Two weeks after Tarben's death, Urbano's shoes echoed against cracked pavement as he walked through the Zhumo district. Two hulking guards shadowed him, their faces roadmaps of violence—scars crisscrossing cheeks, eyes hardened by countless beatings witnessed and delivered. The biggest building in the area loomed ahead like a chrome and steel cathedral, everyone knowing it belonged to the overlord himself.
The moment they crossed the threshold, warmth fled the air. Neon chaos from the streets died, replaced by the fortress's stark white glow. Walls lined with flickering screens pulsed with the city's lifeblood—every creature walking its streets, every heart beating in terror of the overlord's wrath. Door guards nodded recognition, their stares lingering on the purple bruises decorating Urbano's throat. Whispers of Farrah's rebellion had spread like wildfire, reaching even the highest ears.
The elevator's ascent felt like a countdown to execution. Floor numbers blazed to life one by one while tension pressed against them like a physical weight. Urbano's hand drifted toward the emergency button. The temptation to run—almost too much to bear. But futile. The overlord had eyes and ears in every shadow.
He exhaled slowly and pulled out cigarettes, offering them to each guard. Both declined—too smart to take their eyes off him for even a heartbeat.
The cigarette found his lips, but his lighter clicked empty. "Aww fuck, out of gas. Damnit."
The guard with the cybernetic eye—a scarred mountain of a man—sighed and produced his own zippo. The metallic click birthed flame, orange and blue light painting grotesque shadows across Urbano's weathered face. Nicotine flooded his veins like a warm embrace, but his nerves still danced like live wires.
"Thanks, man." Smoke poured from his nostrils as he nodded. The cyborg guard returned the gesture, face an unreadable mask.
The elevator's ding announced their arrival. Doors parted to reveal less an office than a techno-throne room. The overlord hunched over his desk—a towering monolith of chrome and glass—piercing blue eyes matching the screens surrounding him. He didn't acknowledge their entrance, fingers dancing over holographic keys, each tap echoing in the cavernous space.
Urbano settled into the chair across from him while the guards assumed positions by the door, arms crossed like living statues. Finally, laser-blue eyes lifted from the work, boring into Urbano's soul.
"I've been expecting you." His voice carried the chill of winter despite the technological storm raging on screens behind him. The room hummed with power—a constant reminder of the destruction at his fingertips.
"Yeah, no shit. You got cameras all over this bitch." Urbano fought to keep fear buried beneath nonchalance. The overlord's lips twitched—barely a smile, gaze never wavering.
"Ha! Good old Urbano, still got that smart-ass mouth. That's why I always liked you, Urba." He leaned forward to pat Urbano's head like a favored pet. "You're still cracking jokes knowing I can have you killed in seconds." Settling back, those piercing eyes continued their dissection. "But let's cut to the chase, shall we? Tell me about the whore that took down Tarben. I want to know everything."
Another drag bought him time. "I don't know where she lives. But even if I did, I wouldn't tell your nerdy ass."
Keep your voice steady. Don't let him see the tremor.
Cold, metallic laughter bounced off gleaming walls. "You think you're clever, don't you?" His smile mocked the very concept of human emotion. "I have to say, you're really going to let yourself die over a single whore? It's not like you to be so attached."
"I'm not. Never liked that bitch. She broke my nose and almost killed me. I'm not gonna die for that hoe." The words tasted like acid, but those laser eyes never blinked. Fingers stopped their dance across keys. Silence pressed in except for the cigarette's soft crackle.
"Then why are you—"
"I'm protecting her because we both liked one person... and that was Bella." His voice turned to steel, unshakable. "And if I tell you where she is, I know Bella will never forgive me."
"Are you still mad over one bitch? You had lots of hoes, so what if she—"
The cigarette flew from Urbano's fingers, striking the overlord's forehead with a shower of sparks. Everyone froze—the room's oxygen suddenly sucked away.
"Did you just..." The overlord's hand crept up to touch the smoldering spot.
"I know what it takes to be a pimp longer than you. My daddy was pimping, and his daddy was pimping." Each word gained strength, eyes locked on target. "Our job is to protect our money makers, plain and simple. But Bella was different—she was like a daughter to me." His voice climbed, mixing rage and grief. "I might be fucked up, yes, but I care about all my girls. When you sent that MONSTER to my place, everyone's morale went down, meaning I'm losing more money because of your ass!"
The overlord's smile died, replaced by calculating ice. "Tarben was a... golden goose." Annoyance hissed through his words, eyes flicking sideways—displeasure at losing such profitable livestock. "But if you want to protect them, I'll just kill you and replace you with someone who can make their lives hell."
Laughter erupted from Urbano—equal parts amusement and despair. "You think you can just replace me? Like I'm some kind of disposable battery? You got another thing coming, buddy." He leaned back, arms crossed, grin spreading wild and unhinged. "You see, I planned for this. So I set up the biggest fuck-you for you, Seong-Ho."
The temperature plummeted. "Explain yourself." A deadly whisper.
"I took the money from Tarben and paid the Stygian Clan to protect my brothel, so you can never, ever come back to it." His grin stretched wider, teeth stark against shadow. "They don't give a fuck about your fancy tech or your magic. They're old school—they'll tear you apart piece by fucking piece if you step one foot near my girls."
The Stygian Clan—those barbarians have no respect for anything. Rage flooded Seong-Ho's features, but his demeanor remained arctic. "You dare to defy me?"
"Hey, I knew I was gonna die the moment I walked in here. So there's no skin off my dick." He shrugged, lighting another cigarette, ember casting crimson across his face. "But hey, at least my girls can run the place without me."
Cold steel emerged—Seong-Ho's pistol gleaming under harsh light. The barrel found Urbano's chest like a compass finding north. "I always knew you were weak, having a soft spot for these hoes."
"I'm not scared of no gun, you femboy-lookin', bottom bi—"
BANG.
The gunshot cracked through silence like thunder. The bullet punched into Urbano's shoulder, chair rolling backward, cigarette sailing through air as he roared in pain. Guards flinched but held position—loyalty to their psychotic boss unquestioned.
Seong-Ho rounded his desk, approaching like death personified. BANG. BANG. BANG. Each shot tore through flesh and bone, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. Urbano's body jerked with each impact—a grotesque puppet dance. When the magazine clicked empty, Seong-Ho hurled the weapon aside, hand trembling with rage.
"You always run your fucking mouth too much!" He grabbed Urbano's collar, dragging him close to stare into fading eyes, then drove his fist into that bloodied face again and again. Already dead but I want to feel his final suffering.
He released the corpse and built up saliva, spitting on Urbano's still form. Lifeless eyes stared back, that defiant grin frozen in place, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. The abandoned cigarette lay forgotten—a sad testament to final moments of rebellion.
"Get this piece of shit out of my fucking office." Ice dripped from every syllable. Guards stepped forward with silent efficiency born of years serving a man who painted floors with blood. They dragged the body out, leaving a crimson trail on pristine white tile.
Seong-Ho collapsed into his chair, the room thick with copper blood-scent and acrid gunpowder. He inhaled deeply, gaze lingering on the door's swing. Bending down, he retrieved the cigarette butt, rolling it between his fingers before crushing it under his boot. Control. It's all about control.
"Now I lost one of my golden geese and a brothel... AHHH! What a fucking pain!" His fist slammed the desk, screens rippling from impact. He composed himself, leaning back to steeple fingers under his chin, chrome reflecting emotionless light. Time for retribution. Time to tighten my grip on this city.
Urbano's eyes snapped open, lungs gasping for air that tasted of burning flesh and gunpowder. He sat up, surveying his surroundings—nothing but darkness stretching infinite. "Where the fuck am I?"
Cold pressed against him from every direction. The room seemed endless, its only light source a lone candle flickering in the corner. Stone walls, floor sticky with what felt unmistakably like blood. He looked down—still wearing his tuxedo, now torn and stained with his own crimson.
"Welcome to the Void, Urbano." A sweet, calming voice echoed through shadow, sending ice down his spine.
I know that voice... ain't no way...
"Bella?" Hope sparked despite the morbid setting.
A figure materialized—blonde hair with light-blue frost tips, piercing blue eyes, dressed in flowing shadow and moonlight. Bella. Or her ghostly echo, a spectral reminder of what once was.
"Surprise, Urby." Her smile carried infinite sadness. "Sadly... you're dead. In a pretty bad way, to be completely honest."
"But I saw what you did before you got shot. It was so badass!" Her spectral form chuckled, eyes gleaming with the same fiery determination that had made her legendary. "You always had a flair for the dramatic, didn't you?"
Tears carved tracks down his cheeks. "I... I thought you would hate me for what happened..."
She stepped closer, shadowy hand reaching to wipe his tears. Despite the room's chill, warmth spread through him.
"Why would I be mad? If you'd known Tarben was into that kind of stuff, you wouldn't have put any of us with that sicko."
He grabbed her shoulders, desperation bleeding through. "But how could you have known!? How can you be so fucking forgiving and nice!? Why don't you fucking hate me!? WHY!?"
His voice shattered the void, pain and failure finally erupting. His knees buckled under guilt's weight.
"Because, Urba," her voice softened to silk, "you were the closest thing I ever had to a dad." She knelt beside him, form flickering in candlelight. "You protected us, even when you didn't have to."
"When I was a little girl, you saw me running from slavers. You invited me in, gave me food, treated me like I was your own flesh and blood." Her projection grew clearer, shadows pulsing with gentle warmth. "You didn't just save me that day—you gave me a home, a family. You didn't just protect your investment; you protected your daughters, even though we weren't truly yours to keep. Even though you were a dick."
A broken laugh escaped his lips as he wiped his eyes. "Yeah, I guess I was." The room grew warmer, candle flame brightening. "I cared about Farrah too, even if she'll never know." That fiery redhead with her sass and unbreakable spirit.
The candle erupted into a massive flaming door, screams and agony pouring from the other side. His eyes widened before closing in resignation. Should have known I'd be going to hell. He stood, squaring his shoulders. "But I guess I gotta face the music."
He reached for the handle—metal searing his palm—but didn't flinch. Pain's just a small part of my punishment.
Suddenly Bella leaped onto his back. "What!? What are you doing!?"
"I can't let you go through that alone, Urba!" Her arms wrapped around his neck, spectral warmth battling the cold.
"What!? Hell no! You don't belong there—you should be in heaven!" His heart hammered against his ribs.
"You're right, heaven may be paradise..." The flaming door's screams intensified. "But if you go through there without me, I won't be able to forgive myself. You're all I have left, Urba. And I'd rather burn with you than be in paradise without you."
He shook his head, laughter mixing with tears, then gripped her legs tight. "You crazy girl, always so dramatic." A genuine smile split his face. Heat became unbearable, but Bella's presence gave him strength. He inhaled deep and pulled the door wide—screams of the damned assaulting their ears.
"Urba..." Her voice grew faint as flames revealed infinite landscape of agony.
"Yeah?" Hope and dread battled in his throat as they stared into the fiery abyss.
"Is it okay if I call you dad?" The whisper cut through the cacophony of suffering. His eyes watered—rare emotion overwhelming his hardened exterior. He nodded, unable to speak.
Her smile could have lit the darkness. "Thank you, dad. Let's go kick hell's ass together."
I can't believe what I'm hearing, but... Warmth bloomed in his chest, something he hadn't felt in decades. He breathed deep and stepped through the doorway, flames slowly consuming them both.
We have each other. That's all that matters.