Black Hood: Season Three by Nick Venom (books to read now TXT) 📕

Spec watched her with curiosity, his eyes glued on her for a few minutes until he saw the door slowly open. The woman also noticed this, trying to enter before a hand reached out and grabbed the woman, pulling her in. She disappeared with a shriek.

Spec raised Deathstriker and stood carefully on the tilted rooftop, staring at the house and the peculiar situation in front of him. He then slid his way to the ground, using the gutters and the bricks of the church to traverse to the ground quickly.

As soon as his boots hit the ground, he sprinted towards the house, heading through the back and arriving at the backdoor. He did a quick survey of the house before attempting any of the entrances. The two-story building was protected by a thin magic barrier that prevented weaklings and insects from entering but was useless in Spec’s case. He easily passed through it, checking one of the windows, finding one unlocked and cracked ajar. He peered through the open slit, noticing no one in his narrow view of the inside before cracking the window higher. He then made his way through the open window, careful to not alert the inhabitants. 

Spec stood in the kitchen, finding it empty. Two plates of half-eaten food remained, no longer fresh. It looked as if the food was being consumed before the consumers’ attention shifted away from it.

With the kitchen empty, he made his way deeper into the house. He traveled through a narrow hallway connecting two bathrooms, some closets, and a storage room. As he made his way towards the front, his ears perked up at strange sounds coming from the living room, which was on his left. He heard muffled crying and gagging. 

What is happening? Spec thought to himself as he tiptoed his way to the living room, hiding behind a wall and peeking at what was occurring. He witnessed a man dressed in thin jeans, an oversized sweater, and wearing a knight’s helmet pacing back and forth in front of the woman Spec had seen earlier. She was tied to the couch, bounded and gagged. Another woman some distance away from her was in a similar state, but she wasn’t tied up and blood was pouring out of her. A man near her was worse. His body looked ghostly pale. Spec assumed that he was dead already, presumably the father of the family.

As the man paced back and forth muttering to himself, Spec prepared himself. He equipped Deathstriker, ready to strike at any moment.

“-jail. I can’t. I have kids. I can’t go to jail. I can’t. I have kids. I can’t go to jail. I can’t.” The man loudly muttered to himself, frustration rising in his voice. “It was meant to be a simple robbery, I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. I swear. I just wanted some stuff so I could sell it and get money. I’m not crazy, right? No, I can’t be.” He ranted to the dying mother on the ground. She didn’t respond to him, barely breathing. “Ahhh, you’re dying aren’t you? Why? Why are you dying? I barely grazed you. They’re going to kill me. I’m going to get hunted and skewered. They’ll kill me… but I’ll kill you all first before then. If you’re going to take me away from my kids, I’ll take you all away then!” He shouted as he turned to the teenager, Lin’s friend, approaching her with a knife firmly placed in his hand. The girl shrieked, trying to rattle herself out of her bonds but unable to do so. She then shut her eyes close tightly, expecting the worse. She screamed, though only a portion of it escaped through the sock lodged into her mouth to keep her quiet. 

“Open your eyes,” Spec whispered to her. She didn’t recognize the voice, opening her eyes out of curiosity and shock. In front of her laid the body of the robber-turned-murderer. He had been sliced in half horizontally by Spec’s Deathstriker, now lying in a puddle of his blood. 

The girl then looked up at Spec, a trembling gasp erupting from her mouth. Her body shook ferociously and she appeared at her end’s wits.

Spec stared back, tilting his head. “You’re free now. He’s dead.” He coldly remarked. “You’re alive.”

TBC…

Spec brought Deathstalker close to her, freaking the poor girl out, before cutting the rope keeping her confined to the living room, and taking out the sock used to gag her. The girl spat out blood and saliva, dropping her head in the process. She stared at the ground for a few moments, catching her breath, before looking up at him. She stared at him with her big eyes, penetrating his cold soul. She then looked away from him, turning her attention to her dying mother, and crawled over to her. She embraced her mother who hugged her tightly, using the last of her strength to deliver a final hug. 

“I’ll get help, I’ll bring the doctor!” The girl exclaimed. “T-They’ll stop the b-b-bleeding!”

The mother softly shook her head, every movement straining her pale face. “I… I-I love you.” She blurted out, her strength quickly draining from her. “I-I’m… so…” Her voice trailed off as she struggled to put out a smile. The girl shook her head with tears flying from her eyes.

“Y-You’re going to be o-okay… Mom, please.” Her voice cracked, threatening to break forever. “I-I… I know… you’ll be okay.”

The mother shook her again. “I’m so… s-so proud of you.” She whispered. “So proud.”

The girl’s eyes exploded with fury, tears streaming down her face like an army of soldiers running across No Man’s Land. The mother kept her smile, shifting her eyes to Spec, catching him off-guard. He lowered his chin, locking eyes with her.

“Y-You’re… Hood? B-Black Hood?”

Spec nodded slowly. “I am.”

“T-Thank you. S-Save… her. Save my… my… my precious d-daughter. D-Don’t… let her d-d-die.” 

Spec stared at her, hesitant in his response. The mother simply stared at him, keeping eye contact before looking away. “I… I will.” Spec muttered, unsure why he was promising her anything. His mission was to track down a robber in the Noble District and report back to the king, not get himself involved in anyone’s affairs. Yet he remained in the house.

The girl cried in her mother’s embrace as Spec carefully excused himself. He approached the front door, noticing a piece of evidence waiting for him there. A dagger sat on the ground, tucked slightly under a rug. The blood on the dagger stained the rug and floor, making it easy to spot. Spec grabbed the dagger from under the rug, bringing it to his eye to inspect. The dagger was a normal iron dagger, resembling a decoration weapon bought by nobles to flaunt their wealth. 

It belonged to the father. He must’ve tried stabbing the robber but got it turned on him and he was stabbed. He thought as he stared at the blood trail leading to where the father lay dead in the living room. He’s dead. There’s nothing else to be done for him.

He headed into the kitchen and surveyed the area with greater detail. It was fancier than anything he had ever seen before. It didn’t resemble the shoddy kitchens built in the Slums. There had been less care in the Slums’ infrastructure than there was in the Nobles District. The kitchen was visually pleasing and larger than any room in Spec’s house, except for the basement which was the entire length of the house. 

Spec approached the porcelain plates on a dish rack, touching them. He felt the touch of the porcelain, which bewildered him as it was a feeling that he never experienced with his paper plates. It was brand new. 

This is how wealthy people eat food? On these shiny plates? Hmmm… why couldn’t we get some of these in the Slums? He thought to himself before he heard a piercing cry erupt from the living room. He bit his lip, recognizing the cause of the cry, tiptoeing towards the living room and peeking in. The girl held the limp corpse of her mother. They had managed to say their final goodbyes to each other before the mother passed on, leaving her on her own. 

The robber had broken into the house and taken the girl’s parents from her. She was now on her own and young enough to be unsure of what to do. She hadn’t been taught to take over the business as her parents focused on educating her, instead of passing off their trade to her. 

Spec watched the girl mourn her parents, his eyes on the mother’s face. She had on a permanent smile as if she was satisfied with their conversation and Spec promising her that he’ll save her daughter. She left the world with her daughter lonely and afraid but alive. It was the most she could do in her state.

After some moments of watching her, Spec turned around. His mission was over and all he needed to do was report his findings to the king and let him take care of the aftermath. However, something was tugging at him and preventing him from moving forward. An invisible force kept him in place, tying him to that one spot. 

The girl, who looked up at Spec with her hair and face in a mess, shrieked. She jumped up to her face and charged towards him. He noticed her, turning and preparing himself to attack, but she bypassed Deathstriker and embraced him. She buried her face into his chest, her sobs being muffled by his cloak but most of its volume escaping the thin cloth. 

Spec awkwardly lowered Deathstriker, keeping his arms at his sides. He avoided touching the girl, put into a situation he wanted to escape from. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t escape it as she grabbed his cloak and balled it in her fists, unleashing volleys of tears that stained his clothes. 

I need to report to the king… but I can’t go anywhere yet. So it looks like I’m stuck tending to a girl that I made a promise with her dying mother to save. Killing gang leaders was an easier mission than this.

The girl sat in the kitchen, her eyes bloodshot and her nose stuffy, dried snot creeping at the bottom. She sat on one of the wooden chairs, her legs crossed, while Spec sat opposite of her. She glanced at him before looking away, grabbing a tissue and wiping away some of the snot. 

“W-Who are you?”

Spec stared at her, tilting his head. “Black Hood,” He coldly responded. “Who are you?”

“I-I’m… I’m Paris. Paris River.”

Spec nodded. “... What… W-What are you going to do?”

Paris stared at the table, glancing up at Spec before looking down. “I… I… I don’t know.”

Spec nodded his head as he looked away from her, staring at the window that the robber had entered through. The curtains had been pulled over the window, shielding Paris from seeing