Chapter 12 Shadow Games

  I recalled Rave’s words as I stood under the Crow’s piercing gaze. Don’t butter him up with crap you don’t mean. Honesty or something close enough was the only way forward.

  “To be frank,” I started, my voice calm despite the weight of the moment, “I initially thought about joining a gang. Yours, specifically. But I changed my mind in the end. Too much responsibility.”

  The Crow tilted his head slightly, his eerie, reversed eyes narrowing as he studied me. His lips curved into a faint, amused smile, though it didn’t reach those unnatural pupils.

  “It must have been obvious by now,” I continued, letting the faintest edge of vulnerability slip into my tone, “that I’m new to this. But not so much that murder is unfamiliar to me.”

  Admitting a weakness was a gamble. Stupid, most would say. But the thing about acting weak? It wasn’t weakness at all, it was strategy. When you’re at a disadvantage, you have to project strength and keep your enemies guessing. But when you have even a sliver of power, it would also be acceptable to act weak… in order to draw out their real thoughts, their plans, their mistakes.

  That was exactly what I was doing now. Dad’s lessons… or something…

  In my case, my ‘power’ came in the form that I could escape anytime I wanted.

  Ego? Pride? They meant nothing to me. Things like that only come after the fact.

  “Hopefully,” I added with a hint of mock humility, “you don’t think I’m inferior because I’m new... to the business.”

  There was no shame in acting humble.

  The Crow leaned back, exhaling a cloud of smoke that coiled in the dim light. The haze seemed to blend seamlessly with the shifting shadows around him, giving him an almost otherworldly aura. The women nearby didn’t seem to notice, or maybe they’d just learned to ignore the ominous presence that clung to him like a second skin.

  “Inferior?” he echoed, his voice smooth and sharp. “Interesting choice of words. Why would I think that?”

  He was testing me, probing for a crack in my armor.

  "Because I haven’t built a reputation yet." I shrugged, keeping my posture relaxed and casual. “Reputation’s everything in this line of work, isn’t it? And being a cape-killer isn't exactly much of a reputation if I can't use it. At most, it's an awesome feat I could boast about just like now. In essence, it's nothing but a burden.”

  The Crow’s smile widened, and this time it felt more predatory. “Ah, reputation,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “So you think killing Sunstrider was enough to get you a foot in my door? When you say burden, you are right, your feat of killing a cape doesn't offer any substantial benefits... except for the notoriety it offers. The burden of infamy, huh? I see, so that's your angle.”

  “It got me this far,” I replied evenly. “I have no plans of being... inferior...”

  The room seemed to grow darker as he regarded me, the shadows at the edges of the room rippling like they had a life of their own. For a moment, I thought he might dismiss me outright... or worse. But then he chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that sent a shiver down my spine.

  “Interesting,” he said, the word stretching out like a cat savoring its prey. “You’ve got nerve, I’ll give you that. But nerve alone doesn’t buy you a seat at this table.”

  I inclined my head slightly, the porcelain mask hiding the smirk that threatened to creep onto my face. “I’m not here for a seat. I’m here to offer you something you can’t get anywhere else.”

  “And what’s that?” he asked, his voice laced with intrigue.

  “Someone who doesn’t want to be tied down. Someone who can handle the dirty work without the strings of loyalty or the baggage of ambition,” I said. “I don’t want your crown, Crow. In the same breath, I neither want to be your superior nor inferior. I just want the jobs no one else can pull off. Simply put, my ambition doesn't cross with yours.”

  The room was silent except for the soft crackle of the pot in his hand and the distant thrum of the music outside. His reversed eyes bore into me, searching, calculating.

  Finally, he leaned forward, the movement slow and deliberate. “If you’re lying,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, “you would suffer a fate worse than death.”

  “Good thing I’m telling the truth,” I replied, meeting his gaze without flinching.

  The shadows in the room stilled, as if holding their breath. And then, to my surprise, the Crow laughed. It was a low and guttural sound that reverberated through the air.

  “You might just be as useful as you think you are,” he said. “But don’t think for a second that I trust you, Mercenary. Hmmm... Mercenary... It has a good ring to it, doesn't it?”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to trust me,” I said. "As for names, I am sorry, but I am going with Eclipse."

  “Edgy,” he said, leaning back into his seat and exhaling another plume of smoke. “You could've done better with a better name. But Eclipse? Why? Because you killed the sun? I must say, you have humor at least. Listen well to me, Eclipse... Trust is a luxury I don’t afford anyone. Be forewarned that I don't take well to betrayals.”

  I planned to capitalize on the murder of Sunstrider as much as possible, thus the name. The SRC would hate me for it, but I have confidence I could get away with it.

  “Get out,” Crow commanded, his voice low but cutting through the haze like a knife.

  He wasn’t talking to me.

  The serving girls scattered without hesitation, slipping out of the room like shadows. The door shut behind them with a soft click, leaving me alone with the Crow. The oppressive atmosphere seemed to intensify, the silence wrapping around us as he set aside his smoking pot and leaned forward.

  “So... you're debuting as Eclipse?” he asked, his reversed eyes glinting with amusement. “The cape who killed the sun-striding egoist? Just so you know, you might just be the first cape to pick such a name... If you're lucky with the media, they might pick up on it, or... they'd receive SRC bribes to change it into something less intimidating. Just a friendly warning, the SRC doesn't take well to cape killers. Are you sure you want this life?”

  I hesitated, the question slicing through a thread of my ego I wasn’t prepared to confront. The recent headlines flashed through my mind... Masked Individual Eliminates Sunstrider in Brutal Encounter. If SRC got their way, they'd name me something like Mask, Black, etc. If they had there way, they would probably name every villain as Wanker A, Wanker B, Wanker C, and so on.

  It felt wrong to want the SRC to slap a cape name on me, especially given the mess they represented. But it was also a guilty pleasure I hadn’t been able to shake. Recognition, even the grudging kind, had its allure.

  I straightened slightly, pushing those thoughts aside. “Eclipse,” I said, my voice steady. “Call me Eclipse. And yes, I want this life."

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Crow’s lips twitched, and I couldn’t tell if it was the start of a smirk or a sneer. “Eclipse,” he repeated, rolling the word over like he was testing its weight. “How... pretentious. And yet, the deeds behind the name speak louder than the name itself. How quaint.”

  I didn’t rise to the bait. “I’m not here to impress you with theatrics. I’m here to get work done. So help a rookie out?”

  Crow leaned back, folding his arms across his bare chest. The shifting shadows around him seemed to grow darker, more restless, as though reflecting his mood. “So you say. But names are important, Eclipse. A name is power. Identity. Purpose. I have a use for a cape killer... but...”

  I might have come off as too eager for a job. It almost made me feel tempted of wanting to join his gang, rather than trying to play at becoming an independent contractor.

  "Hmhmm... I wonder..." hummed Crow to himself. "What do you look like under that mask?"

  The question hung in the air, heavier than it should have been. I shrugged, keeping my voice casual. “Whatever’s underneath doesn’t matter. What matters is what I can do for you.”

  Crow’s reversed eyes narrowed, and I felt the full weight of his scrutiny. For a moment, I wondered if he could see through my mask, not just the porcelain one I wore, but the layers of intentions and lies I wrapped myself in every day.

  Finally, he laughed, a low, rasping sound that sent a chill down my spine. “Very well, Eclipse. Let’s see if what you can do is worth my time. You say you don’t want to join, but you want to work with me. That’s a dangerous line to walk.”

  “Danger’s part of the job,” I said simply.

  His laughter died away, and he leaned forward again, his elbows resting on his knees. The shadows seemed to ripple, coiling around his form like living things. “You’re lucky I find your confidence entertaining,” he said. “But make no mistake. If you disappoint me, your name will be erased before it’s ever remembered.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less,” I replied, holding his gaze.

  The Crow smiled then, a sharp, predatory grin that revealed a glint of white teeth. “Good. Because the work I have in mind isn’t for the faint of heart.”

  "I have rules," I began.

  "Rules?" The Crow leaned back with a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "How pretentious."

  I ignored the jab and pressed on. "I pick my jobs, and I reserve the right to decline anything you throw at me. Just so we’re clear, I operate in the morally gray. Killing people who deserve it? That doesn’t keep me up at night, and I like it to stay that way."

  The Crow’s smile widened slightly, though his eyes stayed sharp, watching me like a hawk circling prey.

  "I’ll admit," I continued, "I’m still figuring out how far I’m willing to go and how deep into the muck of immorality and wickedness I’ll wade for the sake of villainy. But I do know this: I won’t be tethered to anyone’s leash."

  I took a breath, steadying myself. "Here’s the deal. I’m offering my services to you and the other two major gangs in this city. If they refuse me, then they become fair game. And the same goes for you. If you reject my offer, I won’t lose any sleep targeting your people for business or profit. That’s just how it works."

  The words hung in the air, heavy with implied threats and veiled desperation. I wasn’t just asking for a partnership. I was begging for one, though I’d layered my plea in enough barbs and double meanings to keep it from sounding outright submissive.

  Bit Crow was right, I was walking a dangerous line.

  For a moment, the room was silent save for the faint crackle of the Crow’s forgotten pot of weed. The shadows around him seemed to writhe, reacting to his mood, though his expression gave little away.

  I prepared myself to bolt any second now if he just so much as tried to threaten me. Among the gangs, I imagined him to be the most accepting of my terms. Still, it wasn't guaranteed he'd agree. He could try to press gang me, but again... I'd just make a run for it...

  "I like the fire in your eyes," remarked Crow.

  Then he laughed, a low, menacing sound that sent a chill down my spine. "Begging for scraps with a dull knife at my throat," he said, shaking his head. "You’ve got nerve, Eclipse. I'll give you that. If you caught me in a different mood, I would have either killed you where you stand or just let you go to see how far you'd go. The recklessness... This type of recklessness... It's such a breath of fresh air."

  Type? What type?

  "Call it pragmatism," I replied, keeping my tone calm.

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his reversed eyes gleaming in the dim light. "You think this city runs on ‘morally gray’? Let me tell you something, Eclipse. There’s no room for gray in a world painted black and red. You either drown in the blood you spill, or you swim in it. No in-between."

  I held his gaze, refusing to flinch. "Maybe. But I’ll decide for myself where I sink or swim."

  The Crow studied me for a long, unnerving moment before finally nodding. "Fine. You’ve made your pitch. I’ll play along. But if you step out of line, or if I even suspect you’re crossing me..."

  The shadows around him coiled tighter, a silent reminder of the power he wielded.

  "I won’t step out of line," I said, my voice firm. "As long as the deal works both ways."

  Crow leaned back, his raven-black hair spilling over his shoulders like an inky waterfall. The smoky haze in the room swirled as he exhaled a long breath. “It just so happens that I’m in need of a mercenary right now,” he said casually. His black sclera and white pupils fixed on me, assessing. “And since you’re new, you should be cheaper. So what do you say to making a small fortune?”

  “What’s the job?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral.

  “The Vultures,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “A minor gang affiliated with Pride. Some biker gang that goes by Dragon Fist. They’ve got a caped leader who calls himself Iron Fang, Enhancer-3, give or take. Cocky bastard thinks he’s untouchable. Chances are... Pride won't mind it if you do the killing, since they really don't care about their external affiliates. However, if I personally get involved, there would be a problem.”

  “And?” I prompted.

  Crow’s lip curled. “He violated a friend’s niece. It didn't go well.” His voice grew darker, colder, the words laced with venom. “Normally, I’d handle scum like him myself, but they’re too low-level for me to personally make a move. It’d draw unnecessary attention, not to mention it could be interpreted as an attack on Pride’s territory. And I don’t need another headache from them right now.”

  “So, you want me to deal with it,” I said, already piecing together the implications.

  “I’d rather not send one of my goons,” he continued. “That could escalate things and start a chain reaction nobody wants. But someone like you? A freelancer? You’re perfect for the job. You’re not tied to me or anyone else, which means no gang war.”

  I nodded, taking in the details. “And what’s the catch?”

  “The catch is that this isn’t me doing you a favor,” he said, his tone sharp. “Don’t mistake this for a partnership or some kind of goodwill gesture. I’m hiring you because we need people like you, intermediaries between the gangs. People who can handle the dirty work without tipping the scales too far in one direction.”

  “Intermediaries,” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Capable of violence, you mean."

  Crow smirked. “That’s right. If we don’t have mercs and bounty hunters keeping things balanced, the gangs start getting ideas. The leaders resort to war instead of business, and when that happens, the SRC steps in, and none of us wants that. They’re already doing a piss-poor job of managing us as it is.”

  He leaned forward, his eyes boring into mine. “You’ll take the job because it pays well, and because it’s exactly what you signed up for, isn’t it? To be the guy who does what nobody else will.”

  I considered his words, the weight of the offer settling over me. He was right. I hadn’t signed up for loyalty or allegiance. I’d signed up to play the game my way, and this was the perfect opportunity to start.

  “Fine,” I said, meeting his gaze. “I’ll take it. But I don’t work for free.”

  Crow chuckled, the sound low and menacing. “Don’t worry, Eclipse. You’ll be compensated. Bring me Iron Fang’s head, and you’ll walk away with enough cash to make this little venture of yours worthwhile.”

  “And if I bring him in alive?” I asked.

  Crow’s smirk widened. “Then I’ll pay extra, but you’ll have to listen to me gloat while I decide how best to make him suffer.”

  I gave a short nod. “Fair enough.”

  “Good,” he said, leaning back once more. “Then we’re done here.”

  I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me at the door.

  “One last thing,” said Crow as I reached the threshold. “How did you find me?”

  He asked it casually, like he didn’t care about the answer, but I knew better. The room shifted subtly, the weight of invisible gazes behind pressing down on me.

  I didn’t flinch.

  “I walked around,” I said flatly.

  Crow scoffed, a half-laugh caught between amusement and disbelief. “Sure you did,” he muttered, waving me off like I was a street performer done with his trick.

  I didn’t give him a second look. Just walked to the door, calm as a heartbeat before a kill.

  Getting to Crow hadn’t been about luck or dumb persistence. It was about rhythm, knowing where to look, how to move, and when to disappear. The Murder of Crows operated in cells scattered across the city, mostly in decaying districts where law enforcement only came for bodies, not survivors.

  I hit each of those zones one by one. Never the same pattern. I moved like wind over rooftops, skimming over alleyways and leaping chain-link fences, vaulting off rusted billboards, sliding through broken windows and cracked skylights. I listened. Watched. Counted faces. Noticed patterns.

  Some Crow cells were loud, broadcasting their presence with graffiti, crowspray, and gutted cars set on fire as landmarks. Others were subtle, apartment buildings where no one looked out the windows, and every mail slot had the same black feather taped to it.

  That was the trick.

  It wasn’t about where the Crows were, but it was where they were too quiet.

  That was how I found Crow.

  The city air hit differently on the way out.

  Darker. Heavier. The kind of weight you only feel after a deal with someone who might kill you for blinking too loud.

  Still, I had a job.

  Iron Fang. Caped. Gang-tied. Sadist.

  I didn’t need to fake the motivation. Even without the Crow’s offer, someone like that needed to be put down.