1 Empty Night

A loud thump sounded out into the night, and along with it came a low groan. Shortly after the groan came another thump, being the sound of a man falling to his knees.

In a dark alley, Randolph Ivy stood with his fists up, his brows furrowed in fury. He was a rather young man, somewhere in his early twenties. It would have been clearer to tell had his good looks not been marred by a swollen left eye and a few large purple bruises that lined his face.

Surrounding the young man was four men, two of which were slumped down on the ground. One had only recently fallen, while the other man lay face-down on the ground, unmoving. One of his arms had been bent at an odd angle.

The four men were all intimidating, without exception. They were dressed in sweatshirts and pants that hung low on their torsos, unbuckled, and practically sagging on their bodies. Their heads were shaven bald, and the sweatshirts they wore outlined the visible muscles – which while weren't refined, were abundant – on their bodies.

The alley they were in was mostly silent. It was located quite deep within the city's residential area, away from prying eyes. In the distance, the light of the night life activity outside shone vividly, illuminating the dark alley.

"Ha… Ha…." Randolph breathed roughly, the hot air that he expelled vivid as it turned into a mist in the cold wintery air.

Despite his apparent exhaustion and his battered body though, neither of the other two men were willing to step forward first. The reason itself was quite obvious, their eyes glancing towards their fallen comrades mere meters away from them.

"Richie, the fuck are you waiting for?" One of the bald men called out to the other, his tone rough.

"The hell are you waiting for? Why don't you go first?"

"Go! Before you piss me off. I'm warning you, asshole."

"Fuck you, Smoke…."

Gritting his teeth, Richie hesitantly stepped forward while the other bald man watched. He was unwilling to step forward, but Smoke held a higher position and was therefore able to threaten him safely. Even if Richie was beaten black and blue, he could only grit his teeth and not complain.

Sucking in a deep breath, Randolph straightened his back as he warily watched the approaching man. The man was a fair bit shorter than his companion, and he was shorter than Randolph, but the young man didn't let down his guard.

On the thug's left hand was a set of three rings, made of copper or steel. Whatever metal they were made of it didn't matter. One hit would be more than enough to permanently knock out a couple of his teeth, break a few bones, or even blind him if it hit in the wrong spot.

Clenching his fists tighter, Randolph moved to the side slowly. He moved so that the larger man in the back would constantly be in his view, so that he would be stationed behind the smaller man.

After doing so, he took the initiative first, stepping forward towards the thug.

"?!"

Naturally, the thug was shocked. He put his fists up in a fighting stance, but one so sloppy it was apparent even to Randolph's untrained eyed.

"Asshole!"

The thug cried out as he swung his right fist outwards, but Randolph reacted in time, merely shoving his right arm forward in a tackle as the fist connected onto his arm with a meaty thud.

Randolph didn't care though, and it was as if he felt no pain. The thug attempted to distance himself with his mockery of a footwork, throwing his ringed fist outwards, but Randolph paid no attention to his pathetic form, shoving himself forward to tackle the man onto the ground.

"Oof!" A grunt of pain sounded out as the man hit the ground with Randolph on top of him.

Bundling his hands together, Randolph lifted them upward before slamming them down directly onto the thug's face.

A loud crack rang out as his fist met the man's nose, shattering it within its socket.

"AH-"

The hint of a bloodcurdling scream erupted from his mouth before being smothered by similar thuds, as Randolph's fist rained down on the man's face from above.

Blood spurted out from the man's broken nose along with spittle and tears. The fluids dirtied Randolph's hands and clothing, but he didn't have the luxury nor patience to care about hygiene, his rage controlling him as he continued to smash down on the man's face.

"UGRHA!"

The thug managed to get out a strangled scream, but Randolph didn't stop, continuing his blows for a solid fifteen seconds before pausing. His chest heaved up and down from the exerted effort, gasping for air.

The man's face was completely swollen at this point, tears leaking out from the gaps in his eyes. They travelled down his bruised face, making for a pitiful sight, but Randolph felt no remorse.

It was instead the opposite, and he felt the urge to laugh. He was more than familiar with how these gangs operated, and the tears that the man leaked only disgusted him. The thug, of all people, deserved the least to cry in pain and self-pity.

Suddenly, Randolph shot up, his thoughts flashing back to the man earlier, but a large fist came shooting down from the right. It connected with Randolph's head, snapping it to the left and sending him into the ground.

"Fuckin' bastard." Seating himself on top of Randolph, Smoke began punching down in a fashion similar to Randolph earlier.

This time, Randolph was able to raise his arms to block the blows, but it didn't shield him for much.

"GAH!"

Intense pain shot through Randolph's arms as the thug continuously hammered away at a single point in his arms. The tremors that ran through his body weren't subtle, and they further aggravated his other bruises, sending waves of pain shooting through his flesh.

"How dare you beat Richie?! You mother fucker!"

The man shouted out in a seemingly righteous fury, but despite his angered display, his hypocrisy was clear for Randolph to see. He could have intervened earlier, but probably unwilling to take the risk, he had allowed Randolph to continue beating away at his subordinate. It was only until he was very clearly exhausted did he begin his assault.

"FUCKER!" A furious cry rang out from the young man, bouncing off the alley's walls.

Shocked from the sheer rage within the cry, Smoke paused his assault. Looking down at the young man beneath him, he was met with a glare filled with sheer, unfiltered rage.

The man beneath him clenched his teeth, his breath panting from exertion and pain. Many parts of his face were bruised purple, but even they did not mask the fury that seemed to radiate from him. Drool almost leaked out of his mouth, and the mist that he exhaled flew into Smoke's nose, in which he could smell the scent of blood. Even his swollen left eye was opened as wide as it could be, as if he didn't feel any pain, glaring daggers at Smoke.

"You…"

The sight gave Smoke goosebumps, and it activated stimulated his instincts for danger. He felt as if the young man would actually kill him if he took it any farther.

"Fucker." Pushing himself off the ground, Smoke scratched his brows.

He was clearly intimidated, but he continued hurling abuse Randolph's way. Perhaps his manly pride was hurt feeling insulted from his reaction towards Randolph's glare. He refused to let the matter off with Randolph's last action.

Leaning down, he grabbed a fistful of Randolph's hair. Dragging him up slightly. He hurled a glob of spit onto Randolph's face before shaking his head.

"It didn't need to be like this, we just came to warn you." Shaking his head, Smoke began dragging Randolph to the side of the alley.

Randolph left a clear imprint upon being dragged on the ground, leading to a few large dumpsters at the side of the alley. The dumpster had been filled to the brim. It was so full that rotten food spilled out of the untied bags at the top. The smell was absolutely horrendous, and it stuck to one's nose like a virus.

A few extra black bags, too large to fit, had been thrown haphazardly to the side of the dumpsters. It was there that Smoke stopped, throwing Randolph between the large bags. They covered him, almost as if to bury him alive.

"All we wanted to say was that you have two weeks left before the deadline's up. Just remember that I'll remember what happened today. I'll remember this shit when the deadline's up." As if his pride was finally satisfied, Smoke nodded to himself. "And don't run, because we will find you, one way or another."

Remember? Reminder?

What a joke.

Reminders don't come in the form of four men dragging you into a dark alley, surrounding you before striking you silly. The hypocrisy infuriated him further, but the young man could do nothing about it.

No longer bothering with Randolph, Smoke turned away before pulling out his phone.

He stood there, typing away for a few seconds before putting it up to his ears. As he spoke, he began walking away, not sparing a glance for both Randolph and the thugs lying on the ground.

"****, ** **** *** *** *******."

Perhaps Randolph was simply too hurt, or he was too far to hear, or perhaps it was the immense pain he was feeling, but the man's words came to him muffled. He gritted his teeth tightly, attempting to keep his eyes open to prolong his glare, but it was useless.

As the man walked away, his eyes began lidding as his conscious slowly faded into darkness.