The White Shadow 1: The Dancer

Chapter 15

Do~dododo~do~dododo~

Do~dododo~d- 'click'

A pale, bruised hand raised his phone to his ear, and the voice on the other side greeted him, "Hello Benjamin Song."
"Who is this?"
On the other side of the call, there was the tapping of a pen, as the voice continued, of iring the question. "Your father has high hopes for you. He intends for you to inherit his business when you leave university."
"Are you one of that Verez guy's people?"
"Is this because your father is in contact with him? Do you have any qualms with him?"
"I-"
"Don't worry, I should assume you don't. Now, back to talking about you. I know you are currently taking two majors in university. I'm impressed, I only took one!"
The pale hand became moist and clutched the phone tighter. "Get to the point."
"I understand that you and Josh have gone to three arcades together in the past week. I used to go to them myself, I do want to ask your opinion on the one down south of Norkept-"
"Are you threatening to kill Josh?"
"I would expect you, Benji, of all people, to understand that we can do much, much worse than death."
Benjamin gritted his teeth. "What do you want?"

Nia had decided to accompany her men this time around. She needed Darryll dead, and she couldn't afford to fail again. She rubbed her bandaged thumb and peered over her shoulder. Flores and Richard stood behind her, illuminated from above by the full moon that hung solitary in the cloudless and starless sky. The buildings glowed like spectres under the moonlight, and the dancers face was gone, obscured by shadow user her hat. She gripped her weapon tightly in her right hand, a relatively small submachine gun, and she pointed it to the door. Flores moved forth and tried the knob. The door was unlocked. He pushed it open, and moved into the building. After making sure that the way was clear, he beckoned his two allies inside. The Dancer walked into a bar which was empty. The chairs were situated upon the tables, the drinks machines were empty, and there was no light. Flores and Richard adjusted their goggles over their eyes, and the Dancer pulled a pair of glasses from her coat. She placed them upon her face and pressed the button upon the frame. Now she could see in clearly in the dark, and found the staircase upstairs. She pointed her thumb toward herself, and then gestured toward the staircase. She then pointed to Richard and Flores, and gestured around the room. The pair nodded, understanding that they should continue to search the bar whilst their boss would go upstairs.

Up the stairs the Dancer climbed, wary of the light creaking of the steps, which seemed to fill the air, void of all other noise. She reached the second floor and looked around. There was a corridor that led in two directions, left or right. The Dancer closed her eyes, held her breath, and listened, very closely, to the intricacies of the silence. She filtered out the footsteps of her companions below, and drew her attention to her current floor. She felt, in the darkness and apparently silence, that she was drawn to the left, and so she opened her eyes, released a slow, quiet wisp of air from between her lips.

The second of three doors opened, and the Dancer stood, poised, within the frame. She stepped into the room, and looked around. It was small, like the previous room, and scarcely furnished. There was a bed, a desk with a computer, and a pile of rather untidy, barely folded clothes that resembled more of a mound than a pile. The Dancer moved toward the desk. She placed her hand upon the computer screen. She immediately recoiled, her eyes wide. The screen was warm. She turned toward the bed. There was enough space under with it for someone to hide, she thought. Suddenly, she felt her weapon be tugged from her grip, and she whipped around to face Darryll, bleary eyed and gaunt as ever, looking like a corpse in the night vision lenses that the Dancer wore. He aimed the weapon a her, and without anything to say, he pulled the trigger. However, all that came was a click. Darryll's eyes grew in desperation as he desperately tried the gun again and again and again. Then, suddenly, the lights were on and Flores stood at the doorway, and Darryll could see Nia's grin, the look of utter satisfaction in her eyes. Dennis whispered from behind, "Well, this is it. Believe me, it's not as bad as you think it is-"
Nia spoke, "Chlapcik nieny mas hrat s ftori, Darryll."
And she raised a fist into the air beside her and swung it at Darryll. It impacted with a loud crack that echoed in the small room, and Darryll could only watch as the world around him turned into a hazy slosh of colours. His legs crumpled, and soon he was on his knees, and then on his face. He would have been content to stay that way, the pain having not yet settled, but Nia grabbed a thick clump of his tangled mass of hair and yanked him to his feet. Darryll winced as he tried to focus on the swimming colours in front of him which vaguely resembled a face, and Nia bought her hand back again. She swung, and Darryll felt another blow to his temple, which hit the boy with so much force that it ripped his hair out of the Dancer's grip, sending him tumbling uncontrollably away. Darryll listened, disconnected, as his shoulder slammed into the wall, and he felt himself begin to fall back onto his knees. There were noises swimming through the air, barely audible behind the constant demonic ringing in his ears. Darryll forgot how to lift his arm off the ground, and watched as Dennis kneeled in front of him, and tutted, shaking his head with a grin. "No luck, I guess," He sighed, "At least soon you can see how I felt..."
Darryll squinted through the layer of tears around his eyes, his vision slowly returning, and saw as the Dancer grabbed something out of the inside of her jacket, and placed it upon her right hand. Darryll sat, helplessly, straining his newly reforged arms at the ground beside him to no avail, as he was unable to get off of the ground. He watched as Nia sat down in front of him, over his outstretched legs, her wide, ecstatic grin just inches away from his face. "Final words?" She asked, jeeringly, "Some people have great ones."
"... Diane is going to hate you."
The Dancer laughed, "She is, isn't she? But she isn't here to save you now." She cocked her head, "did you know that she came to me?"
"I told her to, you dipshit," Darryll said, his head finally working normally again. He blinked tears out of his eyes and grinned, "You don't know her like I do."
The Dancer chuckled with Darryll, before bringing her right fist back again. Darryll couldn't have blinked before the hammer fell again and hit him square in the chin, causing several of his teeth to chip, dislodge, and fly away in an explosion of bone, saliva, and blood. The boy felt his jaw shudder, and he felt the world become incomprehensible again. Another blow came down, this time to the eye, and Darryll was suddenly unable to feel the left side of his face. Oddly enough, in anticipation of a third and final blow, he felt himself relax, finding solace in the idea of an end...