Chapter 168: Crimson Requiem on the road (3)

Los Angeles, California

"Ohhhh... now this is a city worthy of being called a city!" Evelyne cheers while taking a bite out of a hot dog.

"Not to mention the food!" Dorian agrees, carrying a hamburger in one hand and a soda in the other.

"And to think they said New York is even better! I honestly wouldn’t mind if it took us years to find Mia Valakys. I could easily get used to living in the human world," Lazarus concludes.

The three of them are strolling through the urban district of Skid Row, while Blake and Constantine have remained behind at the luxury hotel where they’re staying.

Constantine is in his room, studying a map of the United States alongside Levreeshka Dulcar’s reports.

Blake, meanwhile, is relaxing in the hotel’s spa.

Since arriving in Los Angeles, Blake has left the sauna and hot tub only to eat and sleep.

Even now, with midnight fast approaching, he remains immersed in the warm water of the completely deserted spa, his long violet hair drifting across the surface.

He’s so relaxed that he’s almost on the verge of falling asleep when an arrogant voice shatters the tranquility.

"Hey, sissy. What the hell are you doing in the men’s section? Get out of here."

Blake slowly opens his eyes.

Standing at the edge of the pool is a heavily tattooed African American man, exceptionally tall and muscular, wearing nothing but a swimsuit.

It is Mick Tyssen — a world-famous boxer renowned for his superhuman strength and his viciousness both inside and outside the ring.

"Move, baldy. You’re annoying me."

"No, you get out. I’ve been wanting to use the hot tub all day, and every single time I come here, you’re already in it!"

"That isn’t my problem," Blake murmurs calmly, slowly closing his eyes again.

He opens them a moment later when the water suddenly ripples as the man steps into the tub.

"Oh, it’s definitely your problem! Get out willingly, or I’ll throw you out myself, sissy!"

"Call me sissy one more time, and they’ll be the last words you ever speak."

"Fine. You asked for it, sissy! Now I’ll —"

BAM!

Blake explodes into motion and drives a brutal elbow into Mick’s solar plexus.

The boxer drops to his knees instantly, his breath stolen from his lungs. He claws desperately at his throat before collapsing onto his side.

Meanwhile, Blake calmly sinks back into the hot tub. He closes his eyes and resumes relaxing as the man writhes across the floor, slowly suffocating.

Mick’s lips gradually darken to a purplish blue. His bloodshot eyes widen more and more as panic gives way to desperation.

A few moments later, he finally chokes to death just a few feet from the edge of the pool.

"Too bad those other three weren’t here. At least they would’ve seen that you can kill someone without getting yourself all covered in blood. Now I have to dispose of the body. What a nuisance..."

As Evelyne, Dorian, and Lazarus leave the more central part of Skid Row and turn down a side street, a weak, gentle voice catches their attention.

"P-Please... do any of you have a dollar? My son hasn’t eaten in two days..."

A homeless man sits on the side of the road.

Thin and gaunt, with unkempt hair and a scraggly beard, he’s dressed in little more than rags and seated on a makeshift bed of cardboard and worn-out blankets.

Wrapped in another blanket in his arms is a sleeping boy no older than four.

The child is visibly malnourished as well.

Evelyne crouches down in front of him, waving a one-dollar bill between her fingers.

"Why, of course, good sir. Here you go."

She then lets the bill slip into the hat the man is using to collect donations.

"T-Thank you... thank you from the bottom of my heart... May the God of Light bless you..."

"Oh, all this gratitude for a single dollar? Tell me, are you sure that’s enough? Wouldn’t you rather have... say, a hundred?"

"A-A hundred dollars... y-you mean that...?" the man stammers.

A broad smile spreads across Evelyne’s face as she pulls out two fifty-dollar bills.

"Of course. I’m a very generous woman, you know. So? Do you want them?"

When the man nods in disbelief, Evelyne places those bills into the hat as well.

At the sight of so much money, tears immediately well up in the man’s eyes.

"I-I don’t even know how to thank you..." he sobs, his voice trembling with emotion. "T-Thanks to you... my son can finally get better... He’s always been so weak, and with so little food, his health has only been getting worse... I-If you hadn’t come along... I’m afraid he might not have made it through the night... Thank you... thank you... thank you from the bottom of my heart..."

"Oh, so the little one’s sick...? That’s terrible. I imagine he needs medicine too, doesn’t he? And you don’t look much better yourself. If you keep starving yourself so your son can eat, you’re going to leave him an orphan. Here, take these as well."

Evelyne adds another five hundred dollars to the money already sitting in the hat.

The sight of it finally overwhelms the man.

Unable to find the words, he breaks down completely, sobbing with gratitude.

"Looks like you’re starting to enjoy this whole charity thing, huh?" Dorian asks, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Evelyne lets out a soft laugh.

"You have no idea."

Then she turns her attention back to the homeless man.

"As it turns out, I’m feeling particularly charitable today. I have one more surprise for you. So, what do you think? Would you like to know what it is?"

The man nods enthusiastically.

But the hope shining in his eyes vanishes in an instant when Evelyne’s dagger slices cleanly across his throat.

His son slips from his arms and tumbles onto the pavement, stained by his father’s blood.

The fall wakes him, but he’s far too weak to do anything more than stare blankly ahead.

Evelyne opens her mouth to speak, but Dorian beats her to it.

"Don’t you dare say that counts as a point. I swear, this is the time I’m actually going to lose my temper!"

"Any human without magic is worth one point. That’s always been the rule, so stop whining."

"If that’s how we’re playing it..."

With a casual stomp, Dorian crushes the child’s skull.

"...then this one counts as a point too."

"No, it doesn’t!" Evelyne snaps. "Adults are worth one point, not children! Damn it, that man literally said the kid wasn’t going to make it through the night! You practically killed someone who was already dead!"

"Oh right, you’re correct... then that’s three points."

"Are you an idiot or what?"

"When we ran into that horde of undead on N’Raeth, weren’t you the one who said they were worth three points each?"

"Exactly — undead, not human babies!"

"Didn’t you just say that child was basically dead? And yet he was still alive a moment ago. Therefore, a living dead person. Checkmate, Evelyne."

"No, that’s not how it works, you moron!"

"Hey, hey... calm down..." Lazarus cuts in.

He bends down and picks up the man’s hat. Alongside Evelyne’s donations, it contains about twenty dollars in coins.

"...instead of arguing, how about we go get another hamburger, generously sponsored by our friend here?"

"Well, after I permanently put an end to his suffering, I think it’s the least he can do to repay me," Evelyne replies.

"I’ve got a better idea!" Dorian cuts in. "How about, after we eat, we have a contest to see who can take out the most homeless people? The winner is whoever kills them in the most creative way."

"Deal!"