Haima: The Blessed and The Damned

CHAPTER 2: Mad World

The night dragged on, the city lights flickering and cars driving by, their tires splashing muddy puddles onto the sidewalk. The city was blissfully unaware and asleep, unconcerned about what was going on around it. The moon was nowhere to be seen, and the stars blinked through wispy clouds in the thick, dark sky.

The bass still thumped from the club, even though it was well past midnight. A young man staggered out the back door, laughing to himself about how he had just paid for his beer with counterfeit money. He was too drunk to notice the shadows in the alleyway, or the pair of glowing crimson eyes that followed him. A few moments later, he was yanked into the darkness, his laughter cut short.

He struggled as an arm circled around his neck, choking him. As his head clears from the adrenaline, he notices how his body is being bent not only from the strength of the one dragging him back, but also from the offender's height.

The man was pushed into a trash-filled corner. He looked up at his assailant, who was a small person with pale skin and striking red eyes. They were wearing a face mask that only revealed their eyes, and they were wearing a school uniform with a black sailor top and red ties. The robber was also holding a tanto blade that appeared to be glowing red with its sharpness.

The young man took a deep breath to calm himself. He was not new to this type of scene, but this kid was dangerous. He remembered how his father and other relatives had been acting worried, calling everyone they knew and telling him to stay home because a serial killer was targeting their family.

"You've been barking up the wrong tree. Are you sure you want to do this? You don't know my family. They're not to be trifled with---

The young man was wary when he saw the kid blink. He thought he saw something, but he waited for the kid to blink again to make sure he wasn't imagining things. It only took three seconds, but in the dark alleyway, he could still see the marks on the kid's eyelids. He was certain that this kid was one of them.

The young man mocked the girl, saying, "Well, shit. Father's bastard, then. Is this some kind of payback or something? What do you want? Money? I have some here, and I can get you more if that's what you want." He struggled to pull out his wallet full of fake bills from his pocket. Just because he was wealthy didn't mean he couldn't be stingy with his money. After all, those bottom feeders wouldn't be able to tell the difference between real and fake bills.

The young man threw money at the girl, but she just glared at him without blinking. He threw more money, letting it slowly stream down, feeling enraged at being ignored. "I SAID HERE!" he yelled.

"You know what? Screw this. Instead of bothering my precious night, why don't you go bother that old man instead?!"

The man kicked over some trash cans and, with surprising strength, ripped a piece of wood from the abandoned walls. The girl with crimson eyes tensed her body and listened to a voice coming from her hidden earpiece.

[He is nearing 47% and still fluctuating. We need to finish this quickly, Haima. People are starting to notice. If only your family wasn't so well-connected, this mission would be easy. But they're everywhere, politics, showbiz, film, law, medicine—]

The mysterious girl, now known as Haima, turned off her earpiece and jumped out of the way just as the young man swung the piece of wood and hit the wall, breaking it into pieces.

"Fuck, useless piece of shit," he muttered. "Where's a fucking bat when you need one?"

The man looked around, searching for another piece of wood with rusty nails protruding from it. He had already found a few, but they weren't the right size or shape. He needed something that would be big enough to make a real impact, but not so big that it would be too heavy to carry.