Nosho ai Rebelo a Malko. [ Song of Rebelo and Malko. ] Chapter 2
Why Malko was late...
Malko stood on a broken-down building, overlooking the Dead District. He sighs as he recognizes his home neighborhood in ruins. The Gang Wars hit this place hard. Oh well, that's why he was here. He looks at the letter and shakes his head. Looks like it was another wing-it mission.
"Malko, your target is Avarano Durutulo, head of the Inadaroy Gang. He is planning to break the north wall and attack the main city. He has diplomatic immunity, so you must take him out before we can stop him. You will go in with light armor, a blade, and a crossbow. Your mission is to off him quickly, get out of there, reach the pickup point, and get out of there. You have one hour, after which, we will strike. Do not disappoint.
_ -High Lancer Du. Ateltaso."_
_ _
He turned to the water tower, the pickup point. About ten eropetu south of the tower, I see the target location: an abandoned guard's barracks. Ironic, if it weren't so sad.
Well, this bastard won't kill himself. They never do. He climbs down onto the dead, decrepit streets, skeletons of the many leparos who died in the Gang Wars slowly decomposing in the streets. The lucky ones. The ones who weren't weaponized by the damned gangs... He shoves the war from his mind. He had a job to do. He ignores the bones of his people as he trudges on, thirsting for vengeance. He enters the shadow as he comes closer to his target, noticing the guards on patrol. He didn't take them out; he had bigger fish to fry up. The sewers were unmanned; looks like it's Cliché-Time! He sneaks down a manhole and slides into the dried tunnels, the stench overwhelming as he drops down, crushing a rat skeleton on his way down. He ignores the crunch as he pulls out his map of the sewers and navigates himself to the target building, more crunches and the occasional squish emanate from his boots. He shook his head as he reached the maintenance panel, the hexagonal plate hiding the ladder up to the water main. One climb later, he was in the boiler room, which had obviously become a rec room after the water was shut off. A quick look-around confirmed the absence of guards. Odd. He didn't like it one bit. He sneaks around, seeing everything he could. He needed a vent... There! Another hexagonal grate was on the wall. One quick motion, and he was in the A/C, on his way to execution.
He crawled for what seemed like ages in a hot, sticky, metal game of Blind Man's Bluff, until finally he came to a grate above the arsenal. He drops down and decides: If he must kill, why not be poetic? One of the bastard's own weapons of terror would do beautifully. Then his eyes fell upon the crate of the surgical bombs, his target's most vile weapon. Perfect.... Taking one, he heads out of the armory, easily dodging the guards. They were totally baked, the d?ter?on? in their paws burning slowly and their pupils covering their irises. Totally baked, on the job, no less! Idiots! Any organization that let morons guard their weapons deserved this. They were deathly skinny, so much so that he could count their ribs. What kind of leader lets his people starve!?
No matter. Now for Durutulo. From what he could gather, he was the kind of guy to piss on Grandfather Mortality and run away laughing. So, with any luck, he'll be easy to locate. How much time did I have? He checked his watch. Ten minutes. Damn! Should I just blow this place to shit? Last resort... Just as a last resort... He looks in a few rooms until he reaches the conference room, where the horrid leparos is sitting, chowing down on a huge meal. The slobbery piece of scum wolfing down on extravagant roast while his own men would likely fight over an apple! The piece of shit was too busy stuffing his maw to notice his assassin. Malko coughs softly, wanting to savor his target's death.
"Huh? Who are you, how did you get in? GUARDS!"
"All dead." , the assassin bluffs.
"Hhh! Assassin!" The repulsive madman pulls out his collapsible sword and swings at his killer's arm, aiming to cut the sleeve.
Clang!
Malko's blade meets the glutton's attack, parrying it with ease. This idiot was no swordsman. Every swing was off-balance and clumsy. Pathetic. He let this tomfoolery go on for a minute or so, even feigning pain to lull his prey to further pitiful strikes. He disarms his foe easily and kicks him down. He's cutting it close.
"You have been deemed guilty of terrorism, murder, and Leparos experimentation... I recommend you make peace with your god, for you are Unclean... Thus, you set..." He tosses the explosive onto his prey and smashes the window as he leaps out of the two-story building. He grins and uses his crossbow to hit the charge as he falls. The explosion was very showy, but effective.
Termination: Complete.
Now the fun part: Getting the Hell out of Dodge. He hit the ground running and sprinted off, arrows whizzing past his head. One minute... He picks up the pace as a bolt grazes his shoulder, leaving a shallow cut as he reaches the turn. The ornithopter wait for him at the pickup point. Ten seconds... He grabs at the latter. He's almost at the roof....
Time: Zero seconds.
Malko falls on his knees as the automated 'thopter takes off, leaving him deep in enemy territory at least until tomorrow....
...To be continued...