Number 7

"Hey, did you hear?"

"About what?"

"About that serial killer."

"Oh... that one. He's gotten quite a lot of attention recently. It's pretty scary, don't you think? To think that someone like that is running around in the streets doing whatever he pleases..."

"But you know, I've heard that he has a code."

"Eh? A code? What do you mean by that?"

"I heard that he appears out of nowhere when someone who has been deceived and used wants revenge... and when he appears, he makes you a deal."

"What... kind of deal?"

"He takes revenge for the person, but it comes at a price. I heard that if he sympathizes with his clients that he will take the payment from the people he is taking revenge on. But if he doesn't..."

"Then what?"

"If he doesn't sympathize with you, then the person he took revenge upon may very well become his next client."

----

"We're trying to be civil here, you know. But it makes our job QUITE difficult when people don't pay us back. When you take a loan, you're supposed to offer collateral, aren't you? And when you can't pay it back... that collateral gets collected."

"A month!! Give me one month!! No, two weeks!! Please, anything but this!!"

A pathetic man found himself begging before a group of three gangsters.

Smoke wafted in the air as a man with a pompadour hairstyle puffed from a cigarette, glancing down upon the pathetic one with a filthy glare.

"Two weeks? How many times have you extended the date already, hah? Listen to me. We loaned you the money because you told us you could get it back. And you can't get it back. No matter how much we wait, you aren't going to get it back. You've already lost it all, and there's no chance-"

"What if you loan me a bit more? Just a little, 10,000 Sin! If I could get that much… if I could just get that much-"

"Absolutely not."

Putting out his cigarette on the table, the gangster smothered the ashes without regard for the property of another, grimacing as he placed his foot on the head of the man.

"First you take out a standard loan. You lose all the money, and then you turn to our group for a short term loan with the hopes of turning a massive profit gambling in order to pay it off. You lose all that money as well, and now you're stuck declaring bankruptcy in order to get rid of the legal one. And now you have the balls to ask us to give you more?"

Spitting on the pathetic man, the gangster spoke with contempt.

"I think there's something you're failing to understand here."

The gangster pressed his foot even harder on the man as he uttered his next words.

"Those tricks may work on a bank, but they don't mean shit for us."

"P-please... my daughter... anything but my daughter!! I'll work for you, I'll do anything! I'll-"

"Are you willing to give up your own organs?"

"Eh?"

"Are you willing to give up your body for the rest of your life in a labor camp?"

"Huh?"

“Are you willing to sell yourself in the place of your daughter?”

As the gangster asked these questions, the man was left speechless.

He could say no more.

For fear had worked its way into his heart.

"That... that..."

"Well, Sir? What's wrong? Didn't you just say moments ago that you were willing to do ANYTHING in order to save your daughter? HAH!?"

At that moment, the man was met with a kick right to the face.

His head flew backwards from the blow, and blood flowed from his nose as he met the eyes of the aggressor.

And as he did, the gangster frowned with abhorrence.

"I knew it. You're not the type to subject yourself to something like that. You try to obtain everything, you try to save everyone around you, you try to win without any risk, and you lie to yourself thinking that if you just had one more shot that everything would be fine."

Turning his back, the man waved his hand as the other two immediately began moving.

"We're taking your daughter. And if you try to stop us, then we'll be taking your body instead. Make your decision."

As the gangster stated these words, ice ran through the veins of the man who was at his mercy.

Yet even as the men rushed into the other room, the man merely sat there.

His breathing became ragged, and his eyes widened in horror as he heard the girl questioning the men.

"Who are you? What are you doing? Hey!!"

Yet even as he heard this, the man did not so much as move a muscle.

"Stop it!!! Where are you taking me!?!?"

For even though he was a father - he was a disappointment even in that.

"Dad!!! Why are these men here!?!? Why are you just sitting there!?!? HEY!!!"

The door slammed and scratching could be heard as the men dragged the girl outside, leaving the gangster alone with the father in silence.

"So this is your decision."

And with a nod, the man merely let out a sigh of disappointment.

"This is why I don't have any hope for humanity."

Whipping out another cigarette from his pack, the man lit it as he took a puff, exiting the room as he placed his hands in his pockets.

"Because as someone who forces people to make these difficult decisions, I've learned one thing."

As he opened the door, the man lowered his tone as he took the cigarette out of his mouth, breathing out a volley of smoke.

"We're horrible creatures who can only ever prioritize ourselves."

----

The pathetic man sat there on his hands and knees, trembling in anger.

"How can you be so inhumane?", he whispered.

"Is there truly something wrong with not being human?"

As a voice called out in response to this whisper, the man jerked his head up with fear.

"Wha... one of you is still here!? Where... where are you!? What more do you want from me!?!?"

He shouted out these words as his voice was laced with terror, yet silence once more filled the room as the man frantically looked around him only to find that the voice was nowhere to be found.

"Ah, I'm sorry. I suppose you can't see me in this form now, can you?"

It was a blink.

No, perhaps he hadn't even blinked his eyes.

The voice which was previously in front of him appeared from behind him, and the shadow of a man now loomed over the father.

"Eh?"

It merely appeared - from nowhere, as if he had not even existed in the first place.

"Who... what are you?", the man quivered, turning around as he stood up, trembling.

"Who am I?"

The red haired man merely chuckled, fixing his tie all the while as he offered his hand to the man.

"I'm a businessman. Bradley Vendetta... with Vendetta Consultants. CEO."

"What... what do you want from me?"

"I'm here to make you a business proposition. Ah, but I haven't told you what our business is yet, have I?"

Closing his eyes, the man slid his hand into his pocket as he pulled out a piece of paper - holding it before the eyes of the man.

It was a contract.

The father gazed up and down between the man and the paper, wondering what this man could possibly be doing in his house, yet with each word the man spoke he understood that this was no ordinary man.

And that this was not a person he should involve himself with.

"Revenge."

----

"Revenge?"

What could this man possibly mean by such a thing?

As that contract dangled before him, confusion and stress welled up inside his mind, like a ticking time bomb that inched ever closer to explosion.

"What kind of sick joke is this-"

As he made this statement however, the man disappeared before his very eyes.

Widening his eyes as he looked around, the man was nowhere to be found.

'Where...'

"Listen up, Sir. And listen very carefully, because I'm not going to say this twice."

The businessman spoke, however from where the father could not tell.

Yet in the next instant a whisper from behind sent chills down his very spine.

"Do you think I'm joking?"

And in the next moment, everything went silent.

And floating before the man as it slowly made its way to the ground - was the paper.

And then, once more, from a direction the man could not ascertain, he heard a voice.

However this one was feminine.

[We take our clients... and our business... very seriously.]

And as he watched the contract fall to the ground, the voice did not allow the man to retain any peace of mind for even a moment.

[Thank you for choosing us. We hope that there will not be a next time.]

----

The man bent down, picking up the contract.

His eyes stroked down the page, and as he read it's terms he slowly widened his eyes, his hands trembling as he gripped the paper with madness.

"This..."

With a gulp, the man read one line at a time.

[Contract]

[The client shall receive vengeance for the following transgression in proportion and relation to the actions taken]

[The kidnapping of his only daughter]

[Vendetta Consultants shall ensure that a transgression of equal or greater value shall be enacted towards the offending party]

[Payment for this service shall be collected from the offending party]

[In the case that Vendetta Consultants determine this claim to be illegitimate, it shall be reversed and payment will instead be collected from the client]

[Payment shall be made through the obtaining of an asset of equal or greater worth than that of rendered services]

[Client Signature]

'What... is this contract?'

The man merely stared at it, dumbfounded as he tried to figure out what it was saying - however it was then that he realized that there was a red fluid dripping from his thumb.

'Eh?'

And as he removed his hand from the paper, he realized all too late that his thumb was on the spot right next to the signature.

And by a fingerprint of his own blood - the contract had been sealed.

----

[He signed it.]

"They always sign it, don't they? Well, I suppose they don't usually notice when you prepare the pen and ink for them. Hahaha..."

As he walked through the street, appearing to be talking to himself, Bradley Vendetta casually pulled out his phone, pulling up a map as he located the next job.

"Well, it looks like the ones today are a group of loan sharks. They like offering deadbeats who are down on their luck ridiculous sums of money. When they gamble it all away, they take back whatever they lost and more in collateral - whether that's through a house, a car, or even a person."

[Humans never cease to come up with ways to make money. Is that not the very focus of everyone in this world?]

"Perhaps it is."

[How strange it is, don't you think? Why is it that an arbitrary sum can determine how powerful a person is, as opposed to physical strength or fighting capability?]

"Well, that's the thing. If you have money, you can pay people to fight your battles for you. To put it simply, money is something that everyone recognizes it's worth. You can trade it for anything, and you can give it to anyone in order to get them to do something. And because of that universal worth, it's more powerful than even power itself."

[Truly, strange. After all, it is nothing more than mere paper, no? If you were to consider its actual use, it is something which holds very little. And yet you tell me that because everyone considers it to be of worth that such worth mysteriously comes into existence?]

"I've never questioned things this much until I met you, Three."

With this statement, the man seemed to smile lightly as he spoke with the woman inside his head.

[Does my lack of understanding of your customs bother you?]

"No, the opposite. It's because you question everything that I can truly question these things myself."

The man spoke with gratitude in his expression.

"Thank you, Three."

[You're welcome.]

As the man walked through the dark alleyways of the slums, they came across a run down loan office.

Of course, it was no legitimate place, though the sign outside the shop portrayed it as a real one.

[Even when the lies are extremely obvious, humans will still somehow find a way to deceive others, won't they?]

"Yeah... I suppose so."

With a nod, the man walked through the door as a bell seemed to ring, alerting the people of the office that a customer had arrived.

Despite the fact that it was late at night, the office was open - likely because it was a place which only performed its dealings at such a time.

"Which is why it's our job to unveil those lies... and instill fear into anyone who writes them."

And as he entered, the man grinned with a deviousness.

"Now... we've got a job to do, don't we?"

----

"What the hell are we supposed to do with this girl? It's one thing to send someone off to a labor camp or sell them off for their organs to be harvested, but we've never had to deal with someone's daughter before. Do we keep her hostage to get our money back eventually? Do we sell her off just to get rid of her? What move do you want us to make here?"

A frantic subordinate whose expression was filled with worry questioned the man with the pompadour, who continued to smoke from a leather chair without a care in the world.

"You're always running around, screaming and crying at the tiniest little problem. Enough. I heard that the 3rd branch of the street rats was taking kids, right? Just send her there."

"But that's an enemy gang!!! Are we really going to just throw away our pride and assist them-"

"Do you think pride means anything in this game?"

As the man said this, the subordinate was met with a deadly glare - silencing him immediately.

"Pride means nothing. By joining this world you gave up every last shred of pride left in you, so don't try to hold onto it now. That will only get you in trouble. I don't want her to be here at the end of the night. That's final."

"Understood."

The subordinate walked off, defeated as the man gripped his cigarette, pulling it from his mouth as he let out a puff of smoke with exhaustion.

"That's right, isn't it?", he whispered to himself. "I've... gone too far already, haven't I?"

"Heh."

With a light chuckle, the man closed his eyes as he shook his head.

"So I guess there's no point trying to save me now."

"Perhaps. But you know, I used to think that about myself."

As the pompadour whispered this statement, he immediately jumped up as he heard a voice from behind him.

And as he did so, he witnessed a red haired businessman standing right behind his chair.

"How did you... how did you sneak up on me?", the gangster asked.

"But you know, after that I met a certain woman. Well, I met a couple of them, and the first one ended up being the wrong one. But then I met another... and she changed everything for me."

Ignoring the questions of the gangster, the man seemed to prattle on, speaking without regard for the person in front of him.

"She taught me that revenge is a cycle that will never end. And because of that... because it's something which only seems to grow... it's the perfect business to capitalize on."

In the same instant, the gangster felt himself being lifted up into the air.

"UGH!"

As if the red haired man had stopped time itself, his hand was now wrapped around the gangster's neck as he tightened his grip.

"You took someone's daughter in exchange for the money that you lended to them. Well... I suppose you haven't actually done anyone any wrong now, have you? After all... you didn't even take the thing that the man held as the most important. And it was all in accordance with the contract you offered him before, no?"

"What are you... if you can see that much... why are you..."

"If I can see that much, why am I here to collect revenge against you?"

Pressing the man to a wall, the red haired businessman seemed to roll up his sleeves as he prepared for a fight.

"I'm here to analyze the situation and make a judgment. Does that answer your question? Bring her here."

Loosening his grip on the throat of the gangster, the businessman let out an order with no intention of being denied.

"Huh?"

"Call the other men. The girl. Everyone. I'm about to make a decision, so I wanted to ensure that all parties are present. Ah, and I suppose the father should be here as well now, shouldn't he?"

Dropping the man to the ground, the salaryman merely nodded with a snide grin.

"I'm going to bring him here. I'll be right back. Everyone had better be gathered by the time I return."

In that instant, the man disappeared.

His speed was unnatural.

Inhuman.

It was something that could only exist in fairy tales or fantasies - blinding to the eyes - perhaps even faster than light itself.

"What... was he?"

And as the gangster sat there in fear, his entire being trembled.

"Hey!! Hey!!! GET IN HERE!!! GET THE GIRL IN HERE RIGHT NOW!!!"

Shouting this out, the man slowly stood up - falling to the ground as he found that he was unable to even stand - for the terror had worked it's way into his very body.

"Huh? What are you-"

The other man walked into the room to witness the pompadour, barely even able to stand with choke marks on his neck.

"Get the girl in here. Now."

Yet even in such a pathetic state, he spoke with a deadly tone to his subordinate.

"Understood."

And without question, the man left the room, returning with the girl in tow.

She was gagged and tied up, struggling with tearful eyes, fear evident within them.

"Get the others."

"A- alright."

And as the man in charge barked off these orders, soon enough an entire group of gangsters had gathered, large and small, sly and dull, yet all people who were without a doubt not law abiding citizens.

"What is it, boss?"

"Why have you called us here?"

Finally finding the strength to stand, the pompadour opened his mouth to speak, however his words were replaced by the voice of another.

"Because I told him to."

And in that instant, the man looked back to see the red haired man standing there - the father of the girl in his hand as he carried him by the collar of his shirt.

"Wha... where..."

The father looked around with confusion as if he had no idea what was going on, however fear quickly overcame him as he met with the faces of the gangsters and the man who carried him.

"Ugh!"

And as he dropped the father to the ground, the red haired man stepped forward - taking the center spotlight.

"Now then... I suppose it's time to make an executive decision. I'm going to present all the facts, and when I've finished, I'll give anyone who has anything to say some time to speak."

With these words, the man stood in the center of the entire group - not as an ally of the father, but rather as the enemy of perhaps every other person there.

Yet even when completely outnumbered on all sides, he stood there with a smile that said he couldn't care less.

"Who the hell do you think you are!?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Perhaps I didn't explain myself well enough."

As one particular man shouted out, the red haired man's hand slammed into his face, which in turn was slammed into the wall behind him.

"I said you would be able to talk AFTER I've finished."

And as he removed his hand from the slammed face of the man, a distorted sight entered the eyes of every person there.

For the man no longer had a mouth.

The skin had closed up, leaving nothing more than a flat piece of flesh where his mouth once was.

"MMM!!! MMM!"

"If you continue to make noise, your tongue will be next. Haven't you ever learned that you shouldn't speak when an executive is in the room?"

With these words, the mouthless man silenced himself - unable to comprehend what had just happened to him.

Yet at that moment, every single person within that room knew one thing.

The man before them was not human.

He was a monster.

And they could never even hope to fight such a thing.