LUNA Madison

One early morning.

Jason sat at the counter, gazing into the amber liquid in his glass. He looked like a man with nowhere to be, dressed plainly and enveloped by quietness.

The bar had no patrons, empty, with just him and the bartender wiping down glasses, and the faint sound of a TV playing last night’s news. 

His eyes drifted to the screen. The anchor was talking about market shifts, corporate deals, etcetera. A headline crawled across the bottom: Smith Royale in Financial Trouble.

Jason recognized the name Smith Royale. It was a powerhouse of a company.

 

Prestigious. Powerful. And it was owned by the Smith's, his fiancée’s family.

Looking away, Jason didn't pay too much  attention to the talking head on the TV and took a slow sip from his glass, enjoying the cold taste of the drink in his mouth.

Just Then, a voice behind him disturbed the quiet.

"You shouldn’t be here."

Jason didn't turn around, instead he glanced at the reflection in the bar mirror. 

A man in a black coat approached him,  snapping a lighter open and shut, the flame briefly lighting up a cold face that looked like it had seen its fair share of trouble and dealt with it.

The man was Cole Vargas, an enforcer to one of the underworld's powerful men.

Raising his glass in a mock toast, Jason didn’t turn immediately. He just smirked. "Cole Vargas. Didn’t expect to see you out this early. Couldn't sleep?"

Cole didn’t smile, finding Jason's joke unfunny. His voice stayed hostile. "What the hell are you doing in this city, Lucan?”

Jason took another sip before answering. "I go by Jason now. And am I supposed to announce my arrival? Maybe send out invitations?"

Cole continued to flick his lighter open and shut for no particular reason, the small flame briefly lighting his face. "You know damn well you’re not welcome here. Not after what your old master did."

"That has nothing to do with me, besides, that was what? Twenty years ago? And here I thought you people moved on quickly." Jason taunted, his grin growing. 

He leaned back slightly, “Let it go, man. Holding grudges like that’ll give you even more wrinkles.” He added eyeing Cole's slightly wrinkled face. “Though I see it might be a little late for that. You're getting old Cole, maybe it's time to retire.”

It had to be said, Cole Vargas was an old man, well into his sixties. But that didn’t make him any less dangerous. Age hadn’t diminished him, it had refined him.

Jason had heard the stories about the legendary Cole Vargas. Everyone in the shadows had.

Cole Vargas wasn’t just an enforcer, he was THE enforcer. The untouchable legend in the underworld. It was said he used to be in the special forces, the kind of black-ops ghost the government denied ever existed. When he vanished from that world, he didn’t retire. He just changed uniforms. 

Now he worked for Duvall, a powerful underground kingpin.

Cole scoffed. "Duvall doesn’t forget. He wants you gone. Now. Before this becomes a problem."

Jason finally turned to look at him, amusement hiding behind a calculating gaze, "A problem for who, Cole? You? Or the guy hiding behind you?"

“Lucan, if you keep running your mouth, you’re going to end up in a ditch somewhere.” Cole seemed to not be having none of it anymore. His attitude was becoming even more hostile.

His voice dropped and he spoke in a final tone, “Come with me, Duval wants you to deliver a message to your master.”

Jason grinned, tipping back his whiskey. “I think I'll have to decline that offer.” 

Outside, the city hummed, cars speeding past, glowing billboards flashing, and the distant wail of sirens ringing out through the early morning. 

A black Van came to a stop outside the bar, and three suspicious looking men got out, making their way inside the bar.

Jason, seemingly oblivious to the arrival of the men, kept talking. "So, you’re the one they call the ‘Gravekeeper huh.’"

Cole opened his lighter again, the small flame reflecting in his cold eyes. "And you know why they call me that?"

Jason smirked. “Because you clean up messes?”

Cole didn’t answer right away. His gaze shifted toward the entrance. The door swung open. The three men who had just stepped out of the van stepped inside. They were built like moving walls, their expressions were stone-cold as they locked onto Jason. 

Then, Cole finally said. “No. Because I decide who gets buried.

Jason looked at the three newcomers, and he exhaled, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Wow. And here I was, looking forward to a one- on-one with the great Cole Vargas." He gestured toward the men. "But instead, you brought backup? You really know how to kill a guy’s excitement."

Cole sighed, unbothered. "You're not worth my time, kid." With that, he turned on his heel and strode past his men, then he stopped. Without turning around, he said. “You can walk, or they'll carry you, doesn't matter to me.” 

Jason watched as Cole disappeared, and for the first time he frowned and did not even attempt to make a remark. He did not smirk or joke. Just silence. 

Well, he was disappointed. When he saw Cole walk in a minute ago, Jason was excited as he thought he would finally get some exercise against one of the best assassins, but his hopes were shattered. For now.

He sighed, and then he looked at the three men and sighed, setting his glass down. "Listen, I appreciate the invite, really. But tell your boss that I usually prefer dinner and a movie before being dragged off by mysterious men in suits. Just feels more personal, you know?”

The three men, however, did not take his comments lightly. He was disrespecting them!

Clearly, he didn't see them as significant enough to be a threat, and that got on their nerves.Their leader's scowl deepened and he said,  "Fine. Then we’ll have to bring you to him unconscious.”

Before Jason had time to say anything, they lunged at him.

The first guy swung a punch. Effortlessly, Jason ducked, caught his wrist, and slammed his face into the counter. Bottles rattled. Glass shattered.

The bartender backed away and headed for the backroom, shaking his head and muttering, “Tch… Fucking hell, Lucan. Can you do this outside for once? You're wrecking my bar, I just cleaned! One of these days, you’re gonna pay for the damages.”

“Sorry, Kev. I’ll cover it next time, I swear,” Jason responded, but his attention was on the goons he was fighting. 

The second guy charged big, dumb and built like a bulldozer with a personal grudge. Jason sidestepped and kicked him hard in the side

Stumbling back, he reached for a weapon, but Jason grabbed a beer bottle and cracked it over his head. He crumpled onto a table, sending drinks flying.

The last guy snarled and came at him fast. Jason dodged, grabbed a chair, and smashed it across his back. The guy staggered, but before he could recover, Jason kicked him square in the chest, sending him crashing into a nearby booth.