The New Los Angeles Sentinels

Tales From The City 1

What Happens Off-Camera

The Revenant and his men stood triumphant over the Die-Caste Gangers before them. Revenant Crew was expanding ever outward, leaving a trail of bodies in their wake. This Die-Caste safe house was just their latest acquisition.

Five Die-Caste Gangers survived the assault. Beaten, bloody, and bruised, their labored breaths echoed throughout the safe house. The Revenant strode before them, inspecting them one by one. None of them dared meet his gaze.

The Revenant spoke with a voice like the souls of the damned, “Scum. Worthless. Human Filth.”

He turned sharply after walking past all of them, looking at the Die-Casters as a group, “There is not a one among you worthy of life. But in The War, there are priorities. This is your lucky day. I need men; I need soldiers. Conflict is coming, and I will require an army. But only the best can serve The Cause. Therefore…”

The Revenant reached down, pulling a jagged combat knife from an ankle scabbard. With inhuman speed, the knife rockets out of his hand, landing blade first in the wooden floor in front of the Die-Casters.

“Tryouts.”

A moment of dawning realization came over the gang members, and suddenly they all dove for it, cybernetics kicking into overdrive to be the first to grab the weapon. In a flash, two fell, as a young half-asian man with long black hair grabbed the knife and sliced open two throats belonging to his former comrades. A third fell when the man threw the knife into the chest of a charging combatant. The fourth Die-Caster dove for the knife, grabbing it and charging towards the young man. He doubled back, making for The Revenant, and pulling out a pistol from Revenant’s belt holster, quickly pivoting and shooting his fourth former friend right between the eyes.

The young man panted heavily as silence overtook the room.

The Revenant spoke once more, “Impressive. Resourceful. Winner.”

Before the young man could say anything, The Revenant had his hand around his throat, lifting him off the ground, “Do not touch my weapons without permission. The next offense is your last.”

The Revenant’s voice, dark and brooding, never once changed inflection, despite his obvious anger. The young man nodded, and The Revenant dropped him to the floor. He motioned to his Crew, “Move out. Send a detachment to hold this building. It is our current tertiary forwards operations outpost. We must continue the push. The Cause beckons.”

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