Black Hood: - Nick Venom (top 20 books to read .TXT) 📗

simple and small room. He had a twin-sized bed that barely fit him and a small coffee table that was of no use to him. The walls were ghost-white and the flooring was made out of hardwood, nothing out of the ordinary. The room, itself, wasn’t special. It didn’t have vivid or bright colors to illuminate the room, instead, being white and black; devoid of colors.

Every other room in the house matched his room, all being near-identical. Spec wasn’t fond of the appearance of his house, but he didn’t want to change it. He kept the house the same as when his family was still alive and united.

He sat down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling’s crackling paint. “Wick will be difficult to kill,” He muttered to himself. Wick was the Ruler of the Slums and every business in it. Nobody could make a move unless he authorized it. Every gang was under his control and obeyed him, but Spec knew of the weakest gang under Wick’s control. Terrors were controlled by Hous who answered directly to Wick. 

Knowing that Wick recently acquired the gang and benefited highly because of Terror’s factories, Spec decided on who to hit. He could take the money and send his sister away from the slums. He could do the same for Matt and Maddie if he could take the money. However, would Wick let him go if he hits one factory? Wouldn’t his family still be in danger?

“I’ll take Hous out during the night. I’ll hit Wick’s wallet before I hit him. He won’t take the remnants of my family.”

 

“Attack me as if I was an enemy!” Roy shouted. Roy was using a wooden stick to poke at a younger Spec. Spec, tears bottling in his eyes, swung a scythe with only one blade. Deathstrike was being handled by his older brother, Wyatt. 

Wyatt spun around, keeping the scythe close to his chest. He extended the scythe in front of him and stood parallel to Roy. “Wyatt! When you spin around, extend the scythe farther. That’s the only way you’ll hit people. Spec! Wipe your tears off and face me like a man!” He shouted. They stood in the basement, clean and well-used with new paint glittering on the walls. 

“I-I-I can’t,” Spec shouted, his voice shaking. Tears started pouring out of his eyes. Roy walked up to Spec and raised his hand. Spec closed his eyes in fright and Roy slapped him hard, throwing him to the ground.

“This is a matter of life and death. If you can’t use a weapon, then you’re worthless. You will end up dead. I don’t want that… I want this family to remain safe and to thrive, but I don’t…” His voice trailed off. Wyatt balled up his fingers into a fist, but slowly released the tension between his fingers. Spec started bawling and Roy raised his hand. He was about to hit Spec, but changed his mind, instead, deciding to let a sigh out. “You will understand the purpose for this training when you’re older,” Roy told Spec. He turned around and faced Wyatt. They started their battle, but Spec paid no mind to it. He curled up into a ball and bawled his eyes out.

 

The only princess of Edurdale is Princess Liliana, a petite girl living in the shadow of her elder brother. Her father, King Jayden the third, is in charge of the entire nation from Edurdale to Blueway to the outskirts of Arkshaw. His wife Queen Sarah and the princes of the family, Prince Alessio, and youngest Prince Hale made up the remainder of the family.  

The royal family governed the entire kingdom with the help of Congress. Congress made decisions with the king ranging from tax laws, criminal laws, to even ignoring the slums of Edurdale. The king nor Congress could stop what was happening to the slums of Edurdale, leaving it to its devices. The rest of the royal family agreed in leaving the slums alone, except for Princess Liliana. She wanted to purge the evil and bring prosperity but held little power.

“Father! When will you stop the crime in the slums!” She asked. She caught her father off guard after he finished up a meeting with Congress.

“That is a complex matter.” Her father responded.

“Shouldn’t we push our police force into the slums and take it back by force!” She shouted.

The king shushed her and dragged her to his room. “Liliana! We can’t do anything for them, at least not yet.” He told her.

Liliana opened her mouth to speak, but the king embraced her before she could speak her mind. “I’m sorry, but wait a little longer and we’ll get that matter sorted out.” He told her. Liliana gave up and nodded, still being embraced by her father.

“I’ll drop the matter, for now,” Liliana whispered.

“Thank you, Liliana.” The king whispered back.

 

TBC…

Chapter Four "Hous"

Spec grabbed his cloak and masked his entire face and body with his family black cloak. He then peered out of the window and noticed that the sun had disappeared, leaving behind stars and a shadow of itself. 

He gripped his scythe tightly, whispering “I need to do this. I need to do this!” He let out a deep sigh before opening the front door and walking through it, locking the door behind him. 

He scanned the area for Wick or any of his gang members. 

Satisfied with not seeing anyone, he sprinted away from his house towards the nearest Terrors’ factory. The gang had taken an abandoned warehouse and converted it into an enormous factory-line of workers creating fake money.

The warehouse had peeling gray paint and a deteriorating look, abandoned a decade ago. The Terrors had renovated the warehouse, using slum workers to clean out and fix up the place.

The building stood at a height of two floors and was known as a big production of fake cash. It proved a significant business for Wick and was too important to lose as the income of fake cash was endless.

Spec arrived at the warehouse, lingering on the outside of the property. Wick had forced Hous to install a fence to deter people from entering and stealing from the facility.

Spec reached the fence and analyzed it. He quickly found a branch and used it to test whether or not the fence was electrical. Spec discarded the branch before he began climbing the fence. The fence reached eight feet in height with iron spikes scattered on the top, guarding the property with furiosity. 

He climbed the fence and dropped onto the other side. He then crouched down and scanned the area for guards. Two guards stood outside of the main entrance, armed with wooden spears with a sharpened iron blade at the tip. They hovered over the entrance, watching as people passed them---most of them being other gang members moving under the guise of the dim night.

Spec crouched under a tree facing the side of the building. The main entrance was in view from where he stood. He waited for a few seconds before jumping up and dashing towards the side of the warehouse, sticking to the wall. Without alerting the guards, he brandished his scythe and crept towards the main entrance, his eyes fixed on the guards. 

Once in arms reach, he slit the first guard’s throat, throwing the second guard into a moment of confusion before slicing his throat as well. Their bodies slumped to the ground, blood gushing out of the wounds. He strapped one body to his shoulder and hid it in the bushes before coming back for the second. 

After disposing of the evidence, he went to the main entrance and opened the door ajar. He peeked his head inside and noticed that the slum workers were being used to print money while heavily armed guards monitored them. They peered over the workers’ shoulders, frightening the already tensed men and women of the slums.

None of the workers or guards noticed Spec sneak inside, closing the door behind him. He then masked himself with the shadows---that was created because of many blocked-off windows---and became apart of the darkness.

“Keep working!” shouted an obese guard, pointing his spear at a child. “No slacking!” He thrust his spear at the child, grazing the young child’s cheek. The child touched her cheek before backing away. The girl then began screaming and crying her eyes, annoying a man who stood on the second-floor balcony, wearing a white fur coat. The man has a gold grill and a fierce glare that he used to freeze people in their tracks, intimidating all of them. The slightly blubbery man had green hair that was style up, the tips resembling the end of a hair clipper. His eyes were as black as the night sky, beating out the natural phenomenon in shades of black. 

“Shut that kid up!” The man ordered.

“Sorry, Hous!” The guard exclaimed. The guard lowered his spear, the tip scraping the ground, and grabbed the child by her collar. He raised her into the air before dropping her over five-feet in the air. He laughed at her; others followed in his laughter. The child wailed loudly, pissing Hous off.

“Kill that kid now!” Hous shouted. The guard nodded and raised his spear, aiming it at the child. Hous smiled and turned away, heading to his office. His eyes, however, lingered behind for a beautiful scream.

A female worker near the child stood in front of her, stopping the guard in his tracks. “Please! Don’t hurt her!” She pleaded. She was a young female in her late teens, wearing a bland red apron and white gloves. Her blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail; bumps on her face showing signs of swelling, blatant abuse. However, even with the bruises, she was beautiful. Beautiful enough to make the guard interested in her.

The guard licked his lips. “If you offer yourself to me, I might be nice enough to not kill her.” The guard said, his tone creepy and sleazy. The girl froze at his invitation, glancing over his shoulder at the loudly sobbing child. She swallowed her saliva, staring at the sleazy guard, who gave her a small wink. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a scythe whizzing past her head, missing by a few inches, and hitting the guard in the face. The guard died immediately.

The other guards in the room, standing on the ground floor and the balcony and paths suspended in the air, reacted instantly, searching the warehouse for the culprit. They wanted to see who would go against them, a gang under the Ruler of the Slums.

Nobody noticed anything out of the ordinary, that being their first mistake.

Spec appeared out of the darkness on the first floor, dashing past the girl and grabbing his scythe out of the guard’s head. He wiped the blood off the scythe’s blades before sprinting towards another guard, cutting him down with little retaliation. The guards lacked experience and froze on the spot, unsure of how to fight back. 

Spec traveled throughout the ground floor, slicing and dicing each guard. Once finished with the six ground floor guards, he moved back into the darkness. All of the workers dropped to the ground, hoping for their safety. They wanted to avoid being killed. 

Meanwhile, he made his way onto the