‘The money is in the rearmost room,’ Garovel told him. ‘Hold on a minute.’ The reaper phased through the wall while Hector waited in the dimly lit hallway. ‘Six men. Oh, Ponytail is talking about Colt. Rumors, he’s saying... about Colt being a psychopath... but at the same time... forced to work for Rofal?’
‘Wait, what...?’
‘I’m listening... Bah. They’re talking about food now. They want to go get pizza. At gunpoint? What the hell is wrong with these people? Please come stomp their heads in.’
He flung the door open and kicked the first man he saw across the room.
“What the fuck?!”
“Oh, shit! You!”
Hector leapt on his second victim and knocked him out cold. Now the guns were out, but the hail of bullets didn’t stop him from reaching the third and fourth men and clapping their skulls together. Only Ponytail and another thug remained, fumbling too much to reload their weapons, their spare magazines clattering to the floor.
Hector stood in front of them for a moment, considering what to do next. Bashing their faces in hardly seemed necessary at this point, and besides, Ponytail’s face was still swollen blue and purple.
He walked up and pulled their guns away from them. They both just stared at him, wide-eyed and cornered.
“What the hell are you?” said Ponytail. “I heard Colt killed you.”
Hector eyed the table full of duffel bags in the middle of the room. He slung all seven bags over his shoulder with one hand.
‘You’re not going to stomp their heads in, too?’ The reaper sounded disappointed. ‘Well, at least threaten them before you leave.’
A dark serial novel. Set in a modern fantasy world called Eleg. Mature language. Updates every night at midnight PST by ~400 words.