Chapter 88: Fire and Brimstone
Seo-jin slammed the door behind him, the sound cracking through the hall like a gunshot. He crossed the catwalk, boots thudding against rusted steel, eyes cutting through the haze of dust and oil smoke that hung over the warehouse. Below, Gregor stood on the docks, talking with a few Dead Hands.
The men froze the moment they saw him. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, they were already gone—backs turned, heads low, pretending not to notice.
"We've got a problem."
Gregor rubbed his scalp, exhaustion clinging to him like grease.
"What now?"
"I connected to the Network. Guess what I found."
Gregor groaned.
"What?"
"There's a bounty on me. The Children of Light—"
"Oh, that."
Gregor let out a short, dry laugh.
"So you saw it, huh? That's your problem?"
The response twisted something ugly in Seo-jin's gut.
"They put a fucking bounty on me. Why wouldn't I be worried?"
Gregor shook his head, the weight in his voice more tired than annoyed.
"I keep forgetting—you don't think like him anymore."
Seo-jin frowned.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Did you even look at the details? The reward?"
Seo-jin hesitated, realizing he hadn't inspected it fully.
"Vial of Resurrection. Didn't read the rest."
Gregor's smirk returned.
"Then you already missed the point. It's not a kill bounty. They just want information. Read the fine print next time. That reward isn't enough to pay for a hit."
Seo-jin said nothing. He knew Gregor was probably right—but that didn't cool the heat burning in his chest.
Resurrection Vials weren't divine, despite the name. They were failsafes, chemical miracles wrapped in false holiness. Drink one, and if your body took a killing blow, it would trigger before the end, repairing the wound just enough to keep you alive. Nothing sacred. Nothing pure. Just a panic button for the rich and paranoid. Nobody would die for a payout that small.
Seo-jin's claws drummed against his thigh, the rhythm sharp and restless.
"Maybe. But if the Light's looking my way, it's already a problem."
Gregor said nothing. The quiet between them hung thick, salt and diesel soaking the air off the docks.
He flicked a hand dismissively.
"I've already run through it. Don't freak out yet. If they knew what you really are, they wouldn't put a bounty—they'd deal with it themselves. The fact it's just an information pull means their intel is shallow. At best they know you were involved with their leader's death."
Seo-jin heard him out; the logic held. He'd seen no surviving threads from the Children of Light after the cherub went up. Their network was frayed—only a few loose ends to tie together.
Still, the revelation didn't settle him. A line had been crossed.
"This still matters. They're only asking for info now, but it will escalate. Get Min and the crew. Everyone in the main warehouse in thirty minutes."
"Everyone? What about patrol?"
"Even them. If something kicks off we'll deal with it, but it's time we got our shit in order. Starting today, the Dead Hands got a lot more work."
Seo-jin turned toward the warehouse, his words trailing behind him like a warning.
"Thirty minutes. Anyone late gets punished."
Gregor watched his former companion cut across the yard and felt something like dread tighten in his gut. He looked out over Shatterbay and couldn't dodge the small, cold tug of responsibility for what was coming. Duty won out. He headed for the gym, first he'd fetch Min, then see what their new leader intended.
He didn't pretend to be calm. He wanted it.
----
Seo-jin scanned the gathered faces and felt his jaw tighten. Disappointment settled heavy in his gut. He leaned toward Gregor, his tone low and sharp.
"This it?"
Gregor's lean shoulders lifted once.
"This is everyone."
No one had been late, but looking them over, Seo-jin could barely call them a gang. They looked more like survivors.
Lynn and John stood near the front. Split-jaw and the twins lingered off to the side. Slims was there too, scars still fresh, but that was the end of it. Barely thirty bodies total.
Gregor caught the look in his eyes.
"We lost plenty with the Wire Dogs. And besides Lynn and John, their team never came back."
Seo-jin's fingers twitched. He kept his face still, though the words landed hard. Gregor didn't know those men had died by his hand. No use dragging the thought up again. He drew a slow breath and stepped forward.
"You all don't look thrilled to be here."
The words hung for a moment. A few strained laughs broke the silence, thin and hollow. Seo-jin heard the truth in them. Something in this room had changed.
"I know some of you have heard things. Hell, I'm sure every one of you has."
He watched them flinch, eyes drop, shoulders tighten. The avoidance was a language he already knew.
"First off, it's true. I wiped out the Wire Dog base. You could call it overkill."
Naming it plainly loosened faces; more of them dared to meet his stare.
"You all deserve the truth. And understand this: what happened there will happen again. Starting today, the Dead Hands will take Shatterbay."
Murmurs rose, a nervous tide of voices.
"I don't expect every one of you to like how we move. But I expect you to do it."
The racket died down, the threat under his words settling like smoke. Still, Slims forced himself forward.
"Boss? Can I ask something?"
Seo-jin gave the man a nod, steady and patient.
"Why did you kill them like that? I—I've never seen anything like those bodies... why'd you do it?"
Fear soaked the man's voice; his hands shook, sweat beaded along his jaw. This was the question Seo-jin had waited for.
"I did it to send a message. To the whole goddamn city."
He let himself loose, cutting the leash and showing them the edge they were about to walk. Bloodlight spilled from Seo-jin in slow, sick ribbons, staining the air with a crimson glow.
"I was stuck in the Fae Realm, and there I learned what it takes to survive. I committed sins no man should speak of, all in order to get back here. To get back to all of you."
He let the sentence hang, watching faces harden and shift toward anger as their minds filled the blanks.
"What I learned there showed me that what we had been doing, was a waste. All of it."
He closed the space between himself and the men, his presence folding over them like a pressure wave.
"We will no longer bow before others. We will no longer fight for scraps. Each of you has potential that has been denied. You, your shard is C rank, yet you're still sit at E. And you, still F rank after having your shard for so long."
He circled them, naming the weak like a butcher pointing out bad cuts.
"All of us have a boot on our necks. Fighting over shit dungeons just to get a chance to lick before it crushs our necks."
He stopped between Min and Gregor, letting his aura seep deep, letting the first stains of Corruption creep in slow and hungry into his men.
"I will make us stronger. But to do that, we need to build our reputation, we need to make sure every other gang or group in this rat infested city learns to fear us. All of you need to become the demon's they have nightmares about."
His eyes settled on Slims. The man was small and shaking, but Seo-jin had already planted the seeds...fear, doubt, then purpose. Once Slims drank in the conviction, he'd spread it like infection.
"What you saw made you fear me. That's good. But now I want you to make them fear you. Can you do that Slims? Are you done being weak? Can you do what needs to be done for the Dead Hands? For your family?"
The man shook where he stood, limbs thin with fear, until Seo-jin said family. The single word tightened Slims' jaw, made his knuckles white. He forced his eyes up and met his boss.
"I don't want to be weak."
Memory clawed at him: Panic's trophies hung like warnings, the Wire Dogs' blood in pools...but the memory of sprinting for help as friends fell, that still tasted of rust and piss.
"If it will help us get stronger, I'll do what you need us to do boss. I'll slit their throats."
Seo-jin let a slow smile spread. This was small, only the first step, but beginnings hardened into things that could not be undone.
He raised his voice and opened his hands to the room.
"Starting today, we will begin my plan. And it all starts with recruiting. We need more men if we want to expand. So first thing, it's time to start a war."
Confusion and hunger crossed their faces; simple minds found simple commands easy to follow.
"We will take out the surrounding gangs, and forcibly add them to our ranks. They will join us, or we will take what we need from them before we kill them."
He nodded toward Min.
"All non-combat classes are to report to Min and begin combat training. I don't care if your only ability is to smell ghosts, you will find a way to be lethal."
Then to Gregor.
"Gregor will lead a small group to start gathering intel. Thirty days Dead Hands. After that, the streets will run with the blood. I swear to you all, Shatterbay will become our dining table, get ready to eat till we're full!"
A roar broke out, cheers, hoots, the low, rising animal sound of men who smelled permission. Their intent thickened like mist.
Lynn pushed forward, voice raw.
"What are you going to do boss? If I can help, I'll do anything."
Some whistled; she ignored them, eyes locked on Seo-jin.
"That part's a secret. For now just train with Min. Alright Dead Hands, let's get started."
The warehouse exploded into motion, groups forming, equipment grabbed, boots on boards, sending a delicious shiver through Seo-jin. The rush of leading was a drug; he could feel it slick and hot in his veins.
But revelry was brief. There was a darker task that required him to keep his face turned away from it.
He glanced out toward the sea. The island Grimm found burned behind his eyelids; plans unfurled like a blade.
He spoke under his breath, teeth bared in a grin that tasted of iron.
"Time to train."