A hulking form entered the warehouse, the form at least 9 feet tall with forearms larger than the average man’s torso. It looked masculine, with a broad chest and narrow hips, clad in a black suit that only added to the menace of the being’s presence. The only parts not covered in garments would be his hands and head. Both of which were very monstrous in nature.

  His head was reptilian, with a long red snout and two ebony-black horns jutting from the forehead to the back of the skull. Eyes two burning embers which looked rather enraged as they peered at the smaller form in front of him.

  Even among the Salamander kind, who were known for their size, Harley was a big specimen, and so it was ironic that he went by Tiny Flame—a dark time from the past.

  “What happened here?” The voice was a low growl, yet it carried across the large room with the intensity of thunder. Embers sparked in his wake.

  Yet the mortal seemed to be immune to the obvious intimidation tactic, as all the small man gave in reply was a shrug.

  “Ambush.”

  That was all that was, no inflection to speak of.

  The slits narrowed, the embers dimming only a tad.

  “Who?”

  “Big Ed thought he could double-cross the Fire Wing and haul the loot into his merry group. I just reminded them why that was not a good idea.”

  The human replied with complete ease, his brown eyes still fixed on the screen of a smartphone held loosely in his hand.

  “You did this?” The voice was incredulous, and why would it not be?

  Six bodies lay haphazardly in the vicinity, all in various stages of destruction. Five of them were unknown to Harley, but he knew Big Ed. The Salamander was arrogant and extremely hotheaded, but the bastard was anything but weak.

  A confrontation with Big Ed would probably end in Harley’s favor, but it wouldn’t be a guarantee. That alone gave the man a lot of weight.

  The Boss had told him that the hire was competent, but this was beyond expectation.

  “My pay?” The human finally looked up from his screen, eyes flashing a prismatic hue, if only for a moment

  Right, hired help would always be just that—Beholden to nothing but the wealth offered. But competence had to be rewarded, especially when it benefitted the gang.

  He tapped a ring against reptilian fingers, triggering a sense of hollowness with overwhelming understanding. But the moment was fleeting as two stacks of bills emerged in the soft underside of his palms.

  “Ten thousand Ryu, as per the agreement.”

  He tossed the stacks at the man, and before they reached a large spectral hand popped into existence and grabbed them mid-air before gingerly dropping the notes onto the man’s hands.

  He dragged his thumb across the notes before raising an eyebrow.

  “The money here is twice the agreed-upon amount."

  The Salamander only grinned.

  “Consider it as hazard pay.”

  The man shrugged, then pointed at the neatly arranged stack of boxes.

  “Everything there is accounted for as per the orders given.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The reptilian man nodded as he moved past the human to the boxes, keeping a safe distance from him at all times. A human mage of the fourth order was never going to be a weakling, but they were not supposed to be able to beat six salamanders, especially when one of them was a fourth order as well, and a damn strong one at that.

  Harley wondered where the Boss got this guy; he was certainly no joke.

  An unbidden thought came to him, of ash and brimstone. Could the man survive in a world engulfed in fire? Tiny Flame was curious, really curious. The heart of his power seemed to answer his thoughts; his body heat, which ran close to an open flame, became hotter, much hotter. The air vibrated as the particles distorted.

  “Everything okay?”

  The man's voice grounded his runaway mind, reminding him that this was civilized space. You could not burn someone to a crisp just because you wanted to test your mettle.

  “True Spell acting up, don’t mind me.”

  A chuckle was his response.

  “You are a Salamander of the fourth order; you acting up is really dangerous for me.”

  He waved the man off.

  “This part of the job’s done, you can go home. And thanks for taking care of the problem.”

  He heard the footsteps walking away from him.

  “Sure, call me if you want when you have more work.”

  Harly chuckled.

  “Oh, you can count on it.”

  Despite Simon’s apparent calmness, his heart had been beating a mile a minute as the adrenaline from the situation had not quite burned off. Half of it was the fault of the coursing Magic, which still kept the body in fighting condition, a precaution with respect to the area he was in, known locally as the Cargo Hold or First Contact.

  But the other, more gruesome half was to keep his sanity in check; he brutally slaughtered six living, breathing, sentient entities without a second thought, which was a boon at the time. But now, with the curse of hindsight, there was regret in the actions taken.

  Big Ed was an asshole and a local bully in the neighbourhood; the asshole going down was something Simon could easily handle. What bothered him was the five that got caught in the exchange. They had been young with a desperation in their eyes, Simon knew all too well. Now there was nothing left for them to come back from; they had been snuffed out, and he had been the arbiter.

  ‘They deserved it, the choice was them or me, and I will always choose me. They wanted to fuck with our life, and it is already very fucked, so I am very happy with this outcome.’

  ‘But we could have avoided the situation entirely; we chose escalation at the first sign of trouble instead of de-escalation. We got away this time because they did not expect our strength, but what about the next?’

  ‘Action was necessary, and while escape was an option, confrontation seemed more desirable given the circumstances.’

  Thoughts swirled in Simon’s head, both his own and alien, but the debate was rationalisation. The actions were necessary, and escape was not really an option, especially when it would have meant no pay and a hit to his credibility, none of which he could afford.

  A part of him still did not like it, a part that chose to see that there was a chance he could be the casualty, and then there would be nothing left.

  Step after step, the mind rationalized, adapted, and minimized the incident. A fact made easy when there were four separate ‘entities’ to distribute the burden, each with its own opinions. One being his own, and that part could not stomach what had happened.

  “Watch Out!”

  Breaking out of internal musing, Simon realized something: he was technically walking, but the speed was that of an elite athlete at full sprint. A pedestrian was sitting on the sidewalk, with whom a full-course collision was about to happen. Thoughts sharpened as magical prowess came into full effect, only to find out there was no correction, magical or otherwise, that could prevent the impact. So the desired outcome shifted to minimizing damage; again, the current active power answered, reversing the increase in physical to a decrease.

  The sudden shift in speed caused Simon to bowl over onto the victim rather than ram the person. There was a small tumble onto hard concrete, but the protective padding was in place, so the pain was a non-issue.

  He turned to see the person—the woman on her side and asked.

  “Are you alright?! Shit! I am so sorry—”

  The rest of the words died as magical senses caught up to physical ones.

  The person looked human, a very beautiful one, but Magic wafted off her in a way very few mortals could ever replicate: a magical being, and a rather powerful one at that. Worry turned to relief at the observation.

  By then, the woman got up and stared down at his still-prone form.

  “What’s the rush?”

  Three words and a feeling of arousal rushed directly into his groin.