CHAPTER XXIX

87th Street, Roosevelt.

Warren parks on the side of the road, close to an abandoned building, “This is the place,” he says, trying his best to hold in his anger for the smashed window.

Marcel rubs his hand against his hair, “You are quite the suspicious man, aren’t you?”, Marcel’s blue eyes assess the young man like a jaguar stalking its prey.

“Who are you?” Warrens asks, “Shut up. We aren’t here for chit-chat” Gabriel says, sounding like the guardian of two troublesome kids.

They step out of the black Honda civic and walk towards the building. The streets are dark and void of any living creature.

A cold breeze blows briefly, kissing behind Gabriel’s ears like a lover while his mind is focused on the annihilation of the Assassin sisters.

Gabriel hears no heartbeat, no footsteps but he perceives the smell of blood and the rotten smell of carcass creating a vivid atmosphere of death.

They enter the building, “What is that fucking smell?” Warren complains as he raises a hand over