DEATH OF JUSTICE

Mr. Starkridge was starting to feel anxious. It had been over an hour since his secret agent had called. He believed dealing with an unarmed woman would be straightforward, but Mr. Starkridge was aware that something had happened to him at that time.

As he strolled up and down his office, he thought to himself, "That stupid rat better not get caught." He reached for a tumbler of bourbon laying on his desk and took one last long swig before calling it a night.

He reached for his overcoat, which was laying on the armrest of his office chair, and exclaimed, "That's it, I'm out of here." He had various paperwork on the table, including a passport, an identification card, and two aircraft tickets. He was on the verge of fleeing the realm. He hurriedly slung the overcoat over his back and stuffed the documents into his briefcase. He looked around the room for anything unusual. The papers were strewn across the floor and the shards of broken glass didn't appear to concern him. He finally grabbed for the open window to close it, but something occurred to him as he did so.

“Wait a second! I never opened this window? As he released go of the window frame, he told himself, ” His eyes widened as he realised what had happened, and he hurriedly let grip of the window and dashed over to the rack of vials on the bookshelf to his left. The door beside the bookcase that led to the office's restroom burst open, and a man dressed in black emerged. His face was hidden by a mask, and daggers extended from both sides of his hands. They both dashed for the vial rack, and Mr. Starkridge was able to get one out before the figure crushed the others with his knife handles. Before he struck the ground, Mr. Starkridge stumbled back and double-checked that the stopper was removed. After consuming the mutagen contained within the vial, a long muscular tail emerged from his back, cushioning his fall and  propelling him back up, and he took a formidable stance with his feet.

“Who are you? Who sent you? ” Mr. Starkridge inquired of the anonymous individual. None of his statements elicited a response. The figure proceeded slowly back to the centre of the room, treading over glass pieces and papers while aiming his dagger blades at Mr. Starkridge.

“Are you one of King Vonner’s men? Did he finally send you to stab me in the back? Mr. Starkridge inquired. He didn't get a response from the figure.

“Well, if you work for him, I'll make sure to return your head to him as a parting gift!” ” Mr. Starkridge exclaimed, leaping full force at his opponent. He used his scaly tail as protection by wrapping it around his torso. The person attempted to stab the tail, but his daggers simply glided over the scales. The blades were dented, and the figure stumbled back, colliding with a cabinet behind him.

“fancy my new toy. I made it myself. I call it Dragon's Tail! ” Mr. Starkridge exclaimed, his face flushed. With every stroke he threw, one could see his malicious intent. The tail would constantly miss the figure's head by a few inches. Because of his disguise, it was difficult to detect the figure's terror, but it was clearly terrified, judging by how less aggressive it became. It stopped attacking and began focusing its motions on defence, attempting to avoid being hit by that monstrous tail.

Mr. Starkridge would spring forward with a powerful attack, possibly trying to break the vial or hurt the figure's arm, if the figure tried to reach for a vial fastened around the belt on its waist. All Mr. Starkridge had to do was corner him long enough for him to find an opening and deliver the killing blow.

Mr. Starkridge swung his tail forward in another uncontrolled swing, exposing his entire abdomen. When the figure realised what had happened, he hurriedly went for his dagger. He realised he couldn't attack and escape the oncoming tail at the same time, so he took a chance and took a hit in the hopes of landing one of his own. Mr. Starkridge's chest was pierced by the blade, which went deep into his lung. Thankfully, his tail yanked the figure's corpse across the room and slammed him into the bookcase, stopping the blade from entering any further.

Soon after, the figure felt the impact of the collision. It had not anticipated how much it would hurt. It attempted to raise its arm, but the shoulder was dislocated, causing the arm to become stuck in one position, preventing it from flexing. Mr. Starkridge coughed blood and wiped the blood off his chin with his tail.

“You're not going to make it out alive!” ” he exclaimed. He pushed forward for another strike as quickly as he could. He was stopped in his tracks when he was hit by a wave of pain. His eyesight went completely black, and he couldn't see anything, including his wildly flying arms. Inside his chest, where the blade was still embedded, a piercing ache resonated. He was aware that yanking it out may injure some blood vessels, leading him to bleed more quickly than he desired. He had no idea that leaving the blade in the wound was the source of his pain in the first place.

His vision gradually returned, and when he focused on the figure in front of him, he noticed that the vial on his waist vanished. He searched the room till he discovered it next to his leg. When the figure attacked, it appeared like he took it off and used the dagger to conceal it.

“So the blade was just a gimmick. The true weapon was the potion in the vial, which you concealed behind the dagger's blade. That is a very deceiving tactic! "  When He coughed, a torrent of blood flew across the table. Mr. Starkridge stumbled to one knee and started to rip the buttons from the garment that was covering his chest. The fabric fell away, showing a severe incision stained with a green poison that emitted foam.

“Poison, you killed me with poison!” Mr. Starkridge, sprawled on the floor, said. The figure approached him and stood over him for a few moments, ensuring that he was weak and unable to retaliate when it removed its mask.

The person went over Mr. Starkridge's body and removed the mask that had been covering his face once he was unmoving. Mr. Starkridge's eyes widened in surprise as he saw his face.

“You! Of all people, you! His voice was wheezing as he spoke.

“You thought you'd get away with it!  But you messed with the wrong guy Director,” Nelanian said, still standing over Mr. Starkridge's dying body. Before walking away from him, he waited for him to draw his final breath.

As soon as Mr. Starkridge’s cries died down, he noticed aggressive footsteps climbing the flight of stairs that were leading to his office. He started running towards the half-open window, but when he got there, he got a terrible migraine and lost his footing. He lurched towards the window, almost colliding with the frame. He was unable to see clearly, and footsteps were approaching the office.

He finally decided to throw caution to the wind and hurled himself into the window glass, smashing it as he dove through it and landed on the building's roof. His body rolled across the rooftop, smashing tiles and knocking them out. Finally, he slipped off the roof and began a free fall to the Earth. Outside the window, a figure peered in and cried, "I see him.  I see the intruder approaching the walls. Before he gets away, call security! ”

The night was kind to Nelanian; the darkness made his face difficult to distinguish, so he placed his mask back on and began stumbling towards the school's perimeter wall. The barks of a pack of German shepherds could soon be heard from afar. He couldn't see them, but he knew they were nearby and on their way to get him.

His sprained ankle and dislocated shoulder slowed him a lot, but he needed to get over the walls to stay safe. When he eventually arrived, he began climbing it using only his prosthetic arm. He couldn't feel if his hold was tight enough because it was bionic and didn't have any nerve endings, but he trusted his instincts and knew he wouldn't fall in that moment.

He eventually ascended the walls, the dogs' bites grazing his legs by a hair's breadth. Soon after, a loud siren could be heard wailing throughout the school, followed by flashing lights aimed towards the area where Nelanian was hobbling. There was a thicket of trees in the area where he was, so he couldn't be seen easily. He came to a halt in front of one tree, folding a portion of his shirt and biting on it. He then rammed his shoulder into the tree, which sprang back into place with a snap, and he groaned into his shirt as he rotated his arm to make sure it was back in the right place.

He pulled out the remaining dagger he had and its handle had a lid on the end. Before a vial fell out of the handle, he opened it and shook it several times. He opened it fast and swallowed the contents of the vial immediately. He vanished into thin air shortly after, and the guards and dogs came to find him gone.

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION

“You appear before the Watchers' council. Please state your name! ”

As he stood up and stretched his arm again, Nelanian sighed.

“Nelanian Henfery,” he murmured as he spat out the stopper he swallowed by accident when he drank the potion from the vial.

“State your full name! ” a threatening voice resonated from behind him.

With a sigh of tiredness, Nelanian sighed. As he moved closer to the voice, he rolled his eyes again and muttered, " Zegrath Void, The Necessary Evil and Keeper of Darkness, hundred and seventh to hold the title."

“Has the deed been done? ” inquired the voice.

Nelanian said, "Yes."

“Who am I speaking to right now?” I can't keep track of how many of you there are,” he remarked. “Mostly because you all use the same bloody voice,” he grumbled beneath his breath.

“My name is the Seventh, and I am The Death List. I am the one who has the list of souls you must assassinate. I am the one who gives you the order to kill,” 

“So you're the one who ordered me to assassinate the director?”

“That is correct,” 

“So when do I know who my next target is?”

“Didn't we tell you about this before you asked to have your mind erased?”

“Wait, I asked for my mind to be erased? Why?"

“That is unclear to us. However, when we gave you the first name to kill, you stated that you wanted your memory erased once you killed him,”

“Then I'd like to know the name of the first person I killed,” 

“I wouldn't recommend it. You made it apparent that you didn't want to know anything else, and that we shouldn't divulge that information,”

“Well, now I'm going to ask for it!  I'm curious as to who was the first person I killed!” Angrily, Nelanian inquired.

The voice took a long time to respond, and Nelanian became impatient, so he asked again. Finally, the voice responded.

“This is the name of the first person we advised you to kill,” said the voice. 

"It was Rhaizen Gale!”