Chapter 2

Two grown adults, a man and a woman rounded each other in a steel cage, blood smeared across their faces as they growled at each other. The crowd outside erupted in cheers and screams at the thrill of someone killing someone.

A fight to death. The worst type of test and the last one that is needed to be inducted into the Hell Hall fraternity. If you managed killed your opponent in the 'last supper' as named by the intending members of hell hall fraternity, you will gain the lowest rank in Hell Hall which to outsiders, was one of the highest ranks one could attain, that is after being trained for five years.

The man sneered at the woman and and lunged at her but she skillfully doged him and landed a brass knuckle aided punch to his chest, making him groan and growl at her.

"That the best you have, big boy?", She taunted him.

"Small always wins against big but….", She started but stopped to dodge one of his hits.

"You will only agree in death", she tutted and landed a roundhouse kick, sending the big man crashing down and the crowd going crazy.

Vendetta. A band of the world's most dangerous assassins, trained with different methods that they could kill with a gentle touch. People called it the Hell Hall fraternity for various reasons that have everything to do with their torture techniques. Not only the most skilled assassins but also the most skilled psychologists and just about every God damn profession. 

Vendetta could torture a terrorist without laying a finger on anyone and that was saying a lot in a world where violence was the only language rogues understood. Oh they spoke it beautifully well, they spoke violence in volumes that could blast off the eardrums of anyone that heard it and cause a man to cry blood.

Despite the crowd's rowdiness, two men sat quietly, observing the fighters and throwing down serious money that could change an average rich man's life, on silent bets.

"Five million says the girl will live", one of the men said to the other one who chuckled.

"Hundred million says he needs a punch in", the other one said.

"You and me both know that he ain't getting that much so I'mma be hundred million richer by the end of the night", the first one said, raising a glass of burborn to his lips and taking a sip.

"She's over confident", the second man said.

"And he's too slow", the first man said, smiling seductively to a barely dressed vixen that draped herself on him, her brown orbs shining something only lust could be it's main ingredient.

"You hungry or something sexy girl?", The man drawled in her ears, gently taking her earlobe and biting into it, causing her to stiffle a loan and snatch his glass of burborn and drain it.

"Or something", she replied seductively.

Just then, the crowd went up in roars, feet stamping, hands clapping thighs and loud whistles, calling the two men's attention.

The lady had made a clean slice of his jugular, blood spurted out of it like a blooming fountain of dismay as he choked on his own blood, his eyes telling takes of a scared boy, of course even the strongest and most hardened man would fear death and it's unknown fate.

"Seems like I'm ten million dollars richer, Willie boy. In the mean time, it seems like I had agents of luck visit me from other departments, the sexier one this time. Come on baby, let's go celebrate with the right fluids this time", the first man winked at the vixen on his lap who giggled and stood up, his tie wrapped in her hand as she dragged him up and out of there.

The other man groaned and drained his funny colored liquid that one wouldn't exactly be so eager to find out exactly how many liquors he had to mix to get the potion he had just consumed.

The crowd dispersed, some people who had made a bet on the fight and won went to take up their earnings while the others who were undeniably the losers of this bet sulked out of the building, probably going to drown their loses with more alcohol.

As for the muscle tank who just had the life ripped out from him, his remains were left for cleaners to deal with, which besides the money inolved would have been a job they would have frowned at, given his heavy body.

••••••••••••••••

A lanky man with his beards almost hanging off from his face with how scattered they looked walked into the room that 'Willie boy' decided to sulk in.

"Where's Zayn?", The lanky man asked.

"Between some sexy woman's thighs, having the time of his life after which he would throw a mean slumber party with my money", 'Willir boy' grunted, causing the other man to chuckle.

"Ah, you don't really learn Wilbur. How many times have you lost a bet with him?", The lanky man poured himself a drink.

"All the time", Wilbur grunted again, gaining an 'aha' and a chuckle from the lanky man.

"What do you need him for anyways?", Wilbur asked.

"Deck of cards. You know how it is", the lanky man shrugged.

"We leave tomorrow, he better cum fast this time. The guys are packing up and new girl is your job", the lanky man finished.

"The fuck Dexter? What do you mean new girl is my job?", Wilbur glared at Dexter who rose his hands as if to surrender.

"Hey you're the one who pissed the old witch of Oz off. Unless you want her to remind you your sins and punish you accordingly, you better do this one", Dexter laughed.

"Tell Casanova to not miss the flight back. If he manages to miss deck of cards, he's as good as dead. Not like you wouldn't know", Dexter finished his drink and leave the groaning man to himself.

Vendetta operates with the card system. Four head houses, the Spades, the Aces, the Diamonds and the Hearts. Each house had their Queen, King and Jack. These were the power houses of each house and handled important decisions in each house, each Queen, King and Jack having seconds that should anything happen, the house continues running and under each of them are their own members, and the remaining ten are the limbs and arms of each head house but on special occasions some people from these ten houses gets promoted into the house of Queen, King or Jack while the head of these houses gets a shot at rulling a head house. An annual meeting where the winner of 'the last supper's is inucted into a house is called the Deck of cards. 

They had one leader, the Lord of cards, Alan Poza. He was termed 'the wild card', meaning that he could play at random and held the veto power to eliminate any head of house or save them, at will.

As much as they were the deadliest creatures to ever walk the face of the Earth, whoever belonged to Vendetta, had brought his or her family to an unending light, a life fit for royalties. They had cards that each family that had a member there used to get into even the highest secured locations. On presenting the Vendetta card, even the president would think twice before joking with them but they were never to abuse the power that Vendetta yielded.

When Alan Poza started Vendetta, he started it to give life to people that had nothing to live for and with great ability came great responsibility so he decided to be the world's garbage man, him and Vendetta. Ridding the world of people that weren't needed while giving families legacies, the best arrangement for anybody out there which was why they would fight to death to belong to Vendetta.

The girl from the fight walked into the room, her form badly battered and weak but a new kind of joy shining in her eyes. Despite the roughened look, she looked like she was going to have the best sleep that night, Wilbur understood that look perfectly well, he too had sported it seven years ago when he had won 'the last supper".

"You Wilbur?", The girl asked the man.

"It's Sir Wilbur to you", he barked at her. Not that he was trying to be a bully but she had not earned the right to address him or anyone carelessly and he was not going to let her feel too free now that she just joined.

She immediately straightened, the five years of respect that was ingrained in her finally coming to play.

"Sorry. Sir Wilbur", she said to him, earning a little smirk from the man who had just scolded her.

"How old are you?", Wilbur stood up and poured more drink for himself.

"Twenty, Sir", she replied, trying not to grunt when the pain of her earlier opponent's wicked punch made itself known.

"Lucky gal. Your family's saved", he threw his head back and finished the drink he poured. It's safe to say that Wilbur was a barrel.

"Zayn get your bloddy ass here, I don't care if you're hitting the best honey pot in town but I'm not being your alibi when you miss the deck of cards", Wilbur hollered over the phone to an overly happy Zayn.

"I see you got your assignment", the man cackled from the other side of the line, belt buckles could be heard jingling.

"You bloody sun of a gun. You knew all along", Wilbur snapped into the phone but Zayn had already dropped the call.

"Get a move on girl, get packing. We're leaving by dawn", Wilbur threw a random jacket at the lady and started walking out of the room, causing the girl to follow him.

"Leaving? To where?", The girl asked.

"Deck of cards", Wilbur answered.

"With all due respect Sir, are you drunk?", The girl asked, her face twisting with confusion.

"The hell is deck of cards?", She continued, following him down a winding stairs.

"What's your name, girl?", Wilbur turned to look at her.

"Amina", she answered.

"Well, welcome to the house Amina. I know you're itching for answers but I'd advise you get those answers by observing. Incessant questions have been known to piss me off but for the sake of the occasion, I'll answer this one. You've just found yourself in one of the largest, no, scratch that, the largest cult in this whole universe and here, we operate a card system. Deck of cards is our annual communion where five other girls like you that won from the other continents are initiated properly and the whole fucking cult assembles in one big gathering", Wilbur told her, amused at the look of utter admiration on her face.

"Tighten your seatbelt kiddo", he clapped her shoulder and continued descending the stairs.

"Wow", Amina gasped, following the man who was still drinking from a flask down the stairs.

••••••••••••••••••••

"The whole deck is coming in this morning", a man dressed to the tee, looking sharp as a knife in his three piece suit spoke into the receiver.

The person at the other end of the line grunted.

"When are we expecting you Alan?", He asked.

Alan chuckled softly.

"Oh Stephan, I am already in town. Infact that tux looks dapper on you, I must say, blue is your color", Alan answered, causing Stephan to the bridge of his nose.

"Should I ask where you are?", Stephan asked instead of what he wanted to ask.

"Now I wouldn't insult you like that Stephan, you should be able to find me if you tried", Alan mused.

"Yet you better me everytime", Stephan grumbled, sitting down on his posh chair behind his posh table.

"While I will like my ego stroked, I will come for a belly rub some other time. What do you have for me?", Alan chuckled again.

"Everything's good for now. No wars going on, no power grab we've not taken care of, the world looks good right now", Stephan replied.

"Are we going to not tell me about the part where you sent mercenaries to spy on Christian Gerard?", Alan sang.

"I was getting there", Stephan rolled his eyes.

"Stop rolling your eyes at me. Now before I get distracted, when were you going to get to it? Wouldn't you agree that was a slow trip to 'it' and 'the outlaws' really?", Alan asked.

"Now that wasn't me. That was a dumb name, even me would agree", Stephan laughed a little, Alan too.

"Alan you've got to look into this guy. He's bulldozing through his own mafia and raping kids man", Stephan sighed.

"Christian is everything the devil should fear I agree but it's not my cup of tea. Let the American mafia handle him, hell even the Russians could have a go at him. He is not ruffling international feathers so he's good", Alan replied.

"Children don't get hurt Alan, that is your very rule. Children don't get hurt", Stephan gritted.

"That is my rule Stephan but another one of these rules too is never to interfere with nternal business and what happens in the American mafia, is their family business", Alan gritted right back.

"There are children Alan. That could easily be……", Stephan started but Alan cut him off.

"Okay Daddy hen. Look into him, lure him out or something but do it after the deck of cards. I want my house in order to receive my newborns", Alan instructed.

"Yes Sir", Stephan grinned like a child in a candy store, causing Alan to scoff and cut the call on him.

Stephan Devaraux, a stiff looking man with the softest spot for children and women. His upbringing ensured that and when Alan Poza reached out, to train him and make him a better man, he doesn't just become a better man. He becomes a nightmare that tears through anyone that oppressed the little ones.

Vendetta is afterall a family of good hearts with stained souls.