The stench of the warehouse would be unbearable to most, the putrid scent of death hanging thick in the air like an invisible fog. It clung to everything—the walls, the floor, the very air itself. I barely flinched as I dialed Eugene, knowing that the job needed to be done quickly.
"Clean up the warehouse," I said flatly, my voice betraying no emotion. I hung up before he could respond. I had a team of advanced cleaners, experts in erasing the traces of death. Not even a single strand of DNA would be left behind.
The city at night was my domain, the darkness a familiar shroud that hid my true self. I checked my watch—2:00 AM. Despite the hour, there were still a few women walking around, their heels clicking softly against the pavement. One caught my eye, disappearing suddenly into an alley, and my instincts flared.
I moved swiftly, silently, toward the alley, my senses sharpened by years of training. The muffled sounds of a struggle reached my ears—a woman, in distress. As I peered around the corner, I saw him. The man's grip was tight on her arm, a knife pressed against her neck. His grin was twisted with sadistic glee.
"Quiet down if you don't want to die," he sneered, dragging her deeper into the shadows. She was frozen, paralyzed by fear.
I didn't hesitate. My body moved on its own, scaling the building silently until I was directly above them. I didn't need to look—I trusted my instincts. With a swift motion, I launched myself into the air, my sword aimed precisely at the man's head.
He dodged.
Surprised, he turned to face me, shock evident in his eyes. This wasn't your ordinary rapist; he was trained, skilled. My suspicions were confirmed when four more men emerged from the shadows, surrounding me. These were Triads, and they purposely tried to rape a woman to hunt Medusa.
They let go of the girl and surrounded me, "Who are you?" One of them demanded, my eyes scanning them.
"Introduce yourselves first." I say.
"We are the Alasteer." The Triads say, I smiled at their tactics, calling themselves Alasteer to make Medusa hate us.
I smirked, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline. "I just killed a hundred of you earlier," I replied coldly, my voice devoid of emotion.
I lunged at them, my movements fluid and deadly. In an instant, two fell to my blade, their lives snuffed out before they could react. The remaining three barely had time to draw their weapons before I spun, my sword slicing through the air in a deadly arc, beheading them all.
The woman was still there, trembling in the corner, her eyes wide with horror as she took in the carnage. Her fear was palpable, but there was something else—a flicker of gratitude.
"Does killing them satisfy you?" I asked, my voice low and cold.
She looked at me, then at the bodies, and gulped. Slowly, she nodded, her fear momentarily overshadowed by a strange sense of relief.
"As it should," I murmured, more to myself than to her.
"I won't report you to the police," she said, her voice shaking. "Thank you for saving me." There was a warmth in her eyes, despite the terror that still gripped her. I realized then who she was—the girl from KopiKopi.
The one I'd seen many times, the girl I also bumped into earlier with an espresso martini in hand. She'd always been a quiet presence.
"KopiKopi was closed today, why?" She asked, her voice a mixture of curiosity and frustration. She had always given the name 'Potato' when we asked for her name, a strange habit I'd never questioned.
