Her Knight in White Shirt and Blue Jeans

0.1 - The Crimson Heir

Deep inside the bustling streets of New York, hidden behind the tall skyscrapers and buildings was an auction house disguised as a normal warehouse. Men having deep ties with the Mafia and some corrupt government households scattered about the whole property, guarded by their guards disguised as police officers and some police officers themselves.

It was a connection of two huge warehouses in the center with the roads curving on the sides and an empty space on the side hidden by huge buildings for parking. It was Friday night, the night of auction of anything with a price on the black market. Buyers and sellers from around the world crowded in like crows after going through strict security checks.

The man in charge for the whole program, Johannes Wallace stood at the entrance with his guards, welcoming the people. He was a stout older man with a port belly, his grey hair gelled back. He eyed the group of youngsters, perhaps of age 17 and 18 seated on the nearest and the most luxurious table by the stage.

They were the heirs and descendants of some of the most dangerous Mafia Empires in the world. He let out a breath of relief as he didn't find the face he was looking for. Seems there will be no trouble tonight. Good.

Unknown to him, perched on the very top of the warehouse was the boy of his and many others' nightmares, watching the commotion going on with his hawk like gaze. A black coloured mask with red lines curving into jagged edges hid the top part of his face. He was hidden in the night, blending in with the shadows with his black hoodie and ripped jeans. His combat boots both hid two knives, just like his jeans did on the sides.

He held a crossbow in his hands, the tip of the arrow a black onyx carved with the symbol of a horse. The lines curling into a shield around it, morphing into a warrior's helmet below.

He could've just as easily used his gun but he had a knack for the dramatics as his brother had worded. And besides, seeing the arrow even without the symbol would be enough for the people under to panic.

He waited until Johannes Wallace stepped out in his range of view to greet one of the mob bosses. Just as he moved forward to hug him, Xander let the arrow fly.

Too easy.

He stepped back, just as the arrow protruded from the center of Johannes Wallace's head and he collapsed, his eyes wide open.

Just as he anticipated, the commotion began as if it was a stampede of animals not a gathering of a crowd. Why wouldn't it? After all, the blood heir had come back from the dead to satisfy his thirst and hunger for blood and violence.

"What's going on?" James Wallace asked the guard who ran in with the arrow. James inspected the arrow, almost dropping it in horror as he recognized the symbol. "T-that's impossible!" He stepped back, fear crawling up his spine. "H-he's d-dead! I saw..."

The words died in his throat as the lights went out and people began screaming. He felt himself getting pulled by the crowd, the arrow in his hand fallen to the ground with an unheard clank, just like his unheard ringing of the phone.

A loud gunshot was heard, halting the crowd only for a second before a voice spoke out loud. A voice that no one expected to hear. A voice that had them wanting to kneel down and beg for mercy.

"Hush."

The voice was spoken through the mic in a eerie, mocking whisper. People looked around in the dark, pointing their weapons in different directions.

The only sound was of the dark chuckle that sounded out from the speakers. "You thought you got rid of me?" He asked, his voice a mocking hyena and his gaze an arrogant lion. He tsked. "You just harmed my armor." His eyes hard like steel, he reached for his gun. "Now suffer the consequences."