Necessary Evils

Prologue

At the end of the dark hallway stood a wooden door. Death awaited on the other side.

Vídarr’s men shifted anxiously around him. They believed in the cause of course, but that didn’t mean they weren’t terrified. Non's name! Even Vídarr was scared, though he’d never show it.

They were there to kill the Nightmare.

A presumably impossible task. Many had tried and failed horribly. No one had lived the experience. But all agreed in the underground that no one should have as much power and influence as the Nightmare did. His resources were immense. He practically had money flowing out of his ears. He obviously had stolen the money, but what do you do about it? Many tried to work with him, make deals, those were the weak ones. The Nightmare never worked with the same crew for more than a month. They’d do a job and be sworn to silence. Any details about this man, no, this god, was unknown. However, whoever killed him would gain his resources and his reward. Which was quite a hefty sum. That’s why they were here on this dark night.

Vídarr was the instigator. He had been a part of one of the crews that worked with the Nightmare a year ago. He was the only one left alive. He had played dead, while the rest of the crew had perished. He was back. Blood lust coursing through his veins.

He held up his hand counting down from three. The men in the front kicked the door down with a bang. The room was mostly empty except for a fire hearth, a bed roll and the corner and an ethereal hustler in the middle of it. He had his back turned towards them. His cloak was colored midnight blue, his hood remained up, to cover his hair. He turned his face covered half of the way up with a black mask the only definable part of him was his eyes. Green and deadly.

“Before we continue, I kindly warn you that everyone who has tried to take my life has failed, and instead were the ones to leave this life.” The Nightmare said politely, as if he was simply making small talk. His voice was deep but was muffled by the mask.

“Silence Nightmare! It’s over. Your power is now ours!” Vídarr said menacingly

The Nightmare shrugged indifferently and motioned them forward. Vídarr's men looked at him unsure. None of them moved. Cowards. The Nightmare let out an exaggerated sigh and charged them. His Midnight blue cloak rustled behind him. He pulled out two gleaming knives and dropped two of the men before they even knew what was happening. He turned quickly and stabbed one through the stomach, as Vídarr's men began to fight back. He stepped back suddenly realizing what a hopeless fight this was.

His men two at a time grunted, choked and died. They never had a chance.

Two men grabbed the Nightmare from behind holding his arms back. He dropped his weapons and unclenched his fists. He wrenched his right arm free, revealing arm blades. He slashed the one man in the face. The poor man stumbled back grabbing his bloody face. He grabbed the man who held his other arm and threw him over his shoulder. The man grunted in surprise, then coughed when the air was knocked out of him. The Nightmare swiftly grabbed his knife from the floor and stabbed it through the other man's throat.

The Nightmare moved like a whirlwind. A hurricane of death. One of Vídarr's men threw his knife but the Nightmare moved his head barely before the knife imbedded itself in his brain. However, it grazed his cheek. The ruby red stream disappeared under his black mask. He shook his head in disdain. He jumped forward and kicked the man on the way down. Vídarr heard something crack. The man screamed in pain till the Nightmare stabbed him. The man made no more sound.

Vídarr looked around realizing he was the only one left. The Nightmare slowly turned towards him. Blood dripped from his blades. An entire crew and all they managed was one little scratch. The corpses of Vídarr's comrades lay around them blood pooling on the floor.