A Grade 9 Fixer vs the leader of an Urban Legend class Syndicate. A match up that would normally be one sided. But, Emilio was yet again supported by his immense combat prowess. Their blades clashing, attacks and techniques that Emilio used on the guys earlier weren’t going to work here; this man wasn’t dumb enough to fall for them.
Likewise, Lester quickly realized that he couldn’t judge Emilio by his Grade. Emilio kept his ears open, listening for when Lester was going to fire the gun built into the spear. How much did that thing cost to make, he wondered. Everytime Lester went for a stab or pointed the spear at him, he got ready to dodge. Their weapons strained against each other, then, Lester parried Emilio’s cleaver aside and leaped back.
Emilio heard the click of the hammer being pulled back. “Hold…” he mumbled to himself. “Now!” he jumped to the side, narrowly dodging the bullet. “Is that why you kidnapped the guy? To get a fancy spear that you can’t even land your shots with?” Emilio laughed, resting his cleaver on his shoulder, sauntering to the side, as if to show boat. “As my grandmother says: Guns ain’t shit if you can’t hit shit with them.” That was, of course, an exact quote. She had quite the potty mouth.
Lester groaned, putting his hand in his pocket. 3 more rounds. Five shots was all he was able to get out of the prisoner. He already missed two. “Alright,” He said, “You’re pushing your luck with that mouth of yours.”
“What can I say? I’m having fun? You’re one of the rare few people who remind me of my previous work.” Emilio went for a swing, which Lester quickly parried to the side. Quick, clearly skilled with a weapon that he just started using. No wonder his gang is Urban Legend. Maybe they were carried by his skill and his skill alone.
“Fun?” Lester said, going for a series of rapid stabs at Emilio, who he had no choice but to dodge. The guy was light on his feet. He managed to get a grazing blow, the edge of the spear scraping against Emilo’s hip, but nothing significant.
“Yeah, I have fun when I have a fight I enjoy.” All the weaklings he normally has to deal with? He gets no satisfaction out of them. But this was different.
Lester took a bullet from his pocket and loaded it, Emilio politely waited for him. Then, with no more words, he swung at the Fixer, who blocked, quickly collapsing his cleaver into its folded up form. Lester held his hands closer to the blade of the spear for added leverage, choosing only to move them down when he was at a distance.
Bracing the handle of the weapon against his forearm and elbow, Emilio used his free hand to swing a fist at Lester, finally scoring a clean hit, a hit that was strong enough that he shoved Lester away. Then there was that clicking sound again. Lester was about to shoot! Emilio got ready to dodge, but there was something off about where he was aiming; he wasn’t aiming at him. From the corner of his eye, Emilio spotted something red. “Ah crap.” A fire extinguisher.
The bullet rang out and pierced the canister, resulting in a pressurized burst of vapor and freezing cold foam. Not to mention the deafening sound that left Emilio’s right ear ringing. Stumbling from the trick, he barely was able to dodge the following attack, with Lester swinging his blade at him. The gun spear grazed his chest, the flexible but sturdy material that made up his jacket holding out against the attack, protecting his vitals. Still hurt like hell. But still, he was in a bad situation, he needed to counter!
Emilio swung, right ear still ringing from the sudden burst, partially blinded by the foam that got in his eyes, but Lester dodged the attack by jumping backwards. Emilio’s guard was completely down, so the spearman went for a clean stab. Emilio felt the blade pierce through his jacket and all the way through to the other side.
“Hahah!” Lester cheered, “Ran you through.” He loaded the chamber of the spear’s gun. “Now die!” First came the distinct clicking sound. Emilio’s gasped, tensing up for the oncoming pain. This was going to hurt a lot. It didn’t even cross Lester’s mind why the Fixer wasn’t dodging or attempting to move away.
The shot rang out, a point blank shot that left a massive explosion of blood in front and behind its target. Emilio gritted his teeth, gripping his weapon to keep himself from dropping it from the pain. His other hand was gripping the spear that was still stabbing through his gut. Yeah, that hurt about as badly as he expected. Not the most painful thing he’d been through, but it was definitely in the top ten… Maybe the top 5, but he didn’t actually have a list on him.
Lester yanked on the spear, attempting to pull it out of the Fixer’s gut. But, he was met with resistance. Emilio was gripping it hard. “Huh…?” He looked at his opponent’s face and found himself confused. Was he smiling…?
“Got you.” Emilio said. This situation called for close ranged cutting power. He swung the blade at Lester’s chest, slashing him from his shoulder to the center of his torso. The two men were now drenched in each other’s blood. But, one of them, Lester, bared the worse injuries.
Lester coughed up blood, his eyes wide with shock, loosened his grip on the weapon, and fell to the ground in a wet splat. Emilio would say that he definitely planned this from the very start, but he had to admit: This was 100 percent improvised, but it sure as hell worked.
Emilio knelt down beside him, spear still stabbing into him, spoke. “Put up a good fight… Hah… You might even kill me postmortem.”
“You’re…” Lester tried to get back up, but quickly fell back down, weak from blood loss. He spoke between coughs. “Taking this… Surprisingly well… Heh…” He weakly grasped at the spear stabbing his ex-opponent. “As soon as I reached some form of infamy… I die…”
“Such is life in The City.” Emilio nodded, as he used his cleaver as a saw to cut the long part of the spear; he had to leave the blade in him. No way he was pulling it out, he’d bleed out in seconds. “Thank you.” He stood up, “For measuring how far I have to go.” Then, just as that, as he watched the life fade from Lester’s eyes, all the previous joy disappeared from Emilio’s face. The expression he now had was that of boredom, maybe with traces of disappointment. He looked like a child who grew tired of a toy that he was playing with. “Well then… Time to find the others…” He said, walking on, leaning against a wall for support. “Fuck this hurts.”
Guess it was another scar to add to the collection.
Several men were running towards him. “Dammit, why now?” He groaned, gripping the handle on his weapon, which was now sticky from the amount of blood. But, then group ran past him. “Huh?” He said, watching them run away. Many of them were wounded. One of them was even missing a hand. Well, that had to be Heidi’s work.
After a bit more walking, he made it to the back of the lot. A small office where the owner of the property would be hold up. That owner was long gone, the office has long been abandoned. A few Syndicate grunts lied dead in front of the entrance to the place, and there, at the entrance, were the girls. Both of them had their arms crossed, leaning against both sides of the door, a nearly burnt out cigarette hung from Heidi’s mouth; Oliver, in her quickly established morbid way, held something between her fingers, pantomiming a cigarette. It took a few seconds before Emilio realized that it was a severed finger. Emilio shivered. Both of them looked like they took a few hits. Heidi sporting a grazing wound across her stomach and Oliver’s outfit displaying a number of impact wounds.
“You two look really cool, posing for a picture?” Emilio coughed.
“Oh fuck,” Heidi gasped, “You alright? You look like shit.”
“I’ll make it, you two don’t look much better. I just need a meal and a hot bath… Hopefully the apartment still has hot water.” Oh he really really hoped it did.
“Can you guys let me out already!” Came a voice from the office.
“Right. At least it looks like the bleeding has stopped.” Heidi said, looking at the spear head still stabbing into Emilio, ignoring the shouting voice. “We’ll stop by the doctor later. But til then,” She pointed behind herself, at the door. “We got money to make.”
Oliver nodded and tossed the finger aside, while Heidi opened the door. Sitting there, tied to a chair, and looking a bit worse for ware, was their rescue target. He was a tan skinned man, with messy red hair. His glasses were crooked on his face.
“Finally,” he complained, “They should’ve hired an Association for this.”
“We can just leave you here, you know?” Heidi crossed her arms. “Leave you out and let the Sweepers get you?”
“Ugh… Fine… Just untie me and I can get back home.” He sighed.
“You already got captured once.” Emilio pointed out. “You sure you’re not going to get captured again on your way home?”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“They sneaked up on me the first time! Plus, stole my weapon. Once I have it back in my hands, I’ll be perfectly fine.”
“Um… Your weapon?” Emilio asked. Ah crap, he thought to himself, don’t tell me…
“Yes, it was a spear of my design, but with a built in fire arm… Like… The one you have in your gut…” The workshop owner said, the realization kicking in. Everyone was staring at the destroyed weapon. “Broken.”
“…I see…” Emilio chuckled as if to find some form of humor in this, yet was shaking his head in dismay. “Hah… That’s coming out of our pay, isn’t it? …Fuck…”
“You bet your ass it is. Now untie me. In my pocket there is a phone. I’ll call them and tell them I’m safe. You guys will stay here until then… Can you do at least that? Fixers like you-” He was ready to go on a rant, until he realized Oliver was standing right next to him, practically pressing against him, causing him to yelp. If he wasn’t tied down, he would have jumped out of his seat. “-And keep her away from me!”
“Yeah, we can.” Heidi said, frowning. Looks like they would be getting pocket change for this. It wasn’t Emilio fault, she wasn’t mad at him, but boy was this a pain in the ass. Guess that’s the Fixer life for you. “…and, uh, Oliver, come over here. Stop scaring the man.”
Oliver went back over to the other two. “Coward gets captured. Coward can’t even pay us good. Too weak, must run workshop.”
“Don’t push it.” Heidi said to her.
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Emilio nodded, finally continuing the conversation that Oliver momentarily distracted from. Sitting down on a nearby chair. “Go ahead and untie him… I’m curious though. But first, why’d they capture you instead of just killing you and taking your stuff. I feel that’s what 90 percent of low level Syndicates would do.”
“Well, you did rescue me… I suppose I can tell you. I was on my way to a meeting with my Office. Had a bunch of blueprints on me. I guess they wanted to hold me for ransom and force me to make some of them. They beat me when I didn’t comply. Please don’t touch those,” He quickly said, seeing Oliver now going towards the blueprints on the table.
“So that meeting is gonna have to be postponed now, huh?” Emilio asked.
“Looks like it.”
“Well, thank you for telling us. Just wanted to know to clear things up in my head.” Emilio said, closing his eyes, mentally cooling down after all this fighting.
The workshop owner nodded. But soon, after a long moment of silence, he spoke up. “Listen. We clearly got off to a bad start here. While you guys are gonna get a heavy pay deduction, I can’t argue with the results. I’ll put in a good word for ya all if you feel like it.”
“Well, you’re whiny and got captured like an idiot, you’re lucky to be alive honestly. But, I’m always down for getting more work. But, it’s up to our Operator to decide.” Heidi said, looking over to Emilio, who was busy staring at the ceiling. “So what do you think?”
“Hm…” Emilio hummed, scratching the back of his neck. “Know any good medics? Don’t think the one nearest to us is the most trustworthy guy.” That’s what they get for holing up in District 23’s Backstreets.
“We have a few good surgeons. Someone is gonna need to take that out of you without killing you. That’ll of course require payment up front…”
“Really twisting my arm here.” Emilio sighed.
“We have the money your friend loaned you.” Heidi suggested.
“I’d rather not dig into that… But, Workshop Guy, whatever your name is, you got yourself a deal. You know where to call us, I assume?”
“My name is Tuco.” He said as Oliver finally untied him. “Expect a call sometime in the future.” He rubbed at his rope burned arms. “Here’s to a prosperous future.”
“The future is the one thing I care about.” Emilio said with a smile. “Now… Since none of us want to die. Want to get out of here?”
Meanwhile, not far from the garage.
The surviving Right Arrows ran through a drainage system, beneath the streets. Dammit, they were so close. Why did those Fixers have to ruin it. Not just that, but their boss was dead. What were they suppose to do now? Go back to organ harvesting? Quit the Syndicate business? This was the end of the Right Arrows as they knew it…
“Dammit.” one of them said, reaching the entrance of their hide out. “So close yet so far… All we needed was for him to make that damn key!”
“We wasted too much time,” Another said, walking to the end of the room. The hideout was a wide open room, with metallic floors. Flickering florescent bulbs hung from the ceiling. Boxes stacked high with a faded yellow and red logo on them. Then there, at the back of the room, was an enormous door with a familiar logo on it. The symbol of the fallen Lobotomy Corp. Behind this door would be their ticket out of the Backstreets and into a Nest. Enkephalin. Now rendered a finite resource, since the fall of Lobotomy Corp, it was now one of the most valuable substances; just a few boxes of the stuff could score you a massive payment and then some. But here was the rub; the door was locked, likely has been since the fall of the L Corp due to a security messure. Requiring a specific key that only someone from Lobotomy Corp would own. That, or someone with the technological knowledge to reverse engineer it. That was their reason for the kidnapping in the first place… Now what were they gonna do?
“We’ll find him again. But this time, we’ll kill him and take the blueprints to someone else… Yeah, that’s it.” The Right Arrow said. “Once we make it big, we’ll go to the Office and kill those guys as revenge. That’ll be how we do it, yeah…” he said, burying his face in his hands.
“Hey, Alexi?” One of the Right Arrows said. “Where are the others?”
“They’re all dead, what are you talking about?” Alexi said, looking up.
“No, no, we told some of us to stay here, didn’t we? Keep guard over this place. Where are they.” They looked around. Nobody was here.
That’s when they heard a voice coming from down the hall, moving closer.
“Cold hearted orb that rules the night. Removes the colors from our sight. Red is grey and yellow white. But we decide which is right. And which is an illusion…” In walked in a trio. One a man with silver hair and pale skin, dressed in a black suit with a green vine-like pattern, his shoulders and hair decorated with cypress leaves, smelling strongly of the plant. Fionnlagh. “Lovely poem, isn’t it…? Ah… Hah… Never thought you’d guys… Hm… Never thought you’d guys come back. Hahah…” He spoke with a very slow sleepy tone, his words trailing off or seeming like he was forgetting what he was gonna say mid-sentence.
The other two were a pair of gas mask wearing men, both in identical suits. Over the suits were what looked like gillie suits, wearing them like capes. They were nearly identical, other than one wearing a green tie and the other wearing a black tie.
The trio was soon followed by a few more men and women. A bunch of relatively normal looking people, dressed in suits identical to the one Fionnlagh wore, minus the leaves on the shoulders. Their presence was accompanied by a strong grassy scent.
“Who the hell are you?” Alexi said, standing up. “Back off, this is our keep.”
“Now, now… Please… No need for violence.” Fionnlagh said, holding up his hands, defensively. “To be honest… Hm… I want to resolve this with… Well… Minimal violence. Please, can you do that…?”
“Hold on.” One of the other Right Arrows said. “I recognize this guy. At least from rumors.”
“You know me?” Fionnlagh said with a wide smile, pointing at himself.
“You’re Fionnlagh… Leader of the Ghillie Dhu. Recently appointed Urban Plague.”
“…And a subsidiary of The Ring.” One of the masked men said. Their voice was calm and womanly, despite their bulky appearance.
“Boss?” The other masked man said, their voice was incredibly deep and guttural. “Allow me to speak to them.”
“Hm hm…” Fionnlagh said, in his normal sleepy way, “Very good… I think you’re more suited for talking…” He then looked to the Right Arrows. “Ah, sorry… I’m being rude… Didn’t even introduce my friends… Introduce yourselves… Please…”
“Titania.” Said the masked woman, who wore the green tie.
“Oberon.” Said the masked man, who wore the black tie.
“There we go, intros done.” Fionnlagh clapped. “I’m happy now…”
“What is The Ring doing all the way out here? This isn’t their turf.” Alexi said.
“Nothing, this is Fae King Fionnlagh’s personal project. The Ring gave us permission to come here.” Oberon said.
“What do you freaks want with Enkephalin?”
“Profit? It’s pretty obvious why we’d want it… But that isn’t why we’re here, we have no desire for it.” Titania said.
“Indeed.” Oberon said. “We desire something in this branch, but Enkephalin isn’t it.”
A long silence fell over the remaining Right Arrows. What did any of that mean? What could it be that was in there that wasn’t Enkephalin? But, the silence was broken as one of the Right Arrows picked up a nearby pipe and rushed at the Fionnlagh. The suicidal overconfident attack was quickly responded to by Titania, who moved in front of the man and violently backfisted the attacker in the jaw. A blow that was strong enough to completely obliterate the man’s lower jaw and part of their upper jaw, throwing him across the room into a pile of empty boxes. The rest of the Right Arrows stepped back in shock.
Fionnlagh chuckled. “Sorry… I would like to make clear… Well… While I don’t like hurting people… I get sick to my stomach even if I bump into someone too hard… Oberon and Titania, don’t have the same low tolerance as me… They will kill anyone who tries to hurt them or me… So please, no fighting right now.”
“Then what the hell do you guys want from us?!” Alexi said, getting annoyed.
“Hm… That… Hm hm…” Fionnlagh said, scratching his head in thought. “Hm…” He sure was taking his time.
“A compromise.” Titania said, picking the unfortunate attacker’s teeth out of the back of her hand. “We have no need for the Enkephalin behind this door. You can have it.”
“…But…?” Alexi said, knowing that things like this never came with a catch.
“The Right Arrows will be no more.” Oberon said. “Your Syndicate will be dissolved into the Ghillie Dhu and from here, work for Fae King Fionnlagh.
“I welcome all who come to my side…” Fionnlagh said with a kind, hopeful smile. “I hope to convince those who refuse.”
Needless to say, the Right Arrows were taking their time. Loyalty to a creed was a big part of a Syndicate. You couldn’t just leave one like this without consequences or a heavy feeling on your conscience. But, with enough internal debate, many of them stepped forward and walked to the group of Ghillie Dhu members, heads hung low. What was their choice? Stay in the Backstreets under no creed and die by slow attrition? Try to fight an Urban Plague class Syndicate and die right here right now? This was the best option. By the end, there was all but one member, Alexi, who stayed on his side of the room.
“Hm…” Fionnlagh hummed. “Oberon? My glove.”
“Yes, sir.” Oberon nodded, taking a briefcase from his hip, and unboxing it. The glove from before, the same one used on so many people in the Backstreets for the past few days. He placed it on Fionnlagh’s hand.
“Ah… Alexi was it…? Please, let me try my best to convince you… But first, let me ask you something. Who do you think the luckiest people in the City are?”
