Out of the many target candidates he had assembled based on his knowledge of internal Triumvirate operations, Esai guided Cain on the selection of a relatively inconspicuous auto repair garage in the low-income district on the outskirts of the city. Esai explained to Chain that the shop served as a dedicated garage where the organization could maintain their fleet of privately owned vehicles. Principally because a large crime organization like the Triumvirate strived to minimize a paper trail in every way possible, they purchased and managed their own fleet of vehicles. Each of the vehicles were purchased with cash and were only bought from a few select dealerships that were also under the organization's thumb. When the Triumvirate purchased the vehicles, the dealerships categorized the purchases as loaner or test drive models.

The fleets of vehicles consisting of tactical team transports were mostly late model European sedans. Strategically, to keep such massive fleets running, it was of vital importance not to have a record of the automobiles being maintained by public dealerships or repair shops. Because of this need for criminal privacy, the organization was forced to open its own garages and hire its own mechanics and fleet managers. Many of these people never know who they were truly working for, but simply did what they were asked. They were compensated in cash and perceived the relationship to be extremely beneficial.

These garages, sprinkled carefully geographically throughout the city, were controlled by a set of operations managers that were in the employ of the Triumvirate. The operations managers had intricate knowledge regarding not only the schedules and personnel for multiple garages, but many other offices, real estate investments and holdings of the organization.

For this reason, Esai and Cain had agreed that watching these establishments for the visitation of a Triumvirate operations manager would allow him to obtain vital strategic information. Moreover, if it was carefully executed, it would be weeks before the behemoth organization could properly shield the assets and locations Cain would extract from the operations manager.

The days passed quickly but Cain barely registered the passage of time. Finding himself routinely outside the trappings of the safe house that he'd dwelled in since the death of his wife would almost be enough to give him pause on its own, but given what he was about to undertake, he found his thoughts, for the first time in a long time, fixated on a dangerously rewarding task.

He rolled on his back, exhaling in the rapidly cooling night air. Pushing away a stray realization that it was a great deal colder this time of year as he saw his breath on the wind, he craned his head over the side of the building he was perched on and peered at the garage from relative secrecy. For several nights, he patiently waited on a different rooftop watching the building for any signs of visitation from the operations group that he was after. The garage itself was a fairly unremarkable building positioned beneath a darkened trestle of the interstate highway in a lone parking lot and fenced in with scraggly barbed wire. Cain noticed that the streetlights lining the parking lot were doused, bathing the building in a suspiciously eerie darkness. For most, he imagined it would be a natural deterrent, especially for those who knew who owned the building.

As with most things these days, Cain heard the approach of a black sedan and had to make sure it was real. Despite the burning fire of purpose in his heart, he found his grasp on reality was disturbingly tenuous, following what he'd assumed was a vivid and lucid hallucination of Raylene after her death. His mind momentarily and involuntarily reeled back to the night his wife died, triggered by the realization that the car was the same model of sedan that chased him and his wife. Seeing it in this context, it wasn't a stretch for him to wonder whether it was the exact same car that played its role in their flight that evening.

The car noiselessly prowled down the street, crossing the intersection underneath Cain and paused at the fence in front of the building. He found himself calling for instincts that he hadn't in weeks. Like a predator, he moved into a crouching position, keeping his prey centered in his sights. Each muscle in his body was tensed and prepared for action. Using practiced discipline, he cleared his thoughts and rose to his full height. His brown, leather overcoat billowed in the stiff fall wind. He reached deep into the rear storage compartment of his coat, pulling forth a new final touch. Cain slowly placed the Mask of Indemion on his face, feeling fully transformed by its presence over his visage. He knew it was just an ancient, ornate mask, but it focused his rage, reminding him of his loss and spurring him on at the same time.

The gates mechanically opened from a signal from the sedan. Sections of the fence slid back to allow the car passage into the secured parking lot in front of the building. The vehicle pulled straight forward towards the sole garage door on the front of the edifice and paused while it rose to allow the car in. The driver's side door swung open, and a large imposing figure emerged from the dark depths of the sedan. Dressed in a midnight business suit with a crisply starched collar and designer shoes, the man rose to a height of around six feet Cain estimated.

The passenger door opened as well, releasing a similarly attired man. Cain knew these non-descript, very forgettable figures were the escorts of the frightened looking man they assisted in getting out of the rear passenger compartment of the sedan. An older, balding man hesitantly climbed from the rear seat. His robotic companions did their duty. The driver walked toward the gate, intent on taking up a position near the rear of the sedan while the garage door cranked closed. Having deftly penetrated the perimeter, Cain slid silently under the door before it closed, taking up a concealing position inside the rundown garage's interior so he could continue to observe the proceedings. Edging closer and beginning to plan his assault, he realized how truly massive the closest man was. Although he was impressed by his physical stature, he was not daunted. In fact, he was surprised over the anticipation he felt.

In point of fact, while Cain found that he'd mischaracterized the ominous figure as a simple muscle, the large enforcer appeared to have much more honed skills and senses that he'd anticipated. Sensing something was amiss, Cain watched with interest as his enemy tried to peer out the small plastic windows that lined the garage door. Attempting to search for threats despite the darkness outside, he could feel something was amiss in his bones. He cast a scowled glance over his shoulder at the operations manager and the man flanking him to the right. Taking a cue from his companion's wordless glance, he also became alarmed. The large man almost felt that there was something right outside that was stalking them. With their mutual suspicions aroused, he turned to confidently stride towards the person-sized access door to the outside, intending to begin a thorough and systematic sweep of the premises.

Cain duly raised his threat assessment of the large enforcer. Watching from his concealed position, he could see the man register his presence, although he had no idea where the threat truly lay. Watching intently, Cain crept closer, using the shadows like a silent cloak. When he closed in close enough, he relished how the man stopped short suddenly.

The enforcer's heart rate increased once he could sense the threat was a lot closer than he originally believed. Sensing a predatory presence, the man wasn't sure how long the figure had been concealed behind him, but it was close enough to have done him serious harm several times over. An unfamiliar panic settled in. Not used to being the prey, he drew his side arm, and thumbed the safety in a single well-trained motion. Turning swiftly, he attempted to identify the threat so he could unload the contents of his magazine into the figure's center of mass. In what he considered to be a stroke of good fortune, the service light above the door revealed who he was up against. However, the mask the strange figure wore was the last thing he would ever see.

Cain felt as if the world had slowed just for him. Eager to attack, he watched as the two guards reached for their weapons. Moving forward, undaunted by their guns, Cain waited until the closer man drew his weapon. Moving with an undeniable speed, Cain lunged, ripping the man's firearm from his double-handed grasp. He took the man's outstretched hand and savagely twisted it behind his back, feeling his arm pop free from his shoulder. While the enforcer growled out in pain, he wasn't helpless. Attempting to free himself, the enforcer struggled to hurl his other arm's elbow into Cain's sternum. Instinctively, Cain simultaneously blocked his rear elbow thrust and struck him with a booted foot to the rear of his knee joint.

The blind force of the strike strained and snapped tendons, jarring the man's kneecap from its natural position. He fell, writhing in pain as Cain, faster than he even imagined, placed the man's gun to the back of his skull and blew a hole in straight through his head. He heard the soft click of the other enforcer's weapon chambering a round. Pushing back from his first victim he effortlessly dropped and swiftly scrambled behind the parked car, using the sedan as a shield. The audible pop resounded throughout the garage as the man squeezed off three panicked shots. The sedan's windows were blown out as he heard some shouting in the distant regions of the garage.

Through the shower of glass, Cain moved his hand to the hilt of the sheathed Sword of Cain. Throughout all the trials he had recently endured, his weapon was his oldest and truest ally. It always did as he asked without fail. He was pleased to rely on it now as he silently moved along the length of the car to close in on the remaining enforcer. Vaulting over the sedan, Cain came down hard on the surprised guard, slamming his knee into the assailant's chest. Landing in a deft crouch his eyes narrowed beneath the mask as he targeted his reeling prey. Bringing his blade into play, he eviscerated his opponent. The gurgling spray of red haze spewing from the guard, covering the cowering older man was confirmation that his weapon had done its job. As if a testament to this fact, Cain slowly rose and turned to the quivering man who clutched his phone desperately attempting to place a call. Cain ominously brandishing his ceremonial weapon. The Sword of Cain now only served one master.

"Oh god! Hurry you idiots! He's here! The Sword of Cain is here! He's-"

Wild eyed and panicked, the diminutive man spat pleas of desperation into the phone. As if realizing the futility of his actions, he stopped, turning and looking at Cain in the face, as if resigning to accept his fate. His slate computer dropped to the floor as Cain loomed over him like some sort of mythical masked demon. Despite watching Cain's swift blow, surprisingly, he didn't feel anything at first. The velocity of the attack was lost to him, leaving him to realize he'd been disemboweled by the Sword of Cain only after it had happened. Cain scooped up the slate and began to stalk towards the rear of the building. The man's deadening eyes clouded as he fixated on the imposing figure retreating into the shadows.

When he burst from the rundown garage into the frigid night air, Cain felt invigorated. Every muscle in his body felt alive and surged with power. More than just experiencing increased energy in physical strength, his mind felt sharp. His senses recorded every sound and movement in and around the garage. It was as if he'd managed to awaken a long dormant portion of his brain that had been snuffed out under a pall of banished grief and self-pity. Casting a glance back and the garage, he quickly consumed the information his heightened senses brought him. Every sound, from the panicked shouts of the garage's other denizens, to the clicking of weaponry, to the ignition of what sounded like a larger van dictated his next course of action.

Cain's boots pounded the street as he broke into a full run. Sheathing his sword, he bolted from his pursuers on foot, closing in on a rundown storefront adjacent to the elevated highway. The chatter of light machine gun fire nipped at his heels as the growl from the small cargo van he heard earlier bared down on him. If it was a Triumvirate vehicle, he knew it was equipped with a camera and that his every action was being watched and analyzed.

Recognizing his degree of exposure on the open street his mind rapidly flashed through several tactical options. He knew his best bet would be to control the situation by drawing the occupants of the van into close quarters. Flashing through the streets at considerable speed, Cain turned down a narrow opening between two buildings. Littered with decaying fire escapes, laundry lines and dumpsters, he recognized that it was the perfect killing field. The persistent gunfire from his pursuers kicked up gouts of dust and concrete as the driver forced the van down the narrow alley in pursuit.

With his anger burning brightly within him like a powerful furnace, he uncorked enough of the emotion to deal with the task at hand. Cain barely scrambled up a rusty and creaking fire escape before the van, whose driver grossly underestimated the breadth of the narrowing alleyway, erupted with sparks and came to a jarring halt. With the van sufficiently wedged between the two buildings, and momentarily immobilized, Cain let gravity pull him as he leapt into the open air.

Descending rapidly, he pulled his sword for the first strike. The impact of his boots caved in the van's hood as it dipped forward on its suspension. Cain rolled to the right of the vehicle as bullets smashed frantically through the windshield in vain pursuit of his nimble form. As expected, the occupants did him a favor as he was free to strike those trapped in the front of the van. Cain rolled back to the center of the van's hood and unencumbered by the windshield, raked the Sword of Cain across the driver's and passenger's seat. As the life gurgled out of them, he scrambled to his feet and launched himself over the top of the van onto its roof. A hail of bullets punched their way through the vehicle's thin roof. Easily staying out of range of the panic fire, he found his left hand moving towards the Glock sidearm he brought with him. It felt cool to his touch, even though his gloved grip. Although a strange time for retrospection, only a killer as talented and resolute as Cain stopped to consider the false confidence that the weapon endowed its wielders.

As the occupants that were in the back of the van burst forth through its rear cargo doors, Cain took a deep, centering breath. Quelling his anticipation, he leapt from the roof of the van into the middle of what appeared to be only four enforcers wielding light submachine guns. Dressed in a similar fashion to the tactical teams Cain killed so long ago, he could easily determine that they were professionals. That was fine with him, because he knew they would die like professionals.

He swiveled from his position on the ground and slashed the man closest to him with the Sword of Cain. As he fell, Cain swiftly pivoted to his teammate, burying his Glock in the small of his enemy's back, and pulled the trigger. Cain let the hammer blow, feeling the bullet scream from the barrel. The gunfire erupted from his victim's abdomen, dropping him immediately. The remaining two were horrorstruck at the man's speed and prowess. Fearfully edging away from what they believed to be the killing range of Cain's blade, they both tried to calculate if they could in fact target Cain before he rushed at them with his sword. Neither party fired as if they were in some sort of standoff.

Cain's overcoat fluttered noisily in the wind. The driving gust revealed the terrifyingly bloody blade he clutched. An eager finger was perched on the trigger of the small, light handgun in his left hand, but he yielded to experience and waited patiently. He imagined himself as a jungle cat, adeptly cornering its prey. As predicted the two remaining figures broke and moved first.

Cain had anticipated their fear-inspired reactions. Their training told them to leverage their distance from their enemy by relying on the range of their weapons. The nearest of his two opponents opened up on the spot where Cain just stood. The surprisingly high-pitched chatter of the machine gun was drowned out by the hail of the bullets impacting against the brick wall where Cain had been less than a split second ago. Drowning in disbelief, the closest hapless assailant had the sensation he was falling, even before his gun tumbled from his grasp. The warm liquid on his legs was proof that Cain's sword had drank deeply, cutting the man across his thighs. Unable to support his own weight, he strangely found himself wondering how it was possible that Cain had moved so quickly.

Muzzle flash still illuminated the alley as Cain whirled around the remaining attacker. Shell casings pinged off the concrete as the man emptied his clip into thin air in disbelief that any living thing could move as fast as Cain was. Firing in a panic and whirling in a circle, he soon resigned himself to his fate as he was summarily cut down by Cain after fear drove him to keep tugging the trigger even after the gun's clip was empty.

Cain shook his sword, flinging entrails and smattering the concrete with the blood of his enemies. Standing amid a mass of dead bodies with the full harvest moon at his back he exhaled and wistfully watched his own breath on the wind. Taking his time, he knelt low, bending down to look into the small bumper-mounted camera on the van. Deliberately sheathing the Sword of Cain, he holstered his sidearm and rose slowly before turned from the alley to disappear into the night.