Chapter 921 A Snake In The Henhouse

Chapter 921 A Snake In The Henhouse

As the evening dawned on the east coast of North America, plenty of New Eden players were once again unsure of what to do with their new spare time.

But one player wasn't in this boat. He had lost everything.

With no more guild, no more sponsor, and now, no more game to purge his anger on, Damien Grimm could think of nothing better to do than cause problems for others.

Even with the debts he had to repay to the sponsors he lost, Damien had no shits to give and was spending his money like it was his last day on earth.

'With the shit life I had, might as well go out with a bang, right?' he thought.

So, after drinking his liver into the gutter, he took the keys to his brand new Porsche, and drove away onto the highway, paying no heed whatsoever to the speed limits.

Piss drunk, and barely able to see straight, it was a miracle Damien was even able to make it to the highway without wrapping himself around a telephone pole. But the burning rage inside his mind kept him lucid enough not to kill himself just yet.

As soon as he stopped thinking about the beautiful women around him, and the booze in his mouth, memories of his father beating him to an inch of his death came back, haunting his mind.

He couldn't get the image of his father's face out of his mind.

There was no rage in his eyes, as he had beaten him—no hatred in his gaze.

No.

The man instead looked like he was enjoying beating him up. Like it was something he relished in doing.

Something he fantasized about and could finally do.

Damien was too intoxicated and angry to hear it, but his teeth had begun grinding against each other, as he gripped his steering wheel increasingly hard.

The metal ring in his hand was whining as the metal was bending in his hands.

Looking at the signs on the side of the road, Damien finally snapped out of his anger.

A creepy smile crept up his lips.

"At least I'll be able to enact one revenge soon enough," he grinned, as he read the highway sign.

*Montreal: 147km*

***

"To think once upon a time that threat would have had me on my knees, begging for forgiveness. How low I had fallen. Or rather, how low had your little boss dragged me, and so many others."

Gregory was starting to sweat. The pressure he was feeling was all too real, making him question his unwanted guest's identity.

Very few people on this Earth could make him feel like he was a lesser being. It was most unpleasant to be put in a situation where he could tell the person inside the room with him was toying with him.

Especially since he was usually the one doing the toying.

"Tell me what you want and be on your way. Or I can become serious, and we find out which one of us hides better until one of us dies," he grinned.

But his grin was cut short, as he felt two sharp spokes push into his back ever so slightly.

"I would love to play with you, Gregory. But I don't have that kind of time to waste. You see, I don't give a shit about you. You work for money, and can be bought. Which means you can still be useful in the grand scheme of things," the man behind him said, suddenly becoming tangible.

In the reflection of his scope glass, Gregory could see a man, judging by his traits, around his thirties, with a golden bident in his hands.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked.

"That is irrelevant to the situation. What is, though, is when your boss gets here."

Gregory huffed.

"You know I can't sell out my clients. What kind of reputation do you think that would give me? As a fellow hitman, don't you have that common courtesy?"

David, who was having fun with the man's despair, suddenly frowned.

"A fellow hitman? Do you think I'm scummy like you? I would never waste my time killing for money. I'm not a lowlife like yourself," he spat.

"Then how did you get the drop on me?" Gregory asked, confused.

"I have my ways. But, like I said. Irrelevant. Tell me when Damien gets here, or get your heart pierced through your back without a chance to fight back," David threatened, pushing his bident harder into his back.

The truth was, he couldn't keep this weapon manifested for long yet, and he was on a clock, which was why he was being so pushy.

"You think threats will get me to talk? You may think I'm scummy, but I'm not a sellout. I guess we'll have to find out who the better hide-and-seek player is, after all," Gregory said, grinning widely.

The next moment, he vanished from before David, who thrust forward with his bident, only to hit the air.

'Shit. I knew he was slippery, but this is next level,' he thought, as he melted back into the room's shadows.

The room became deathly silent as shadows flickered under the rising moonlight.

It was on.