The two men sit on their chairs, each on one side of the table. Once they took their seats, the receptionist and Slavic's best friend, Stefan, offered them whisky on the rocks.
"So tell me, Mr. Goddem," Slavic asked in his Russian-like tone. "What brings you back to the underworld...?"
Slavic took his glass and twirled it a little, letting the melting ice liquid mix into the alcoholic drink.
"Are you coming out of retirement, I assume?" He took a sip. Shen just stared motionless and leaned in.
"Rodrigo Torres."
Slavic placed his glass down and looked at him.
"May I ask why?"
Shen just gave him a quick answer.
"Time, location. Reason, café of my mother-in-law, destroyed."
Slavic chuckled lightly. "Over a destroyed wee little building of a café, boy?" His tone turned a little high-pitched at the end of his sentence.
Shen laid back in the chair. Clearly, it was nothing worth much in Slavic's eyes, but he knows how to make him do what he wants him to.
"Imagine a lifetime settlement was completed. Finished," Shen said, taking a sip from the whisky glass as he too twirled the ice-water liquid mixing with the alcoholic drink.
"The ecstasy, the hard work, the will to make it the best well known." Shen placed the glass down. Then looked at Slavic in the eyes as if death were talking to Slavic.
"Then it was destroyed over some dumb petty reason."
Slavic clearly saw Shen's eyes were burning in anger. He sighed, not knowing what Shen was up against.
"Surely and certainly that Black Club is not much of my opinion, yet an old score will be there for meat to meet and dine wine of black braided gold, Lord Sovereign."
They both stared at each other. Then Shen smirked as he already got the answer.
Black Club, a club just 6 blocks away from Haven's Hotel. Old score meant that someone from Shen's past would be there. "Meat to meet and dine to wine" meant a dinner meeting.
And as for the black braided gold, Shen knew who Slavic meant. Shen took the last sips of the ice whisky and placed the glass down. He got up, adjusting his black coat.
"Thanks for the hospitality, Slavic Forelly."
Slavic got up and shook his hand with a tight grip. As Shen was about to leave, he turned to Stefan.
"And Mr. Stefan," Shen turned his head over his shoulder, "do call one of the staff to carefully take my one and only suitcase up to my usual room."
Stefan nodded and Shen disappeared out the door. Stefan asked Slavic, "Should we be careful, old friend?"
Slavic just let out a throaty laugh at Stefan. "Oh please, my good old friend." He patted his shoulder and walked out the door before turning his back over to Stefan.
"If it's 'The Sovereign', he is 'the careful'. Do you still remember NK?"
Stefan's body shivered in fear, knowing what Slavic meant.
"Who can forget what Mr. Goddem did in North Korea? It turned that country into an extinction zone after what he did."
Slavic laughed hard at Stefan's fear.
"Hahahaha. Of course, Shen was the absolute monster. Some people call him death itself—or one of my favourites, the one who turned and made fear into this underworld of criminal organization."
Slavic muttered one sentence that he too was very scared to even say. Shen's most feared title by the criminals, dealers, assassins, many of all kinds, that even Shen was not very fond of.
"The Omen."
Later, somewhere in a dark alleyway, Shen walked into a shop. The shop owner welcomed him kindly. He looked around to see candles, ornaments, and souvenirs.
Until Shen showed his personal sigil to the shop owner. The shop owner gave a light bow since there were civilians.
"Lord Sovereign, are you, perhaps?"
Shen waved his head. "I'm still retired. Just handling some personal issue."
The shop owner nodded and tilted his head to the back entrance. "Black door. Password 1212."
Shen nodded and slipped into the back door as he found the door through the rummage of antiques. He punched in the numbers. The door unclicked itself and slid open to the side.
"Welcome, Lord Sovereign..."
A beautiful Malay woman in all-black attire, covered mouth, with black eyeliner on her black eyes, tattoos, and a hint of cleavage welcomed Shen inside.
The room was a hidden armory. As Shen went to the counter, the lady in black walked to the counter and asked,
"What would it be on this fine and lovely evening, my Lord..."
She asked in a seductive tone as her eyes fluttered at his gaze.
"What do you recommend? Something for protection, silent, fast and... a deadly message."
Shen asked. The woman smirked widely under her covered mouth. She turned around and took out 3 types of pistols as recommended from her point of view.
The woman first presented a Walther PPK with a suppressor as separate.
"This one... is silence dressed in elegance. A Walther PPK, modified. Threaded for suppression. It whispers instead of shouts. You carry this when you want to walk through ghosts — unseen, unheard… but unforgettable. It doesn't announce death. It delivers it with a kiss."
The second one was a machine pistol Glock 18 kind. She handed it to Shen to let him feel it.
"Fast hands deserve fast justice. This is a Glock 18. Select-fire. Controlled chaos in your palm. Light enough to dance, deadly enough to end a ballroom. When you pull this trigger... time trips over itself. You don't shoot with this, you erase."
Shen raised it to check it out, including sliding the handle to lock it in place.
"Mmm..., she's feisty. Suitable for your kind of 'needs', Lord Sovereign?"
The woman licked her lips, gazing at Shen like a primal need.
"Next one, woman."
She presented to Shen the next, a concealed-type carry pistol. The Sig Sauer P365. She handed it to him. Shen could feel the weight of it.
"The P365. It lives in shadows. Nine millimeters of dependable resolve. She fits in your pocket… or beneath your smile. Perfect for hallways, elevators, or that walk to the car. Most never see it. Those who do, see it last."
She ended her explanations on the three weapons. After a while, Shen decided to go with the Walther PPK pistol with the suppressor.
"Ahh.... a perfect fit for you, Lord Sovereign. That will be 4 gold coins."
She said, "One for the weapon. One for the suppressor. One for discretion. And one... to ensure the soul never screams."
As Shen paid for the weapon, he asked for one more thing.
"Where is the nearest tailor... Jamīl."
As in "beautiful" in Arabic.
Later, it was eight-thirty p.m. Shen had entered the nightclub Slavic mentioned. Two guards came up, as if they were waiting for Shen.
They took him to the elevator and went up to the main room on the 5th floor of the building. Once the elevator opened, he entered the room.
But only to see that the person, Rodrigo, he was supposed to meet, was now dead. The room was full of blood, as if a fight took place. The two securities took out their weapons and moved forward.
But to their surprise, they saw Rodrigo—who was dead—but instead, being feasted on by two white lions. They gazed at Shen and growled, protecting their meal.
"What in hell's name—"
"Funny how fate brought us here, Lord Sovereign..."
Shen gazed up to his front view. A woman in black, polished mahogany skin, a red silk dress with polka-dotted pattern, braided gold hair, slim yet curvy. She spoke with a Niger Delta voice.
The same woman from that day—when she demanded to know Shen Goddem's whereabouts from the 5 thieves.
She walked up to her pet lions and brushed their hair. The lions purred and continued to feast on the dead body.
The woman looked at Shen as if she felt betrayed and wanted him dead.
"Shen Goddem..."
She greeted.
As Shen did the same thing—but this time, his guard was raised much higher. He knew who this woman was.
From his past.
"Mawu Ugan."
A fierce lightning thundered with sound on the intense atmosphere in the room. Two individuals were ready to kill each other.
But who will slide out and pull the trigger first?
---
Chapter 9 — End.