Broken Masks

Chapter 22 - The White Dragons

(A/N: I'm legit writing this at 1am but do I care? NOPE!)

Klaus scribbled on a sticky note. In his flourished handwriting, he wrote "Gone for a walk and aiming to stay at a hotel. I'll be back tomorrow. Love you xxx" to TJ. He left the note on the kitchen counter with a flower from the window box outside his bedroom, before slinging his duffle bag with his Machiavellian costume and 4 guns inside over his shoulder and leaving the flat.

The night air was cold. A lot colder then Klaus remembered it being... there again, he hadn't really left the house since the incident, so that probably accounted for it. A couple of stars were visible through the cloud and streetlights that usually blocked them out entirely, and the distant rumble of cars in the distance added to the beauty and mystery of the city Klaus loved, and loved to reek havoc in.

Outside, he got into his car and drove off. He was headed to North Quay shipyard, where the White Dragons stayed. This would be his first heist in 5 months and he was excited out of him mind.

"This is a pretty good way to help recover from the PTSD," he thought to himself as he finally pulled up by the ruined shacks that made up the shipyard. He pulled the Machiavellian suit out of the duffle and put it on while he was still in the car. Finally, he was Machiavellian again.

With his mask securely over his eyes and his old clothes stuffed into the duffle now under the front seat, he gracefully got out the car. He straightened his suit jacket as he went, eyes shifting to the far left building where the White Dragons stayed.

The creaking of abandoned ships made the hair on the back of Machiavellian's neck stand up. Images of the warehouse flashed through his mind but he forced it down. He was working. He didn't need his mental health to get in the way of the big bucks.

Arriving at the shack door, he knocked 4, then 6 then 2 times. A slot in the door opened, and a pair of eyes looked out.

"Thai black curry for Mr Smith?" Machiavellian asked. The eyes looked him up and down before closing the door. Machiavellian could hear the door being unlocked, before finally it opened. A flood of light spilled through the doorway, framing a stocky man with tattoos drenching his arms and a buzz cut.

"Nathaniel my friend. It's been a long time." Machiavellian greeted the man, offering a handshake. The man, Nathaniel, broke out into a shit eating grin and shook it.

"It really 'as 'asn't it? 'ow are ya sir?" Nathaniel's strong cockney accent boomed out. He was a 6 foot tall gentle giant, with a fear of guns and loud noises, which was odd for a gang member, but he made a good doorman because of his intimidating look. You only had to look a little closer to see his true nature; his eyes were warm, his jacket had a 'I love my mum' patch on it, and most of the tattoos covering his arms were hearts, the names of his wife and kids, and flowers.

Machiavellian nodded smiling up at the man.

"I'm well after my leave of absence. How is your niece? I hear she just learnt to walk!"

Nathaniel grinned.

"She's doin' great. My sisters mighty chuffed. Was almos' cryin' when she took 'em first few steps!" He boomed happily. Machiavellian smiled.

"Lovely to hear. Please give her my congratulations. Now, may I come in?"

Nathaniel nodded, chuckling slightly.

"O' course sir, sorry fer keepin' yer out 'ere wi' my ramblin'." So he stood to the side and let the masked man into the already fairly crowded shack.

Machiavellian stopped in his tracks. A face at the far wall, grinning his manic grin, the opposite of Nathaniel's warm ones, glaring with piercing eyes. The world slowed.

"Ah, Machiavellian sir. How are you?" A voice said. Machiavellian snapped out of his daze and looked around. There, stood to his right, was Damian Smith, leader of the White Dragons. He was thin and lanky; only a few inches taller then Machiavellian, yet he still managed to fill the space with a dominating aura.

"Good evening Damien. I'm fine thank you." Machiavellian glanced at the far wall. It turned out Seth's face was in fact a printed out mug shot, with four well placed darts sticking out of its forehead, nose and ears.

Machiavellian calmed, before turning back to Damien, who was speaking again, this time to the whole gang.

"Oi listen up!" He yelled, climbing onto a nearby table, kicking over gambling chips in the process. The room went silent as every gang member stopped what they were doing and looked over at the leader before them. The amount of respect the had for him truly amazed Machiavellian, as he knew this was one of the more crazy gangs in the area.

"We've been lucky enough to be joined by the king of crime and violence himself, Machiavellian." There was a rush of gasps and murmurs as 50 people turned and stared at the assassin. Damian coughed and the room went silent.

"He has the biggest kill count in the history of assassins, best shot this side of Greenhill, and the greatest super to ever exist. One bad comment towards this man and I'll blow your fucking brains out. We're treating this guy with respect, or we ain't getting the heist, got it?!" There was a rumble of agreement, broken by someone shouting from the back of the room.

"I heard he was a faggot!" He yelled. The room went into a thick silence.

Quick as a whip, Damien turned, pulled out his gun and shot the guy squarely between the eyes. The man dropped to the floor like a stone, the people behind him being splattered with blood. Machiavellian flinched at the sight, but no one noticed. All eyes were on Damien. This was why he was so well respected.

"As I said. No snide comments people. Respect him or you're as dead as that guy. Get back to work." And he jumped down from the table. The gang returned to its semi rowdy state as a couple of guys dragged the dead man away.

"Sorry about that, man. There's been a lot of rumours you know, not very nice ones at that. Apparently your real name is Audi. Like the car." Machiavellian laughed at the name.

"Sadly I am not named after a car. But that's life. Anyway, the heist?"

(A/N: This human embodiment of depression is on a roll! Also, WEV ALMOST HIT 1K READS!!!

HOW THE FUUUCCCKKKK

Also, the countdown till Extract 1 has finally begun! Only 2 week kids!)