Secrets of Night

Chapter 17

It's not just the drugs, ever since the new gang- Python or something- have shown up, there's been a number of disturbing and gruesome murders, the bodies left out by the different members as warnings. The Python members seem to have a preference for dismembering their enemies while they're still alive and have a most sadistic way of dispatching their victims. According to police autopsy reports that have been released to the media, the cause of death is always the same: drowning. From the inside. They take ice picks and drive them into the person's lungs which causes the lungs to fill with blood so they literally suffocate to death in their own blood. Gangs are bad in general, but man, these guys are on a whole different level. The police force is in terror and I don't blame them. I've never personally witnessed any of the murders because I would have whatever I could have to prevent it, but I have overheard enough of their conversations to be wary.

Inferno or not, these guys are people I never would want to take on alone- again. I had a brush in once with Los Muertos Blancos once before Shadow had a chance to really hit the news. The memory pushes its way to the front of my mind and over takes my thought process, playing the scene without so much as requesting permission.

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It was October of last year, a mere month and a half since the news had first reported Shadow in regards to rescuing the young women. Once again, I had been walking home alone in the middle of the night after a particularly long day at the barn and was wearing my "Shadow" attire because fortunately, the DPD can't go around harassing every random person on the street wearing black. Anyway, it was probably around midnight and for whatever the reason happened to be, I felt compelled to visit one of my favorite little shops hidden in the heart of the city because I clearly make good life decisions. The dimly lit alley was certainly not the most welcoming atmosphere as I picked my way through the various obstacles, doing my best not to trip over anything in the pitch black.

Soon, my little sanctuary appeared, a soft white light shining from within the deceivingly small brick shop, a hand carved sign hanging above the door frame. "Mokusei Batta" roughly translating to "Wooden Grasshopper" in honor of the first piece the owner of the shop, a Japanese gentleman by the name of Mr. Yiroshimi, ever sold when he arrived in America. It was a wonderful story to hear and I had become quite close with the middle aged man over the three years I had been visiting his shop. Grinning to myself as I walked through the door, a small ding rang out through the store, alerting him to my presence. Angling myself over towards the counter where I knew the owner would be, I raised my hand in greeting as the chipper voice echoed through the small show room.

"Konbawa, Tori!"

"Hey Mr. Y! How's the world been treating you these days?"

His twinkling hazel eyes met mine, his eyes wrinkled around the edges and somehow making him seem that much kinder. A light laugh rung from his mouth, still struggling to understand how odd some of the American phrasing is compared to the first thirty years of his life.

"Oh, world does good. Many people like art and take home. Busy make new piece for shop, but always keep many special piece for special customer."

Chuckling with the kind man, I simply shook my head and observed his slightly barren show room, missing several of its stools and unique carvings. Anything from bowls to stools to wooden figures to stain glass to practice swords were on display for the public to see and purchase, but I knew there was more he had to show me- there always was. Knowing the drill, I located a thick wooden board tilted against the wall beside the door and slid it into the handles of the door, effectively locking it from the inside.

"Alright, show me what you've got for me!"

He smiled once more and ushered me behind the hand carved oak cashier counter and through the black felt curtains separating the back from the main space. Even though I had seen it a thousand times, it still took my breath away- a massive shop complete with several metal working tools such as foundries, a forge, numerous different molds and a variety of saws and miscellaneous wood working tools decorated the space. Polished asphalt bricks line the walls and cement covered the floor and ceiling, ensuring no part of the building was liable to catch on fire. Brightly lit rustic light fixtures illuminated the place, brilliantly shining on his masterful creations and accentuating the pain staking detail in each work of art. Beautiful oil paintings of white tigers, Chinese dragons, and countless other pieces reside in hand craved frames, each awaiting to be sent to a new home.