"This brings back memories."
I was in a warehouse near the coastal areas of Hiroshima, admiring the places I had helped take over in my previous life.
'Those were the days.'
But I wasn't here to reminisce about my glory days or honor the fallen soldiers I had known and fought alongside.
Tires screeched to a stop behind me, but I remained seated on a barrel, staring at the slow drips of blood trailing from the gang members I had hung up.
"Fucker!"
I stood and turned, greeted by the blinding beams of car headlights. The glare made it hard to see who was standing in front of me.
"B-Boss... aren't those people...?"
I heard knuckles crack as someone shouted in a mix of pain and anguish.
"Who... Who the fuck are you?!"
Tilting my head, I watched as one of them charged. I lowered myself into a runner's stance and surged forward.
My shoulder collided with his chest. I felt bones crack, but I didn't stop until his back slammed into the car hard enough to cave the vehicle in.
"Wha—"
Standing, I grabbed the now crushed corpse and swung it into the nearest person, smashing them with the dead weight. Without pause, I grabbed a fistful of skin from anothers chest and tore it free.
A scream erupted. Someone struck the back of my skull with a bat, but all that did was redirect my attention. I seized the attacker's hand still holding the bat and squeezed—hard. Bone and wood shattered under my grip.
"Die!"
I heard the click of a safety being disengaged, so I drew my own gun and fired toward the sound. A scream rang out, followed by the clatter of metal. The fallen gun discharged as it hit the ground and someone howled in pain—shot in the foot.
Still clutching one thug by the arm, I leaned back and swung him over my shoulder, slamming him through a car window. Turning toward the last vehicle with its lights still on, I walked over and with a grunt flipped it, cutting off the blinding glare.
'Less than I was hoping.'
Twelve dead up and coming "gangsters" lay scattered around me, not counting the other twenty already hanging.
"Argh..."
Humming at the sound, I looked down to find the one who'd been shot in the foot crawling away.
"Why are you running?" I asked, stepping on his uninjured leg. He grunted in pain.
"F-fucker..."
I raised an eyebrow and got off his leg, then grabbed the back of his head and yanked him up to eye level.
"Why are there so few of you?"
He growled, pursed his lips, and spat blood and saliva into my face.
"Fuck you!"
Then, with a flick, he drew a pocket knife and slashed at my throat.
I wiped the spit away calmly as his eyes widened. My neck was already healing as fast as he had cut it.
"Charming." I wasn't disappointed. In my eyes, anything on one's body could be a weapon.
"T-the fuck—"
I dropped him and stomped on his chest, hearing the crack of bone as he wheezed under the pressure.
"I'll ask again: why aren't there more of you? There were what—twenty seven? Maybe more?"
He didn't answer, just groaned and tried to lift my foot off his chest. I didn't budge. I waited until he tired himself out.
'He won't bleed out from just a few wounds.'
"T-That's... Will you let m-me go?"
I focused back on the young man, tilting my head.
"I'll give you a choice. Die now, or live through it."
I watched the gears turn in his mind before he gave a frantic nod. I eased the pressure on his chest.
"T-That's all of us..."
I raised a brow. "What? Aren't you lot supposed to be a big group here in Hiroshima?"
He gave a small, resigned nod. "W-We are... or well, were. It was fine u-until this bitch showed up with her weird tech..."
'Military?'
"T-That's all I know! Y-You killed everyone who could've told you!"
I stared at him in silence, digesting the information.
'If what I've gathered is accurate, then Weiss has influence here. She might even have military connections.'
Nodding slowly, I tuned back into the present. I lifted my foot off the young man and grabbed him by the shirt as he flailed.
"W-Wait! I told you everything!"
I nodded. "And you didn't die back then."
I ignored the widening horror in his eyes as I dragged him toward the barrel I'd been sitting on. He threw up on my hand and arm when he saw the corpse tied to it—back flayed open, organs and bones missing.
"It's called a Blood Eagle." I said calmly, untying the corpse's arms. I grabbed the body by the hair and tossed it aside to make space.
"W-Wait! Kill me!" he screamed, thrashing wildly as I began tying him down.
He tried to shift the barrel, but it wouldn't budge. For convenience, I tied his legs to it as well.
"I will be doing that."
I picked up the bloodied knife from the ground, knelt behind him and tore open his shirt. Then, I began my work.
[Blood & Gore Warning]
The first cut wasn't loud.
But the scream that came with it was.
Flesh split cleanly, just enough for my fingers to slip in. I peeled back the skin and muscle, exposing the treasures buried within.
His screams turned raw.
I worked until I saw his spine. Tracing a finger along the bone, I ignored it and moved for the ribs. Grabbing one, I yanked.
CRACK
The sound made me pause. I considered who might hear it, then shrugged and placed the rib beside me.
Two ribs gone.
Three.
'Surprised he's still alive.'
Barely breathing, but still alive. If I stopped and stitched him up, he'd live but wouldn't ever recover mentally.
Ending it now would be an act of mercy.
But I wouldn't.
I stood and walked over to a bundle of rope. Cutting off the length I needed, I returned to him. With what little strength he had, he twitched and flailed as I untied him from the barrel and grabbed him by the neck.
Dragging him toward the row of hanging corpses, I muttered.
"Disgusting, isn't it?"
I didn't care that he couldn't respond.
I began tying one end of the rope around his neck.
"I'm not sure how old I was exactly... but during the Korean War, I was sold off to a group that worked with the U.S. Secretly, of course."
I stepped onto a nearby box, threw the rope over a beam, and began to slowly pull him up.
"Life was... as fine as it could be. I carried ammo, killed people for the White Pigs entertainment—and for the ones who owned me."
He gurgled as the rope dug into his neck.
"Then one day, a new person was brought in. A storyteller. He told myths, history—things nobody cared about, but somehow they still enjoyed his company."
I gave another tug.
"One day, he told a Norse story. A tale of involving the Blood Eagle. The soldiers were disgusted... but fascinated. They wanted to see it done. Just not with their own hands."
One final pull aligned him with the other corpses. I stepped down and walked in front of him to finish the story.
"I was too valuable to be used as an example. So instead, they chose him—the storyteller. I did it crudely, just as the Norse legend described. He died the moment I split his back open. But the soldiers didn't let me stop until it was finished—"
I stopped speaking as the young man's guts spilled out from his flayed back.
"..."
I stared at him for a moment. Then sighed.
"I didn't even get to finish my story."
Turning toward the other bodies on the ground, I scratched my head.
"Time to get to work."