The Long Con
Aarman looks up at the chains, slowly stroking one hand over the chains with that same shit eating grin plastered upon his face.
It’s funny the lengths one will go to get what they desire. The pain, the suffering, the indignity they will endure all because it’ll be worth it in the end.
A father suffers through others pleasure of the flesh in the hopes of finding the tiniest of crumbs to bring Hansel home.
A young woman obsessed with vengeance she would sell her soul to the gods themselves to uncover the tiniest weakness in her monsters armor.
Just as said monster locks horns with an unkillable behemoth in a hunt that even if he survives, will leave him scarred and broken forever.
All of them just little puppets dangling on a string and all of them know instinctively that they’re being played yet they still walk into the darkness.
Ignoring the thing that lies within that is patiently waiting for everything to come to fruition. Because this isn’t about Burned Man or his stupid son, this isn’t bout Jinx and her vengeance and it certainly isn’t about simple minded Luther and his cave man impulses.
This has always been about you and me Nergal, and the greatest mistake you ever made in that day we first met. See, if you’d come while I was alone and did your little intimidation tactics, I’d have come at you once and left you alone. Not the first time someone has attempted a hostile takeover, I can respect the direct approach but you made a single mistake in how you came at me that night twins.
Aarman walks over to the wall and presses into it, as a small compartment pops out of the stained steel and Fidel pulls out a piece of carpet. Seemingly innocuous, if not for the stained blood covering every inch of it.
You didn’t just come after me, you killed my loyal staff as well, my most trusted of allies. Now don’t get me wrong, I cared little for them and probably would’ve sacrificed them at one point or another but this isn’t about their pathetic lives Nergal, this is about one simple fact.
They Were Mine.
You took what belonged to me, you made me weak, you made me helpless and I cannot abide that. You poked the bear but unlike you or Grim, I don’t slash out in rage, I allow it to fester and grow as I plan and manipulate the little pieces around. It’s why I’m “helping” Maxwell, I may not even be able to find his son but the ecstasy that my clients get from his maiming, the sheer lustful power has made me stronger then ever. It’s why I sent Grim after you even knowing a god cannot truly die because it doesn’t matter if he survives or not as long because a boy that dedicated to the hunt is sure to deliver a few scars that will leave you weakened and afraid.
Because you wished to come at the King Gemini and you willingly missed.
And you will learn even Gods aren’t immune to consequences.