Number 7

[Prove it to me.]

As Marcus made his declaration, he was met with the ever so arrogant voice of Seven, which slithered into his mind.

[If you want to follow your own morals... if you want to help people... then I don't particularly care. However... prove to me that you can do so while accomplishing our goals.]

Without restraint, Seven laid a condition on Marcus - one which the man had been fully expecting.

[You want to destroy this gang, no? You want to save all the innocent people who have suffered at their hands. Am I wrong?]

"That's right.", Marcus said, his grin deepening as the two seemed to fall upon the same line of thought.

[Then show me.]

And with this command, the voice of Seven resounded boldly within Marcus.

[Show me that you can defeat them... that you can help the people who have suffered under them... and that you can do it in a way that makes them HATE you.]

[If you can do that... then I will work with you.]

[And we will take over the remains of this world.]

[However... you must do this with your own power.]

[After all... I can't afford to have a USELESS host, after all.]

"Very well."

Holding forth his hand, confidence surged through Marcus.

In an instant, a blade formed from the flesh of his left hand, and a mallet formed from his right.

These two weapons took form, eventually detaching from his hands as the flesh retook its original form.

The two weapons clanged to the ground, at which Marcus picked them up, dual wielding them with a smile.

"I... no... we won't fail. Sylvia... is this acceptable?"

"Acceptable?"

Walking forth, Sylvia held out a hand.

"Make one for me too, you hot headed idiot."

"That isn't something you should call your manager. After all..."

Tossing the mallet to his other hand, a spear began to form from his now free hand as he held both of his own weapons in the other.

"If you do... you might get fired."

The spear dropped, at which Sylvia caught it in a smooth motion.

And then, both grinning with confidence, the two began to laugh.

"Heh...."

"Heh..."

"Hahaha...."

"Ah... how simple the solution was...."

"All we had to do... after all..."

"Was to rely on negotiation."

The two laughed together, their minds finally eased.

However even in their eased minds, something had broken within them.

For they did not look down, instead looking upwards as they walked through the room of bodies.

"It was so simple... yet we ignored it this entire time."

"Our emotions perhaps blinded us... preventing us from coming to an obvious conclusion."

The two walked forth, exiting the room as the young girl followed them, not blinking an eye as they left the room with tears forming in their sneering eyes.

"So, Sylvia? Are you prepared?"

"Am I prepared? Hahaha... I was prepared for death. How could I not be prepared for this?"

"I see."

Swinging their weapons around like a couple of thugs, the two undead walked forth with forced grins, smirking as they strode forth.

"It's time to become a pair of villains."

----

"I suppose we should figure out how to treat this girl first, no?"

Marcus and Sylvia walked through the hallway of what was likely some sort of underground dungeon.

Following behind them was the girl known as Isabella, whose hair they noticed was a shade of navy blue as the dim lights that lined the ceiling flickered on her.

"Yes... I suppose that is correct. Well... I have an idea or two. Marcus. Why don't we use her?"

"Hm? What do you mean by that?"

Marcus looked to Sylvia, who snickered as she walked forth with arrogance in her grin.

"Isabella. That is your name, no?", she said without so much as turning back to the girl.

"That is correct, Mistress.", the girl stated.

"You understand that your brother is dead, right?", Sylvia asked.

"Yes, I understand that. I have already said so, Mistress."

"And his final order was to serve us?"

"Yes."

"Then wouldn't that make you our SLAVE?"

Stopping as she walked, Sylvia turned around, thinning her eyes as she faced the girl.

She spoke this word with emphasis, gauging how the girl would react to such a term.

"That is exactly what that would make me, Mistress.", the girl said without blinking. "I am your slave."

As the girl said this without even thinking about it, Sylvia took in a deep breath as she came to understand the mental status of the girl.

She was so far removed from reality that even being called a slave was something which she would accept in the blink of an eye.

"Then... you will do anything if we order you to?"

"Yes, Mistress."

At this reaction, Sylvia smirked.

"I see."

Continuing to walk forth, Sylvia motioned for the two to follow her as she stepped forward with confidence.

"If we have to become villains... then wouldn't you agree that enslaving a child is the best place to start, Marcus?"

As Marcus realized what Sylvia was implying, he too grinned as he stepped forth.

"Oh... oh.... hahaha... I see."

Fixing his suit jacket, the man too grinned as the two walked alongside one another, proudly stepping forth with grand expressions.

"Hahaha... yes, I suppose you are correct. After all... what practice could be seen as more villainous?"

"Heh..."

"Hah..."

Thus, the two made their way through the facility.

With their resolve having been trampled and stepped upon, they eventually came to a decision.

That in order to save the people of this world, they would have to become hated.

"The media... would very often demonize people who did no wrong, portraying their actions as horrible even when they were truly trying to do the right thing for those around them.", Sylvia mused. "On the other hand, those who did truly evil things were praised and loved by the media... worshiped and adored like idols as they bathed in their political correctness. And so if we have to become villains... then we don't have to be evil. We only have to put on a facade of evil... before the public eye. Isn't that right... Seven?"

[You certainly have a knack for using the system to your advantage... or in this case... to your disadvantage.]

With a sarcastic tone, Seven commented on Sylvia’s deduction.

[But you speak the truth. Human media... the very concept of false portrayal materialized... it is one of the greatest true evils of this world. It is an evil which that man would use to his advantage, paying them grand sums of your currency in order to ensure that he was adored. If you wish to use similar methods to achieve the opposite effect... then who am I to stop you?]

"Very well. Then I suppose if I'm going to become an evil mistress... I should start to play the part."

It was as she said this that the hair of Sylvia began to grow, lengthening itself to the point where it dropped down to her knees in a chaotic yet controlled manner.

Her sharpened eyes thinned with joy as her lips curled up her face, and the woman looked forward with an expression of anticipation.

And then, wrapping itself around her, the hair began to take the form of clothing.

"I suppose manipulating your hair in this manner was something you could do, Number One?"

[I never said it wasn't.]

In an instant, Sylvia was redressed, now wearing a professional outfit that resembled that of a military comandress.

With a short skirt and even a military cap across her head, Sylvia looked over to Marcus with a grin.

"You as well, Marcus."

Then in that moment, the hair of the woman engulfed the man, stitching itself as a new outfit formed.

His suit was repaired, and the man's clothing became as good as new. Blood no longer covered him, and atop his head was now a fedora.

The man grinned as the hair retracted, tipping his hat with a sinister grin.

"Ah... yes... I suppose this does allow us to play the part, doesn't it?", he cackled. "But doesn't our slave need something... more appropriate?"

"No. The rags are fine for her. After all... we cannot allow people to think that we are treating her WELL. No?"

"Oh ho... you do think of everything, don't you Sylvia?"

"I try."

Thus, the two walked forth, approaching a doorway which led to a set of stairs.

"It would seem that going up this way would lead us to the ground level."

"Indeed."

Marcus and Sylvia both nodded as they proceeded to approach the door, however as they did so the girl spoke up.

"Master and Mistress... that door will lead you to the branch headquarters. Brother was the Commander of the 3rd Branch of the Street Rats Organization, and going up there will lead you to his subordinates. Are you certain you wish to ascend?"

As the girl said this, Marcus and Sylvia both turned to look at the girl.

"I see. So this is a mafia headquarters then, and not just some sort of containment facility?", Marcus asked as he stopped to think.

Leaning back on the walls, Marcus put his hand to his chin as he notioned for Sylvia to take a spot beside him.

"Isabella. Tell us more. How many branches are there?"

Addressing the girl, Marcus decided that it would be best to gather any information before acting.

"There are a total of five branches. Each is led by a member of the family. The young master leads the first. His older brother leads the second. His younger brother leads the third. His uncle leads the fourth. And his father leads the 5th. Each branch has their own specialty."

"Specialty?"

Marcus thinned his eyes, disgust evident in his voice as he motioned for the girl to continue.

"Yes. Each headquarters has a specialty in crime. The specialty of this headquarters was child related crime. The kidnapping of children, the use of those children as illegal laborers, the selling of such children - whether to be used as a slave or as a sexual toy. And of course... the training of the children to become members of the mafia. The only ones that were kept here in the facilities were those who would be trained up to do the work of the mafia, such as myself. We were the ones that brother chose to be his younger siblings. And as such... we worked hard to ensure that he wouldn't throw us aside to do other tasks."

As the girl spoke, the expressions of Marcus and Sylvia gradually darkened.

She said such things without a care, not so much as disturbed by the horrible things which she had just described.

"Marcus."

"Yes, Sylvia?"

"I don't think it's going to be all that difficult."

"I don't either."

Gripping their weapons, the two stepped forth, opening that set of doors as they pressed into the heart of the base.

"To become villains, that is."

----

"I don't like it."

Cigar smoke wafted through the air of a modern bar, filled to the brim with numerous men whose appearances shouted that they were in no form of legal business.

"Hm? What don't you like? You don't like anything."

Two of these men chatted with one another beside a pool table, the first gripping his cigar in his mouth as he pulled back for a shot.

Clack!

The balls clattered around the table, chaotically rolling as they bumped into one another without rhyme or reason.

Pulling the cigar out of his mouth as he pulled back from the table with an irritated expression, the man spit to his side with disgust.

"I'm talking about the bosses take on this whole thing. Why the hell are we still sitting around in this place?"

The man grabbed a piece of chalk, rubbing his pool stick as he watched the other man line up a shot.

"Now, now, we gotta be patient. Don't you think that it could be pretty dangerous out there? It's best to wait and see what happens."

Clack!

Thunk!

Sinking a ball with his shot, the second man grinned as he moved around the table, lining up another.

"Don't you get it? The world has been destroyed. Everything is gone. We've had to be careful not to step on too many toes to keep this business underground, and so long as we've done that we could make as much money as we wanted. But now that those governments are gone, there's no more need to bribe and bother with all that garbage. And if that's the case... then we can really become the rulers of the world."

Clack!

As the man said this last statement, the other seemed to slip on his shot, dreadfully missing as the cue ball rolled to a stop without hitting anything.

"Heh."

The first man picked up the ball, glaring around the table as he decided where to place it.

"Rulers of the world? Don't tell me you think it would be that easy. Plus, how do we know there's any world even left to rule?"

Placing the ball in a pristine spot which would allow for an exceptionally easy shot, the man grinned as he lined it up - though to even call this shot 'lining it up' would be a stretch.

"That's the thing. How the hell are we supposed to know what's left if we're cooped up here? He wants to try to make a profit off those kids, but how the hell can we make profit like that in this world? Money probably isn't worth shit anymore. Only thing worth anything is food and bullets."

Clack!

Hitting the easy shot and moving around the table to line up his next shot, the first man continued to speak under his breath.

"If it were up to me I'd just use 'em as bait for the zombies and leave' em behind if things got rough."

"That's why it isn't up to you."

Stumbling on his shot as the second man made this comment, the first man looked at him with a glare.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said. You have no business sense. Using them as fodder? Hah... do you even understand how much those kids would be worth in this world?"

Crack!

Breaking his pool stick in half, the man threw it to the ground as he picked up the second man by the collar of his shirt.

"Eh? Are you picking a fight with me? You calling me a dumbass?"

"I ain't calling you a smartass."

"Yeah bud. That would be you."

With a crash, the second man was thrown to the side, landing on a table as a flurry of drinks spilled to the floor.

"HEY!!"

"What the hell you two think yer doin'!?"

"Ya got beer on my damn suit!!"

Three men stood up from the table that had been destroyed, two of them focused on the man who had been thrown while the other walked over to the first man.

"How the hell you gonna make up to me for this, boy?"

"Make it up to you? Hah! Your fault for being in that spot in the first place."

It was then that the first man pulled out his cigar from his mouth, putting it out on the coat of the man who had approached him.

"Here. Special service. A little bit of heat should dry that right out, shouldn't it?"

"You think you're funny, big man?"

Grabbing the hand of the man whose cigar was placed onto his coat, the third man glared at the first with a deathly stare.

"Fists up, boy. I ain't sticking around this joint if people like you are gonna try and run it. The boss is the only reason I'm even here-"

Before he could even finish his sentence, the man was met with a fist to his face as blood spurted from his jaw.

"Ugh!"

Stumbling back while holding his bleeding nose, the man felt behind him to grab a piece of broken glass off the table, which had now been cleared.

"You think you're tough, eh? I'll just show you who the fuck you're messing with."

"Oh?"

As the third man rushed towards the first, the first flicked out a pocket knife, preparing himself with a smile.

"Then come at me, shitface."

The two then rushed at one another, however it was in that instant that they were frozen.

Stopped in midair, the blades which each of the men held were halted just inches before slicing the other's throat.

"What the!?"

"Fuck is going on here!?"

The men glared at one another, unsure what to even say as they furiously tried to move their bodies - yet could not.

"Hey... what's going on?"

"I can't move...."

"H-hey... what is this?"

"Agh!!!"

Among the dozens of men within the room in that instant, all of them froze in whatever position they happened to be in.

And then a single man began to scream as his arms were twisted behind his back in a brutal fashion.

"H-help me!!! What the fuck are you all doing!?"

"What are we doing!? What are you doing!?"

"Why can't we move!?"

"AGH!!! My fingers!!!"

The fingers of one man began to twist around, unscrewing themselves with a rain of blood as they took a form which was in no way natural.

"My... my leg!! Stop this!!!"

The leg of one man wrapped around and behind his head, and the tearing of his flesh could be heard as it was pressed far beyond his limits.

"What... the fuck is going on...", the first man whispered under his breath as terror sunk into his heart, the screams of the others filling his ears.

"What's going on?"

It was at that moment, from behind him, that he heard it.

The seductive yet mocking voice of a woman.

“What’s going on, he asks. Isn’t that funny?”

And in that instant, the head of the man - and all the others around him - were twisted around in an inhumane manner, violently being stressed far beyond their limits as their gazes fell upon her.

A zombie.

Her hair was spread all around her - flaring out to every corner of the room as it tied itself with each and every one of the limbs of the people.

She sat laying on the pool table, grabbing the stick gently as she eyed the tool with her sharp gaze.

"It's simple really."

With a smirk, the woman jumped up as she scooped up the cue ball in her hand, placing it gently as she walked around the table.

The gazes of all the men were focused on her as they breathlessly watched, unable to take their eyes away for even a moment.

Their hearts felt as if they were about to shatter, yet even so they were captivated by the beauty which the zombified woman possessed in every movement.

"I'm here to play a game."

Then, pulling back the stick, the woman closed one rotten eye as she took aim, confidently lining up her own shot as she licked her lips.

"And you all... are the pieces."

Clack!

Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack!

"Ah. I call that pocket."

Taking her shot as she pointed to the lower left corner of the table, the entire table was thrusted into chaos as the balls clanged with one another, dropping like flies as they fell into the pockets one by one.

Soon enough, each of the balls had fallen into a hole - leaving just two alone on the board as they approached one another.

The eight ball and the cue ball.

Clack!

With one final collision, the 8 ball was sent on the trajectory of the pocket which had been called upon.

Slowly, ever so slowly, it approached the pocket, then just before it went in it came to a stop.

With a grin, the woman walked over to the eight ball, placing her face near it as she let out a breath.

"Phew."

Thunk!

And then, it fell in.

"See? I was right. It went in. And I didn't do anything to touch it. Isn't that how the game works?"

Stepping forth with a grin, the men who watched her were unsure whether to even say anything - however as she approached them their words were cut off from their throats.

"Now then... It's your turn to fall. And I don't want to hear any excuses like cheating. After all..."

It was at that moment that the woman disappeared.

In the corner of the room which she was furthest from, a scream was heard as a thud resounded within the ears of all.

And as the men looked over, the woman was there.

The pool stick which she held just before was stuck straight through the head of a man, who had fallen to the ground with a splatter of blood - barely even able to let out a scream as he died.

"We're monsters."

Bending down, the woman plucked the stick from the head of the man, bloodying her gorgeous outfit in the process.

And then at that moment, another zombified man walked into the room.

His hair was slicked up, and he grinned with a professional expression, his quiet steps overtaking the ears of all as he finished the sentence of the woman.

"And how can a monster cheat... when we don't bother with rules in the first place?"