Black Hood: Season Two by Nick Venom (management books to read txt) 📕

“Forget my past, give me the updated Kill Order.” He demanded. The king had dispatched an updated version of the Kill Order that Spec was forced to undertake. This updated version included Raide Sartori, the self-proclaimed Ruler of the Slums, and a few of his men. These new targets were identified by a team established by Princess Liliana; the Holy Grail Team. They moved independently from Spec and Rock, scouting out Sartori and his gang.

Rock brandished the new Kill Order, waving it back and forth. “This?” She asked sarcastically. “You want it?”

Spec walked up to her, snatching her arm and stopping her movements. He ripped the paper out of her grip, skimming through it. Rock stared at him, disappointed at his actions. “I thought we could’ve had more fun, but you ruined it.”

He ignored her, looking at the targets on the Kill Order. Torrent’s name was wiped off the list, the remaining targets staring at him with ferocity. Of course, it was names and no pictures, but Spec could feel the anger building under each target.

“My target is Earl Hactow, the leader of the White Guard gang. They were a small gang absorbed by Wick, producing katana-wielding men. You might’ve fought a few of these men.” She brandished a circular iron weapon. The weapon was a circle of iron, the entirety of the iron being sharpened. In the middle of the iron circle was a rectangular piece of iron that she used to hold the sharp weapon.

She spun it around with one hand while eyeing Spec, showing off.

“I don’t care about your target. Which one of them is mine?” He grumbled.

She nodded before skimming the Kill Order. “Oh, you know this gang. Remember the Terrors?”

Spec jerked his head back, astounded to hear of the gang’s existence. He assumed Wick had killed them after losing so many valuable factories to Spec, but he was wrong. They still lived, even without Hous at the helm.

“How are they alive?”

Rock shrugged her shoulders. “Does it matter? I thought you only needed a target to get going.” She mocked him.

Spec glared at her, but she wasn’t intimidated by him. Instead, she laughed in his face. “If I cowered in front of every man who glared at me, I would’ve died a long time ago.” She chuckled softly to herself. “One of Hous’s men, Towzer, took over control of the gang. They made one of the abandoned factories that they own their headquarters.”

“One of the ones I raided?”

Rock nodded her head. “They lived in the Slums all of their lives. They’re pretty stupid.”

Spec nodded. Many people who were trapped in the Slums rarely got an education higher than third-grade and most of that information disappears if never used. Which was often the case.

“What factory are they at?”

“The first that you raided. You should remember it.” She waved her finger in front of Spec’s eyes, going back and forth. She then turned around and headed back to the broken-down house. “I’ve seen your house, it’s a beauty compared to my house.” She pointed at the house, her back facing Spec. “I wish you the best of luck. I hope you can escape this life and live peacefully with your family.” She disappeared into thin air right in front of him, leaving to fulfill her mission; kill Earl and his men.

Spec turned his back on her, prepared to take a trip and visit an old friend of his, the Terrors.

***

Spec entered the first factory through the roof. He slipped through and watched from the raptors as the new head of the gang, Towzer, walked around the building. He talked with his guards protecting the rather small building. By his side was a street rat that he hired to serve as his assistant. The boy was scrawny, lacking meat on his bones. He wore the Slums outfit of a thin black cloak that barely protected him from the elements. 

“Boy, throw out Hous’s stuff!” Towzer, the muscular man, shouted. “We don’t need that trash.”

“Wasn’t he your master?” The boy asked, his big eyes staring out from under the cloak. “Why are you throwing his stuff away? Didn't you care for him?”

Towzer glared at the boy before ordering a guard to “take care” of the boy. This frustrated Spec, forcing him to act earlier than expected. He tightened his grip on Deathstriker before jumping to the second floor from the raptors.

A guard had his back turned on Spec, not noticing his presence until his body was pierced through by Deathstriker. The guard collapsed, his blood puddling around him.

Spec disappeared into the nearby shadow cast by the rising sun, darting towards the guard leading the boy outside. He used the shadow to pass by Towzer and the other guards. He met with the guard about to kill the boy, grabbing his shoulder and throwing him to the ground. The guard---a male teenager---looked up at Spec with fright. He tried to speak but his mouth failed on him.

“Y-Y-Y-Y-Y,” His voice escaped him.

Spec glared at the boy but ignored him for a moment. He turned around to face the clueless boy. The boy didn’t realize he was about to be killed, confused at why he was being led outside.

“Go home, never return.” Spec barked. The kid looked at him strangely, tilting his head.

“Why?” He questioned.

“Because this place will be shut down. Leave before it gets… bloody.” He threatened. The boy nodded, running off. Spec watched as the boy escaped his vision before dealing with the teenage guard behind him. “As for you, pray to your God for a second chance. Because I won’t give you it.”

He killed the teenager before heading inside. Towzer nonchalantly walked around without a care in the world. His gang was small enough to not be targeted by the big gangs but big enough to deter other small gangs from attacking. He felt as if he was the king. However, every king’s reign eventually ends.

Towzer’s life would also end with his reign, being picked off with ease. Spec charged forward, ending Towzer with a single throat slice, the blade nearly decapitating him, before moving towards his next target. He wanted to finish quickly and regain his freedom. 

The guards reacted to Towzer’s death, charging towards Spec to deal with him. However, he was faster than them. He sprinted around one guard, slashing him in the back, before moving to the next one. He grabbed the second guard’s shoulder and pushed him to the floor before charging to the third guard. He grabbed the third guard’s spear and stabbed the second guard’s eyes. He pierced his brain through his eye socket.

With two guards dead, Spec turned the weapon on the third unarmed guard and pierced him, ramming him into the wall. The guard croaked, his blood coming out in liters. His spear had pierced his heart, pinning him to the wall like a Christmas decoration. 

Spec turned on the fourth guard. The fourth guard thrust his spear at him, dodging the attack with ease. The guard was an inexperienced street rat hired to guard Towzer and rebuild the Terrors. However, he had no affiliation with the gang, only doing it for the money. It didn’t matter. Spec had no mercy on the street rat. He grabbed his chest, throwing him over his back before pouncing on the kid. He grabbed Deathstriker and, with one final word, he sliced the kid’s head off. The head flew off with the momentum of the swing, landing a few feet from his corpse.

The struggling Terrors were killed without putting up much of a fight. They were run into the ground, similar to the fate of the Redbrights gang. Two, in total, were erased from the Slums, leaving a small handful to deal with. 

Spec stood over the corpse of the kid, reflecting on his single word to him. “Goodbye.” Why did he say that? Maybe it was… because Spec felt pity for these kids, who resembled a younger version of him. Even so, he had a mission to complete. He wanted to return to Lin, Matt, and Maddie as soon as he could. Even if he had to trample on other people’s lives.

TBC…

Rock left Spec at her broken home, running on the roofs of the buildings towards the headquarters of the White Guard gang. She was excited to kill them, especially a certain man within the gang’s hierarchy. He took everything from her and now she’ll take his life.

Famed for their katana-wielding men, Earl Hactow worked under Wick and proved their strength by giving the crime lord useful guards. However, this allowed Wick to reallocate Earl’s men to other gangs, boosting them up with little benefits. His gang was being stripped clean by Wick---who could care less about them---and discarded like trash. Worthless to him once he began running out of men to train into beasts.

Fortunately for Earl, Spec killed Wick and ended his reign as the Ruler of the Slums. With his fall, Earl stole as many resources as he could and directed all of his surviving men from other gangs into their own. The White Guard separated from Wick’s headquarters---Maximum Security---and made their base forty miles away.

With room to expand, they began rebuilding their base but hadn’t prepared enough defenses to keep out assassins. Rock was able to weasel through an open shattered window and entered the two-story building. It used to be a mansion a long time ago, owned by wealthy people before it was claimed by the Slums as their property. The building was beaten and smashed in by the Slum inhabitants, during that time.

Now, the building was long abandoned, allowing nature to reclaim it. The White Guard members did their best to clear out the weeds and plants growing inside the building, but many patches remained. It would take more than a month and several construction crews to repair the crumbling building. Even so, it was enough for Earl, who had a luxurious room for himself while his fellow members wallowed in poverty. Wick’s teachings were ingrained into his head.

Rock peered from the raptors as Earl sat down at his desk. The frail-looking man laid his feet on his desk. Rock looked closer and noticed that his arms were toned, exercised by years of swinging a sword; an exercise that worked him to become the person he is. 

She then saw three people enter his room, approaching him, all waiting for him to speak the first word. He had control over them, acting as the overlord of the building.

“What are your reports?” Earl asked. He tried to cross his arms as he took his feet off his desk, but his tuxedo restricted him. Instead, he laid his hands on his lap, hoping to brush off the embarrassing moment. “Which gangs are rising and which are falling?”

The first man stepped forward. He was a short and plump man, resembling an egg. His bald head and bad fashion sense---leather shoes and a strained white tee-shirt---didn’t change the resemblance.

“The Redbrights collapsed. Torrent’s gone missing, many said he’s dead. His legendary bodyguard, Hank, is also missing. They’re probably both dead.” 

The