros Eye," Rhys uttered the words. "You''re all dead. You merely don''t know it yet."


    Rhys zipped up the body bag, threw it over his shoulder, and carried it off. He would not let them defile his brother any more than they already have.


    An hour away from the coroner''s office, Rhys reached the outskirts toward a woodsy outcrop that rose to the mountain hiking path. He dug a hole further away from the path and buried his brother. He placed a makeshift tombstone and knelt beside it once he finished.


    "Scamp, I''m sorry," Rhys muttered with his head lowered. "Your brother''s useless. I thought I''d come back and get both of our lives sorted. My anger ruined our time together, and in the end, I couldn''t even protect you." He laughed, bitter tears of regret.


    "In your final moments, did you curse me? Did you wish you had a different family? You should''ve. Your brother''s a cruel bastard, isn''t he?"


    "I''ll never know." Rhys'' laughter echoed through the trees. The wind blew, shaking the trees, almost resonating with the man''s seething lunacy. "No, that''s wrong. Maybe, once I kill them all, I''ll know what you felt through their feelings. Was it resentment? Fear? Guilt? I hope they explain it properly."


    "Rest up, scamp. Your brother''s gonna get back to work now. Don''t be sad, and don''t feel lonely out there. You''ll have a lot of company soon." Rhys patted the soil, leaving a handprint pressed into it, before standing up and walking away.


    Rhys pulled out his phone and dialed a number as he descended the trail. After several rings, the line got picked up.


    "Am I still dreaming, Commander; is that you?" A groggy voice blurted out from the other side of the phone.


    "It''s me, Grey," Rhys replied. "I need your help."


    "Seriously? Say no more, Commander! Whatever you need, I''ve got your back." Greyson replied with a perked-up voice, the sound of rustling and crashing glasses sounding out from his side of the call. "What''s up? What do you need me to do? I thought you were going to retire! I can''t believe it!"


    "Calm down, Grey," Rhys commanded. "I need you to get the team together and come to my city ASAP. My little brother is dead, Grey. They took him away from me."


    The call stilled for moments before the sound of glass breaking sounded again. "I understand, Commander. No fun and games for this mission."


    "I''m sorry for your loss, Commander. We all know how much you loved him. I¡ª" Greyson paused. "I''ll get everyone on a flight within a couple of days, even if I have to pull them out of their beds myself."


    "Good. Tell everyone to be prepared. It''ll be just like old times."


    "It was that bad, Commander? Are you saying¡ª No restrictions?"


    "None. Those bastards gouged out Aeron''s eyes, slit his throat, and wrung him up to hang like meat at the butcher''s. They wanted to send the city a message. Ironic, isn''t it?"


    Greyson sat in silence before answering. "A message, huh? I understand, Commander. I''ll let everyone know the stakes then. We''ll show them what we did to the last group that messed with us."


    "No, you''re wrong, Grey." Rhys replied, chuckling, "The last guys will sing prayers in hell that they got off so easy compared to these bastards."


    Greyson laughed from the other side, "Fair enough, Commander. It''s been a few years, after all. We can give them something to celebrate in their graves."


    "Stay safe, Commander. Don''t rush into anything you can''t handle yourself; we''re coming."


    "It''s not me you should worry about, but them." Rhys retorted, "Just hurry up. I''ll make sure to leave some of them for you guys."

 Chapter 4: Wanted

    Rhys went for the city with a bellyful of anger. He drove the stolen car he got from the coroner''s office recklessly through the outskirts, all in an attempt to narrow the distance between himself and the city that awaited him.


    While Rhys was away from the city, the police had projected his face on every screen and broadcast they had access to.


    Rhys Trefor: Wanted | DANGEROUS CRIMINAL | Murdered 15 & Injured 3


    If you spot him, DO NOT ENGAGE. Report to the Emergency Service Number 777 ASAP.


    For the innocent citizens, it was an unsettling dread perched before them, something to keep them up at night and startle them from their daily lives. But for those who belonged to the Ouroboros Eye, it was a challenge, plain and simple. All across the city, their sub-leaders prepared and armed themselves. If someone wanted to pick a fight with the Ouroboros Eye, they would be ready to meet him head-on.


    Rhys drove straight toward Aeron''s workplace. Aeron always talked about how those scum would loiter around the back alleys nearby, preying on the hardworking. If the Ouroboros Eye has taken over the criminal syndicates of Cadwyn, then it was as good of a place to start as any.


    The streets were empty in the late night hours. Still, as Rhys parked by the roadside, he could see a group of six sitting around in a circle, drinking over a lit-up garbage bin. Hearing the stopping car, the group turned their heads toward it but ignored it soon after. Rhys stepped out and slammed the door shut. He grabbed the shovel from the back seat and slammed it again before walking toward the group with the shovel clenched in his firm grip.


    With the repeated noise, the group could no longer ignore it, and they turned toward the approaching man with grim expressions. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"


    "Look at this guy! Is he trying to pick a fight?" One of the men whistled and jeered. "Do you know who we are, you dumbfuck? We''ll ruin you before you remember how to cry for your mama."


    Rhys'' grip tightened around the shovel''s shaft. Bulging veins stood out on his thick neck as the moonlight reflected on his silent figure. Once he was a few dozen paces away from the men, they felt a pang of intimidation, immediately sharing a round of glances at one another before standing up and circling toward the silent man.


    They pulled out brass knuckles, metal bats, and knives as they made a wide perimeter around Rhys. "What''s with the silent act, tough guy? Who the hell sent you?"


    Rhys smirked coldly at the men that surrounded him, antagonizing their fragile pride in the process. One of the men lunged, with his arm flailing a metal bat down on Rhys'' head. Rhys sidestepped the attack, swinging the shovel forcefully and precisely, striking the man with the head of it in the inside elbow. His retaliatory strike drew blood as the man howled and dropped the bat to the floor with a loud clang of metal against concrete.


    "You bastard! Kill him! Kill him now!" The man howled as he curled up on the floor, grasping at his wounded arm.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    The silence was oppressive and heavy as the group tensed up, seeing how quickly their mate dropped. They attacked without hesitation, striking from all sides as they stabbed and punched. But Rhys rotated his torso, slamming the shovel into their outstretched arms and pushing the group away. He then gripped the shovel and slammed the flat end of it onto one man''s nose, causing blood to spew like a fountain as the hell onto the concrete.


    One man took advantage of the moment and punched out with his brass-knuckled fist, striking Rhys'' shoulder, but as the brass struck against Rhys''s taut muscles, it merely halted in place. Rhys twisted around, backhanding the man in the face and knocking him off balance before stomping on his gut and causing the fallen man to retch from the impact.


    The men were mere ants before a chariot whose name was Rhys Trefor. Within mere minutes, they were injured and dazed beyond belief. Their only blessing was that life still coursed through their veins.


    Rhys grabbed the retching man''s hair and pulled him to eye level. "Where can I find Ouroboros Eye''s base?"


    "W-what?" The man stuttered with widened eyes. "Fuc¡ª"


    "You''re Trefor''s brother!" He choked out with sweat trickling down his brow.


    "Word spread quickly," Rhys calmly spoke. "They know I''m coming for them, huh?"


    "That''ll make things much easier. Tell me where they are."


    "Screw you, you son of a bitch. The Ouroboros Eye will find you, not the other way around." The man spat.


    Rhys chuckled and dragged the man toward the blazing garbage bin. "Keep that attitude. You''re going to need it."


    The man struggled and flailed, but Rhys'' grip was like a steel vice that latched onto his skull. Rhys pushed the man''s head down into the fire and held him. Agonizing screams bellowed from his throat as the searing flame blanketed his face and boiled the liquid in his eyeball.


    His comrades painfully crawled and shifted on the ground, shocked and startled at the cruelty. "Let him go, bastard. Are you trying to attract the Ouroboros Eye''s wrath?"


    "That''s right." Rhys coldly replied and pressed the man''s head harder, causing the melted plastics and junk to sear into his face. The insurmountable pain consumed him, and he quieted as Rhys'' grip loosened and left him keeled over against the bin.


    Rhys then slowly walked toward the men, cracking his neck. The panicked thugs scooted backward, trying to escape but feeling the futility of it as their limbs went numb from the bone-deep terror they felt.


    "I''ll talk, I''ll talk! Spare me!" One of the men cried out, trembling and tearing up underneath Rhys'' shadow.


    "Good," Rhys muttered before driving his boot into a different man''s mouth, shattering the jaw and bloodying the ground with specks of teeth and spit. Soon after, he struck down another, and then another, until only one man remained.


    "Let''s have a nice chat, just you and me, without interruptions." Rhys warmly smiled as he squatted beside the groveling man.


    "Listen, Trefor. I¡ªI can help you get to my sub-leader! He''s one of the ninety-nine eyes! But any higher than that is above our pay grade."


    "Ninety-nine eyes? What a stupid name. Is that what your divisions are calling themselves?" Rhys coldly mocked with narrowed eyes.


    "Y-yes," The man stuttered. "Each eye watches over a part of the city. Our base is on Charter Street by the¡ª"


    Before he could finish, blood splattered, and a hole formed suddenly on his forehead, causing the man to crumple onto the floor with blood pooling beneath his head. Immediately after, sirens blared, and lights flashed as a dozen cars screeched into the area surrounding Rhys.

 Chapter 5: Unstoppable Storm

    Before Rhys could leave, fifty men and women in bulletproof vests burst out of their vehicles and pointed their guns at him. Rhys calculated quickly¡ªwhat he could and couldn''t do and smiled, raising his hands innocuously and waiting.


    The officers gathered, and several of them tackled Rhys onto the ground, pinning him beneath their weight. "Don''t move, mother fucker. We''ve got you pegged for over a dozen murder charges, Trefor. There''s nowhere for you to run."


    "Does it look like I''m running?" Rhys calmly chuckled as he felt their knees digging into his back.


    What responded was a fist to his face as the officer spat. "Don''t be a smartass with me. You''re just a homicidal psychopath."


    "Whatever you say, officer. Gonna read me my rights and tell me anything I say can and will be¡ªused against me?"


    "You don''t deserve it." The officer glared before signaling to the others. "Take him away."


    They grabbed Rhys aggressively, pulling him by his arms and heaving him forward until they tossed him into the back of one of the cars. The doors slammed shut, and the officers entered their cars one after the other, blaring the sirens and burning rubber as they set off.


    After a few minutes on the road, Rhys laughed. "Do you know the worst part of wanting to send a message?"


    The two officers in the front looked at him through the rearview mirror. "What''re you on about, Trefor?" One of them asked, disinterested words, but they humored Rhys nonetheless.


    "When you want to send a message, it''s easy for you to make mistakes. Such as leaving someone alive when you really shouldn''t have."


    With those words uttered, Rhys tensed his core and lifted his feet, kicking at the metal cage that separated him from the officers. Once, twice, kicks peppered the cage like veritable sledgehammers, quaking the car and startling the officers. The driver was about to move his foot and break when the cage creaked and slammed off its bolts, pushing the officers down and pressing them against the front dashboard.


    Instead of breaking, the driver managed to have his foot pincered against the gas pedal, causing the car to jolt into a frenzied sprint across the pavement.


    The officers struggled to push the cage up and regain control of the situation, but they were powerless to act.


    Soon after, they heard a snapping sound. Rhys dislocated his wrist and escaped the cuffs, not for the first time nor the last time. He snapped his wrist back in place, mildly grimacing in the process, and then he moved the cage back just enough that his arms could reach for the steering wheel.


    Everything happened so quickly that the other cars were barely catching up. Rhys took advantage of that fact, jolting the wheel to the left into one of the oncoming cars and veering it hard off its course. Then he did the same again, slamming against the cruiser on the right and causing its wheels to spin out of control and collide with the car behind it.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Two more cruisers pressed against the one Rhys was in from the back, knocking the car slightly forward and further disorienting the two pincered officers. "If you don''t want to crash, hit the break," Rhys whispered to the driver before pulling the cage off his back just enough to give him space to move his legs.


    The disoriented officer cursed, but his body was trembling. He slammed the break as ordered, and the car jolted backward, spinning uncontrollably as the other cruisers collided. Shards of glass burst across the pavement, scattering like stars in the sky. Flames erupted, and shouts and screams bellowed from the destruction, and among one of the cars, a slamming thud sounded.


    Rhys kicked down the door and stepped out of the blazing cruiser. Shards of glass caused the man''s clothes to tear in more than a dozen places, and blood trickled down, but he walked like an unstoppable storm.


    From the crash, many of the officers pulled themselves out from the wreckage in far worse condition than Rhys himself. Despite their condition, they turned toward the man, cursing and shouting.


    Their ego caused them to believe that despite the unforeseen situation, they still held the upper hand. Little did they know that Rhys Trefor was a man who had seen countless pigs squeal in his days overseas. Rhys rushed toward one of the officers closest to him and firmly palmed his face, slamming the back of his head against the heated metal of the blazing cruiser before letting go and lunging toward the next pig.


    Blood splattered from the officer''s head before the man even realized what had happened. His eyes were in a daze, but Rhys was already moving toward the man''s partner and slamming his knee into her face. The woman squealed and spat out blood and teeth, but that wasn''t enough to distance Rhys. He grabbed her ponytail and tugged with such visceral force that he tossed her in the direction of three officers who were still struggling to stand up, knocking them all down further flat on their asses.


    "You fucking bastard, Trefor. The Ouroboros Eye won''t take this challenge of yours lightly. You''re a dead man walking, Trefor! DEAD MAN WALKING!" One of the wounded officers howled, struggling to pull his gun out from the melted-in holster. "They''re going to butcher you like that bitch brother of yours."


    Rhys took a single step and then stopped.


    A stifling silence drowned out the screams and billowing flames and all that existed in that brief area that encompassed the officers.


    Rhys took a step forward. And then another.


    He calmly walked toward the officer who spoke out, but it chilled the hearts of everyone still conscious. There was something different about the man, something monstrous. As Rhys came close, he knelt beside the cop and placed a hand on the man''s shoulder. "Officer, did anyone ever tell you to be careful what you say?"


    "They haven''t, that''s for sure," Rhys added with an icy laugh, "if they did, you wouldn''t have sacrificed your life like this." With those words uttered, he plunged his finger into the man''s eye socket and tore out his left eyeball, tossing it behind him toward the other wounded officers who screamed at the sight of the rolling eye. The man himself howled as blood flowed down his face. He tried to utter some words, but those unspeakable words were not meant to be shared as Rhys shoved his hand into the cop''s mouth, stifling his speech.


    "Have you ever seen how an animal is butchered, cop?" Rhys took his free hand and ripped out the other eyeball, "I hope you have. Since you won''t have a chance to see it any longer."


    "Stop this, Trefor! You can still be forgiven if you let us go¡ª" One of the officers cried out.


    Rhys merely put his bloodied finger to his lips, "Be silent now. Don''t remind me that you''re still here."

 Chapter 6: Obsidian Knives

    The officer lay unconscious. His arms were bent and disjointed, fingers deformed into inhumane angles. Blood soaked his face and masked the painted terror that lay beneath it. Even the few surviving officers wished they hadn''t survived, for they sat in puddles of piss and vomit, their wounded bodies pressed against any stable object they could find.


    Rhys was unbothered by their reactions, for he got what he needed to get from the pig. It took some trouble, but he had enough time to wade through troubled waters.


    He slammed his foot down on the unconscious cop''s face, bludgeoning it into the pavement. Then, he turned toward the others. But before he approached them, the whirling blades of helicopters sounded out, nearing swiftly from afar.


    Rhys looked around the scene, taking in the destroyed cars and billowing smoke. If there was anything he could use to get rid of the helicopter, he would, but there wasn''t anything immediately noticeable. Rhys clicked his tongue and carved the officers'' faces into his memory. ''Consider yourselves lucky, for now.''


    He took off through the smoke and flame, fleeing without a second thought as the whirring came ever so close.


    Soon after, two large helicopters came, and at both sides of them were armed men staring down at the destruction underneath. It hovered overhead, and then a flurry of gunshots echoed across the road.


    Several streets away, Rhys looked back and coldly smiled before pushing onward. "There''s no loyalty among hyenas," He muttered, clenching his fist.


    ...


    Within the police headquarters, the Chief sat at his desk, shuffling through papers. The frown plastered on his face deepened with each one he read. "Damned bastard. How the hell can one man make such a mess of my city? Explain it to me, Elias. How does this situation make sense?"


    "Relax, Marcus. They''ll capture him before long, I''m sure. Nobody can run around so freely for long when the entire police force and the Ouroboros Eye are searching for him." Deputy Chief Elias replied with his arms crossed and back leaning against the wall.


    "No, screw that. Have you read the last report? Stark''s barely holding on to life by a thread. Thirteen of my finest have burned to ash. And the rest? They''re too damn traumatized to even take a piss unattended." Marcus slammed his hand down on the table, causing several of the stacks of files to spread across the floor. "I can''t tolerate this asshole. If the trash from Ouroboros can''t take care of their own problems, then we will."


    The Chief pulled out his phone and dialed a number. After several moments of ringing, it finally connected.


    "This is Police Chief Marcus Vance, head of Cadwyn Metropolis'' Police Force. I need you to connect me to General Raymond Shaw. It''s an emergency."


    "..." Moments of silence passed, and a woman''s voice replied. "Please stand by. The General is not one for late-night calls like this, so be careful what you say, Marcus."


    More silence, and then a gruff man''s voice chimed in. "What is it? Do you know what fucking time it is?"This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    "Apologies, General Shaw. I''m the Chief of Cadwyn''s police, I have a brutal, cruel, vicious man on the loose, and his files are redacted by the military. I need clearance, sir." Marcus said.


    "Someone that problematic is running amok in Cadwyn? Since when are you so soft. What''s the story behind it? Which former soldier is it?" The General asked, the sound of a lighter going off following it.


    "It''s nothing, sir. There''s just a mental patient on the loose, a few screws too many loose after finding out the local gangs killed his brother. The name''s Rhys Trefor, sir." Marcus said with a chuckle.


    The Chief only heard a strong inhale and a cough before the line disconnected.


    On the other side, within a plainly adorned room, a large ginger-haired man sat upright in his bed, sweat rolling down his face. He coughed as smoke filled his lungs.


    "Holy shit! Are they fucking crazy?" General Shaw''s eyes bulged with disbelief. He threw himself out of bed and grabbed a pair of pants. "Is he coming out of retirement? What about the rest? Dammit, this can end up an international conflict."


    General Shaw rushed out of his accommodation bare-chested and got into his humvee, driving it recklessly toward a building in the back of the base. "Melanie, are you there? MELANIE!" He screamed out as he barged into the building.


    "I''m here, Shaw. Why are you screaming like a madman all of a sudden?" A sultry woman replied, her wavy blonde hair flowing down her shoulders.


    "It''s an emergency. Tell me if the Shadows are still monitoring the movements of the Obsidian Knives?"


    "Them? I haven''t checked in on the reports since they went into retirement. You told me not to be so heavy-handed with it..." Melanie replied, confused about the sudden questioning.


    "Dammit, Melanie! Since when do you listen to orders?" General Shaw cursed, "Quickly, pull the reports up."


    They moved to a different room, and Melanie clicked away on the keyboard, clearing through several security checks before pulling up the files for the Obsidian Knives.


    [MISSING]


    The word blinked repeatedly on the screen. "Shit." Melanie cursed, shuffling through the files at a hastened pace. Behind her, General Shaw stared silently, the anxiousness in his chest boiling over.


    "It''s not good! The Shadows lost them. Greyson got a call, and then his shadow was silenced. All the others went off the radar not long after. What the hell''s going on, Shaw?" Melanie gasped in disbelief. The Shadows were some of their most skilled reconnaissance operatives. It was unheard of for them to lose so many targets at once.


    "All of them?" General Shaw muttered, his hands clenched against the desk.


    "This is terrible, Melanie."


    "You''re scaring me, Shaw. What happened?"


    "The Specter, Banshee, Phoenix, Bulwark, and Viper... They all answered the Abattoir''s call."


    "W-what?" Melanie stuttered, stepping back and knocking down her chair. "The butcher is active?"


    "How can that be? It''s been years since he went off the radar, and the Obsidian Knives disbanded. Their leaving is the only reason Xantus agreed to peace talks in the first place! Shaw, if they find out... Why did this happen so suddenly?"


    "Calm down, Mel. It''s still isolated, for now. They''re heading to Cadwyn. As long as they complete their mission, we might not have any trouble with Xantus." General Shaw tried to reassure the frantic woman.


    "Cadwyn is messy with the inept police and the criminal syndicates running amok. Maybe it''s a blessing to have the butcher clean it up, but you''re right that it''s risky. He''s not a man that can be reasoned with when he''s focused on the mission." General Shaw rubbed his temples, pondering his next step.


    "But, why, Shaw?" Melanie repeated her question. "Why has the butcher become active again suddenly?"


    "Cadwyn''s Police Chief called." General Shaw replied, pausing momentarily.


    "The syndicates killed the butcher''s brother."

 Chapter 7: Recollections of a Wounded Heart

    After running for what seemed like an hour, Rhys pushed through the back alleys toward an abandoned building that lay boarded up. He ripped off several of the boards and entered into it at ease. He walked through the lobby and up the stairway. ''This place is still the same.'' Rhys thought as he went into one room and flattened on a couch.


    The adrenaline calmed, and his body became one with the couch as he drifted to a much-needed sleep.


    There was a time long ago when the two boys would flee their home whenever they could get away. They would wander the streets and search for adventures in the world, anything to escape what awaited them at home. The boys'' father and mother were terrible people, a not-so-uncommon fact for the impoverished parts of Cadwyn. Violence and abuse became like air in the lungs, a familiar trickle one could not live a day without.


    On the day their mother pushed their father off the balcony down to his death, the boys didn''t feel the sadness one might feel when losing a parent, but only relief. They laughed as they walked through the city''s streets, scurrying around like animals and searching for new hiding holes to play in.


    Then, later, their mother died as well. The foolish woman fought with her dealer, an arrogant act of entitlement. She thought she could get whatever she wanted, but the men wanted neither her insignificant coin nor her worthless body. The only thing they found useful was her life.


    Aeron was young, too young to fend for himself. All of the tragedies caused him to be more reclusive, to hide away in a shell of his making. Only when he was with Rhys would the boy brighten up and show some of the emotions a child should have. But as the months passed, both boys'' bond grew stronger, and they could see the light in their lives shine for once.


    It wasn''t until one mid-winter night that the boys found this abandoned building nestled deep into the backstreets. Despite the danger lurking in every corner of the outskirt district, it still became the boys'' safe haven¡ªa place where they could escape and be at peace.


    Rhys would lie on the couch and relax while Aeron scuffled through the different rooms like an adventurer on the prowl. There never was much to find in an abandoned building, but as they always used to say, one man''s junk was another boy''s treasure.


    A lot of their time was spent in that building after their parents died. ''Home'' was foreign to them. Even before they died, it was more like a prison cell than anything else. After they were gone, it was merely a reminder of the bad times, so the boys adapted and found a way to survive.


    It was great¡ªuntil it wasn''t.


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    One rainy night, the boys were cuddled up asleep on the couch. But the sound of shattered glass awoke them. Aeron trembled, and Rhys reassured him with shaky hands.


    A man''s grunts echoed through the building, ricocheting off the cold brick walls. He cursed like mad, slamming objects in the room he entered as if they meant nothing. His methods reminded the boys of their father, the loud and obnoxious anger fueled by a hatred for the world and everything in it. Life wasn''t unfair; only one''s decisions put them further away from the finish line.


    The boys rushed off and attempted to hide, but in their haste, they made a little too much noise, and the man heard it. He rushed out from the room he was destressing in and spotted the two young boys scurrying away. The man''s face brightened like a late-night bar in the brothel district. He licked his lips and quickly gave chase, causing the two boys to run away frantically.


    To the boys, the man was a big, mean, powerful brute. He may not have been the tallest or largest man by far, but to two children, he was a monster no less scary. As they ran up a flight of stairs, they felt the man''s presence breathing down their necks.


    The man reached out and grabbed Aeron by the back of his shirt with a smug grin. Aeron screamed and flailed, his feet still on the staircase. Rhys trembled and shook. He was terrified, but he would not let anyone harm his brother.


    Rhys screamed and jumped off the top of the staircase. With red and teary eyes, the boy''s body flung down, slamming into the man, who reflexively let go of Aeron to protect himself. The man''s efforts proved meaningless. The reckless charge caught him enough off guard that his body tilted and slipped off the steps, tumbling down until a loud thud crackled through the abandoned building like thunder.


    ...


    Thunder crackled outside the building, lacing Cadwyn''s backstreets with a familiar tinge of stillness as most retreated into their holes. Rhys'' eyes opened as he lay on the couch, body drenched in sweat. Pangs of guilt still slammed against his heart as he sat up and curled his body inward with his hands against his face. He knew coming here would reawaken the memories of those long-passed days, but part of him wanted that¡ªwanted to feel the surging waves of memories flooding into his mind.


    Rhys'' breaths came in tight bursts, causing his body to feel as if ants were crawling all across it. Thunder slammed again, echoing like an angered God spewing hellfire. Rhys began laughing as he slicked his hair back. His eyes glimmered like the unbridled fury of the heavens storming outside.


    "Even the heavens have pity for a grieving brother," Rhys mused as he focused his gaze out through the boarded windows. "Pitter-patter against the window pane; all the bad guys hate the rain. Here comes a storm, nice and strong; with it, bad guys know they won''t live long."


    Rhys stood up, re-energized, and rested. His body may have healed, but one would find it hard to prove from the ache in his heart. He walked through the building, reaching a far back room blanketed in dust and darkness. There was a thick desk in the middle of the room that he pushed away, revealing a small latched door on the floor. "Soon, there''ll only be ninety-eight eyes in Ouroboros'' twisted little group," Rhys said as his hand caressed the wooden frame.