As the shallow crescent of a new moon climbed higher behind City’s skyscrapers, powerful arms slammed the sharp shovel into the skulls of two, knocking one into the flames, the other to land across the third man, Cabaan. The one in the fire shrieked as his thin linen shirt exploded into an inferno encircling his torso. With vengeance, not mercy, the shovel struck again. This time as a death spear to split the smoldering neck; to sever vertebrae hiding within. And as the second man worked to free himself, two black gloves heaved an ax high before slamming its razor thin edge into his rising head; the impact opening his skull to push reddened grey to ooze around the solidly embedded blade. A black clothed knee fell upon Cabaan…before a dark blade pierced soft larynx and thin palette, followed by an abrupt twist of the sharp invader to return silence to the darkness…except for the gurgles of the nearby river and a few random sparks jumping from the excited fire. The man in black stood to survey the damage. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, thick black smoke climbed slowly above the dark trees…and Max laughed loudly, “El diablo te espera!”
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