"...Please, just let little George go." 

The pleas reached nothing but deaf, uncaring ears. The mother, her nose broken, embraced her son tightly, trying her best to make him calm. Despite that, the child wept, tears and snot mixing like some sort of devilish concoction. Disgusting, Leman Russ thought. He wants to get out of the sight fast and start making his way onto this world. But no, he must finish this job. This fucking job. 

Leman chugged down his beer and threw the bottle against the wall. The bottle shattered. Little George and his mother shrieked, anticipating the pain. If this was a shit-terror show, it would've earned a prime spot. Leman clutched his sawn-off shotgun with care. A little tap of this beast will unleash hell. 

"You sold off my boss. Pointed his location to shadowy killers of the night. You're just a small shard of the genocide, a small part of the grand puzzle. But we have to tie loose ends."

"I just need the money," The mother spoke, amidst her tears.

"You're a whore. A pretender whore." Leman spat on the floor. "Give me one good reason not to kill you and your son."

"Please...kill me, just let my son go."

"Impossible. Bossman's last written request was to kill, destroy all loose ends. I have to follow that."

"But you're no longer-

Leman aimed the shotgun and pulled the trigger without hesitation. The loud blast shook the whole room and threw the poor mother back to the wall. Blood and flesh splattered from her mangled head. Her hands quivered one last time, as if reaching out for little George. The child shouted and crawled away - his face lacerated by the sprayed blast. 

Leman Russ aimed. Child. The fuck do I care, he thought. A second later, the beast bellowed and little George sprawled - the demonic bullet cutting his small frame in half. Blood flowed from his shattered organs and eviscerated flesh. With that, Leman Russ stood. 

If it wasn't for the grand betrayal, he would've come with an olive branch, a token of friendship. Now, he came with a sword. And he executed. This is Leman's life now. Gone are the old days of partying, swinging, whoring. This time, everything must be dealt with, seriously.

But he still can't take his mind off beer. And his brothers. Leman Russ, the Wolf Lord, still has a mission to find his Wolf Knights. His blood brothers. Perhaps they're here in this new world filled with corruption and backstabbing and skullduggery. 

Russ took a gas can and poured gas onto the mangled corpses. Before he got out of the room, he set the corpses on fire. Like rage. Like vengeance. Like sheer, unstoppable passion. Quickly, he left and drove away.

No more olive branches, Russ thought. Just swords. Pure swords.

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