Requiem for a Mouse

by Jamie Wang

  Vlad lit the rag inside the Molotov cocktail and chucked it through a window.

  Burn.

  The front door burst open and a woman in a butler outfit stumbled out. Vlad took aim. The next Molotov cocktail shattered on her face and exploded in a ball of fire. She fell to the ground shrieking a pleasant note.

  “How is it that you’re allowed to live when Sasha couldn’t?” Vlad muttered.

  Bottle after bottle, the Lions coated the building in flame. Only when the entire building was in flames did Vlad proceed to the next phase of the plan. Kill The Dragon. With his knife in one hand and a Molotov cocktail in the other, he sashayed through the front door for one last scream.

  “Dragon!” he roared. “Where are you?”

  Hawk’s Lair was unrecognizable. Fire engulfed the pillars, their elaborate décor slowly turning to ash. The flames didn’t care for elegant oak tables or mahogany roulette wheels, it was all just fuel. Men in suits scrambled around, either choking on the smoke or burning in the fire. In the middle of everything stood The Dragon, two guards by his side.

  Vlad’s heart skipped a beat. He gave The Dragon the widest smile he could manage, matching the smile on his mask. “Dragon! I’ve come to hear you scream!”

  The Dragon pointed at Vlad and said, “Shoot.”

  The guards took aim. Vlad lobbed the Molotov cocktail at them. They opened fire.

  A bullet collided into Vlad’s cheek. His mask cracked and its bottom corner broke off. Warm blood dribbled down his cheek as he staggered backwards.

  When Vlad regained his balance, he saw that he had hit his mark. One of the guards rolled on the ground, covered in blue fire. The other knelt beside him, trying to smother the flames with his coat. Vlad giggled at the sight and headed toward. His blade dragged against the ground like an anchor.

  Fiery splinters rained down from the roof. Wooden beams buckled and cracked, falling onto the ground as kindle. The inside of an oven would’ve been cooler.

  “Dragon,” Vlad mumbled, drool trickling down the edge of his mouth. “Scream.”

  The single able guard turned to face Vlad. Before he could raise his gun, Vlad’s blade slashed through his hand. Two fingers flew off into the fire. Vlad grabbed the guard by his hair and shoved his blade into his neck. He sawed through the guard’s trachea, blood squirting everywhere.

  “It’s over.” The Dragon’s voice came from behind.

  Cold steel pressed against the back of Vlad’s head. It felt like ice. He heard the unmistakable sound of a revolver cocking.

  “Look, Dragon,” Vlad said with a shaking voice. It sounded like he was laughing and crying at the same time. He peeled back the guard’s head for a better view of the wound. “It’s like a smile for your neck.”

  “Drop your weapon.”

  Vlad spun, his knife aimed at The Dragon’s head. The Dragon hopped back and held his gun up. His face held neither fear nor excitement, it was blanker than a Lion’s mask.

  “Slasher,” The Dragon said, his tone flat. “You must really wish to see hell.”

  “Where do you think we are?”

  The Dragon chuckled and pulled a silver flask from his jacket. He swung his head back and took a swig from it. His face twisted into a pained expression and he squeezed his eyes shut as he wiped his mouth. As soon as his eyelids closed, Vlad rushed him.

  The Dragon’s eyes jolted open and he took aim. Vlad dived to the side as The Dragon pulled the trigger. The revolver’s hammer swung down and the chamber spun to produce a hollow click. Vlad stopped in his tracks, for the first time, surprised. The Dragon whipped his flask up, spraying its contents into the air.

  Vlad blocked the liquid with his hand. “Was that it?” He crouched toward the ground, prepared to pounce, and then his hand erupted in blue flames.

  The Dragon grinned under a backdrop of floating embers. “I am The Dragon. I do not fear fire.”

  LAO

  The Slasher clutched his wrist and screamed. He squeezed his eyes shut and hugged his burning hand in a vain attempt to smother the flames.

  Lao took patient steps toward him. “Before you die, confirm something for me, Slasher. Who was it that disabled the sprinklers in my casino? It was Jynx wasn’t it?”

  The Slasher looked up and for a second, forgot about his hand.

  It was all the answer Lao needed. He sighed, “I guess even I can be blinded by sentiment. If I were to guess, she recruited past Hawks to be her Lions. She used Mice to deliver her guns and drugs. And to think, I had seen this happen all on camera. Hell, I funded it. I suppose this is human nature at its finest.”

  The only response Lao received was a head splitting shriek.

  “Hmph,” Lao snorted. “You disappoint me once again, Slasher. Despite what you’ve done, in the end, you were only a pawn.”

  At the far end of the casino, all the windows shattered. A final support beam collapsed and half the roof caved. A wave of debris wafted over Lao. Only Lao and The Slasher were left inside

  Lao walked past The Slasher to the front exit. He pushed The Slasher to the ground and kept walking. It was pathetic how easily The Slasher fell.

  “If there was more time Slasher,” Lao said as he walked off. “I would’ve shown you real hell. But I suppose this will have to do.”

  “You already showed me.” The Slasher pointed a burning finger at Lao. “You killed Sasha! It was because of you she ran out that day! It was because of you Mice and Hawks even exist!” With a mighty breath, he screamed, “I will cut you!”

  More bits of wood fell to the ground. As things stood right now, even a single second might prove fatal. Lao pushed the golden handles of Hawk’s Lair and stepped out.

  “I will cut you!” The Slasher screamed, again and again.

  Salib stood outside Hawk’s Lair, a safe distance away. “Dragon!” he exclaimed.

  Lao walked over to him. Around them stood a handful of guards, about a third of the ones originally in Hawk’s Lair.

  “Where’s the rest?” Lao asked. He turned to watch Hawk’s Lair burn down.

  Salib shook his head. “They ran.”

  Lao shook his head chuckling. Before he knew it, his snicker had blown into a full-out guffaw. Jynx had warned him he was going soft, it turned out nobody had ever been more right.

  My guards ran because they feared The Slasher more than The Dragon.

  “Dragon,” Salib said, “we traced the security feeds right before the attack. Jynx disabled the sprinklers.”

  Lao ended his laughter. “I know,” he said. “It’s time we move on with our plan. Contact our customers and tell them we are about to leak their dirty little secret to the world.”

  “But Dragon, now of all times? Shouldn’t we deal with this first?”

  “No,” Lao said. “From here on out, it’s a sprint to the finish. I will bring the world to its knees and they will pay my city what it’s due.”

  “But” —Salib hesitated— “what about Jynx?”

  “I will not lose this city to sentiment,” Lao said. He retrieved his revolver along with six bullets. “If the most powerful men in this world will learn to fear me, so will The Boss.”

  “She’s your daughter.”

  The Dragon shook his head as he loaded the bullets into his gun. “It’s one life versus two hundred thousand.”

  PRINCE

  Prince sprinted back home. “Flower!” he shouted through panting breaths.

  “Prince. Where have you been?” Flower stopped mid-step. Footprints in the dirt tracked her nervous pacing. “The Dragon let me go, told me that you’d come right after. What happened?”

  “Hawk’s Lair is burning.”

  Flower’s eyes grew large. “What?”

  “It’s the Lions, they burned down Hawk’s Lair!”

  “Oh my god,” Flower said. “Prince, we need to find Bolt and Mav and get out of here.”

  Prince shook his head. “We’ll never get another chance like this.”

  Flower gave h
im a look of disbelief. “What are you talking about? We need to escape while we still can! It sounds like a war’s about to break out.”

  “We can’t escape.” Prince chuckled. “Why do you think The Dragon let us go? It’s because he controls everything in this city. Wherever we run, he’ll be watching. And even if we could run, where would we go? Do you know what’s beyond the borders? What direction do we head? How far do we go? Flower, how do we even find Bolt and Mav?”

  Flower nudged her head from side to side. “I don’t know.”

  “Flower, nothing is how we thought it was. We’ve been lied to since day one. I learned the truth in Hawk’s Lair. He controls it all.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Mice, Flower, Mice! Drops, Hawks, even the pedestrians, he’s responsible for everything!”

  “You’re not making any sense!” Flower yelled. “Prince, you’re not telling me anything!”

  Prince faced Flower dead on, his eyes staring into hers. “We’re going back to The Dragon.”

  “What?” Flower looked at him like he was crazy.

  Prince hurried into his tent. “Grab your things. We’re leaving.”

  “No.” Flower crossed her arms and shook her head. “You have to give me something, Prince. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “There’s no time.” Prince was already gathering the things from his tent. “Just trust me!”

  “Prince,” Flower pleaded. “Please tell me something.”

  When Prince came out of his tent, his face was stern and voice commanding. “Listen to me, Flower. If we don’t move now, we’ll never get the chance to again. Right now, The Dragon needs us. This is the weakest he’ll ever be. I have a plan.”

  “But Prince, he needs us to get Mav. Mav’s family.”

  “He’s our responsibility.”

  “But… but…” Flower could barely start her sentence. Her voice trembled until it waned into silence.

  “Flower.” Prince gave her a hard look. “Trust me.”

  Flower gave him a slight nod and left for her tent.

  Prince let out a held breath. He gripped the silver knife in his pocket. He had yet to cut anyone with it, but he imagined that would soon change.

  Sorry Sasha, but it turns out, strength is all that matters.

  He stood and curled one hand into a fist. His broken knuckles pulsed with pain.

  BOLT

  Grey clouds plastered the sky. Every now and then, a sporadic rain drop splattered on his head. If the sky had roared during the previous week’s storm, now it whimpered.

  Bolt stared at the sloppy graffiti on the wall by Flower’s tent. No doubt, it was her handwriting, but the lettering didn’t cut neatly like usual, it shook and wavered, making slow curls instead.

  ‘Going to The Dragon. Are Safe.’ It said.

  Bolt held his fingers up to the letters. The paint was dry. He stared at its last sentence. Below the graffiti, propped against the wall, was a knife with its tip burned black.

  “Are you really okay?” he muttered to himself.

  “What are you going to do now?” Lissandra asked from behind him.

  Even though one of the reasons he came back was to introduce her to his family, he had forgotten that she was even there. She stood behind him in the middle of their home where they had once gathered around every day to eat.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Bolt asked, reaching down to take the knife.

  “You’re not thinking of going against The Dragon are you?”

  Bolt shrugged. “If that’s what it takes to save them.”

  “How?”

  “However I can.” –Bolt turned to see Lissandra with crossed arms— “What?”

  “It’s The Dragon.” She replied. “He’s dangerous.”

  “That’s all the more reason I have to.”

  Lissandra raised her eyebrows, her eyes glistening with worry. “Hawk’s Lair just burned down, something’s coming. Everyone knows it, you were with me at the marketplace today. It was empty. Now is not a good time to take risks.”

  Bolt nodded. “But it’s the only time I have.”

  “Maybe you should lay low for a while, wait for this to blow over.”

  But by the way Bolt looked at her, it was obvious he had made up his mind. He took the apple out of his pocket and stared at its scarlet skin. “You know; I think I’m going to keep this for now.”

  “Didn’t we come here so you could give that to her?”

  Bolt shook his head. “I’ll give it back to her when I pay back my debt.” He tossed it in the air and caught in his other hand before taking a large bite of its side.

  Lissandra watched his theatrics with the corner of one eyebrow raised. “And how are you going to do that?”

  “I’ll beat The Dragon.”

  “Don’t even joke about that.”

  Bolt looked back, his face the picture of tranquility. “Joking?” He grinned a crescent moon. “Who the hell do you think I am?”

  EPILOGUE

  “Another please,” Lissandra said. She sat inside an empty bar, the only patrons inside were herself and a stranger to her left. They both stared straight ahead as if the other didn’t exist.

  The bartender poured a clear liquid into Lissandra’s glass. She sniffed it before throwing her head back and gulping down the vile syrup. Vodka, Gunther’s favorite. She was worried about him, it had already been two weeks since he disappeared and one week since she started looking for him. But other than scouring the city, she could think of no other way to locate him and it wasn’t working.

  “I’ll have what she got.” The man on the stool beside her said with a scratchy voice. It was the first time he had acknowledged her presence.

  Together they finished their drinks.

  “So, what’s your story?” asked the stranger without turning. He wore a red baseball cap with some bird on it. He kept his head low so that it hid his face completely.

  “I do what I have to to get by. Right now, I’m a Mouse,” Lissandra responded.

  The stranger let out a deep and hoarse laugh. It sounded like he was coughing but the sides of his cheeks lifted in a smile. “I used to be one of those.”

  Lissandra furrowed her brow. “When?”

  “Just a few weeks ago, before everything went to shit. It’s a bad time to be a Mouse.”

  “It’s the only thing I can do right now.”

  “That’s not true.” The stranger chuckled through his words. “There are so many things you could do instead. You’re just not willing to do anything else.”

  “Like what?”

  The stranger turned and for the first time, Lissandra noticed the burn marks from his chin to his ear. His skin looked like an overstretched plastic bag with gouges and rips across it. A gaping hole on his chin glowed white where the bone was.

  “You can steal. You can kill.”

  Staring into his eyes was like staring into an abyss, so dark that not the slightest light could escape.

  “No thanks,” Lissandra said. She got up and pushed in her stool. “Have a good one.”

  “Wait.” The stranger held up a hand to stop her. “This one’s on me.” He nodded at the bartender to pour them another drink.

  When the drinks were poured he grabbed his glass with his right and offered the other with his left. Lissandra stared at the clumps of flesh that rose and fell off his hand like valleys and cliffs. She could see each knuckle through the torn skin. Patches of skin looked like char.

  “Take it,” He said.

  Cautiously, Lissandra reached out and grabbed the drink from his hand. When she did, his lips curved into a grin, further stretching the holes in his face.

  “To those taken too soon and to those who will be soon enough,” he said with his glass raised. Without giving Lissandra a chance to reply, he held his head back and downed the drink.

  Lissandra set her own drink back on the bar.

  The stranger dropped a fistful of bills onto the table. He
hopped off his seat and walked toward the exit, but stopped at the door. His voice rumbled deep enough to be a growl. “There’s a storm coming, Mouse. Everyone can feel it, in the back of their throat, like an itch just begging to be scratched. And what is that itch? Why, it’s a scream.”

  Without another word, he left.

  Lissandra shivered. It felt like a winter breeze had just made its way down her back. She had a feeling that they would meet again.