Jenrak
16-09-2005, 01:00
Crime’s Collapse – The Ascension of Saerus Annirak (Open)
He had a wife, a child soon to be, a loyal group of friends who would sacrifice their lives for him, at the slightest whim of need. He had so vaguely and so deftly seen death, heard it’s fragrant and cold call, to be lured into a paradise, only to find himself ripped from the confines of his body, only to watch and suffer a she mourns for those who sadly mourn him. That was what a life he had, had lost, and was given another chance. Only so short did he die, that he capable of being brought back before death had finally encompassed his soul, kept him imprisoned in death. But now, he did not seem to heed the warning of life given to him. For yet again he challenges the unworthy and the scattered populous of unorganized crime in the secret underworlds of Jenrak, stretching from the valiant gates of Nuharais, to the flaming canyon of death of Unthola. From the shattered gates of Distill, to the lonely watchtower of Javiz’Kraa, and it’s beautiful plains. Now, Saerus would be after more prey, more foes, and soon his name would reign supreme in the dark caverns of crime, both unorganized and organized. Forming a great vestige of soldiers and ex-military forces to his will, Saerus Annirak had mobilized a small personal army that began to crush union after union, as every group of crime began to soon know his quick and brutal tactics, so secretly covered up by his friends at the government.
At times, Saerus was a trusted friend, a great man who would lift children onto his back, and tell great stories of far-off lands and great treasures that only enlightened their sparkling eyes, increasing their ever hungry curiosity. He, at those moments, cunningly hid the dark, cold voice that echoed behind the tale, of debauchery, murder and genocide. At other times, he was a devious man, unimaginably brutal and short sighted, but with a great wisdom of movement in his thoughts. At times he held massive charities and great fundraising activities to help the unfortunate. At other times, the unfortunate would only meet the silver end of his gun. But recently, his patterns have been different.
A rumour was held, that the crime lords of Jenrak have signed a non-aggression pact, to further increase their unity and power against the government, before turning upon themselves like ravaging hounds looking for the greatest and most succulent slice of meat. The secret? It was simple, and then it was not. The secret was hidden in a deep old way of confidence and secrecy, known as the Laws of Skin, referring to the parchment that dries, the skin of sheep and pig and all the other primitive beasts that could be turned into greater uses than a snarling nuisance. That was the law o the skin, and all members of the organized crime followed it, to their word. Until, however, Saerus become one of them. A sneak attack, a great barrage of political pressure, no matter what things were needed to place his victims under stress and make them reveal himself, he would, but not before destroying their families, slaughtering their friends, and eliminating all record of them from Jenrakian databases. He made sure that his prey would not be found floating in the bottom of a river, tied a block concrete, only to be found later by nosy divers. No, he approached slowly, and then he lunged to place the final blow, to kill them in a single gust of magnificence. It was here, in the strip club of the Amazon Hall, which he planned to take down another. His target? Many would not know him by name, but only the ruthlessness he acted on. Black Cobra, they would call him, and it was rumoured he worked his kills himself, instead of having lower lackeys strip him of his ‘fun’. Saerus would enjoy the fight this man could put up, if the man actually did fight and bleed to reach his status.
“Guns ready.” Saerus told his men, a group of heavily armed fighters. Most of them were experienced, but Saerus’ elite worked behind the scenes, now politicians who covered up their boss’ handiwork. With every Crime Lord murdered, with every piece of parchment taken, Saerus became one-step closer to controlling all of Jenrak’s organized crime. Now the Black Cobra will be his next target. These men were men from other groups, who have sworn their loyalty and position to Saerus, and they would die for him, if needed.
As they entered the soft smelling perfumes of the Amazon Hall, they could only see in the dim lights, as people danced, and women slid along the poles, their lithe bodies watched by the many prodigious men there, the music erotic and seducing. It was hard to find anybody worth noticing, as there were too many men, and although that could be a hard thing to pull off, it would be valuable, to let the people know who truly wields power. His magnum kept safely in his sleeve, as another in his other sleeve, Saerus walked around, and asked for a drink from the tall and muscular bartender. “Get me a drink.” He said, in a great commanding voice.
“I’m working here.” The bartender said, watching the Television that hang on the thin metal wires in the corner. Saerus was impatient, and he pulled out his gun only so shortly.
“I mean it.” Saerus said, as the bartender quickly jumped to life and strained forwards, getting a clean crisp cup and looking amongst the beers and the wines, waiting for Saerus’ reply. “Any of them.” He motioned, and the bartender nodded, taking the most expensive beer possible, and filling it up to the brim, the salty foam only softly dripping onto the fancy wooden counter, as his men took stools beside him. “Which one do you think it is?” He asked to his men, in their crisp black suits, as they shrugged dumbly.
He kept his scanning, like a breezing hawk, his eyes wary on any sign of a person emanating some importance, and he did not find such a person; only sexually tempted men who gazed open mouthed at the women pole-dancing. Until finally, he it; a white suited man, cleanly shaven, with a bevy of sparkling diamonds on his fingers, gold rings dancing beautifully as he spoke, sitting on a comfortable red couch, arms laid back, talking to a pair of hookers. Drinking only half way, Saerus got up, and his followed him suite. As he pushed his way through the crowd, toppling a man in fury, Saerus finally walked up and pushed the hookers out of the way. “What the fuck?!?” They yelled in righteous fury, but Saerus ignored them. He merely glanced into brown eyes of the man he assumed the Black Cobra, his stare penetrating back. The man only smiled.
“Saerus Annirak, leader of the Gold Caste of the Patriarchal System. Been in jail 5 years for Grand theft Auto, Assault and Illegal use of armed weapons. Then later twenty years for the death of two young men, shot in the back of the head with a .44 round magnum. Am I right?” The man said, still smiling in amusement. Saerus did not seem shocked, and merely chuckled.
“I wasn’t in jail for Grand Theft Auto. Only Assault and Illegal use of Weapons. As for the murder, I was framed.” He said, his hands behind his back. The man merely swished his wine, eyeing Saerus with interest.
“I’ve heard some rumours about you, mister Annirak. I’ve heard that you’re trying to conquest crime through military force? An odd tactic, but you yourself are odd indeed. Am I right?”
“Are you seeking to goad me?”
“Me? Ask that yourself. You enter a strip club, with men in suits, who I no doubt are armed to the fullest extent, to publicly kill me. Or at least, attempt. Is that right?”
“No, you are wrong. I will not attempt, only succeed. You will give me your parchment,” He pulled out a magnum, as the hookers screamed in the corner, the glass door succeeded in blocking out the shrieking noise, “and I will end your life quickly, and easily.” He said.
“I’ll take the alternative.”
“What’s that?” Saerus cocked his gun, waiting for a reply.
“It’s where I kill you and I get away with it, and all my men are mine.” The Black Cobra sneered, putting his wine glass down, and standing up. He seemed taller than he first looked, sitting on the couch, but he was even height with Saerus. “Will you comply?” He lunged forward with a knife between his fingers, aimed at Saerus’ head. Saerus dodged the knife, but as it swung down, he spun around into the Black Cobra’s torso, and issued a round into his stomach. In a grinding pain, the man fell back down onto his couch, blood spewing out from the body, his arms flailing in pain. “Fucker.” He said, giving the middle finger, blood trickling down his mouth and into his suit. “This cost me a bitch. You’re paying for this.” He said, with a humorous anger in his tone. Saerus did not smile, nor did he laugh, and his men took out their concealed pistols, aimed at the Black Cobra’s head, lasers showing a blurry of red dots on his forehead. Saerus lifted his magnum again, setting the firepower down, and aimed at the Black Cobra’s arm.
“Where is the parchment?” He asked, as the man shook his head in defiance. Saerus fired the shot, and a small red wound burst open in the man’s arm. In a gearing pain, he still kept his faint smile, but it was apparent he fought bravely to hold back and conceal the clenched teeth, the pain he was enduring. “Where is the parchment?” Saerus asked once more, and he got the same reply: a shaking head. In a fury, Saerus let loose another round, as the man’s left arm felt the blow this time. Lowering his gun to the genitals, Saerus aimed at them and asked again.
“Where is the parchment.” He said, without a change in his voice; cold, ruthless and invulnerable. “Or you will not have anybody to bring your bloodline forwards; especially you.” The man merely shook his head in defiance again.
“You don’t have the guts, Annirak.” He said, but Saerus fired off a round, and the Black Cobra finally let loose his sweating pain, his veins throbbing in anger as he screamed with agony, cursing and swearing and in a great yell of defeat. “It’s in m-my p-pocket!” He yelled, as he kept throbbing in pain. “Please! Get me to a hospital! I’ll get on the next plane out of Jenrak, I swear! It’s all yours, I can’t take the pain anymore! Please get me painkillers!” He yelled again, trying to fight the tears and the pain simultaneously.
“Alright.” Saerus said, but he did not help the man. He only upped the round levels, and let loose a barrage of bullets into the man’s legs, neck and face, before the man finally died a painful death, his blood dripping out in hives, like a tiny pond of red liquid slowly tapping down onto the carpet floor, the hookers crying the corner, afraid and whimpering. Saerus reached down over the body, and took out the blood stained parchment, and pocketed it, before walking out of the room, leaving the two hookers alive, and unharmed.
“Get a psychiatrist. They help.” He said, before closing the door, his men following him out of the Amazon Hall.
He had a wife, a child soon to be, a loyal group of friends who would sacrifice their lives for him, at the slightest whim of need. He had so vaguely and so deftly seen death, heard it’s fragrant and cold call, to be lured into a paradise, only to find himself ripped from the confines of his body, only to watch and suffer a she mourns for those who sadly mourn him. That was what a life he had, had lost, and was given another chance. Only so short did he die, that he capable of being brought back before death had finally encompassed his soul, kept him imprisoned in death. But now, he did not seem to heed the warning of life given to him. For yet again he challenges the unworthy and the scattered populous of unorganized crime in the secret underworlds of Jenrak, stretching from the valiant gates of Nuharais, to the flaming canyon of death of Unthola. From the shattered gates of Distill, to the lonely watchtower of Javiz’Kraa, and it’s beautiful plains. Now, Saerus would be after more prey, more foes, and soon his name would reign supreme in the dark caverns of crime, both unorganized and organized. Forming a great vestige of soldiers and ex-military forces to his will, Saerus Annirak had mobilized a small personal army that began to crush union after union, as every group of crime began to soon know his quick and brutal tactics, so secretly covered up by his friends at the government.
At times, Saerus was a trusted friend, a great man who would lift children onto his back, and tell great stories of far-off lands and great treasures that only enlightened their sparkling eyes, increasing their ever hungry curiosity. He, at those moments, cunningly hid the dark, cold voice that echoed behind the tale, of debauchery, murder and genocide. At other times, he was a devious man, unimaginably brutal and short sighted, but with a great wisdom of movement in his thoughts. At times he held massive charities and great fundraising activities to help the unfortunate. At other times, the unfortunate would only meet the silver end of his gun. But recently, his patterns have been different.
A rumour was held, that the crime lords of Jenrak have signed a non-aggression pact, to further increase their unity and power against the government, before turning upon themselves like ravaging hounds looking for the greatest and most succulent slice of meat. The secret? It was simple, and then it was not. The secret was hidden in a deep old way of confidence and secrecy, known as the Laws of Skin, referring to the parchment that dries, the skin of sheep and pig and all the other primitive beasts that could be turned into greater uses than a snarling nuisance. That was the law o the skin, and all members of the organized crime followed it, to their word. Until, however, Saerus become one of them. A sneak attack, a great barrage of political pressure, no matter what things were needed to place his victims under stress and make them reveal himself, he would, but not before destroying their families, slaughtering their friends, and eliminating all record of them from Jenrakian databases. He made sure that his prey would not be found floating in the bottom of a river, tied a block concrete, only to be found later by nosy divers. No, he approached slowly, and then he lunged to place the final blow, to kill them in a single gust of magnificence. It was here, in the strip club of the Amazon Hall, which he planned to take down another. His target? Many would not know him by name, but only the ruthlessness he acted on. Black Cobra, they would call him, and it was rumoured he worked his kills himself, instead of having lower lackeys strip him of his ‘fun’. Saerus would enjoy the fight this man could put up, if the man actually did fight and bleed to reach his status.
“Guns ready.” Saerus told his men, a group of heavily armed fighters. Most of them were experienced, but Saerus’ elite worked behind the scenes, now politicians who covered up their boss’ handiwork. With every Crime Lord murdered, with every piece of parchment taken, Saerus became one-step closer to controlling all of Jenrak’s organized crime. Now the Black Cobra will be his next target. These men were men from other groups, who have sworn their loyalty and position to Saerus, and they would die for him, if needed.
As they entered the soft smelling perfumes of the Amazon Hall, they could only see in the dim lights, as people danced, and women slid along the poles, their lithe bodies watched by the many prodigious men there, the music erotic and seducing. It was hard to find anybody worth noticing, as there were too many men, and although that could be a hard thing to pull off, it would be valuable, to let the people know who truly wields power. His magnum kept safely in his sleeve, as another in his other sleeve, Saerus walked around, and asked for a drink from the tall and muscular bartender. “Get me a drink.” He said, in a great commanding voice.
“I’m working here.” The bartender said, watching the Television that hang on the thin metal wires in the corner. Saerus was impatient, and he pulled out his gun only so shortly.
“I mean it.” Saerus said, as the bartender quickly jumped to life and strained forwards, getting a clean crisp cup and looking amongst the beers and the wines, waiting for Saerus’ reply. “Any of them.” He motioned, and the bartender nodded, taking the most expensive beer possible, and filling it up to the brim, the salty foam only softly dripping onto the fancy wooden counter, as his men took stools beside him. “Which one do you think it is?” He asked to his men, in their crisp black suits, as they shrugged dumbly.
He kept his scanning, like a breezing hawk, his eyes wary on any sign of a person emanating some importance, and he did not find such a person; only sexually tempted men who gazed open mouthed at the women pole-dancing. Until finally, he it; a white suited man, cleanly shaven, with a bevy of sparkling diamonds on his fingers, gold rings dancing beautifully as he spoke, sitting on a comfortable red couch, arms laid back, talking to a pair of hookers. Drinking only half way, Saerus got up, and his followed him suite. As he pushed his way through the crowd, toppling a man in fury, Saerus finally walked up and pushed the hookers out of the way. “What the fuck?!?” They yelled in righteous fury, but Saerus ignored them. He merely glanced into brown eyes of the man he assumed the Black Cobra, his stare penetrating back. The man only smiled.
“Saerus Annirak, leader of the Gold Caste of the Patriarchal System. Been in jail 5 years for Grand theft Auto, Assault and Illegal use of armed weapons. Then later twenty years for the death of two young men, shot in the back of the head with a .44 round magnum. Am I right?” The man said, still smiling in amusement. Saerus did not seem shocked, and merely chuckled.
“I wasn’t in jail for Grand Theft Auto. Only Assault and Illegal use of Weapons. As for the murder, I was framed.” He said, his hands behind his back. The man merely swished his wine, eyeing Saerus with interest.
“I’ve heard some rumours about you, mister Annirak. I’ve heard that you’re trying to conquest crime through military force? An odd tactic, but you yourself are odd indeed. Am I right?”
“Are you seeking to goad me?”
“Me? Ask that yourself. You enter a strip club, with men in suits, who I no doubt are armed to the fullest extent, to publicly kill me. Or at least, attempt. Is that right?”
“No, you are wrong. I will not attempt, only succeed. You will give me your parchment,” He pulled out a magnum, as the hookers screamed in the corner, the glass door succeeded in blocking out the shrieking noise, “and I will end your life quickly, and easily.” He said.
“I’ll take the alternative.”
“What’s that?” Saerus cocked his gun, waiting for a reply.
“It’s where I kill you and I get away with it, and all my men are mine.” The Black Cobra sneered, putting his wine glass down, and standing up. He seemed taller than he first looked, sitting on the couch, but he was even height with Saerus. “Will you comply?” He lunged forward with a knife between his fingers, aimed at Saerus’ head. Saerus dodged the knife, but as it swung down, he spun around into the Black Cobra’s torso, and issued a round into his stomach. In a grinding pain, the man fell back down onto his couch, blood spewing out from the body, his arms flailing in pain. “Fucker.” He said, giving the middle finger, blood trickling down his mouth and into his suit. “This cost me a bitch. You’re paying for this.” He said, with a humorous anger in his tone. Saerus did not smile, nor did he laugh, and his men took out their concealed pistols, aimed at the Black Cobra’s head, lasers showing a blurry of red dots on his forehead. Saerus lifted his magnum again, setting the firepower down, and aimed at the Black Cobra’s arm.
“Where is the parchment?” He asked, as the man shook his head in defiance. Saerus fired the shot, and a small red wound burst open in the man’s arm. In a gearing pain, he still kept his faint smile, but it was apparent he fought bravely to hold back and conceal the clenched teeth, the pain he was enduring. “Where is the parchment?” Saerus asked once more, and he got the same reply: a shaking head. In a fury, Saerus let loose another round, as the man’s left arm felt the blow this time. Lowering his gun to the genitals, Saerus aimed at them and asked again.
“Where is the parchment.” He said, without a change in his voice; cold, ruthless and invulnerable. “Or you will not have anybody to bring your bloodline forwards; especially you.” The man merely shook his head in defiance again.
“You don’t have the guts, Annirak.” He said, but Saerus fired off a round, and the Black Cobra finally let loose his sweating pain, his veins throbbing in anger as he screamed with agony, cursing and swearing and in a great yell of defeat. “It’s in m-my p-pocket!” He yelled, as he kept throbbing in pain. “Please! Get me to a hospital! I’ll get on the next plane out of Jenrak, I swear! It’s all yours, I can’t take the pain anymore! Please get me painkillers!” He yelled again, trying to fight the tears and the pain simultaneously.
“Alright.” Saerus said, but he did not help the man. He only upped the round levels, and let loose a barrage of bullets into the man’s legs, neck and face, before the man finally died a painful death, his blood dripping out in hives, like a tiny pond of red liquid slowly tapping down onto the carpet floor, the hookers crying the corner, afraid and whimpering. Saerus reached down over the body, and took out the blood stained parchment, and pocketed it, before walking out of the room, leaving the two hookers alive, and unharmed.
“Get a psychiatrist. They help.” He said, before closing the door, his men following him out of the Amazon Hall.