FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Twenty-Two: Cracks in the Glass

(As promised, Tsuyoi took me on as his apprentice. However, that was more of an arrangement. He would not give me private lessons until I reached the top level on all the styles that the instructors taught me. I would feel the pain again, of drifting apart from the she-wolf to whom I had grown attached.

(I was twenty when the red wolf began giving me his private lessons. They would start outside of the regular classes when I would spar with other wolves and felines around my age. There were no simulations or practising with weapons as the start of the extra curriculum.

(Tsuyoi further tested my patience and endurance with a series of traps. Though every trap that he set was blunt, everything would. The first time, I found him so sadistic that I wanted more than anything to rip his throat out with my fangs. However, I understood well enough why he had set up guns and stalks. This was all a test. Furthermore, he tested how well I would take his taunts.

(After my recovery from his torture, I was subject to it again. This time, he had blunt pendulums set up. Of course, they were at a low velocity, but those still hurt. Whilst evading the hammers, I would get my paw pads blistered by grabbing the edges of the bamboo stalks. After that strenuous simulation, I would tell myself that I was more than ready for his tricks. Tsuyoi would alternate with the traps, but there were only five variations.

(After making it across the bamboo stalk pit for the first time, Tsuyoi asked me, "What intend you to do, now that I am in front of you?" I was out of breath. So, he needed only push me, and he would win. That was yet another lesson of his. So, I would learn to time every swing, every projectile, and every rising stalk. By that time, the blue wolf would start watching me.

(The second time I made it to the other side, I was able to put up a fight, but not much of one. In a few moves, Tsuyoi beat me at his game again. After that loss, I did not trust him when he presented his hand.)

I have barely settled for the inn where I would sojourn in Muspax when I ring Jack. Another fair place to afford a telephone line. "Ahoy", Jack says.

"It is Death", I whisper.

"Don't wolves howl?" Jack asks. Even if he is groggy, he can quip. "Whot business requires me attention?"

I answer, as lowly, "It is about your traitor, Jack. He tailed me throughout Roseberg. One of Segal's dealers gave her up easily. She was not at her factory, which had more security than it needed."

Jack asks sternly, "And yeh thought I had somethin' t-do with that?"

I imply, "The evidence points to such."

Jack exasperates, "I cannot believe y-would accuse yer friend of betraying you! If I 'ad ordered me top men ta tail yeh, 'twould be because someone be usin' yeh."

I growl, "You provided me with the list of names, Jack. Out of any criminal, you know Giffard's inner circle best."

"Fer feck's sakes, Death, I be the Lowell House's strongest rival; I have_t-know such things!" he objects. Now, I have enraged him. "Me syndicate consists of weapons an' drugs. Never trafficking. It be the only reason yeh don' consider crippling _my business. You were already bang on with the trafficking front. So, Giffard's assets 'ave disbanded. Me men 'ave tracked most of those traffickers, not that it helps the rest of me company. Giffard's arms department 'as built up here in Knightsedge and the rest 'ave sought protection in Highcond itself and Tolden." I still cannot be alone in Muspax. Someone is here. If Wickerson has followed me here, so has Jack's traitor; I just know.

"Jack"-

He interrupts, "A friend would never betray a friend. Me operatives know the risks; I would never leave them fer dead."

I object, "I fail t-believe that right now."

"Jus' do whot y-do an' claim yer next black soul", he says bitterly. He hangs up, too irritable to say goodbye. How can I know that the next goodbye from the arctic fox will not be his last?

"Claud Samuels. Great Gam. Call him a workshop owner or a factory owner. Either way, what he does is criminal. There are restrictions in business and residence in Muspax, which he has used to his advantage. How he has worked has led him to 'recruit' rats to build the guns that the Lowell House distributes. If you intend to raid, I recommend you go in at night. In the day, it appears as a storage house."

That is what Jack wrote about the target residing in this borough. It has been two-and-a-half months since he provided me with the list and descriptions. He is why I have come so far now. Even so, there will be more work. I remember the time I destroyed the whorehouse in Manusdale, the sight of the inferno in my head. When I was there, I heard the stoat mention Claud mourning his brother's death. When he stops grieving is out of the question. There is a difference in what vengeance drives him and me. Seventeen years and my wounds have not healed. Claud would hold a grudge against anyone if Ross meant everything to him. I cannot underestimate how dangerous the dog might be.

(I could feel it again: the weight of too many burdens. I took my training very seriously, especially Tsuyoi's sadistic games. It is not only about becoming stronger; I believed since the first lectures that being a Samurai meant having strict discipline. Through discipline, I would not let emotion cloud my judgment.

(I would have difficulty with that again for the next year. I would be so tired from Tsuyoi's intense training that I could not enjoy Kana's company anymore. When turning in for the night, she was like a phantom to me. Almost every night when she would suggest we blow off steam, I would say "I am too tired for that" or another overused dismissal. "Another night, maybe." "Sorry. I cannot." "I went through too much hell." Kana heard them all from me.

(So, before the winter holiday, I told her, "I cannot keep this up. I currently cannot prioritise our relationship, even our sexual activity. So, I wonder if this is the end."

(After a while of silence, she replied, "I hope you do not make the same mistake as before." She was the one to notice how I pushed myself too hard, before I knew.

(It was on my birthday, when I had the day off from the intensive training, on which I had only slightly improved. I could last longer when fighting Tsuyoi, but not as long as he claimed to expect. I was too faffed by the impacts of his blunt weapons to determine whether he lied. Now, I had a break. Where I spent the night of my birthday was the bathhouse, where a familiar wolf awaited me.

(Kana sat upon the floorboards, showing her naked body. I disrobed in front of her, quietly. When we had a traditional shag that night, I realised my frustration. When we cuddled in the hot spring, I wondered whether she would be my lover forever or if she would be a phantasm picture in my memory. She had been here for me so many times, and for so long. I could never afford to take someone such as her for granted.)

When at the station house, I am not surprised about who greeted me. The grizzly stands next to the desk. He wears his black trousers and navy-blue overcoat, his chest bare. I ask, "Did y-still think I would not settle my business alone?"

He says sarcastically, "Hello t-you, too, Lady Death." He then asks back, "Who're you after now?"

I answer plainly, "A Great Gam named Claud Samuels."

He responds, "Follow me, then." I do so. We head past the desk, its seat occupied by a smoke-grey cat. The chamber that we enter is well-maintain, for the polished floorboards, the neat wallpaper, and the clean desks. Officers in uniform and the inspectors are already filling out their reports, utilising the clicking machines. The grizzly brings me to the chamber behind the wall to our left.

Occupying its walls are metal file cabinets, their paint looking fresh. The grizzly signals a dog over, to request with only a name. That request is quickly fulfilled. This dog, a poodle--hard to take them seriously until they bite--rummages through a drawer until he finds the folder marked with the name. Wickerson stands next to the dog at the desk in the centre, and then signals me over. I comply.

Wickerson speaks, "Jus' like 'is late brother, Claud Samuels is on record. Arrested fer malpractises and possession of illegal wares." No shit. He is as much of a trafficker as the rest of Giffard's associates. "Much of Claud's practises are unclear, but he owns a massive workshop near the train station. 'Tis mostly firms and factories among dirt there." A right place for someone to keep secrets.

I look around. Among the many officers in blue tunics and matching trousers, a few have a telephone in their hands. Any of them could be as much of a turncoat as an officer in Roseberg. I speak, "I hope the bribed officers will be snuffed out."

Pause. Wickerson replies, "Not so simple, Lady Death. If word travelled fast that Segal is dead, the ones to run will mos' likely be as quick." He asks, "What brought that on?"

I respond, looking up at him, "Coll it intuition, Lieutenant. If the pockets are deep as I believe, no borough is safe from sculduggery."

The poodle speaks up, "If yeh're after Claud, I kin provide a connection." Without waiting for an answer, he heads to a different file cabinet and looks through its bottom drawer, from which he lifts a folder. He presents it to me. I reluctantly take it in hand and read the pages. True to the dog's word, this particular criminal has had a connection with both Ross and Claud. I shoot a scowl at the poodle. He could have a good memory to qualify for a position in archives, but something is off. Either, I am to be lured into a trap or someone wants this information given up to give someone a chance. I signal the bear to lean close. I whisper in his ear the felon's apartment address and past charges. I conclude with, "Is that true?"

He gives me a sneer, answering lowly, "I've seen enough criminal records ta confirm a page's authenticity." So, it must be a trap. The only way to find out is to spring said trap. I thank them both and bid them good day.

I am not one to wait, though I have always favoured hunting at night. In my blue suit, I already stand out in the day, among tar, cement, and bricks. I climb through an open window of the townhouse with the apartment inhabited by a dog named Perceval. He is not in his apartment, which is well-maintained. The wallpaper has no holes or loose edges and the floorboards and tables are polished. I still find clues on where Perceval works. He is a labourer at a factory obeying the strict law that only adult males can work.

That factory is where I go. Unfortunately--

It is heavily guarded for a mill meant for shaping tin. I would wager that everyone operating the machines are felons convicted at least thrice. I climb up one of the sides, to a platform, where a dog armed with a pistol idles. I shift along the edge, to grab his leg and throw him over. Then, I climb up.

I peek over the doorway from the platform. My raven friend caws persistently. Staying where I am, I count the number of caws. If his intuition serves me, there are thirty guards in this building. An average factory such as this needs only twenty, maybe a few less. I go in, looking around. I draw my stiletto. I cannot trust any of these men not to recognise me for my Khopeshes, if they are among those warned of my interference in Giffard's operations.

Along the walkway, I trail one guard, not the dog that I seek, and then stab him in the back before he can raise his finger at the exhausted workers hammering the metal sheets. No doubt they see me, but say nothing. Killing one harasser is not enough for these workers. The few workers that I see are badgers, clearly exhausted, and looking slim for their kind. I lunge past them, to an approaching guard, about to draw a gun on them, and stab him squarely in the chest. He collapses upon realising it. To make sure, I slash his throat as well. Which of these workers or guards could be Perceval?

It is after clearing a whole floor of guards that could harass the weary shapers, my patience thins. I take the stairs to the top level of the factory, where I let in the dogs literally barking. Every guard commands with threats to those they overwork. How disgusted I am. The dogs have a good sense of smell, but they are too busy to notice the change in air. Among the groups harassing the teams, I find my target.

I should have known. Once a cad, always a cad. I approach where a grey Beagle is. The guards and workers that I pass, fail to notice. I slam the skulls of two Shepherds together, making them stumble. Then, I draw my Khopeshes, which I drive up the midsection of the Greyhound. Before the Beagle can draw his gun, I press my left Khopesh to his throat and say, "Don't even think about it." Upon focusing on him, I see his confusion. I clarify, "You are more useful alive right now." I sheathe my right Khopesh, so I can grab him by the shoulder. I press him against the railing. "You have information I need."

"Like fuck", he growls.

I press the edge further, making him gag. "Tell me: are you still in league with Claud Samuels?"

He chuckles, "That binty twat? I ain't worked fer 'im fer as long's he's bin grievin'."

"Surely y-know about 'is business", I object.

Perceval retorts, "I knew when t-quit. The tosser's nothin' withou' 'is brother." I want to claim that he is lying, but my instincts tell me otherwise. "I've been told about you, too, Vigilante. Let me last words be this: yer friend the police lieutenant is to back off, or he dies."

"I've only two friends: a raven and Giffard's rival."

"Tell that to me messenger, a red fox. He knows y-want Claud. He wanted me to inform you, Claud 'as men closer than y-think. They'll set a bomb to kill the bear."

I tighten both my grip on my Khopesh and on his shoulder. I object, "He bluffs."

"And you?"

I retract my arm from his throat--only to pull him close and turn him around. I growl, "You will come with me to the station. Alive. I will carry you unconscious on my back if I 'ave to."

Perceval chuckles. "I bin doin' this too long, Vigilante. I got nothin' t-lose."

Back at the stationhouse, Perceval tells Wickerson almost exactly what he has told me. There is no denying the truth. Whilst a squad is being dispatched to investigate the mill, Wickerson tells me, "Remember whot I told you in Roseberg: every police officer 'as their life threatened. I am no different. I got shot the night we raided Segal's workshop; I am still here. No matter whot happens, I will hold firm like I am expected to." I never thought that I would worry for a member of law enforcement, let alone a lieutenant.

I reproach, "Payton, I doubt that you would be able to survive an explosion."

"I survived one."

"It could 'ave been a fluke."

"I could survive if dynamite breaks me leg off."

I sigh. There is no fighting with him about this. I raise a finger, "We let them do it."

"Whot?" He scowls, the most venom I have seen in his eyes yet.

I propose, "You come with me to shut Claud down. If he knows that I am coming, I need a diversion. If they fail to shoot you dead, they will rely on the bomb. Let it blow."

"It can be stopped"-

I interrupt, "Let it blow!" Silence. I then whisper, "Trust me. Please..."

He considers. He eases up a little. He asks, "So, whot is the plan, Vigilante?"

(Over my fourth year at the dojos, I seemed to work my hardest. Tsuyoi would bend me until I would break. I would realise my limit, and then push slightly beyond that. Little by little, my limit and breaking point would be higher. This was Tsuyoi's training. As angry as I would get at him for his traps and for taking me down, I would still get back up and take the losses as lessons.

(By that logic, I should have become the world's most intelligent wolf. Well into the winter, I had finally let go of the yearning to rip Tsuyoi's head from his shoulders. He had one "lesson" for me, the day before the first winter festival.

(The red wolf spoke, "You know now why I chose you, Namonaki, as my apprentice."

(It was no question. I got straight to the point. "However long my apprenticeship is might be too long."

(He objects, "That is for you to decide, not me. I know your intention. How long you will remain at the dojos is up to you."

("I am also afraid, Grandmaster", I point out. "I have grown an attachment."

("So did I, and I still wonder what could have been", Tsuyoi admitted. "You will not let your emotions control you, if you believe that you made the right choice." I paused at that. I had no retorts. So, he continued, "You came here to train for a reason. What you do with such knowledge is also up to you. For which you fight will affect the outcome." He paused again. I expected him to have more to go on, but there was not. So, the red wolf finished, "When the time is right, you will know."

(I get up, and then bow. I am about to open the sliding door when I look back, asking, "Why is it you to tell me all this, and not Kashikoi?"

("That is but another lesson for another distant day." I might have guessed that to be his answer. Like me, Tsuyoi was not the social type, as he had made clear. Even now, I saw a death glare in his eyes.)

The night has fallen upon the city. Fire lights the vast spread of asphalt surrounding the plank-covered sheds. The lights in the windows indicate that people are active. The evidence of criminal activity has to be somewhere. If anyone can determine that criminals are among those working late, it is my raven friend.

But something is wrong. Wickerson and I have a plan, but it is too sure not to work. If Claud is too much in mourning over his brother, I would understand him being oblivious to approaching dangers reaching his shop. Then again, I deny that he is unprepared for my attack. Likely, Jack's traitor cares not who he blames for Ross's death.

I send my friend to seek potential enemies. From a train platform, I watch Michi circle above the shabby wooden constructs. From where I stand, I can see him abruptly change his directions. A trap could be set for me or Wickerson, maybe both of us.

Michi returns to me frantically. Upon perching on my arm, he ruffles his feathers as if he is shuddering, and at the same time darting his head left and right. That is a better sign than anything. Our best bet is to set the trap. Suddenly, I look to the road below the bridge, where I stand. Wickerson and his companions stand idly, carrying rifles and shotguns. I will regret making the grizzly and these several officers a diversion. Without looking at my friend again, I tell him, "Guide them." Michi lifts himself from my arm without hesitation. I watch him dive toward the bear, which surprises him. He is quick to follow where Michi lifts himself in the air and glides.

Where Michi intends to lead them is at the workshop that Claud owns and the Lowell House funds. I head to the one opposite to it. Claud's office has to be in that shed. I am at the doorway of the shed, rot of the wood obvious--

But I am shoved against the wall from behind. I am picked up by a strong arm before I can get up from the blow, and then forced away. Before I could get up from that, the same thing happens. Then, there is an explosion close enough to my location to hurt my ears. I cannot believe my eyes when I see my attacker. His eyes seem to glow in the firelight, accenting the brown of his face, and the white of his ears and nose. "Vadimir..." I slowly stand up as he idles, cane in hand.

I comment, "I knew the explosion would not kill you."

"Good", he replies. "That limits your methods."

I ask, "Why are you working fer Giffard?"

"I am not on his payroll at oll", he responds. "I am only on a contract of 'is. And his bounty on you has been increasing."

I draw my Khopeshes. "I expected you wantin' more than money."

He hesitates at that, as if there is something else. However, he lifts his dragon-like hilted cane and holds it sideways. He pulls the hilt, revealing its sabre. So, this is how he intends to do things.

I slightly bend forward, blades behind me, awaiting him. He gives me a stern look before he lunges to me.

I am quick to parry his simultaneous strikes of both his cane and sabre. I try to pull them away, but he is too strong to let that succeed. I struggle as I have our weapons locked together. I kick his shin, and then knee him--in his groin. His grip on me lessens, but not on his weapons. I lunge backwards, to build momentum.

I lunge toward him, my left Khopesh high and my right Khopesh low. He manages to parry both strikes. Already, I have not been thinking. Then again, Vadimir is not one to think during a fight. Every fight needs a strategy. I cannot afford to block and I cannot afford to parry. How can I win?

The mercenary yanks, spreading our arms. He lets go, about to stab me in the midsection, but I dodge left. As if he anticipated that, he swings his cane as swiftly. It lands at the top of my head, but its claw does not penetrate my mask. I swipe my left Khopesh across his right arm. It tears the stitch of his tailcoat's sleeve, but does not meet his skin. I parry his sabre with the outer edge of my right Khopesh, and then bend back. He then swings his cane, which I push down. I take that moment, to leap up from his cane, spin kicking him. My boot meets his muzzle, for he turns to the side.

I swipe across, barely scratching his midsection, and then swipe on an angle, making another scratch. Simultaneously, I slash downward--

But he catches both blades with his sabre and cane. I cannot bring my arms down. So, I knee his midsection, but that does nothing. He manages to lift me, but my feet touch the ground again when he spreads my arms. This time, I hop, and butt my head against his nose. He reacts to that, but by growling. He slashes at me with his sabre. I back up in time, and then back up from a swing of his cane. He thrusts his sabre low, and then high. Then, he swipes, which misses. I barely deflect his cane's arc, and then let go of it. The mercenary stabs me with his sabre. Though I deflect it and make him miss my organ, he manages to get me bleeding. Now, he can exploit a wound. The blade penetrates the leather pad of my tailcoat and breaks the skin enough to draw blood.

I just slash across his midsection, but it comes out as a short slit. He pulls his sabre out, aiming for my chin, but I deflect it. I yelp upon a sting in my leg. The claw of his cane pins in my upper leg. He lifts it--

But there is more surprise. Before I can see if I can deflect his strike, guns click and five barrels point at me. I turn around. Three of these men point shotguns at my chest. I will not survive their fire at point-blank. A sixth man makes himself present, a red fox, smelling of tobacco and whiskey, clad in a white work shirt and brown trousers with suspenders. I scowl at him. He takes one thug's pistol, pointing it at my chest. He takes both my Khopeshes, and then nudges with the pistol's barrel. He says, "After you. I insist."

Retaining the scowl, I follow the directions of the fox and the thugs. I seek an opportunity, but it is hard to do when I have just been stabbed in the leg, more so when six guns are pointed at me and so close. In a few minutes, we are in horse carriages, which take us blocks away from this compound.

By the time I follow the order to get out, I am lost without Michi, but I would say that I am a kilometre from Claud's factory. Before entering a shabby house equivalent to a partially-muscled skeleton, it is the red fox that searches me. He starts with the legs, from which he draws my stiletto. He pauses as if he considers stabbing me with it. From the pockets of my tailcoat, he finds Jack's firebombs. He comments, "How fickle of you, buying these and not using them." I have been considering utilising them, but I prefer subtlety most of the time.

"Inside", the blighter pointing a shotgun at my side orders. I do so. When in what should be a living room, but is hauntingly empty bar a chair and table, two pairs of arms grab me. They have planned for this capture since I was in Roseberg; I am certain.

The two men restraining me have to drag me, for I strain to pull out of their grips, to no avail. My wrists are held in vice-like grips until I feel a rope tie around them. Less than a minute later, I hear a gentlemanly voice speak, "Dismissed." The two brutish dogs behind me, head out.

Here he is now, my enemy, but like a completely different wolf. He has the white pelt with licks of brown and grey, the yellow left eye and the blue right eye. He wears black trousers, polished dress shoes, a black tailcoat--all three golden buttons fastened--a dark-grey business shirt, and a charcoal necktie--the collar closed and the tie's knot against the collar's button. Giffard Lowell has a reputation as a dreaded crime boss, but now that I know the truth, his image is like a ruse to me.

I say sarcastically, "Nice to officially meet, Giffard."

The black badger with red licks, coming from Giffard's right, remarks, a finger raised, "He is Lord Lowell to you!"

Now focusing on him, I note the side of his neck having short fur standing out. Good. The fire did something to him. I ask, "Came you to thank me for the makeover?" The fur that has burnt has greyed. He wears a tan tweed jacket, matching pants and vest, a white shirt with a raised collar, and a garnet necktie.

Lieven growls as he approaches me, "I intend to do verse to you."

Giffard, still looking stoic, states, "I fail to see the reason to take that mask from you. I would not recognise the face behind it."

I respond, "This is my face. The face to be the last that your subordinates see."

Giffard scoffs. "I am not afraid of you. You are no different from a thug looting and killing to get by. You are expendable, like everyone you have challenged."

I ask, "Then why are you off yer heels over Diefenbach's demise?"

Giffard lunges toward me, snarling as he holds my neck--though not tight enough to choke me--"I am the one asking the questions!"

I orate, "If you are unafraid of me, you would not have me tied up. Your clan may work like Chess pieces, but you still need a strategy to take the opposing side. Like the queen, I would wager that Lieven has bigger bollocks than yours." That is when he starts choking me. He has forgotten something. I lift my uninjured leg swiftly, to stamp his foot. That is when he backs up. Lieven instinctively draws his pistol. I add as Giffard recovers, "Do whot y-want to me. There are others after you."

Giffard spits, "Such as MacNiadh? He is pathetic. My men will soon claim what he has of Knightsedge."

I look to my right, seeing that Vadimir has "accompanied" us as well. I ask him, "Here t-listen to us exchange tantalisations?"

Vadimir spits, "Y-know full damn well why I am here."

I ask curiously, "How long 'ave you been listening?"

Vadimir answer, "Long enough. And do not think me so compassionate; I believe yeh're worth more alive."

"Of course", Giffard says nonchalantly. "And much agreed. Lieven, give the merc 'is award."

The badger reluctantly heads to the bare wooden stairs and up them. I ask Vadimir, "Are you sure money is why you 'unted me? Is there more to that and me staining your prestige?" The mercenary answers with a stern glare and no words. I speak, "You take the wrong man's side, Vadimir. If he cared about his money, he could kill you right now if he wanted to. Regardless, his words t-me are empty--all of them." I turn to Giffard, winking. As if he already knows what I mean, he shuffles slightly, but narrows his eyes and his ears turn to the sides. Observing this, Vadimir's ear twitches.

Lieven returns with a sack of bundled wads, commenting, "Your compensation."

Vadimir raises a hand and says, "Hold on." He treads toward me and continues, "What know you of this wolf, besides whot you 'ear from the criminal underworld?"

"I know everything I needed to know", I orate. "It wos I who stood afront of 'im the day Diefenbach died. And I watched how he intends to resolve issues." I note Giffard shove his ears forward and point his muzzle straight at me. I continue, "I went to 'ell and back to learn whot stayed hidden about 'im fer years. Giffard is not the kind of man you think he is. There is a reason courtesans hold grudges against 'im; there is a reason he condones to child labour." Giffard growls. "But you might not care about that, Vadimir. So, I ask again: how can you know that Giffard will not betray you? He might rely on men such as yerself t-despatch an 'indrance in running his machine, if not t-keep his 'workers' in line. Incompetence is not why; he is far from that. Giffard merely has an image meant to impose."

Giffard barks, "Out of my way, Devil! She's mine!"

Vadimir proves to be faster than him, for the mercenary turns around, punching him in the nose. I take that moment to go on. "He does not just hate women; he disrespects them. He only manages to appeal to their purses if they wish to control others. Giffard is an aristo from both sides of 'is family, but deep down, he is but a peasant lost without a master of 'is own."

Vadimir looks to Giffard with indifference, his ear twitching. "Is this true?"

Giffard raises a finger, snarling, "You are not here to ask questions, Devil!" His ears are forward and his muzzle wrinkles, but his eye twitches. Vadimir butts with the hilt of his cane, from which Giffard backs up, and then the red-eyed wolf swings his cane, hitting Giffard's side.

He then gets close to me, aligning our muzzles and ears, to whisper, "You are indeed worth more alive." That is when I feel a scratch against my wrists. He turns away, to approach the badger. Vadimir snatches the sack and strides out of the house.

I look to Giffard, telling him, "You and your friend each have a fire of rage high as the spires of the queen's palace. Unlike him, however, you need rely on opium and binding yer opponent to ensure victory."

Giffard approaches me, a bayonet drawn. If he wishes to look into my eyes as I die, then so be it. I jerk my arms and the rope snaps.

I grab his wrist with my left hand as I swiftly stand up, and then headbutt him. I sweep with my leg, punching downward, my fist landing in his midsection. I kick his knife out of reach and then leap past him. Giffard is not essential right now. I collide with Lieven leaping to me. I use the momentum to my advantage, having my hands on his shoulders. Then, I jump, flipping over him. I cross the threshold, grabbing the two thugs at the doorway and slamming their heads together. I search them. They have the money that I carried with me, but none of my weapons. I howl, "MIchibiku!" as I run as far as I can from the house.

My raven friend, hovering over me, caws. I howl, "Tazune kitsu!" In seconds, he glides in circles, back to where I have been. So, back to the train station I head.

I leap out of the carriage that I take, and the red fox has not departed. Yet. I dash to him, and he hastily draws his pistol--

Only for Michi to dive at him, and claw and peck at him. I am given all the time I need to reach him. I am right that he has my weapons. No one dares steal my Khopeshes. I snatch them from his belt. With both blades, I stab his midsection. The red fox collapses, groaning.

I look into his eyes, telling him, "This is whot happens to traitors." I care not how long he has been a double agent on Giffard's side.

He chuckles and coughs. "Problem is, your- your secret is o-out... Hnn... Y-your f-friends are expendable... Hnn..." It cannot be. So, he has been ghosting me. He knows of the Sanctuary of Mau-Re. Noting my horror, Bones rasps, "Indeed, danger awaits yer 'ome. Not even Lucky Jack kin 'elp yeh." He laughs again, this time followed by him coughing up blood. I dig the blades further into him. From the then limp body, I retrieve my stiletto and firebombs. I strip him. As I head to the factory, I call, "Tameni."

In my anger, I storm the storage, to see that most of its contents are taken or destroyed. The crates that remain are empty. Did you finish the job when I could not, Payton? I then storm the factory, where bodies of men having been shot lay scattered, their blood decorating the floors. Two officers in uniform are among the dead. Thankfully, no grizzly lay dead. I dash up the stairs and to the office. No one is there. I nick what ledgers I can.

A man lunges at me from behind, surprising me. Out of the corner of my eye, I note the grey dog having the same features as a grey Great Gam I killed. I reach over my shoulders to grab his, and I manage to flip him. I quickly draw my Khopeshes. He still flails about, giving me little to no time to counter his knives. After the first slash that I land, another one does. After spinning the blades as one, vertically, he coughs blood and stumbles. I throw his corpse, naked, the ribs and chest broken open in the middle. I pant when I am outside again. That is when I realise something. Payton!

The ride to where Giffard had me was short. So, the raid must have been fast. That can only mean that someone was on standby for after the raid. I have never been this panicked in my life. I only worry for the grizzly bear as I have the brown mare affront of me pull the carriage as fast as she can. There must be an insider, knowing that someone planted an explosive to kill Wickerson.

I drop to my knees upon seeing how the station house has been affected. It really happened. The bomb was ready to blow, and it blew. According to the officers recovering from injuries caused by the blast, the explosion came from the office occupied by Wickerson. I warned you, Lieutenant. You gambled; you lost. But your friends can blame it on me.