A Gangster Paradise

Somewhere in the corner of a big world...

Rumble Rumble Rumble

The sky rumbled, and lightning tore across the heavens, illuminating the darkened city below. Rain fell in thick sheets, pelting the cobblestone streets and driving most people indoors.

But despite the storm's fury, one small, isolated building remained unyielding in the midst of a wealthy district of mansions, villas, and sleek skyscrapers. It was an old church, ancient and worn, and if its walls could speak, they would tell secrets buried beneath centuries.

Inside, an elderly woman knelt in silent prayer, hands clasped, whispering words only the heavens could hear. The years had etched lines on her face, each wrinkle a testament to her life's journey. Her hair, once jet-black, was now a pure white, pulled back in a neat bun beneath her nun's habit. Around her neck hung a simple golden cross that glinted faintly in the candlelight.

"Oh, Lord above… please, I beseech thee, grant me strength and restore peace to this troubled world," She whispered, her voice barely audible amidst the storm outside.

As she finished her prayer, she opened her eyes and glanced at the raging tempest through the stained-glass window. A wave of unease washed over her, and she pressed a frail hand to her chest.

"This feeling…" She murmured, her voice quivering. "It's as if darkness itself is closing in."

Suddenly, a loud knock resounded from the entrance, echoing ominously in the quiet chapel. Her body tensed.

"At this hour?" Her brow furrowed, and her hand instinctively reached for a hidden compartment beneath the altar.

With a quick movement, she retrieved a small revolver—a relic from a past life, and one she rarely thought she'd need to use again.

Cautiously, she approached the door, holding the weapon firmly but praying it would remain unused. She called out, her voice steady despite her anxiety.

"I've unlocked the door. Enter slowly."

The door creaked open, and a shadowed figure stepped into the dim light. The figure was cloaked in a dark habit, similar to the nun's own, but the face was concealed by a thin veil, and her posture was oddly tense. The woman's face was obscured, but her stance exuded a quiet strength, a poised defiance.

The elderly nun took a step back, her grip on the revolver tightening. "Identify yourself."

The veiled woman moved slightly forward, lifting a hand in a gesture of peace. Her voice was soft but firm, carrying the gentle tone of someone familiar, yet distant. "Lower your weapon, Mother. I am no threat."

The old woman's breath caught as the voice registered in her memory. Her hand trembled, and the revolver lowered slightly. "It can't be… you?"

The veiled figure nodded, lowering her head. "Yes, it's me… I've returned, if only for a brief moment."

A conflicted expression spread across the old nun's face. Shock mingled with sorrow, and a bitter edge slipped into her voice. "How dare you return here, after all that you have done? After you turned your back on everything we stood for?"

The young woman lifted her head, and even through the veil, the old nun could see her eyes, filled with both remorse and a resolve that seemed unbreakable. "I know… I am the disappointment you warned I'd become. And I know I have no right to ask forgiveness. But tonight… I need your help."

As she spoke, the young woman gently shifted her arms, revealing a tiny bundle cradled close to her chest. The nun's eyes widened as she realized what the young woman held.

"That… that's a child." Her voice was barely a whisper, shock evident on her face.

The young woman's voice softened. "This is my son… and his father, James… he… he was killed."

The old nun's eyes filled with sorrow and a touch of fear. "James… was he…?"

"Yes," The woman replied, her voice trembling. "The Black Order found him. They've begun the purges. Anyone they deem a threat to the Emperor's authority… they're eliminating them all. No one is safe anymore."

The nun's hand went to her heart as her breath hitched in horror. "How could they… But why didn't the Widows inform us? We should have known—"

"They've covered their tracks well. Mercenaries, not knights, are doing the Emperor's dirty work now," The woman explained bitterly. "They thought no one would notice if the mercenaries were blamed instead. It's brilliant… and monstrous."

The elderly nun's gaze hardened, anger darkening her usually gentle face. "The Emperor's cruelty knows no bounds. First, he strips us of our faith, bans any form of worship, and now he murders innocent souls in secret… God himself must be sickened."

The young woman's expression softened. "Mother… I didn't come here seeking justice. I came here because I can't protect him alone."

She looked down at the child, who squirmed gently in her arms, his tiny hand curling around her finger.

"I must fight, Mother," She continued, her voice gaining strength. "For James, for everyone, they've killed… but I can't do it while protecting him."

The old nun's heart ached as she gazed at the young woman, seeing both the fierce determination and the sadness etched in her face. "You've changed so much…"

She whispered. "I see the fighter you've become. But this path you're walking… it's one of vengeance. I fear for your soul."

"I know," The woman replied softly. "I do not seek redemption anymore, only revenge. And in that revenge… perhaps I can find a way to save those who remain."

The nun looked down at the child nestled in the woman's arms, his eyes closed in peaceful slumber, oblivious to the storm that raged around him and the turmoil of the world he had been born into.

"Very well," The nun said, her voice filled with a mix of sadness and acceptance. "I will take him, this child of yours, into my care. I'll raise him as I did you… with love, and with the teachings you once cherished."

The woman's lips quivered, and she carefully passed the infant into the nun's trembling hands.

"Thank you, Mother," She whispered, emotion cracking her voice. "His name is Lycan. Please… protect him."

The old nun cradled the child close, a strange warmth filling her heart despite the heavy sorrow pressing down on her. "I swear it, my child. I will protect him with my life."

The young woman's eyes shimmered with tears, and she leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her son's forehead. She lingered, as if savoring this final moment, before she pulled back, wiping her tears away.

With a last, long look at the woman who had once been like a mother to her, she turned and stepped back into the storm. The rain swallowed her as she disappeared into the night, her silhouette swallowed by the darkness and the unyielding rain.

The nun held Lycan close, feeling the steady beat of his tiny heart against her own. A faint stirring brought her gaze down to the baby's face. His eyes, bright and piercing, stared in the direction his mother had vanished, almost as if he understood… and as if he, too, was bidding her farewell.

The nun whispered, a prayer falling from her lips.

"Lord, protect her. Though she walks the path of darkness… let her find her way back to the light. And if she cannot… let her vengeance be just."

Outside, the storm continued to rage, carrying the young woman away into a destiny she could not yet foresee, while behind her, a fragile new life began under the watchful gaze of an old soul who had seen too much pain, but held hope for what was yet to come.