Small Fish

2013

Hell's Kitchen, New York

Warehouse District

(Brock POV)

I waited in the large warehouse as Zeru worked feverishly on finishing the modifications necessary to complete his new hovercraft design. With each passing hour, the machine became increasingly more refined until, eventually, Zeru declared completion and proudly showed me the newly modified aircraft. Once completed, it resembled something straight out of science fiction movies, sleek lines covered with glossy chrome-plated armor plates.

"Alright, that should be everything. It still needs a paint job, but aside from that, it should fly perfectly fine. I've added two extra power cells underneath the chassis for extended flight time." He told me happily.

After seeing the final product, I could tell immediately that Zeru took pride in his creation; even though he hadn't been able to add the weapons systems due to time constraints, I knew that simply possessing another form of transportation capable of flight would significantly increase my mobility capabilities.

"Excellent work Zeru." I complimented, patting him on the shoulder as I walked past to inspect his latest creation.

"Thanks, Boss! It feels good knowing somebody appreciates my efforts after working so long on this thing!" He enthused gleefully.

Stepping closer to the vehicle, I slid open the driver's side door and climbed inside gingerly, testing how comfortable it felt as I adjusted my position accordingly.

Seated comfortably behind the wheel, I turned on the ignition switch to activate the engines and watched as a series of lights lit up on the console in front of me, indicating various status updates regarding power levels and engine performance.

As I familiarized myself with the controls, Zeru moved over and opened the warehouse entranceway's double doors, allowing fresh air into the building.

"How long do you think you'll be gone?" Zeru asked as he approached the vehicle's window, watching me as I prepared to depart.

"I shouldn't be gone long, maybe a day or two tops, depending on whether I encounter any problems with Dr. Cho." My reply sounded confident, although I wasn't entirely sure.

Zeru nodded at my words, "Don't worry, Boss, if anyone can convince her to help us, then surely…it's you." His face broke into a broad grin full of confidence and optimism, clearly believing himself correct in assuming I'd succeed in convincing Helen Cho.

I smiled politely, accepting his praise and encouragement, "Just make sure you hold down the fort till I return, okay?" I instructed him, thoughtfully peering back at him intently.

He returned my stare evenly, nodding firmly to my request. "Of course, sir, no problems will happen on my watch."

With our brief exchange concluded, I reached forward and pressed a button which caused the engines to power up loudly, followed shortly after by the whine of metal scraping against metallic surfaces as the wheels began to fold inward. The car started to float above the ground, creating purple-tinted energy currents that swirled violently around the under-chassis of the hovering vessel.

Zeru stands back, admiring the sight of his creation at work as I slowly pull out the warehouse doors, then slowly rise higher off the surface of the concrete ground. Gradually gaining momentum as I gained altitude and moved ever upward steadily with ease until finally reaching an acceptable cruising height.

A satisfied smile spreads across my lips as I gaze down at the New York Cityscape glowing vibrantly beneath me. After checking my power gauge reading, I engage the autopilot mode and lean back, resting my hands behind my head contentedly as I settle in for the long flight to South Korea.

**********

Hells Kitchen, New York

Irish Mob Territory (Former)

(Salvatore Carbone POV)

Strolling leisurely through streets littered with trash and broken bottles, people begin to notice my presence and point conspiratorially at me as I moved through the shitty neighborhood. However, none dared approach close enough to me, deterred by several armed men wearing suits who accompanied me.

"Isn't that the Carbone kid?" Someone asked loudly as we walked passed.

"Quiet!" Another warned ominously. "That ain't none of our business, ok? " They muttered nervously under their breath.

A wide grin spread across my face at the attention received from the locals. My mother always said, 'Fear wasn't a good motivator, but I thought otherwise. Growing up in the family's territory made me accustomed to dealing with people who were afraid of offending my parents' authority, which in turn made them afraid of offending me...and I loved using that fear to my advantage whenever possible.

We soon arrived at our destination, a dilapidated old tenement located on the same block as the Burren Club where the Irish Mob massacre had taken place. As we approached, we saw a group of thugs who were lounging casually nearby, drinking beer openly while smoking cigarettes, leaning lazily against parked cars, and talking amongst themselves.

Their conversation ceased abruptly when they noticed our group approaching, suddenly becoming far less relaxed and more attentive.

Catching everyone's eye simultaneously, I stopped walking directly ahead of them, staring hard at all six of them without blinking. One large burly thug moved forward, boldly stepping between me and the others and blocking my path as he stared defiantly back at me.

"You need something, rich boy?" He asked harshly.

I grimaced at the man's lack of regard for my family's reputation and looked over to one of my guards, giving him a subtle look before turning back to confront the belligerent gang member standing menacingly before me.

"I don't like the way you're speaking to me. So we'll talk after you learn some proper manners," I say as I move back to lean against the wall, and my men move forward to surround the group of thugs. "Not too hard, boys. We still need to ask these bitches some questions afterward..."

The leader of the pack seemed unimpressed by my threats, sneering angrily at me, "What the fuck do you wa-"

*Bang! Bang!*

Two loud gunshots rang out, startling the small-time hoodlums as the large muscular thug dropped to the ground clutching his knees which were bleeding profusely from being peppered with bullet holes. Two more shots ring out quickly following shortly afterward, sending three additional thugs sprawling backward, writhing in pain and gripping their chests.

My crew closed in swiftly, surrounding the remaining four thugs, who raised their hands in surrender and force them to form a line before me. They then dragged the bleeding leader over and force him to kneel on his wounded knees at my feet.

"Ready to talk?" I asked coldly as I looked down upon the groaning large man who writhed helplessly, trying desperately not to pass out.

"Wh-what d..do you want?!" The terrified thug question frantically.

"Why bother asking? You already know why I am here, bitch…" A wicked smirk crossed my features as I leaned forward, glaring intensely at the pathetic thug kneeling below me. "So let's cut to the chase, shall we? Tell me everything you heard about what happened here two nights ago." I demanded sharply.

His expression changed instantly as the realization that I meant serious business struck home. Forcing himself upright despite feeling lightheaded and dizzy from blood loss, he forced forth every ounce of strength to speak.

"I-I only heard stories...People say the Irish messed up with someone they shouldn't have. That they got killed because of it...."He stuttered feebly, unable to meet my intense glare. "Rumor is whatever took them out...wasn't..."

"Wasn't what?" I pressed impatiently, demanding answers.

"Wasn't...human...but some kind of monster..a demon, according to rumor anyway." He answered hesitantly.

I stare at the man for a second before an incredulous laugh escaped my lips, "Oh really...? A Demon?" I inquired sarcastically.

Shrugging uncomfortably, the thug replied quietly, "Nobody knows...just rumors floating around town. Everyone says they heard it from someone else, but nobody really saw anything themselves."

While listening carefully to his answer, I glanced curiously at my crew members, who stood silently around me. Amused expressions were painted on their faces.

"Well shit, guess my mom was right, boys...the people in this neighborhood really are all crackheads and lowlifes, aren't they?" I joked lightly as laughter erupted among those gathered near me.

Then I returned my attention to the frightened large punk lying injured on the floor, and anger began to well up within me.

Reaching forward, I grab the man roughly by the hair, yanking his head upwards painfully, forcing him to peer into my dead eyes once again. Beads of sweat formed along his forehead and glistened brightly in the dim lighting conditions provided by streetlights illuminating the alleyways outside of the tenement building walls.

"I'm gonna need you to start saying something useful...or I'm going to kill you," I growled dangerously, looking deeply into his eyes as he trembles slightly in fear.

"Uhh-people say the demon claims the warehouse district as its own turf now, apparently, said if anyone trespassed, they'd end up like Nesbitt.." He gasped weakly, struggling to get the information out barely.

I sigh as my head drops slightly, disappointed that there weren't any solid leads yet. But I wouldn't give up easily. Instead, I just needed to find better sources than the usual idiots roaming Hell's Kitchen.

Pulling my gun from my holster, I rest the barrel gently against the base of the thug's skull.

"Please, man! I'm telling you everything I heard!!" Tears rolled freely from his cheeks, streaming down his dirty face as he pleaded with me. Then he paused momentarily, taking another shaky breath before continuing. "J-just check the warehouse district! You'll find him!"

Sighing heavily at having wasted time questioning such useless fools, I look over at one of my gunmen, who shrugs, "Can't hurt to take a look, boss."

Turning away from him, I study the crying thug's pleading eyes for a few moments before releasing his scalp and lowering my weapon slightly so that it pointed towards the ground instead.

"Alright, fine. This bitch will lead us straight to the spot." I order decisively as the weeping man lets out a relieved gasp. "Kill the rest, though."

"W-wait..."

*BANG!"

*BANG!*

*BANG!*

*BANG!*

Four quick shots ring out, killing each of the big man's friends as they try futilely to crawl toward safety. With bullets fired into their bodies, most didn't even manage to scream.

The burly man falls limply onto the filthy pavement as the sight of his friends all dying around him broke whatever last shred of resolve remained inside of him.

I grinned darkly as tears streamed endlessly from his eyes, falling heedlessly to the ground as he sobbed uncontrollably.

"Get him up," I ordered softly. Turning to my crew, who hoist the whimpering young thug up and drag him over next to me. Looking briefly over at him, I glance down at him sadly, shaking my head, "You better hope we find something, or your death won't be nearly as merciful as theirs."

Pulling out my cell phone, I dialed a number composedly. Within minutes, five armored SUV's appeared down the street and immediately surrounded the tenement buildings.

"Mount up, boys...Let's go kill a demon." I quip cheerfully as I climb into the passenger side door of one of the vehicles.

*********

A/n: Hey Guys, I hope you are enjoying the story so far, and as always, thanks for reading!

If you like my work and want to support it, check out my P.A.T.R.E.O.N: /Swarthy where you can read early chapters, or P.A.Y.P.A.L.me: /xSwarthyx anything is appreciated.