A young urchin mutters in a shaking voice punctuated by sobs. Whimpering her tale out to the other street rats in the slums “Dressed in black, laughing, but it was a bad laugh… like when the mad people scream… or the dead people cry… ‘is sword was glowin’ red, like he’d brought it form hell. The red glow would shine out though the dark and light up the people a second before ‘e cut ‘um down. All the time laghin’.
‘E’s walking through all the Bosses men, like they were nuffin, they tried to stop ‘im but they cut him and the blood poured and all it did was make ‘im laugh more… screaming at them to try harder because death were comin’ for ‘um.
The Boss were the last to fall, but ‘e didn’t die right away, ‘e just looked up at that shadowed ‘ood and asked ‘im “why?” and the metal man in black, ‘e jus’ leaned over, and ‘is voice were quiet and empty and made me feel like the ice were comin’ for me in the middle of the night.
E’ said “Your pain is helping me ease my own, and I bless you for that.” And then ‘is sword came down, glowin’ brighter like the blood were feedin’ it and ‘e carried the ‘ed away leavin’ a long trail o’ red after ‘im.
E saw me o’ course and turned that empty ‘ood to look right at me, but e’ jus’ flicked the blood off ‘is sword and kept walking. I ain’t never goin’ down to that lodge again!”