Flashback No Mercy For Us

[Solomon Black]

25th of Summer, 494 Solomon sat alone in his home, staring into a small fire burning in the wastebasket that sat in the room's center. He held a tall and thin bottle labeled ‘Doctors Orders’ that he occasionally took long a long drink from. The fire danced a flirtatious dance for the old warrior, its form twisting and turning in all sorts of alluring ways. The warrior swayed in tune with the tiny infernos song, his eyes glazed over as old and painful memories stirred. He tried to drown them with more booze, but they came like a flood. __ Rage filled Solomon as it often did in his youth. He was angry at the world for plenty of very understandable reasons and also many unreasonable ones. This moment was not one of the unreasonable times. The young mercenary stalked Ravok at night, following the trail of his best friends murderer. He knew who did it already, but finding him was his current issue. As he stopped at one of the canals he looked down at the letter in his hand again, re-reading it again for the umpteenth time that night. His eyes hurt from lack of sleep, he had been up for days. Hello Solomon, I am writing this to you because… Well because I really do have no one but you, Shari and the baby. You are my family and I wanted to admit it to you before anything awful happened to me. I am currently being hunted by a man known as Zaz and his crew so I went into hiding. If you get this letter, I am dead. Avenge me, find out who put this bounty on my head and fix this. With much regard, Sir Feld Tears welled up, but Solomon pushed them back. He’d cried enough for his friend, now someone will bleed. Zaz will bleed. He pushed the letter away into a jacket pocket and pulled out another small torn piece of parchment that read; Zaz is from Ravok, Whorestown. He pocketed the parchment again and turned left, moving alongside the canals. The knowledge of where they were was not too difficult to come by after a few days of asking around, Solomon had just brought up the name to gentlemen whose toenails he had removed. Whorestown was what, in his circles, they called a group of buildings that were owned by his old employer The Viper. Since Zaz worked for Viper, he only had to think about it a little to realize The Viper was who had Sir Feld killed. His scar burned with a thought of the Viper but Solomon smiled. This may cost him more than he could imagine. The Viper was one of the biggest criminals in this part of Ravok but he did not care. The two would die tonight by his hands. He paused again as he reached a small bridge and looked around to see where he was. He was so close tonight and his heart was nearly beating out of his chest. Touching his fingertips to the hilt of his sword calmed him down some, but his blood still flowed hot and he set off again towards Whorestown.

[Solomon Black]

Solomon took a deep sigh as the fire starts to die down, the burning taste of alcohol on his tongue and in his breath. The man laid down, staring at the puppet show created from the shadows of the dying flame. His blood felt hot and his face was red from the heat, cooled by the tears streaming down his face. Letting his arm drop off the side of the bed he let go of the bottle, which landed with a hollow thud on his floors and spilled. “I’m so sorry…” He whispered through numb lips. __ At the best of times throughout his life Solomon was not a very subtle man and in the wisdom that came with his older age he learned to better time when too and not too be subtle. In his more youthful years, before coming to Ravok and even before he moved to the orphanage, the young child that was Solomon Icarus Black made no attempt to hide his over-eager attempts to become, ‘The very best that anyones ever seen’, though he never explained so far as to what he was the best. This attitude would quickly change in his teenage years, but before the unfortunate death of his parents he would often pretend to be a knight with a huge smile on his face. After the orphanage and especially after travelling to Ravok Solomon was sour to the world. If it was not the death of his parents or loss of his sister that broke him, it was watching most of his travel party die on the way to Ravok because by the time he reached the city he was a man in a boys body. Then by the time he was a 25 year old man, living in the criminal underbelly of the city for over a decade, he was a monster in the body of a man. Excellently exemplified as while he searched for the murderer of Sir Feld, he spotted some of Vipers men in an thin alleyway from a rooftop just outside of Whorestown and then proceeded to paint the walls red with their blood. He’d moved his way along the rooftops as silently as he could until he was directly above the three unsuspecting victims to his intended carnage. He leaned over the ledge, slowly and quietly drawing his sword. It looked like a twenty five foot drop but that barely even crossed the mind of the bloodthirsty man. Before he began his assault, he looked around to make sure no EbonStryfe or city guards were around and luckily they were not. He angled his blade downwards and took a step forward, dropping like a stone. To the trio of young thugs Solomon looked like a spirit in the dark. He came down suddenly in a flash of steel and covered in a veil of shadowy wisped hair and landed on one of their number without sound or warning. “What the fuck?!” They both screamed. The creature was just a man however, and his blade impaled the young thug through the neck. As his body fell, Solomon pressed his foot against the man’s back and pulled his sword out with a squelch, the corpse collapsing to the ground. After initially freaking out and stumbling over each other, the other two got their senses straight and noticed this was just a tall man with harsh eyes and long black hair. They raised their weapons, crude clubs made of iron, spread out on either side of Solomon. One took a step forward and swung from the left, but Solomon slapped it away with his bastard sword and delivered a swift kick to his chest as he whipped around to stop any attack from behind. He was safe, however, the other not being quite smart enough to take the chance until the mercenary was facing him. He bounced on his toes, slamming his iron rod with speed at Solomon’s head. He still managed to easily side-step the attack, but the other had recovered and now he was outnumbered again. Solomon easily decided that offence would be the safe option, easily influenced by his burning anger. When the first man made his move to attack then he made his counterattack. He brought his sword back, keeping it low as the thug pulled his club back high and with a powerful upward swing he cleaved through his chest, ribs and all. Not wasting any energy or momentum he spun around and brought the sword down on the other, lodging it deep into his shoulder, nearly cutting his arm off. Both bodies collapsed, the massacre having filled the alleyway with pools of crimson blood. Solomon sheathed his blade and wiped the drops of blood on his face off. His breathing was ragged, his heart was pumping. Barely, he heard something, breathing. The mercenary turned to face the man whose chest he had carved up, barely clinging to life. Without hesitation, pulled a small knife from his jacket and and jammed it into the side of the mans head. Now, he was ready for Zaz and the Viper. Quickly recomposing himself, Solomon moved to look outside the alley, glad that the fight was quick and quiet, but spotted a guard walking by. He waited in the shadows between the two buildings and watched the guard as he passes the alleyway, oblivious to the carnage and death not far away. A guard would be a problem, and a fight with one would probably just be a waste of time because he had no intention of hurting an innocent man. He waited for him to pass completely and then dumped the bodies into a canal once he was out of earshot. Then he made his way out of the alley. He could see the three buildings that made up Whorestown. Side by side they were nothing special but inside it was a den of crooks, Vipers crooks. According to the man whose life he beat within an inch of, Viper had an office in the middle house, top floor. That meant stealth.

[Solomon Black]

Solomon’s apartment was quiet. The fire had burnt itself out leaving the apartment in darkness save for the dim light of a slivered moon. Solomon had long ago fell unconscious, passed out on his bed. Across from him, leaning against a wall was a long, beautifully crafted bastard sword. Mercy he called her. Some nights are hard on the old man and she is all he has nowadays on nights like this. She brings up memories, ones that follow the old man into his sleep and invade his dreams. __ A cool night breeze blew over the canals of Ravok as a young man bent on revenge snuck into a crime lords place of business. Sully had moved around back the building, scaling it over the canal on his way to a second story window. He slipped, but managed to catch himself before falling. He needed more practise climbing, he was getting rusty. Solomon had managed to sneak in through a window in the back, but as soon as he touched his feet on the floor inside he was spotted. A small woman, naked from the was it up with plenty of bosom, was walking through the halls and had turned a corner to come face to face with Solomon. Cursing underneath his breath he grabbed her and pressed a bloody hand to her mouth to keep her quiet. “Make a sound, and you are dead.” He whispered to which she replied by nodding, but Solomon waited to remove his hand, looking around to make sure there is no one else. Once he was sure the coast was clear he slowly pulled his hand away and to his luck she did not scream. Still holding her with one hand he asked her a question, “Where is Viper?” He barely contained his anger, pushing the question through his teeth, his voice a hiss.The woman winced at his question, his fingers digging into her arm. She pointed a staircase going up and tried to pull free, Solomon letting her after a few seconds. Holding the hilt of his sword in his off hand he moved towards the staircase, ignoring the extremely sexualized art surrounding the halls. “Fuckin’ whorestown...” Solomon grumbled as he passed a large bronze statue of a woman receiving oral sex. The building made him uncomfortable, and for a moment, all he wanted to do was burn it to the ground with everyone inside and watch Viper and the whole building go up in flames… but he could not. Too many innocent people like that woman he just wouldn’t be able to live him himself. He quietly moved his way up the thin stairwell, his boots touching the stone floor silently. His hand continued to hold his sheath to keep it from shaking and making any unnecessary noise. He kept close to the wall as he creeped closer and closer to the top of the staircase and the corner he will have to take once he’s there. Once at the top he waited, slowly inching his way to get a peek around the corner. Once he did, however, what he was saw less than what he wanted to see. The young mercenary was face to face with an old disgruntled man with a walrus moustache and one blind eye about his height but filled to the brim with muscle. Before he could react, the old man grabbed him with surprising strength, picked him up and threw him back down the stairs. Solomon landed on his back and tumbled down the stairs, landing on the bottom, disoriented and staring up as the old beast pulled a short sword out of a sheath. His his disorientation he could tell the man was heavily armoured, except for his head. “Hey there Mr. Black,” He said in a thick deep voice, running his fingers across the short swords blade. “Viper wanted you himself, but I think I can handle a brat like you. Prepare to die.”

[Solomon Black]

A morning sun begins to rise over the lake-bound city of Ravok, it’s light warming up the city after a cool night. Solomon the old mercenary stirred from his induced slumber, his eyes cracked open only to immediately close in an attempt to hide form the morning light but the rays managed to push through his thin eyelids and keep him stirring. The hungover old man pushed himself up into a sitting position, swinging on his butt and placing his boots down in a puddle. He let his elbows rest on his knees, and put his hands on his face. He could try and try, but the dream wouldn’t leave him. It was still fresh on his mind. __ The taste of fresh blood filled Solomon’s mouth as an armoured fist collides with the side of his jaw, causing him to stumble back. Still he narrowly avoided the short sword swung at him by throwing himself further backwards. Spitting out blood he raised his sword again, pointing it at the old knight across from him. “Try that again…” After a few seconds he had regained his stamina and charged forwards, slashing his blade upwards. The old man used his short sword to push Solomon’s attack sideband followed it up with another punch to his face. The force of the punch caused Solomon to drop to one knee, using his blade to help himself stand. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. In terms of swordplay, this guy had him beat with decades of experience. The old knight chuckled to himself, “You’re predictable, young Mr. Black. Shame you won’t live to learn from it.” He reaches out to grab the young mercenaries hair but Solomon swatted him away. Angrily the old man raised his sword and aimed to bring it down on Solomon’s head, but the younger man managed to raise his sword and block the blow, though still remaining on one knee. Not wanting to stay in such a disadvantageous position when he saw the old man raise his weapon again he lunged forward, hitting his armored chest with as much force as he could muster. The force hurt his shoulder, and probably barely hurt the armoured man, but it did the job it needed to do. He was knocked back and off balance. Using this chance he brought up his sword and tried to cleave through the man’s shoulder. He was still deflected by the short sword, but it was not enough. Solomon made contact with the mans left arm and cut deep into it’s flesh. Grunting but no more, the old man swung around his sword wildly which drove Solomon to back away a step or two. Solomon needed to end this soon though, Viper already knew he was coming and god knows if he got away by now. “This ends now.” He said with a bloody scowl. “It does.” The moustached man replied with his left arm limply hanging there, bleeding heavily. Drops already forming a puddle below him. Solomon could not tell what the old man was thinking, but he had only one guess. The man wanted to die by his own terms, Solomon thought, Because when the pair rushed towards each other the old man was slow. Too slow. He could have stopped Solomon from running his through with his sword, swatted it away like he did near every other attack. Instead he hesitated, and died. Falling to the floor with a smile on his moustached face as the mercenary stepped over his body and moved on. Solomon pulled a small cloth from his jacket and wiped the blood from his sword before he slid it into the sheath again and walked again up the stairs leading to Vipers Office. Stealth was no longer on his mind, however, if there were more guards than they would have heard the fight. Moving forward he reached the top of the stairs and stared down a wide hallway that had only one door at the end and was lined on the right with moonlit windows and on the left with various bronze statues of naked women with weapons. Each step he took down the hall seemed to hammer in the nail of his exhaustion. It must be 4 in the morning and Solomon had been awake for two days, been in constant fights and been beat half to hell tonight. Each step added another weight on his shoulders. By the time he reached the door and wrapped his hand around its cold bronze handle he really hoped Viper went down easy because he did not have much fight left in him. As he pulled the door handle and opened the door he expected another trap but got none. Instead of finding a seven-foot monster holding a Warhammer, ready to bash his head in he found a tall, thin man riddled with sickness sitting at a desk. Solomon took a few wary steps forward into the room but kept his eyes locked on the other mans. Strong fire burns in a fireplace in the back of the room. “Long time, no see.” The sick man croaked, “Nice scar.” Solomon stopped dead in his tracks. This was the Viper, weak and dying. “You look good.” He said plainly. “I hope you know you’re dying tonight.” “I’ve been dying for a year kid, get with the program.” He coughed, wheezing from the effort. All the strength had left him, god knows what’s keeping him alive. Magic maybe. “So you’re here to avenge your dear old mentor, hm? How quaint.” He turns his attention to the food in front of him and tries to eat, but can barely lift the fork. “It’s a heck of a thing to go from being on top of the food chain to so low in just a few years hm Viper?” Solomon smirked as he spoke, pacing around the desk to be by the dying man's side. “Hows it feels?” Viper did not look up from his food, instead just weakly poked at a sausage on his plate. “Go fuck yourself, I’m still on top.” In response, the young mercenary snatched the man's fork, stole his sausage and took a big bite. “I can tell,” He took another bite, speaking with a mouth full of food. “Where is Zaz?” He bit the last piece of food off the fork, having devoured the whole thing in no time at all. He was hungry. “Like I’d tell you any-“ He was cut off, quite violently, when Solomon shoved the fork deep into his neck and pull it across, causing a huge tear that blood flood freely out of as the Viper gagged, choked and soon died while the tired young man walked away. As he left the office of the recently passed crime boss, he found himself face to face with one more asshole. Zaz. Standing shorter than Solomon at around six foot he was still more than an imposing figure. Shaved bald head with pale white skin, covered from head to toe in scars, but self-inflicted and not. He was Vipers hitman, the guy who took over when Solomon was… let go. Solomon eyed him up and down, he wasn’t wearing any armor, or even a shirt. Just holding a very long knife, with a curved sober on his belt. Without a word, which Solomon found quite infuriating (Zaz being well known for his quips and banter), Zaz rushed at Solomon who in his exhausted state couldn't draw his sword in time. He was dealt a harsh blow when Zaz kneed him in the stomach and Solomon fell to his knees. The scarred psychopath leaned in close, his voice like that of a snake, “Thanks for taking out the old guy for me. Looks bad when I do it.” Zaz cackled, and stabbed his long knife through Solomon’s side. He collapsed to the ground, holding the wound to keep blood in as Zaz walked off, whistling. Solomon tried to claw his way after, but the world soon faded away and Solomon fell into unconsciousness.

[Solomon Black]

Solomon took off last nights shirt, tossing it onto his bed. He touched the large scar on his left side from when Zaz stabbed him, his finger exploring the bumps and ridges of the scar that healed not so perfectly, worse than the one on his face. He ran his fingers along the entirety of his facial scar. The creator of each scar, dead by Solomon’s hand more than two decades ago. He wondered, if where they are, they regret their lives as much as he does his. At least they found the peace of death. __ The world came back into view, slowly. Solomon refused to die here, not after getting only half of his revenge. He clawed at the floorboards and dragged himself back into the dead Vipers office with one hand while another pressed down on the wound in his side. Slowly but surely he dragged himself over to the now dimly lit fireplace and reaches to grab an iron poker only to knock it over onto the ground next time him. Rolling over he grabs the poker and shoved one end into the fire, his breathing growing weaker by the second. After what seemed like an eternity of laying on the ground and bleeding out, Solomon pulled the rod from the free, its one end red hot. With his other blood covered hand he winced as he pulled it away from the wound and grabbed the fork off the ground, biting down on it as he pressed the red-hot iron to his skin. He screamed through a clenched jaw and swore that the gods could hear it, but Whorestown luckily had a knack for being soundproof. Someone did hear him however, and while trying to remain conscious he saw the woman he spared earlier come running into the room wearing a blue robe. She flips him over and apologizes before sealing the other end of the stab wound up without warning. Solomon screamed again through clenched teeth, but when she pulled the iron rod away, Solomon let the bloody fork fall and he heaved heavily. “Thank… you…” He breathed as she took his head and let it rest on her thighs while she stroked his hair. Not understanding why she would do such a thing for him. “Don’t speak.” She said in a gentle voice and for the moment Solomon thought she was his wife. He raised his clean hand lightly grazed his fingertips across her cheek. She holds it in her hand, pressing it against her with a smile. Solomon had no idea what was going through this woman head but he was happy it was. After a few minutes of laying there, Solomon could feel some strength again and started to get up, ignoring the woman protests stop stay. She tried to get him to stay put by grabbing his arm but he jerked it away and looked back at her with hate in his eyes, only for the hate to expire as soon as they meet her baby blues. His face softens and he turns to face her, “Thank you for saving my life and if you see me again, ignore me. I’ll get you killed. Just like I’ll get you killed if you stay here and Zaz comes back to find you.” Solomon noticed something past her, on the wall and a smirk grows on his face. The near dead man pushed past her and walked over to the wall-mounted point of interest, a glorious bastard sword with a navy blue hilt and a bright ruby jewel in the pommel. His smirk grew into a smile as he picked up the weapon and tested it’s weight. It was lighter than his. The young woman chimed in, “That’s Vipers sword.” “I like it.” Solomon said while swinging it around, and then sliding it into his sheath, it fitting like a glove. It was perfect and with this new, much better weapon he felt more confident in taking on Zaz. With that he turned around and walked past the woman, through the hall and down the stairs. Leaving her alone to figure out her own fate. He peered over into the canal below and with a deep sigh, got up on the ledge and started climbing down. He slipped soon after starting though, and fell into the canal below, begrudgingly climbing back out soaking wet. Once back on dry land he started to make his way to the one place he knew left to go, cause it could not be home. He couldn’t risk them finding Shari and his baby. Zaz needed to die before the sun rose, and there was only one place Solomon knew he could check. It was his last hope of not fucking this up completely. He looked up at the night sky and he knew he only had a few hours left until daylight. Tired and only minutes ago having recovered from his loss against Zap the psychopath, he set off again towards the docks making sure to stay out of any patrolling guards way.

[Solomon Black]

There was a knock at his apartment door so after he splashed some water on his face the shirtless man walked over and placed his hand on the handle, pausing for a moment. He was still a little hungover but was still wary of strangers in the morning, so he took a step and slid Mercy from her sheath, then putting his hand back on the door handle. After another series of knocks on his door, he opened it up to the street. From his door one could make out the slave market through the crowd, but blocking the view today was a city guard. His face was familiar, and after his brain caught up with his eyes he knew who it was. “Jay.” He grumbled at the equally middle-aged city guard. “What are you doing here? I haven’t done anything wrong today.” The guard laughed and handed Solomon an envelope, “Silver wrote ya again.” He handed Solomon a piece of wrapped parchment. “You ready to leave yet?” He asked with a cheerful tone. “Not yet. Thanks Jay.” Solomon turned around and started to close the door and Jay says your welcome, seemingly unfazed by the bummer that was across from him. “Bye.” The door closed. The man sat down on his bed and started to read the letter. __ Long before ever receiving a letter from his sister, Silver, Solomon almost never thought of the family he left behind. Only the family he had, and he could have considered them more. If he had, maybe he would have rethought the fights he picked. Now he had to make sure Zaz died tonight or lethal repercussions may come to him and his own. Now he knew where Zaz was hiding, other than the Whorestown buildings Viper owned a boathouse by the docks. The exact place where, three years ago, Viper destroyed Solomon’s face and nearly killed him. The half-dead Solomon managed to dragged himself out of the boathouse where he was found by the most beautiful woman and nursed back to health. It was one of the greatest things to ever happen to him because he met the love of his life. The boathouse was a small structure made of stone and wood, meant as more of a half-way-house for his muscle. They would use it to store weapons, money and everything else. Occasionally meeting thereafter jobs for payment. Unlike Whorestown, Solomon knew the boathouse inside and out. One lucky thing about it is no city guards come around, which helped their criminal activities and was why Viper had it. He made his way along the dusk covered docks, reached the small boathouse and looked up at a second story window. He could see Zaz in the window, eyeing down at him. He then turned around and walked away. Solomon just kept walking towards the front door but stopped when Zaz stepped out to greet him. The shirtless thug brandishing his large curved sword with spread arms, “Sully…” He laughed, “You’re one hard fucker to kill.” The psychopath then looked over at his sword and let go, it falling onto the wooden dock with a thud. “Let’s do this proper then.” With a deep breath, Solomon started to take off his sword belt, letting it also drop when he was done. The two men stared at each other in silence for a few moments before Solomon broke it. His face slowly pressed together in anger as Solomon charged with all his force at Zaz, who tried to catch the charge but Solomon’s shoulder smashed into his lungs and winded him. The young mercenary punched at the man’s gut again and again until Zaz managed to push him off after hitting him in the wounded side. He stumbled back, holding his side as Zaz followed up with a right hook across Solomon’s face, only barely managing to block the blows but being pushed back towards the edge of the dock with each block or dodge. He got his moment to breathe when Zaz quickly took a step back and pulled out a knife from behind him, it being kept in his pants. He drags it across his cheek, creating a small bleeding cut. Without warning he started stabbing at Solomon, swinging the blade around as the two now danced with the mercenary trying to avoid the psychopaths blade. Solomon was tired though, and exhaustion was taking it’s toll. He was able to avoid major injury, but Zaz was making small contacts with his knife. Seeing his chance Solomon took a risk. He slowed down, baited out a heavy stab from Zaz and when it came he moved out of the way, the blade barely making contact with his shoulder. As the arm passed, Solomon reached over and grabbed it. He pulled Zaz close into him as he swiftly dealt a kick to his knee, buckling it backwards. He dropped the knife and fell. Zaz yelled as he went down and Solomon grabbed him by the shoulder and started punching him in the face. He started laughing as Solomon repeatedly punched him the face, not stopping. His knuckles spit, but he did not stop. Tears started to stream down Solomon’s face but he did not stop. Blood covered his arm and Zaz’s face was no more, but he did not stop. He did not stop until Zaz fell limp, and his skull had completely given way. Drying his tears on his not bloodstained sleeve he dropped Zaz into the water, his body sinking. He picked up his sword and made his way back home, finally finished. He paused though, and pulled the crumpled letter from his pocket, reading it once more before he let it go. It floated on the air into the water of the lake, and Solomon went home to sleep.

THE END

[Rook]

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Soloman Black

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