Praise Be The Saint

Chapter 6: Chapter 6: The Unforseen Prize



Matthew's fingers trembled slightly as he reached for the box. His instincts told him it was something valuable—something more than just money or drugs. It was too well-hidden, tucked away beneath heavy crates, to be something insignificant.

The box itself was unassuming: small, wooden, and battered from years of neglect. But the moment Matthew pried the lid open, his sharp eyes widened in disbelief.

Inside, resting carefully in a bed of shredded paper, was a small vial. It was clear, filled with a dark liquid that seemed to shimmer, almost glowing with an unnatural hue. The glass was delicate, too pristine for a place like this, and a chill ran down Matthew's spine.

He leaned closer, inspecting it. The liquid inside was unlike anything he had seen before—too dark, too thick. It didn't look like any substance he had encountered in Gotham's underworld.

A sense of dread settled over him. As he held the vial, Matthew's mind began to race. This wasn't some stolen merchandise or a simple gang product. The liquid inside the vial radiated a faint pulse of energy—almost magical in nature. It wasn't something any street thug would be dealing with.

Could it be…?

His thoughts flickered to the rumors he'd overheard in alleyways and backrooms—the whispers of strange new experiments, people speaking of scientists gone rogue, and stories of Gotham's darker, more supernatural elements. He had brushed them off as just that—rumors. But now, holding this vial, it all seemed more real than ever.

Could it be a weapon? A drug? Or… something else entirely?

Matthew pulled out his burner phone, taking a quick picture of the vial. He needed to know what this was. The gang wouldn't have hidden it this carefully if it was some run-of-the-mill contraband. But who could he trust to get answers?

He hadn't come this far to make mistakes now. He couldn't afford to get distracted by something he didn't understand. He had to stay focused.

Still, the vial felt… important. It wasn't just about power; this was something far more dangerous. A tool that, in the right hands, could be a weapon of unimaginable force.

For a moment, he considered disposing of it—leaving it behind. But curiosity tugged at him. What if this could be his ticket to even more control, more influence? What if it was exactly what he needed to take down the gang and rise even higher in Gotham's criminal hierarchy?

His breath quickened as the potential coursed through him. He couldn't let this slip away. He needed to understand it. To figure out how to use it. The vial hummed softly in his hand, like it was waiting for him to make a decision.

"No turning back now," Matthew muttered under his breath.

He slipped the vial into his pocket, masking his thoughts of curiosity behind a cold, calculating mask.

There would be time to figure it out later. Right now, the real job was securing the gang's operation.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed in the distance. Matthew snapped back to the present. He wasn't alone anymore. The chaos of the warehouse, the gunfire, and the commotion—it would be drawing attention.

He needed to move.

Matthew quickly surveyed the area, his eyes locking on the door to the office he had heard about earlier. His pulse surged; the office was the next stop. He couldn't let the gang's leaders escape. With the vial still tucked safely in his pocket, Matthew moved toward the office, knowing this unexpected find would change everything.

He had just uncovered a piece of Gotham's hidden world—something darker and more powerful than anything he had imagined.

____

Matthew's heart raced in anticipation as he approached the office door, his hand instinctively resting on the handle of his gun. The vial in his pocket seemed to pulse with an eerie energy, a constant reminder of the gravity of what he had just discovered. He couldn't let the gang's leaders slip through his fingers now—not with something this valuable in his possession.

The footsteps in the distance grew louder, signaling that the rest of the gang was aware of the breach. Matthew had no time to waste. He pushed the door open just enough to slip inside.

Inside the Office

The room was dim, lit only by the weak glow of a single desk lamp. It was sparse, with a few filing cabinets and a large wooden desk cluttered with papers. At the far end of the room, a steel door likely led to more secure areas—probably where the real business was happening.

Matthew's eyes scanned the room quickly. A tall man, wearing a leather jacket and a black beanie, sat behind the desk, speaking into a phone. He hadn't noticed Matthew enter yet, his attention fully absorbed in the conversation.

"You're telling me the shipment's delayed again?" The man's voice was sharp, demanding. He paused to listen to the response. "No excuses. I want those goods tonight, or heads are gonna roll."

Matthew's lips curled into a faint, cold smile. He knew this was the gang's second-in-command, a man named Marco who handled the day-to-day operations. His reputation as a ruthless enforcer had made him infamous in Gotham's criminal circles. If anyone could lead him to the boss, it was Marco.

The Confrontation

Matthew moved silently, circling behind Marco's desk. The man's back was still turned, giving Matthew the element of surprise. He could take him out easily—one shot to the head, and that would be it.

But that would be too simple. Too quick.

No, Matthew wanted something more. He wanted control. Information. And Marco, as well as the rest of the gang, were his stepping stones.

He stepped forward, his footsteps muffled by the carpet. When he was just behind Marco, Matthew spoke, his voice icy and menacing.

"Still handling business on the phone, huh?"

Marco's body stiffened, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun holstered at his waist. But before he could draw it, Matthew's gun was pressed against the back of his head, a cold threat.

"Don't bother," Matthew said, his tone emotionless. "You're going to listen, and you're going to cooperate."

Marco's eyes darted to the side, where he saw Matthew's reflection in the glass of the window. His breath caught in his throat. He was cornered.

"Who the hell are you?" Marco growled, trying to hide his fear.

Matthew chuckled, the sound low and predatory. "Doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm in charge now."

The Information

Marco hesitated for a moment, then spoke, his voice laced with reluctance. "You won't get away with this. You don't know who you're dealing with."

Matthew pressed the gun harder against his skull. "I don't care about your boss, Marco. I care about what's in this warehouse. The stash. The operations."

He paused, letting the silence drag out, allowing the tension to settle in the room.

"Tell me everything, and I might let you live," Matthew said, his words smooth, controlled. "Otherwise, well, we both know what happens next."

Marco swallowed hard, his eyes darting nervously. He knew he was out of his depth.

"There's nothing to tell," Marco said, though his voice faltered. "You've hit the stash, but the real operation's locked up in the vault. Our boss's got connections. High-level stuff. You don't mess with them."

Matthew's eyes narrowed. "And where's the boss?"

Marco hesitated. "He's not here. He's got a safe house in the South End. But that vault… you won't get past it. It's protected. I don't know how, but it's locked down tighter than anything I've ever seen."

Matthew's lips twisted into a grin. This was exactly what he needed. The vault. The safe house. The boss. It was all falling into place.

"Tell me how to get to the vault," Matthew demanded.

Marco shook his head, his voice trembling. "You don't want to know. It's not just a vault—it's—"

"Tell me, Marco."

There was a brief silence before Marco spoke again, his voice low. "The vault's got high-tech security. The boss set it up with some tech guys—old allies from the military. It's not just about cracking codes. It's got magic involved. If you try to open it, it'll trigger something—something bad."

The Decision

Magic.

Matthew's hand tightened on the grip of his gun. It wasn't the first time he had heard of magical defenses in Gotham—there were whispers of rogue warlocks, dark sorcerers running covert operations. But hearing it directly, from someone involved with it, sent a chill through him.

So, the stakes were higher than he realized. This wasn't just about taking out a few thugs—it was about navigating a world of magic and high-tech security, a world he didn't fully understand but was clearly entangled in.

"Show me where the vault is," Matthew said, his voice cold and unwavering.

Marco hesitated, but when he saw the look in Matthew's eyes, he knew resistance was futile.

"Fine," Marco spat, a mix of fear and bitterness in his voice. "But I'm not gonna help you open it. You're on your own with that."

Matthew didn't flinch. "Lead the way."

With the vial still tucked safely in his pocket, Matthew's focus sharpened. The gang's vault held something far greater than money—it held power. 


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