French Quarter, Lost Haven
Home of Jack Grey"This is the place." Edward Burns lowered the binoculars from his eyes and turned toward his comrade in the drivers seat, Nikolai Tensing. They'd gotten word from their boss in The Sharks about a three million dollar bounty on some rich asshole's head and decided to cash in. "Everybody out." Tensing ordered. The side door of the nondescript black van opened up, prompting the thugs within to push and shove their way out and onto the street. "Tommy, put yer vest on." One of the men whispered sharply, tossing a dark shape to one of his compatriots. "Come on, George," Tommy replied. "This guy ain't gunna be a problem. What do I need armor fors?" George rolled his eyes, his contempt for the younger gangster quite obvious. Tommy took note of the more experienced criminal's body language and chose to keep on his good side. "Okay, okay. Just don't see the point, ya know." These men belonged to the Rooks Gang; they were relatively new in town and were looking for a shot into the big time. What better way than taking a hit for the Shroud Syndicate?
Jack Grey's house was a two story suite located in a well-off suburban neighborhood deep in the French Quarter. The guy had deep pockets, that was plain to see. Under the concealment of darkness, the eight members of the Rooks sneaked stealthily across the street and slithered into the man's front yard. Edward approached the front door, silent as a mouse. Nikolai began to count down, his silenced sub machine gun tucked firmly in his jacket. "Three...Two...One- go!" Edward brought down his pump action shotgun down on the doorknob, knocking the lock to the ground with a crash. He smashed his shoulder into the door and pushed it open. The Rooks rushed inside, throwing all tactical movement and stealth to the wind as they rushed to see who could find Jack first.
The goons cleared the house in less than two minutes flat but found no trace of Grey or his family. "Where the shit is he?" Tommy complained. "Must'a skipped town awhile ago. Paper's a week old." George confirmed, holding up an out of date edition of the Daily Watchmen. "No way, man." Ed growled, ripping the newspaper out of George's hand to look at it himself. "Info said there's been lights on all day. Somebody was here." George shrugged in defeat. "Your man's wrong, Eddy. Ain't nothin' here but cold, half-eaten waffles." Tommy took in a gulp of air. "Uh, boss? These's waffles are still warm-"
Before anyone so much as blinked, one of the Rooks dropped to the ground. "Whoa!" Ed shouted. "Eyes up, we've got company." Nikolai ordered, bringing his firearm to bare. "Who's out there?!" George asked. "Where are you?" A pair of hands suddenly broke through the drywall and wrapped around George's throat. He disappeared, leaving only a man-sized hole in his place.
"Here." A voice, deep and threatening, seemed to reverberate throughout the entire kitchen. The rest of the Rooks crew opened fire in the general direction George disappeared. The sounds of gunfire woke up the neighbors; who, without a doubt, would be calling the police in short order. Bullets flew through picture frames, microwaves, TVs and walls nonstop for thirty seconds. The crew reloaded in unison and was moment's from continuing to blind fire when Tommy's throat exploded in a river of crimson. A dark shape danced between the members of the Rooks gang, slicing exposed veins and stabbing straight through kevlar vests and into major organs; no one could tell what it was. Ed turned his shotgun on the shadow and fired off three shots directly to its center of mass. But the thing didn't so much as slow down, driving its blade through Ed's right eye and taking a chunk of his head off.
The remaining Rooks didn't fair much better. Their bullets didn't slow the monster down. It tore through the gangsters like they were made of paper. In a matter of seconds, Nikolai was the only living thing in the Grey house.
"WHAT ARE YOU?!" The Russian screamed. His fingers were shaking as he tried to reload his SMG. The kitchen lights flickered on and a boot slammed into Nikolai Tensing's chest. He was sent sprawling into one of the dinning room chairs, his gun falling to the floor. His attacker was visible now. And his appearance was more terrifying than any shadow.
"Y-you're just...some guy?" Tensing stuttered, the groin region of his pants growing darker. The man removed a pistol from his hip and shoved it into the Russian's gaping mouth.
"Who told you to come after Mr. Grey?" The masked attacker questioned. "I-I don't-" He shoved a knife into Nikolai's leg, right through a major nerve cluster. The thug cried bloody murder, begging the man to stop.
"I NEED A NAME." The guy yelled. "Dennis Evans! People call him Great White. He's the leader of the Sharks." Tears streamed down Nikolai's face; he struggled to breath with the pistol stuck in his mouth. The distant sound of police sirens seemed to annoy his interrogator.
"Where can I find him?" Nikolai nodded his head fiercely. "I-I can show you. Just. Please, don't kill me." He whimpered. The pistol was out of the man's mouth only long enough to put a bullet in the Russian mobster's shoulder. "AHHHH! Okay! I-his-There's a bar in Little Sicily called Finnegan's. H-he might not be there, but some of his boys should be. That's all I know, I swear-"
"I want you to pass a message up the grape vine to the Specter. Tell him that SuperIOR is off limits, or he'll be dealing with me.""W-who do I tell him sent it?"
"Agent Black." Nikolai felt something hard impact his skull and everything went black.
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