“Deal.”

  Deckard answered with a scornful smile, his face full of contempt and mockery.

  Soran, now, wanted to get away from this table thinking how their friendly little game had turned out to worst.

  There were a lot of things Merik was hiding from him, even while playing their game. Soran didn’t know what to feel and at the same time, he couldn’t leave the table as it would tilt the very balance of a thin thread binding and halting hell from breaking loose.

  Or maybe he was just overreacting.

  It’s just a game. A game. A game with tempting bet. Usual stuffs. Just that lives were at stake.

  Deckard began while scratching his cheek.

  “I will start. I am the eldest brother of three, I am a father of three and that, I am alone as in losing my entire village along with my family to the flames of greed.”

  Deckard emphasized his words on ‘flames of greed’ and intently glared at Merik as if he was the one to take away the villagers.

  Merik while maintaining eye contact, noticed the subtle, sharp glance of Revella. Soran’s eyes widened.

  Merik hid his internal feelings and answered promptly, not letting the man enjoy his hesitations.

  “You losing the village is the truth.”

  Deckard paused, a sense of sorrow flashing across his eyes for a split, unnoticeable moment and replied,

  “No, dear Merik. That is not the truth. The truth is I am the eldest brother of three. Isn’t that right, lovely sis?”

  Revella coldly glared at Deckard and said,

  “I’m no sister of yours, but to answer the truth, yes, what Deckard said is right.”

  Deckard laughed heartily.

  “It seems you lost this round. And an easy one at that, don’t you think? I mean all I give away are my charming smiles, my huge scar and my brotherly aura. Sigh. I thought you wanted my life so much, Merik. I’m not seeing the intensity here.”

  The scarred man provoked Merik while laughing. He just shrugged casually, but chose his next words with absolute arrogance.

  “My turn. I am an Overseer of Peace. We are trained to be absolute agents to protect society any dangerous perils. Or that, I am but a lone, humble man who loves coffee.”

  “Coffee?”

  Deckard asked in confused manner and Soran impatiently explained in Merik’s stead that it’s a kind of drink brewed from roasted beans. Deckard nodded and answered with an open hand,

  “Easy enough. You’re an Overseer of Peace.”

  “Wrong. The truth is the coffee lover.”

  Merik’s eyes shifted towards Soran and from that look, Soran instantly deciphered the meaning behind. Soran, a simple gambler, seemingly wanting no part of it but still dragged into it, admitted,

  “True. He’s fucking in love with coffee the same way dogs love a spool of shits.”

  “So, he said.”

  Still, Merik caught the strange duo sharing a ‘look’ between them, but pretended not to.

  You’re not the only one with lies.

  Revella, who had been still in her actions, subtly shifted in her seat which alerted Merik slightly, pressuring him to peer if she was reaching for her dagger.

  She wasn’t. Yet.

  However, with the way this little game of theirs was escalating, there were bound to be drawings of weapons. Only that, he must be the quickest one.

  This friendly, probing game needn’t happen the way it was turning out but, unfortunately, he couldn’t back down now, even as a protector of peace. Regrets creeped into his heart, thinking he should have left the strangers to their own biddings. Then, it would be still peaceful. But then again, his every instinct yelled otherwise. It was too much of a risk to leave such oddities freely.

  He checked the crowd once again – they were drowning in pleasure and laughter. Still, which he nonetheless must protect.

  Soran's face further paled, even though his skin was already as pale as a milk-drenched paper.

  Now, there came the round two.

  ________________________________________________________________________

  News was fast that Mr. Kenneth was no longer of this world.

  Cora felt extreme sadness seeing how Donna was sobbing quietly on the sofa. Donna hadn’t gone back to her house since it happened, and she stayed, kept doing her job but a grieved person could only pretend so much.

  She finally broke down, which Cora felt it was necessary. She offered her a warm, lingering embrace while patting her head.

  Feeling the wetness on her shoulder, she tried to recall the incident which happened a few hours ago but strangely enough, she couldn’t.

  She remembered going out of the hotel when Donna screamed but after that was all blur and distorted.

  As if she was trying to remember a person whom she’d never met.

  Landon... Landon was also gone – he should be gone since he’s the Head Captain of their division as well as one of the prime witnesses.

  Deciding internally to ask Landon of what happened later, she shook off the unnecessary thoughts.

  Yes, she’s her friend now, so, she needed to protect her.

  She looked around the hotel to see that it was deafeningly quiet even though there were employees running around.

  Then, she looked out the door.

  I need to protect them all.

  ________________________________________________________________________

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “It seems that this final round will determine whether I lose my life or yours.”

  “So, it seems.”

  “Alright.”

  The bar itself was lively with alluring melodies and as crowded as it was in the afternoon, but their little game seemed detached from the overall atmosphere of the whole place.

  The stake of the game was too high and threatening.

  Merik pulled his beloved revolver from his waist and caressed it with affection. It was polished enough and unlike its vicious nature of a weapon, the markings on it were intricately and beautifully carved. It was a legacy of an Ashenwood. The last of its kind.

  A gift from his father.

  He stared at it before meeting the gaze of the smiling, scarred man again.

  He lost the previous round so, if he lost this, he, indeed, would lose his ‘everything’.

  A bet is a bet, though he wouldn’t relent as well as he knew Deckard wouldn’t.

  He glanced at both Soran and Revella, the judges, the spectators, the worried. Deckard, the ever-smiling and yet, subtle traces of tense anxiety contorting the lines on his face.

  Despite the man’s demeanor and potential prowess, what worried Merik more was the woman beside him. Since the second round, she had kept her undivided focus on Merik’s hands, as if at a moment’s notice, she would sink her daggers into his sides and twisted them, so that his innards would spill.

  Taking on Deckard or Revella each was still a bit too much but both of them?

  He prepared for the worst.

  A smile twisted his on his face, which slightly surprised Deckard.

  Then he eyes turned solemn and with a clear voice of his, Deckard calmly asked,

  “Before we end this little game of ours, I want to ask some questions, Merik.”

  “Are you trying to stall for time or...?”

  Soran in frustration asked in Merik’s stead. Deckard didn’t react but maintained his gaze to Merik. Revella shifted in her seat. Still, Merik didn’t react as well, so he asked on his own.

  “I’m just wondering why a man like you, Merik, is here playing a game to take my life when you can just use your weapon to threaten us both and have it your way? Wouldn’t it be easier?”

  Merik answered,

  “Only if I’m dealing with a threat will I use my revolver. Are you a threat, Mr. Deckard?”

  Deckard smiled deeper. And with a light laugh, he said,

  “Are you implying that my life is as easy and simple to claim just as winning a little game?”

  “Imply... mean... doesn’t seem to matter now, does it? All it came down to it is you win or you lose.”

  “Will you? Will you win the game?”

  Merik questioned instead,

  “Why do apples fall from the tree?”

  Deckard had no desire the answer but after an awkward pause, Soran and Revella answered hesitatingly, each with their own answers.

  “Because of gravity.”

  “Because we cut the branch off the tree.”

  A strange smile twisted on Merik’s lips, satisfied with the answers as if he wanted them from the start.

  “Why do cats chase mice? Why do weathers circle around? Why do I win?”

  He deliberately let his words linger for a while and continued,

  “Some things are predetermined to happen, no matter what you do and at the same time, some can be changed with our will. It’s a mere nature of our world. Whether you win this game or not, whether you leave this place through the door may as well be predetermined, don’t you think? So, let me ask you this, what kind of man are you, Mr. Deckard? Are you the kind of man to blindly believe in the grand schemes of fate? Or the kind of man to shape his own destiny? Which are you? Better yet, what kind of man do you think am I?”

  Which boldly meant Merik already won.

  Deckard’s smile died down ever so slightly, while staring at the fierce crimson eyes staring straight at him. As straight as it might seem, Deckard infuriatingly felt that he was looking down at him, with hints of mockery and contempt in his eyes.

  He didn’t answer and instead, he played his game.

  “I will destroy each and every one of you. I will destroy each and every one of you. I will fucking obliterate you all until you mutts are left as dust.”

  “Deckard...”

  All his previous calm and peaceful atmosphere gone, seemingly replaced by a ravenous predator. His jaws clutched tightly, barring his huge scar.

  Time seemed to came to a momentary pause, with every passing second seemed like eternity.

  Fearing for the innocent crowd and for himself, Merik felt a shiver down his spine and gritted his teeth in an attempt to hide it, and he hid it well.

  Revella called Deckard out to calm him down but Merik noticed she was reaching for the daggers, herself. Even Soran’s frustration was gone, all that’s left was a darkened scowl and a glare, unlike his usual self.

  The two men maintained their gazes, their muscles still as water as if they were the colliding apex predators, claiming the territory as their own.

  However, a sudden scream chunked some of their focus away.

  Soran and Revella instantly looked at the commotion but still, the predators didn’t break their eye contacts off.

  “Merik...?”

  All of a sudden, a table flipped over and people started running in terror. Only then did they look.

  Merik’s heart skipped a beat over the scene in front of him.

  There were three people, chasing people in complete insanity, their actions vile and brutal, worse, inhumane. Suddenly, one of them caught a lady in distress and the rest came rushing to the one caught.

  Some people were still gaping at the scene, some even chugging down their drinks, thinking it was just a random bar fight. Except that it wasn’t.

  Merik knew he needed to act but the initial shock and confusion in him rendered him unable to move past his seat.

  Because the three men, who seemed like voraciously drinking from the lady’s face had no faces of their own!

  Apart from the hairs on their scalps, their faces were smoothed out as if they were ironed – not a single line visible on them.

  Then, how the hell are they doing ‘that’?

  Weird snarls from them filled the whole bar.

  The lady kept shrilling to her heart for a while but faded slowly, limbs slightly twitching. Then, she stood as if nothing happened, but Merik noticed her behaviors looked... eerily inhumane now. With an eerie stretch of her body, her joints made crunching noises – sounds when dry leaves being stepped on.

  She no longer had her previous youthful face nor anything that resembled a face, all that’s left was naked flesh, full of weird, dark yellow pus and disgusting liquids dripping and streaming across it. Joined by its companions, it snarled and rattled. And lunged at people, leaving this weird pus everywhere in their wake.

  All hell broke loose.

  Right before one of them reached another victim to claim as its prey, several bullets pierced through its head and its brain matters splattered onto the floor. But the bullets did their job as the monster dropped onto the floor with a final flinch.

  Unlike the ordinary Soullesses, their actions came to a stop once the damage was done.

  Merik felt cold sweats on his forehead at the unknown terror unfurling in front of him but then, a certain knowledge formed in his mind.

  “Zombies...”

  A certain distraction made him react late to another person, almost drained by the presumably zombie.

  Faceless yet it may be, but the moment it started to suck its target, there opened a grotesque mouth in the center of the skin-filled face, even more hideous and unsightly.

  Some of the pus dripped onto the target’s, a man in his thirties, face and into his mouth.

  But the next moment, its head flew across the room with a vicious splash of blood that extended and recoiled back to its master, Soran, the reliable vampire.

  Soran didn’t even spare a glance at Merik and proceeded to take down the rest, his blade, in a form of whip, splashing and waving across the room, precisely cutting where it meant to cut.

  He was like an expert circus master but the deadlier one.

  With swift movements of a lurking fox, he jumped around and subdued the whole bar, containing it at the minimal collateral.

  When the last zombie stopped twitching in its place, he opened his palms up in a form of prayers, letting the splattered bloods reenter his body.

  He took a deep breath and exhaled the same long duration; only now did he glance back at Merik with his dark-red fading eyes.

  Merik was pleasantly surprised at the outstanding progress of the vampire through these years, even awe-wary of his might. For the first time in a while, he needn’t raise his hands!

  Though, it had been like this for a while.

  Compared to Cora, though, this centuries old vampire was high leagues above. Merik knew he made a right choice coming to him. Though, he wasn’t sure he could even take Soran in a fight, if there were to be a fight.

  Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to it.

  But then, the next moment, he suddenly pointed his gun towards Soran, to which the latter was stunned.

  “Merik?”

  Then, he shot, over Soran’s shoulder, blackish bullets landing directly onto the naked flesh of the zombie lunging at him.

  Soran looked back in shock and saw that, it was the man he just saved but, unfortunately, got his body invaded with this disgusting pus.

  He then stepped away from there, avoiding the contagious liquids at all cost, his eyes vigilant and wary.

  Most people already escaped the bar and all that’s left was him, Soran and some unfortunate people who took the short straw of running deep into the bar and the lifeless corpses of zombies.

  Merik walked up to the husks of faceless zombies and checked.

  They really were faceless – their face full of yellowish pus and bruises. A sight that would keep people restless at nights. Out of all these lifeless husks, one of them wore a symbol of lily on his chest,

  and his clothes extremely neat and tidy, despite the sickening substances on its body.

  Where I have seen this before? Wait!

  With a sharp turn, he checked the table.

  The two strangers were already long gone.