Atlantis I: Upheaval

Arlo's Chapter Act 1 Part 2 - Smile

The sun had set, and all the preparations were done. I was already on my way to the restaurant, ready to complete my contract. The rain had long stopped, and the night sky was illuminated by dazzling moonlight. As I walked, I couldn't help but notice how the streets were still filled with people despite it being late into the night. The roads were also quite busy, with vehicles occasionally jammed up at traffic lights.

A few minutes later, I reached Paul Milliard's restaurant. It was every bit as extravagant as I thought it would be. It was located on the side of a large street, with an impressive neon sign attached to the roof above an imposing wooden door. An attendant stood prepared to open the gigantic doors for the restaurant's customers. I checked my wristwatch to check the time. It was already well past eleven and according to the information provided by my client, the restaurant would be closing soon. I decided to wait until then.

Ten minutes passed and the shop still remained open. I was pretending to observe the window of the electronics store next door.

A few more minutes passed. The streets were now empty, and hardly any vehicle drove on the roads. Despite this, the restaurant was still open. The attendant still remained outside with an eager smile on his face. A smile that was directed only at the eerie darkness of the night. I now hid within an alleyway between the restaurant and the electronics store, no longer capable of observing the wearisome window.

Something was definitely wrong. The attendant hadn't moved a single inch since the time I had arrived. I also realized that not a single customer that went in had come out. Unable to endure the suspense any further, I decided to go inside. As an assassin, doing anything that could potentially reveal my identity to the public was a major risk. But I had a contract to complete.

I stepped up to the restaurant doors, and the attendant bowed slightly before opening them. The restaurant looked as grand inside as it looked outside. There were tables set on top of expensive-looking carpets, and several smartly dressed waiters wearing pure white blazers looked ready to serve customers. The smell of freshly prepared delicacies were overflowing in the air.

A second later, one of the waiters approached me and led me to one of the tables close to the wall. The waiter looked young, probably in his early twenties, and had long blond hair tied back into a ponytail. The whole time, not one of them had uttered a single word. The waiter handed me an extravagant menu packed with delicious yet needlessly overpriced food. I glanced towards the other young waiters who were standing by the wall.

Just where was Paul!?

I couldn't waste any more time. I had to assassinate him tonight. Coming to this restaurant so late in the night meant that I was also quite suspicious. I tried to formulate my next move. I wanted to go and check the kitchen to see if Paul was there, but there was no way to do that without attracting unneeded attention.

I was pretending to observe the menu while getting lost in thought.

What was my next move?

I peeked again at the waiters from the corner of my eye. They were looking at one another as if looking for approval. Their previously inviting smiles had transformed into one of aggravation. Then suddenly, the waiter with the ponytail pulled out a knife from within his white blazer and lunged at me.

I instinctively jumped from the chair and rolled across the table into safety before unsheathing my own knife. The waiter with the ponytail didn't rush to attack me again. Instead, he took his time, signalling the other waiters, also armed with knives, to surround me. I was lucky that they didn't use guns. After all, gunshots fired in the middle of the night in close vicinity to civilian households were sure to attract attention. Even then, I was surrounded by six armed men ready to taste my blood. This would be no easy feat.

Hoping to catch them off-guard, I attacked first. I swiftly stepped towards the waiter on my left and stabbed towards his gut. To my surprise, he dodged, sidestepping to the side, before slashing at my neck. The attack had almost grazed me, but I was able to retreat in time. Now surrounded by the waiters in the middle of the hall, I knew that I had to quickly end the fight. The longer it went on, my chances of victory also dwindled. I wondered if I could take on all of them at once. These men clearly weren't amateurs. No amateur could survive one of my attacks. But that didn't matter. I had a contract to complete, and these men had to die.

I lunged again, this time at a tall, brown-haired waiter who was more than ready for attack. I feigned a cut at his throat before swinging a vicious low kick at the side of his knee. The waiter faltered for a second, losing his balance slightly with a yelp of pain. I had found the opening I wanted. Like a snake striking its prey, I slashed through the waiter's throat as he crumpled down in a puddle of his own blood.

The next waiter was barely a foot away when I turned back, stabbing wildly at my chest. I knew I couldn't avoid the attack from such close range, but I wasn't ready to lose just yet.

I caught hold of his knife before it could make contact and pulled it forced it away from me before impaling the waiter's chest with my knife. He let out a cry of pain before collapsing down, lifeless.

The remaining waiters watched this in horror. Why wouldn't they be scared? Two of their men were dispatched in a matter of seconds. My hand was oozing out blood and throbbed with pain. But I looked unfazed. They were fools to have not expected this while going against the city's greatest assassin.

One of the remaining men lost their composure and charged at me. This was what I wanted. The battle was all but decided now. I threw my knife. It went past the charging waiter and lodged itself in the throat of his comrade. This distracted the charging waiter long enough for me to close down the gap and swing in a brutal roundhouse kick that hit the side of his neck, resulting in a resounding crack.

Only the waiter with the ponytail remained now. The smell of fresh food had long been replaced with that of fresh blood. The carpets were also stained with red and corpses lay about the floor. What joy that very sight brought was indescribable.

I walked slowly towards the last waiter, my soul crying out for more blood.

"Where's Paul Milliard?" I questioned.

"Hell if I would tell you, demon!" the waiter shot back.

I lunged forward and swung my leg at his thigh. The waiter jumped back, successfully avoiding the attack. The very next second, he lunged forward again, hoping to stab my chest. But I was waiting for this. I swiftly gripped his hand and caught with a back kick before twisting his hand and throwing him over my shoulder and onto the floor. He let go of the knife and grimaced in pain while clutching his hand.

"Where's Paul Milliard?" I demanded, this time stomping his chest.

"Stop...I'll tell you..." the waiter responded, spitting out blood. "My guys killed him long before you came, along with all the other staff." He continued. "It was an order from the higher-ups."

"Who is your superior?" I questioned.

"I'd be killed if I answered, demon. I'd rather die with honour, loyal to my faction!" The waiter replied.

"Then suit yourself". I smiled, stomping down his throat.