I looked towards the rest of the gang while cleaning my sword with a napkin.
"Next?" I said bluntly.
The men looked at me like I was insane, like I was a monster.
"How many of you are there?" I muttered under my breath.
"One, two… about fifteen."
I took dice out of my pocket rolling them between my fingers before I rolled them along the ground. It landed at the feet of one of the gang members.
"What number is on the dice?"
"Umm…four."
"Right…four of you have to die then."
I moved before the number finished echoing, taking his head with a single cut.
"Three more left."
The gang members tried to run away. We were in their hideout, a broken-down abandoned factory where there were infinite possibilities for them to escape. Like ants they scattered throughout the warehouse. Any regular person would give up, special people maybe could kill three or four. Those who were insane or those who had nothing to lose could find all fourteen.
I didn't stop.
Three men had run for the main exit. I dashed over instantly decapitating the man in the middle. Turning to face the other two I grabbed the one on the right forcing my sword through his face. Blood erupted from both his chest and his mouth, the hot liquid falling onto my clothes. Before the man could scream, I crushed his throat. I felt the bones break under my hand. His scream died with him.
The right man ran at me, thinking he could take me by surprise. I saw the punch he threw and sighed. I ducked underneath dodging his attempt and kicked his jaw. I felt it crack under the pressure. I pulled my sword out of the previous man and removed the man's head from his body. He didn't have time to register the pain.
I looked at my watch. The time read 10:13. I gave myself five minutes to complete the job.
"Eleven more to go."
The next eight men died without ceremony. I wasn't creative with how I killed them. I didn't need to be. I simply tracked them down and took their heads. None of the men had anything interesting to say before they died. Sometimes I wondered what people thought of when they wanted to die. Maybe family and friends, a loved one or their pet dog they adopted. Ultimately it didn't matter. Once you're gone, you're gone.
The last three men had grouped up. Their thought process was that at least one person could escape even if the other two lost their lives. The legacy of the Highguards could live on. They had started to crawl through the vents soaked in dust and oil.
"That guy is a monster." One said to the rest.
"You haven't heard of him before" another said. "God's chosen soldier,"
"Mecer. Judgement incarnate."
They got to the end of the vent and got outside. The sun was bright overhead as the three men clambered out of the vent. Freedom was just in reach, they started to run out of the compound with smile on their faces as bright as the sun overhead.
They thought of their wives that they could grow old with. They thought of their children who they could see them grow up and live their lives. One man even thought of the dog him and his wife just adopted last week.
A figure appeared in front of them. They strained their eyes trying to make out the man who stood before them.
When the realised it was me. Their hearts dropped.
I walked towards them.
"I would say your prayers to any god you believe in," I said. "Save your soul as your body is already dead".
One man started to whimper. His legs shook in fear at my presence. Tears started to form and fall down his face.
I put him out his misery.
His head rolled across the floor to my feet.
"Please don't…"
He couldn't finish his sentence.
Another head rolled over to my feet.
The last man bowed his head in prayer. He remembered going to church as a child. How his mother had taught him to pray before he went to bed each night. The mistakes he made in his life. The regrets, the fears and what he would do different if he could go back. He thought of his wife and their 4-year-old daughter. He hoped they could still live a happy life even if he was not in it. He braced for the impact of the blade, hoping that it would be as painless as possible.
He had died seven minutes ago.
In that time, I had collected all the heads of every gang member as proof for my employer. I slung the bag onto my back and left the factory. Across the street a little girl who couldn't have been more than five was walking alone.
Two men who had seen her started to approach. I knew what was going to happen. This kind of thing was a regular occurrence here. It was nothing new.
I looked away. It wasn't part of my routine.
I kept walking.