Infinity's Row - Interlude

Epilogue: The Beginning

"In other words, you failed."

Damien Fausse--or, as he was more known as, Silverbane--clasped his hands behind his back and took a few controlled steps to the side, as though he was disinterested.

But oh no. He was quite interested indeed.

He stopped and turned his head to the left. In the dark room, he could see uniformed men standing straight-backed against the two side walls. Standing in between the two lines was Ryan Archer, his close associate. Instead of being rigid with fear like all of his other men and women, he just looked annoyed.

"Look, I already told you--"

"You took an entire building hostage with ease," Damien continued, ignoring Archer. "You had half of my men at your disposal, took complete control of the situation--"

His cold blue eyes shifted toward Archer.

"And still you fail."

Archer's annoyance fell. A large bulge sank down his throat.

His eyes narrowed. He stepped closer to Archer. He took another step forward.

Then Damien drew his gun and shot Archer in the head.

A moment of stunned silence passed, the gunshot echoing through the black walls. Then Archer fell to the floor flat on his back. His lifeless eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling.

Damien lowered his gun and closed his eyes. He truly did not wish to shoot any of the ones who worked for him, especially not a man as loyal as Archer. But as Archer had initially exercised complete control of the situation, this was their biggest failure in years. He could not allow losses as paramount as this to transpire again. To ensure that wouldn't happen, a life would have to be taken in front of everyone's eyes so that they might conjure an idea of what would happen if they did fail. Fear was, unfortunately, the only effective way to govern.

Ultimately, lives would have to be sacrificed if he was to ensure that N'al Ren reached its promised era of peace. The ends did justify the means.

Surely Carstairs would understand.

He looked at each and every one of the men with hard, all-knowing eyes. He saw many of them display signs of fear, but all of them stayed calm under the pressure.

That was a mark of great subordinates.

Damien put his gun back in its holster. "You're all dismissed. And I'll need three of you to dispose of the corpse."

The men trickled out of the room. A few of them came over and carried Archer's body out of the room. Soon they'd all filed out, leaving him with a resounding close of the door.

Damien sighed. His quest was becoming ever so difficult. It was only a matter of time before he had to take drastic measures.

"Well?" said a voice. "Is it time?"

Damien closed his eyes. He truly wished that he would not have to resort to this. But he had no choice.

"It is," he said. "Step into the light."

And so the other man did. He was tall and lean, but strong, too. A clean black longcoat reached all the way down to his ankles, and a dark hood entirely cloaked his face in shadow. Gloved hands held a wickedly sharp scythe.

He was known as the Reaper. He had received the name not only due to his appearance, but also because he had never failed to deliver his victims to their deaths.

Damien looked into the Reaper's face, that void of blackness.

"Your next assignment is of critical importance," he said. "You are to obtain what I seek. And if killing Elias Carstairs and Gentry Yate is necessary to do so . . . then so be it. Clear?"

From under the Reaper's hood emerged a smile that was almost blinding. "Crystal."

Damien closed his eyes with a grim finality.

Their fates had been sealed.