Mechanic Shop: The Scout's "End"

  The silence of the shop was broken by the sound of Fabrizio’s military boots crushing glass shards at the entrance. He stepped inside with the calm of an inspector, his two hand-scythes hanging close to his body. His eyes scanned every shadow among the suspended car frames and piles of tires.

  — I know you’re here, Kane — Fabrizio’s voice came out low, nearly muffled by the modifier. — The smell of your saw engines gives you away. It’s a desperate sound.

  From the rafters above, Kane watched. He waited for Fabrizio to pass under a hydraulic lift and dropped down onto the Reaper. The saws roared at the last second.

  The impact was blunt. Kane started strong, using the momentum of the fall to pin Fabrizio against the floor. The saws spun with fury, but the Reaper was fast enough to cross his scythes, blocking the attack inches from his face. The contact between the rotating steel and the curved blades sparked a cascade of light that illuminated the shop like fireworks; the sound of metal being chewed was deafening.

  Kane pushed his weight down. Sparks pelted Fabrizio’s tactical chest plate, but the Reaper maintained a cold gaze, focused only on the point where the weapons met.

  — Useless effort — Fabrizio murmured.

  With a lever-like motion, he kicked Kane in the stomach, throwing him backward. The Heretic rolled, springing up into a combat stance, but noticed Fabrizio didn't advance. Instead, the Reaper took two steps back, sheathing one of his scythes and drawing his Silver Ghost.

  Kane scrambled behind a workbench, but stopped when he heard a different sound: liquid gushing. Fabrizio wasn't shooting at him. He had fired at the fuel tanks and gas hoses powering the shop's generators. The smell of fuel flooded the room instantly, swirling around Kane’s feet.

  — What are you doing? — Kane yelled, noticing the murderous glint in Fabrizio’s eyes. — You’ll go up with it!

  — I’m a Reaper, Kane. I survive a lot of things. You, on the other hand... you’re flammable.

  Fabrizio struck one last blow with his scythe against the asphalt, intentionally creating a trail of sparks as he retreated toward the exit. The sparks found the pool of gasoline.

  The explosion was immediate and overwhelming. A shockwave of orange fire swallowed the shop, hurling shelves, engines, and tools in every direction. The zinc roof buckled under the sudden heat.

  Fabrizio stepped through the main door seconds before the ceiling collapsed. He stood on the sidewalk, not looking back, as the shop transformed into a funeral pyre of metal and flames.

  — Consider it done — he said over the radio, watching the wreckage consume what remained of Kane.

  False Immortality

  The brown house creaked with the sound of old wood under Andrew’s boots. He walked with a childish arrogance, kicking the remains of the door he had just broken down.

  — Piggy, piggy... where are you? — the voice of the youngest Reaper came out muffled by the modifier, but the mocking tone was crystal clear. — I brought sweets, but I think you prefer blood!

  Upstairs, the silence was absolute. Leo and Kol exchanged a quick look. The plan had been forged in desperation. Kol pointed toward the kitchen, where he had left a cast-iron pot filled with boiling oil, bubbling like lava atop the gas stove. Leo nodded, adjusting the climbing claws on his hands.

  Andrew entered the kitchen, stopping in front of the pot. The yellow oil vapor was thick. He tilted his head, curious, until a piece of wood struck the side of his mask.

  — Hey, freak! — Leo leaped from a hole in the floor above.

  Andrew let out a dry laugh. — Ah... so you’re the one who killed Diego? I’m going to do the same thing to you, kid. I’m going to shove every one of those metal fingers down your throat.

  The fight exploded. Andrew pulled his submachine gun and opened fire. The sound of the shots was deafening in the confined space, shredding the furniture and ceramic plates. Leo moved like a shadow, sliding under the table and using the counter as a shield. The moment the dry click of the firing pin signaled the end of the magazine, Leo lunged.

  He threw himself forward, driving the claws of his right hand deep into Andrew’s gut. The Reaper roared but ignored the shock. Instead of backing away, Andrew delivered a brutal headbutt to the center of Leo’s mask, senting the Heretic reeling back.

  Andrew dropped the empty weapon and drew a hunting machete. The swings were wide and violent. One of them tore into Leo’s calf, and another sliced a gash through the brown jacket on his left arm. He delivered a front kick that slammed Leo against the refrigerator, making the metal crumple with the impact.

  — It’s over, Heretic — Andrew raised the machete for the final blow.

  Leo dodged a horizontal slash that ripped through the refrigerator’s rubber seal. In a reflex motion, he lashed out with a diagonal scratch across Andrew’s metal mask. Before the Reaper could recover, Leo grabbed his shoulders and delivered a powerful knee to the face.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The impact was so strong that Andrew’s metal mask flew off, hitting the floor with a hollow clang. The Reaper’s young, sadistic face was exposed, his eyes bloodshot with rage.

  — You’re dead! — Andrew lunged with his bare hands, punching Leo and pinning the boy against the cabinets on the other side of the kitchen.

  That’s when the sound of heavy footsteps echoed behind him. Andrew turned too late. Kol emerged from the shadows holding the massive pot. The boiling oil was launched in a golden arc, hitting Andrew’s chest and exposed face. Leo was also hit, but fortunately only slightly, causing no real damage.

  The scream that escaped his throat was inhuman. Even with his pain tolerance, the chemical and thermal burn of the boiling oil began to melt the tissues of his face. He staggered, hands covering his eyes as his skin bubbled.

  Kol stepped forward and flicked a Zippo lighter. — Burn in hell, bastard.

  The flame met the oil. Within seconds, Andrew was transformed into a human pyre. The reaction, however, was what chilled the Heretics' blood: instead of thrashing, Andrew stopped. He began to twitch his fingers frantically in a macabre nervous tic, and let out a high-pitched laugh with his mouth wide open, staring at the ceiling as the flames consumed his face. He stumbled into the living room, where he finally collapsed, his body still smoldering. The youngest of the Reapers was dead.

  Leo and Kol looked at each other, breathless and terrified by what they had just witnessed. But the relief was short-lived.

  An immense shadow blocked the light from the entrance. Lil stood under the doorframe, his psychotic smiling mask staring at the charred corpse of his mission partner. The silence emanating from him was more terrifying than any scream.

  Absolute Carnage

  The silence from Lil at the door of the brown house was absolute, broken only by the crackling of the flames still consuming Andrew’s remains. He didn't move for long seconds, simply staring at the charred body.

  Lil’s psychopathic bipolarity began to take hold. He tilted his head to the side, and through the voice modifier, let out a sound that resembled an electronic sob, but quickly morphed into a distorted, shrill cackle.

  — Oh... Andrew... — Lil whispered, his voice oscillating between sadness and euphoria. — You became so... bright. So warm.

  He took his first step into the living room. Kol gripped the handle of the fire axe, and Leo, despite his leg injury, dropped into an attack stance, claws extended. They knew that if Andrew was a danger, Lil was a nightmare.

  — You hurt him... — Lil stopped in the middle of the room, his eyes glowing behind the skull mask. — Did you give an order for his life to stop?

  The trigger tripped. The trance state took over. He didn't advance like a soldier; he charged like a rabid animal. Lil swung his massive scythe, hitting an oak table and snapping it in half as if it were a twig.

  — WHO GAVE THE ORDER?! — he screamed, his eyes wide behind the mask, lunging toward Kol.

  Kol blocked the first strike with the axe handle, but Lil’s strength was overwhelming. The impact drove the Ukrainian to his knees, making the wooden floorboards crack. Leo leaped onto Lil’s back, digging his claws into the shoulders, trying to reach the neck.

  Lil didn't even seem to feel Leo’s blades tearing through his suit and skin. He simply spun his body with violence, hurling the boy against the wall. Before Leo could fall, Lil flicked his wrist. The hidden bident snapped out of the gauntlet, ready to impale the younger Heretic.

  — DIE LIKE THE DOGS YOU ARE!

  At that moment, the roar of boots echoed from outside. It was Mickey.

  The impact of Mickey’s bullets rang through the house, the dry crack of the Magnum cutting the tension. Lil staggered back from the shot. The first projectile hit the center of his chest, making him lock up; he fixed his gaze on Mickey, but the Enforcer gave him no room to react, emptying the cylinder. The other four bullets battered Lil’s military vest, shoving his body back with such violence that his back slammed into the wooden wall, which splintered under the weight.

  Mickey spun the now-empty revolver, a thin trail of smoke rising from the barrel.

  — I think I showed up just in time — he said with a smirk, looking at Leo and Kol.

  But the relief was shattered in a second. Lil, in an inhuman movement, defied physics and the gunshot wounds. He launched himself off the wall with blind fury, completely ignoring the shock of the rounds. Before Mickey could draw another weapon, Lil’s hand clamped around his throat, hoisting him off the ground.

  Lil flicked his wrist. The hidden bident snapped out, gleaming under the room’s light, ready to drive through Mickey’s chest.

  — ORDER... DENIED! — Lil roared.

  In the final millisecond, Leo leaped and grabbed Lil’s arm with both hands, using his entire body weight to pull the bident off course. Mickey, his face turning purple from asphyxiation, clawed at the wrist choking him, desperately trying to create space to breathe.

  Lil was focused on crushing Mickey. He was so concentrated on the Enforcer and the boy that he didn't see Kol’s shadow rising behind him.

  Kol did not hesitate. He swung the fire axe in a wide arc, channeling all his strength and hatred into the blow. The heavy blade struck the back of Lil’s head, splitting the skull decisively.

  The grip on Mickey’s neck gave way instantly. Lil collapsed forward, falling like a felled oak, his heavy body shuddering one last time before total silence. Not even Colonel Turner’s biotechnology could reconstruct what Kol’s axe had destroyed.

  Mickey fell, coughing and massaging his neck, while Kol wiped the blood from the blade onto his pants.

  Outside, atop a neighboring house, Aiden watched the scene through binoculars, seeing the bodies of Andrew and Lil. Meanwhile, Fabrizio watched the still-burning shop where Kane had been left.

  Aiden adjusted the voice modifier and let out a melodic, sadistic laugh that echoed through the radio of every Reaper and Heretic.

  — Well, well... it seems the nursery and the asylum were shut down today — Aiden’s voice mocked. — Two "immortals" fell to an axe and some cooking oil. How tacky. Fabrizio, darling, I think our brothers were more fragile than Silas imagined.

  Fabrizio didn't respond to the provocation, merely staring at the brown house with a vacant gaze.

  — The fun is just beginning — Aiden continued.

  Triumphant Return

  The flames of the shop still roared against the dark sky, creating a pyre of twisted metal that illuminated the deserted street. Fabrizio remained motionless, watching the fire with the coldness of someone observing a completed work. Aiden approached, stopping beside his companion, wiping an invisible stain from his jacket.

  — A necessary clearance sale, Fabrizio — Aiden commented. — Although the smell of burning rubber is an insult to my sense of smell.

  Suddenly, a shrill sound of metal being sawed echoed from within the wreckage. With a crash, a sheet of zinc was hurled away, revealing a silhouette among the embers. Kane emerged from the smoke, his green wooden mask scorched and his utility jacket torn, but his eyes glowed with a renewed fury. He was alive, more alive than ever, with the motors of the saws reaching a deafening RPM.

  Fabrizio narrowed his eyes behind his mask. — This time... — he murmured, drawing his hand-scythes with a sharp click — I’m going to split this imbecile in two.

  Aiden stepped forward, twirling his spiked guitar. — With me here, this Heretic won’t last a minute. Let’s give him a choreographed ending.

  Kane let out a raspy laugh, the sound emerging from between the gears of his own weapon. He stood before the two of them, ignoring the heat still emanating from his clothes.

  — Look at you — Kane began, his voice heavy with disdain. — The "World's Most Wanted Assassins"... the "Immortals." You’re rotten. And you’re weak. You need to hold hands like children afraid of the dark just to finish a job. If you’re truly a Reaper, Fabrizio... if you have a drop of warrior’s blood in you, face me alone. Or admit that you’re nothing but Silas’s shadow.

  The silence that followed was cutting. Aiden gripped the neck of the guitar, ready to lung, but felt Fabrizio’s right hand rest firmly on his chest.

  Without looking away from Kane, Fabrizio spoke: — He’s mine. Go after our brothers' killers. Mickey and the others need to pay for what they did to Andrew and Lil.

  Aiden hesitated for a second, looked at the burning shop, and then at his partner. He nodded slowly and, with an agile movement, ran in the opposite direction toward the brown house.

  Fabrizio spun his hand-scythes, dropping into a low, lethal combat stance. Kane responded immediately, flexing his knees and crossing the saws in front of his body, sparks already beginning to fly from the mere friction of the air. They stared each other down, two predators in a landscape of absolute destruction.

  Kane shot a quick glance at the sky, where Jester’s drones circled like mechanical vultures waiting for a slip-up to open fire. He knew that in the open field he would be nothing but a sitting duck, so he looked toward the monumental garage beside the shop, illuminated by white lights. The interior was a metal labyrinth: car frames suspended by heavy chains that creaked at the slightest hint of wind, and metal shelves overflowing with rusted parts. There, under the steel roof and among the hanging iron links, the scout would be in his element, ready to turn that vehicle graveyard into a Reaper’s tomb.

  Fabrizio spoke through the voice modifier, and the sound that came out was a chilling promise: — This time, I’m giving you a one-way ticket to hell.

  End of Chapter