Rise of the Underground

[Rayse Valentino]

The first time is always the hardest.

Before the boy lay a body. The knife was on the floor, covered in the same blood that was all over the boy's hands and clothes. He stared at his hands in disbelief, stared and wondered what he had just done.

"What... what did you do?!" Spoke a voice from the darkness that surrounded the boy, "Do you know what you just did?!"

"I had to," answered the boy, his eyes hidden behind his long hair, "I wanted to."

"To save me?" Asked the voice in the shadows, the voice of another boy.

The boy did not answer. He wondered if that life was worth anything. He wondered if the life he saved was worth anything. Suddenly, his mother's necklace was in his hands. Ah yes, his own life was worth something.

The act of taking a life for self-preservation was enough reasoning for the boy. From the second time onwards, he would employ this logic, no matter how twisted it became.

The darkness covered the boy up, and suddenly Rayse could see the ceiling of his room. He was on the floor, half-covered by sheets. He slowly got up and rubbed the sand out of his eyes. He didn't think he'd be able to get to sleep that night, but although he was tossing and turning, he seems to have rid his system of the alcohol. Checking the clock on the wall, it seems he got up when he wanted to; four o' clock. He told Teric before retiring to bed that it would take about an hour to get ready, so they wouldn't actually leave until five. There was something about Teric's name that bugged him since the beginning, but after that dream the thought reared its ugly head again. He did not like to pursue mysteries with no conclusion, so he disregarded it once more. To kill a worthless excuse of a man such as Bale Kenrick was of no consequence to Rayse, he has already killed many lesser men, many of which were common thugs who didn't know any other profession besides violence.

He wasn't about to go out there in his casual clothes, especially when he wanted to avoid anyone recognizing him. He already knew what he was going to wear, and knew what weapons to bring. Every contingency needed an answer, no matter how unlikely the possibilities were. While he predicted no problems getting to Kenrick, he knew the five minute window of opportunity for escape could lead to some sticky situations. There's also the chance of, well, Teric turning traitor. Considering how cautious the old man was, it was very peculiar how he is going along with all of this. He had some ulterior motive, Rayse knew it. Hopefully it was revenge against one, some, or all of these men. Pushing a stool next to his bed away, he revealed a loose floorboard. Pulling it off, he started taking out the contents of this secret compartment. Among his inventory were several 5" long, 1.25" wide black, steel throwing knives. He picked one up and aimed it at a dart board across the room, and let it fly. It landed just off-center, which made Rayse a little worried, but he was sure that when it counted, he wouldn't fail.

Five minutes later he looked in the mirror, moving his head around and examining the fit of his new outfit. He was wearing a very dark navy-blue long-sleeve shirt with the top part extending into a tight-fitting mask that covered everything below his eyes. The mask was pulled down, as he was enjoying what would be his last smoke until this is all over. Inside his sleeves were various fastenings for his throwing knives that could be released with a very specific and precise movement of his arms. His pants were of the same color, but very loose and tied around his ankles and waist with white wraps. His black running shoes fit tightly to his feet. He felt like more of a ninja than an assassin. Although, ninjas can easily be assassins. It took another ten minutes to get various black straps on his body to flatten out his outfit, which was a little too loose. A couple more throwing knives were on sheaths around his waist, and in a slightly larger sheath to his side was his knife Kapteyn, which was originally tied to his ankle.

As Teric walked in, he had quite a sight of the young contractor. He didn't expect Rayse to look like he knew what he was getting into, not to mention the general assassin-like appearance of the young man. The handle of the knife Kapteyn was visible to Teric, which could tip him off about Rayse's experience in the Salvarian Army. Rayse's father was the one that pushed that profession onto him, attempting to make him more like himself, a general of the army. Rayse did not know what position his father was in now, nor did he really care. Hopefully he'll get killed in this war and that'll be the end of that.

Rayse smiled, holding his cigarette up like a torch, "Business indeed."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Rayse looked up at the silo door, straining his eyes to see it. He put his hand on his mouth, but quickly took it off, remembering the mask. He already longed to take it off and get another smoke in, but he knew that the prospect was impossible until the evening. The wall was steep and they were unlikely to scale it, so it was fortunate that there were boxes piled on top of each other against the wall. They both climbed the boxes, but found they were still several feet short of actually reaching the bottom of the door. There was a small lining of floor jutting out beyond the door, just enough to stand on. If Rayse could get up there, he could pry the door open. Teric got in front of the door and laid his hands in front of Rayse, and Rayse put one foot on them. Taking a deep breath, Rayse pushed down with his foot and jumped upwards, having Teric's strength lift his foot up to the door. He found himself hanging off it, and with some effort pulled himself up and had to nearly hug the wall to keep balance. Alright alright, keep it together. All I have to do is pry this thing open and I'm in.

Bracing himself first, he started pulling the doors apart. Nearly losing his balance, he managed to get the door open. It was apparently one of those sliding doors, but he didn't know which direction to push so he pushed both of them. Stepping inside, he found himself in a supply room. Not that he was going to doubt Teric now or anything, but it looks like this building was indeed unchanged from Teric's last memory of it. Having a rope thrown up to him, he pulled his partner up and they both found themselves inside.

Directing Teric to the door leading into the hallway, he whispered, "Lead the way. From this point on, not a peep."

[Bloodrose]

Teric nodded in the affirmative. Outside the warehouse the night was quiet enough, but inside the silence was almost oppressive. It permeated everything like a muggy, corporeal fog, and just the noise of Rayse's whisper was enough to slice through it like a knife. How anything could live and move in such silence without being detected was unimaginable, and Teric was pleasantly surprised to find that their pulling open the old and rusted silo door hadn't attracted the type of attention he had worried it would...

Seems Rayse is a little more prepared for this than I am. The old warrior thought, slightly amused as he began inching his way towards the door in front of them. He had put up such a fuss about how ill prepared and unready Rayse was for this operation, and yet the tables seemed turned by their given situation. Rayse was all gussied up like an Akashima ninja, perfectly dressed for stealth, while Teric was still in his typical clothes: heavy coat, breastplate, iron-shod boots, etc. Not exactly sneaking garb, but then again, stealth had never been one of Teric's strong points.

Reaching the door, Teric eased himself over to the left side of the frame so that the door would open past him. With his cane in his left hand, he slowly turned the knob with his right, and slowly pulled the door open a couple of inches. The hinges gave a short creak in protest, but swung smoothly until Teric could poke his head out into the hall. To the right was a length of darkened corridor with several doors. To the left was more hallway, a bit better illuminated, ending in a staircase that descended down to the first level. Let's see... Teric thought, trying to remember...

Last time I was here, I met Kenrick downstairs. We had a glass of brandy, and talked about the good old days. Kenrick came upstairs, I followed... As Teric replayed events long since passed in his heads, ghostly visages of Bale Kenrick and a much younger Teric Bloodrose ambled past the doorway. The memories chatted with each other like old friends, although then, like now, Teric was just doing a job and not at all interested in Bale as a person. Back then he had been working for Bale, but this time around he was working for someone else...

The ghosts of bygone days stopped in front of a door two down to the right, and on the left side of the hall. The ghosts continued to chat away silently as the visage of Bale produced a key and turned it in the lock. The oak door didn't open, but the ghost disappeared through the portal regardless, leaving Teric with the memory.

Through that door, down a short hall is Bale's quarters. The old warrior smiled as he recollected the layout. Seeing no one, Teric slipped out the door and moved slowly down the hall to the right. He hoped that Rayse would stick close right behind him, but didn't stop long enough to check. Rayse would do his own thing, and it wasn't Teric's job to babysit him. Reaching the door through which his ghost's had entered, Teric tested the knob carefully...

It's going to be locked. He thought miserably, already dreading having to pick the lock and worrying about the noise it would make. It would be so much easier to just kick in the door and be done with all this sneaking around, but that wasn't in accordance with Rayse's plan. He'd just have to...the knob turned easily and the door popped open with a whisper quiet click!. Teric tried not to let the surprise register on his face as he opened the door a couple inches and peered down the dark hallway on the other side. Must be getting forgetful in your old age Bale. Teric reprimanded his prey.

Turning, Teric raised his hand and gestured for Rayse to take point through the door.

[Rayse Valentino]

Before fully closing the door, Rayse listened for the sound of footsteps on the other side. It was eerily quiet, and and it seemed that they were both close to their target. How are we this close already? Maybe Teric remembered the silo door first because it was his quickest escape from this place, but this is still too convenient. Finally hearing footsteps, he waited until they passed, and then motioned for movement. Rayse put their time limit around ten minutes before that guard returned, judging only by Teric's memory. The hallway itself was empty with several doors on each side, and at the end were two large doors. Looking one last time at the door with the open lock behind him, Rayse figured one of two things: either the door was open because it was recently used and the user was going to lock it very soon, or this was all some sort of trap... maybe orchestrated by Teric Bloodrose himself. Once again, the thought was unlikely.

They quickly proceeded to the end of the hallway, stopping before most of the doors to check for any signs of life inside. It appears that back in the day, all of these rooms were offices filled with seedy businessmen. Before places like The Knife Den, mercenary work was much more of a proper business, filled with passphrases and true professionalism. Many different countries would come in and ask for the best, and they would usually receive them. The empire was headed by a revolutionary man, but Rayse couldn't figure out his name. The founder of the old empire supposedly died more than forty years ago, and his theories of mercenary work prevailed for at least twenty years onwards, at which point it died out and was replaced by this new generation of ingrates. A new generation that did not understand order and rules, a generation that is perhaps inciting the coming civil war. It was entirely possible some members of the ancient order became truly powerful, and their descendants find themselves in the royal palace.

When they got to the door, Rayse put his ear on it, listening intently for any signs of movement inside. To his surprise (although he really shouldn't be surprised), there was some. Rayse motioned Teric to stand against the other door. He began counting to three using his fingers, and at the end of the count, they both pulled the handles and shoved the doors in.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bale Kenrick, as was his routine, once again got out of bed, got dressed, and walked downstairs. The few guards on his route saluted him and continued on their patrol. He had a bitter taste in his mouth that his wine couldn't cure, and he needed to get inside his office. His empire, and even the building it was housed in, was crumbling. He knew that he would have nothing when this is all over. There was only one way to save all that he's worked for, and it was in the safe he has been visiting every night for a month straight. He did nothing but walk up to it, open it, and stare inside, waiting for the one answer to his many questions.

He was an aged-looking man, who was slightly balding and had long brown hair that went behind his ears and extended into sideburns down his cheeks. He was wearing a brown shirt under his gray vest, as well as worn pants with old boots. He opened the lock to the famous hallway of the past, of which he was the sole resident now, and walked inside. The doors loomed over him as he made his solemn march, and soon enough he found himself staring inside the opened safe. There were several folders inside, some money, and a small wooden box that was long enough to contain a dagger. Could he really give up the old ways? He had to think fast, because once the civil war came, it would be too late.

Suddenly, the doors of his office opened, and he scrambled to close the safe, but it was too late. He was knocked out cold by a young ruffian who looked like some sort of Akashima ninja. When his eyes next opened, he was tied to a chair with his hands bound behind the chair against his back, and a piece of rope wrapped around his head and in his mouth. His feet were also bound together, but rather than struggling, he sat with contempt in his eyes for the ones that did this to him. His eyes were only fixed on the younger one for a moment before he fixed them on the older gentlemen, and his eyes widened.

"I'm only going to say this once, so listen carefully," started the younger one, "Any sort of loud noise out of you and I slit your throat. Now, I'm going to take off the rope."

He took off the rope covering Bale's mouth and the man spent the next few seconds spitting out splinters. He then went back to his enraged staring of Teric. Rayse was somewhat annoyed that he was being ignored. His mask was off now, and he twirled a throwing knife around his left index finger.

He picked up a piece of paper from a small pile that had some documents on the desk and asked, "Now, what is this about a sale?"

"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, boy," said Kenrick, his voice hoarse but not too deep, still staring at Teric.

Rayse still felt like he was being ignored, because not once did Kenrick make eye contact with him when he said that. He seemed to have some sort fixation on Teric, but neither of them spoke up about it. They still had a few minutes, so he walked back to the safe, pulling out the wooden box and setting it down on the table. Kenrick did not seem to care, as his view was solely the old mercenary in front of him. It seems he was finally ready to say something to his old sellsword.

[Bloodrose]

"You're supposed to be dead." Kenrick hissed, his eyes narrowing into slits as the two men, former employer and former employee, stared each other down. Rayse may as well have not been in the room, so fixated on Teric was Bale's gaze.

"I've been hearing that a lot these days." Teric responded coolly. The old warrior kept his voice low and hushed, sitting down on the edge on Kenrick's desk and propping one foot up on the edge of their captive's chair. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"Whatever." Kenrick spat. The man was obviously agitated, tense, and angry. Of course, who wouldn't be after getting knocked out and tied to a chair in your own office? He struggled feebly against the ropes, bunching the muscles in his shoulders and arms to try and pull his hands apart. It was all for naught, however, and the man went back to staring daggers in Teric's direction. "I don't suppose I could offer you enough money to let me go, could I?" The businessman grinned, defeated.

"Afraid not, old friend." Teric replied. Years ago the offer might have tickled the old warrior's fancy, and the customary response of 'How much money are we talking about?' would have flowed off Teric's tongue like a favorite childhood saying. One had to take into account, however, that years ago money had held a much greater importance for Teric than it did now. That wasn't to say that money wasn't still very important, but it was to say that it certainly wasn't important enough to forgive a man who'd tried to have him killed...

Raising his cane, Teric pointed at the wooden box on the table. "What's in there?"

"Bugger yourself!" Was Bale's violent response. The man jerked forward in his chair, dragging the legs across the floor. The sound was unacceptably loud compared to the quiet lull that had settled over the room before.

"Watch it." Teric warned, raising his eyebrow. "My friend here doesn't like loud noises."

Bale's response was to take a couple deep breaths and sit despondently in his chair. A moment passed in relative silence as Rayse rifled through the stacks of papers in Bale's safe. Teric sat, tapping his fingers against the side of his cheek as he waited patiently for the young contractor to give the 'Let's get out of here' signal. Truthfully, Teric was rather interested to know why they hadn't left already. It would be easy enough to simply kill Bale, take all his papers, and get away safely to study them later. It was at that moment that Bale locked eyes with Teric once more, this time on accident, as though the man was looking to see if Teric was watching...

"Don't." Teric stated firmly, harshly.

"Somebody-!" Bale's shout was cut short as the head of Teric's cane smashed the man in the mouth, sending blood and chips of tooth flying. Kenrick's head recoiled and rolled about on his shoulders as blood flowed through a broken smile and down his chin onto his chest. Despite its brevity, somebody must have heard something, as the muffled din of chairs being pushed back from a table emanated from downstairs, and heavy boots hit the stairs at the end of the far hall.

"Time to go!" Teric hissed at Rayse, grabbing up the wooden box and making for the door. "Move it!"

[Rayse Valentino]

There knelt Rayse behind Kenrick's chair, holding a knife in the man's back. He had been just as quick to jump at the man as Teric was, but he was too late as well. He pulled the knife out and stood up, sheathing it.

"Damn it, I said I would slit his throat."

Odd that his promise came to mind faster than the need to get the hell out of there. He looked at the papers on the desk and the safe. He determined earlier that the safe was part of the wall to the right of the doors from his point of view in the middle of the room, and that the portrait on the floor probably covered it up. He ran up to the safe and closed it, putting the portrait back in its place. Although it might be futile, he didn't want anybody to know that they saw what was inside. Rayse thought that maybe Teric's heavy coat was useful in this mission after all.

Running up to Teric and stopping him, he put his hand on the man's shoulder and said, "Quick, get the papers first! Stuff whatever you can that was on the table and follow, I'll buy some time."

He stuffed the piece of cloth with The Four Horsemen's emblem in Kenrick's bloody mouth. Putting his mask up, he pulled open the doors they had both closed earlier and broke into a sprint. At the other end of the hallway a guard was running at him, but before he knew what he was seeing, he had a throwing knife lodged into his arm, causing him to drop his blade. As he recoiled in pain, he suddenly felt something sharp at his neck, and Rayse was already standing behind him.

In a low voice, Rayse whispered, "The old business district, Emerald Street east side, 9 o'clock, there's a pretty purse waiting for you there if you meet with me. Your boss is dead. You're out of work. I can pay well. Come alone."

The man heard no more, as Rayse punched him in the back of the head from above, causing him to fall unconscious. 'The old business district' was the name of the area known as 'business district number 2' on records, which had been shut down a week ago due to reports of subversive activities against the throne. Two other districts were shut down as well, and the decree can be read loud and clear in all the newspapers, but this was irrelevant right now. At this point Teric caught up, and they both got out of the short hallway before any further guards showed up. Running into the supply room from the main hallway, they both found themselves at the silo door and jumped, landing and breaking the boxes below. Several flashlights brightened the boxes from all sides, but there was nobody to be found in the shining light. Rayse and Teric, sweating up a storm, found themselves in an alley safely away from the building.

Rayse pulled his mask off, still exhausted from the running, "H..Hah.. didn't I tell you I had it covered? That went smoother than I thought. Let's go back to the 'hideout'."

The hideout, of course, was Rayse's apartment. Making sure no eyes were following them, he finally got inside the front door and went straight for the beer, bringing several to the table and downing them like nobody's business.

"Lighten up, we got time to spare. Relax, get some rest and grub, we have plenty of time to plan for our next target. If it's as easy as this one, we won't need to waste much time planning at all."

On the table were the various documents stolen from Kenrick's safe, the small and very locked wooden box, and roughly 326 gold that was in there as well. Rayse was planning to buy quite a bit of information with that. In his sleeve was a paper that Kenrick had about Fatman, which Rayse decided to keep to himself. There were countless documents in there, and Rayse picked out only these several, and if Teric saw something about Fatman he might get suspicious about Rayse's true intentions. It wasn't until he retired to his room to change out of his clothes that he hid the paper under his mattress for the time being. He didn't get a chance to ask Kenrick a few important questions that he may or may not have answered. At the very least, the 'Teric is dead' rumor apparently has infamy among the old coots. At least confident that Teric wasn't out to get him, he walked back into the room in his casual clothes and sat down, looking the papers over with Teric.

[Bloodrose]

All those hours of planning for five minutes of infiltration. Teric was thinking, a bewildered smile on his face. His coat rustled and crinkled as he jogged, so stuffed were the pockets with paper's taken from Kenrick's desk. He hadn't gotten a good look at them as he and Rayse had made their quick getaway from the warehouse, out the same door they came in by, but Teric had a gut feeling about what they detailed. The only thing Kenrick valued in this world was his business, however illicit and below board it was, and anything taken from Kenrick's safe was likely to do with said business...

They turned the last corner and secreted themselves away in Rayse's safe house apartment once more. As soon as the door was closed, Rayse was heading for the fridge, a mischievous smile painted on his face like a clown's. By the boy's gait and mood you'd think they'd just accomplished some grand feat. If you call breaking into a warehouse, killing a man, and getting away by the skin on your teeth a feat... Was Teric's rebuttal to himself. The old warrior sincerely hoped that Rayse didn't plan on such extensive and pointless plotting and strategizing before each and every kill. Were they to do so, the Church and the Crown would likely settle their dispute long before Rayse and Teric finished offing the crime bosses supposedly operating in the shadows.

"Take it easy with those." Teric muttered to Rayse as he sat at the table, indicating the beers. The not-so-humorous thought that Rayse might complete his full circle each time - get drunk and then plan and strategize for hours - crossed Teric's mind. As he sat down, the old warrior fished a handful of crumpled papers out of his pocket and began smoothing them out on the table.

"Let's see," Teric said, grabbing at least one beer away before Rayse got his grubby young mitts on it. Pop! went the cap as Teric used the edge of the table for a bottle opener, and took a sip of the brew as he began pouring over the stack of papers. The taste of hops and barley was bitter on the old man's tongue, but the text on the page in front of him was even bitterer...

"There are a lot of big names here." Teric said slowly, trying to keep Rayse apprised as he read. "Church leaders, nobles, arms dealers, a couple of our other targets..." The page flipped and Teric kept reading. Numbers, inventories, accounts, and locations were all scrawled out in a finely detailed hand unique to Bale Kenrick. "It seems Kenrick and his associates have a certain interest in seeing the Church piss off the Throne. He's got at least a dozen men listed here, big time movers of Aleraran muskets, and all of them are associated with churches across Salvar."

"I think Bale was right." Teric said slowly. "I don't think we know what we're getting ourselves into here..."

[Rayse Valentino]

"That old scumbag was begging to die, if you ask me. I have a feeling he would've offed himself if we didn't get there first."

Rayse put his feet up on an unused side of the table, putting the beer bottle down and lighting up a smoke. He shook the lighter and found that it was nearly empty, but replacing it wasn't his concern right now. Judging by what Teric was talking about, he didn't seem to be aware just how deep these people were with either The Church or The Throne. It's not like all this started recently. The cogs have been in motion for a while now, but the matter of if became a when, hastening the process of war.

"It's something I suspected for a while... Kenrick was down on his luck, and even his dealers in The Church were squeezing him. According to these "terms of sale" contracts, he was going to give up his empire to save himself. At least, that was the plan. These are dated a few weeks ago."

Blowing light trails of smoke into the air, Rayse couldn't help that something was amiss. It wasn't anything in the papers, but more of a gut feeling again.

"All that is irrelevant, the important information is this: Bishop Draklira. Our lucky buyer."

Rayse pulled out various documents about this guy. It had a lot of personal information on him, and judging by their condition Kenrick has been keeping dirt on him for quite some time.

"Known above the ground as a strict follower of The Church of Ethereal Sway, he secretly leads a cult-like syndicate that is in a different league from Kenrick. Put simply, he's insane, and he's incognito... until now. Kenrick had quite a bit on this guy..."

Rayse looked at the paper intently, with a sort of concentration that even Teric had not seen before. This is too good to be true... does he really have an opening like this? The problem is, I don't think Teric's gonna like this. Oh well, I'm not paying him to complain. Trying not to seem too suspicious, Rayse got up, picked up the wooden box, and tried to play off his change of mood.

"I'm going to go get this cracked, and then check with some of my contacts. There's still quite a bit here, so give it all a good look while I'm gone, will ya?"

Rayse walked across the hallway to Neil's room, and once again knocked on the door.

"....Nngh... Who, who is it?!" Came a grumbled reply from deep inside.

Rayse forgot that it was still the morning, but he didn't particularly care for Neil's sleeping habits.

"How can you keep forgetting this knock? Only I do it."

"Oh!" Came a much more hurried reply, and after some shuffling and falling over, the door opened with a man in his pajamas standing before Rayse.

Rayse looked down, and then back up, somewhat disturbed, "You... What are you...? You know what, forget it. I need your lock-picking skills, among other things."

Neil was a handyman of sorts. He was fitted to the role of superintendent of this building, as he was a jack of all trades. Rayse relied on him for much of his menial tasks, and even took him on a few jobs before he realized that he couldn't really stand him anymore. In his youth, he seemed to have a lot more tolerance.

"This early in the morning? Come on, man."

"Too bad. This is urgent, and I can pay this time."

Rayse dropped 124 gold into Neil's ever-willing hands.

"Oh! Well, why didn't you say you had money?! Come in!"

"Please," Rayse begged, "At least change out of... that."

After a few minutes, Rayse found himself staring at Neil go to work on the box. It was a tough lock, and even he couldn't pick it, so he decided to break it. This was good enough for Rayse, although Neil looked entirely too proud of destroying it.

"So? What's in there?" Rayse asked.

"Well... there was a small vial of black ink, a piece of paper with some sort of design like an emblem or something, and some writing that says, 'Essence of Fire'. There is also some equipment here... looks like it's for tattooing."

"Tattooing?"

"Don't look at me! Although, it does remind me of all those tattoos I gave you." Neil was telling the truth. The various lines and curves on Rayse's body were Neil's handiwork. The young contractor felt like he just wasted his time, but there was something he could do.

Rayse laughed, "Sure, how about a new one for old time's sake? Right here on top of my right shoulder. I like the design, too."

It took a small amount of time for the job to be done, but in the end Neil felt a little odd.

"What's wrong?" Asked Rayse, "It looks great! Sort of like a little flame, but somewhat swirly with a hole in the side."

"It's just... well, forget it. If this is all you want, can you get outta here already? I got sleepin' to do, it's my day off!"

"Alright, alright, no need to get cranky, old man."

After some pleasantries were exchanged, Rayse found himself walking outside. The tattoo was hidden under the his t-shirt, and he figured the heat from the recent incident was died down a bit. If anything, he wanted to get to his contacts to see what they knew about this 'Bishop Draklira'.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Are you certain of what you just told me?" Came a voice from a large seat.

In it sat a young man no older than Rayse, with sparkling blond hair and clear, pale skin. He had deep blue eyes that were sharp and gave him a sly expression. He was talking to a knelt man with a bandage around one of his arms.

"Yes. That is where I was told to meet him," he replied.

The young man had already been briefed upon the situation by a forsenics expert. The autopsy reveals that if Kenrick didn't die from blunt trauma to the head, it was certainly from the knife wound in his back. He knew that the invaders had taken something from the safe, for when it was destroyed by demolition experts, the wooden box that was supposed to be inside was gone.

"That will not be necessary. I will personally meet this vagabond who murdered my father."

"As you wish, Master Legaias-"

"No! You will now address me as Kenrick, Mr. Kenrick!"

"Y,yes Mr. Kenrick, sir!"

[Bloodrose]

More waiting...

After Rayse had left, Teric spent his time reading over each piece of paper they had pilfered from Kenrick's office. The young contractor was right it seemed, in assuming that Bale was trying to cut loose his ties to anything related to his former enterprises. At least half the papers in the stack were littered with terms and conditions, monetary amounts, and dates. Teric's old employer had busy lately, if those dates were anything to go by, and it chilled the old warrior to the bone to think of what could drive a man like Bale Kenrick to essentially abandon everything he had built...

This is going to take forever. Teric decided after Rayse didn't return within the first ten minutes. At least he had something to read this time, to occupy himself, but waiting around was making the veteran nervous. Killing Kenrick was likely to have set into motion a whole host of dark maneuvers in the shadows, as Kenrick's associates, his competitors, his buyers, and his contacts all shuffled their holdings to fill the power vacuum. One never quite knew how these restructurings were going to play out, but Teric could only assume that anyone and everyone associated with Kenrick, and by extension the other men he and Rayse were supposed to kill, would at the very least tighten their security.

Rising from the table, Teric scoured the apartment for anything more potent than the beers Rayse had fished out. The old warrior's nerves could do with a good shot of liquor right now, and it didn't matter what kind. The cupboards were empty, and judging by the cobwebs, had been for some time. The icebox was also pretty barren, along with the counters, the shelves, and anywhere else a man might hide a bottle of spirits. Booze-less, but with a cigarette he had discovered in the sugar jar, Teric returned to the table and went back to reading...

"Bishop Draklira." The old warrior muttered under his breath. Putting the cigarette in his mouth, Teric stumbled upon the interesting conundrum of what to light it with. Rayse had taken his light with him, and there didn't seem to be any open flames in the apartment either. Off Teric went on another search of the apartment, this time into the bedroom where he discovered a couple candles and a box of matches in the nightstand. He relieved the nightstand of its matches and went on his merry way, arriving at the table this time with a warm puff of smoke in his lungs.

"Don't know him." He muttered, picking right up where he had left off. A single plume of smoke rushed out of the warrior's left nostril as he exhaled, an interesting sight for anyone not familiar with Teric. The old man was long used to breathing through one side of his nose by now, as he had been doing it for almost twenty-one years; ever since Darren Fletch, the Bastard of Beggar's Notch, had smashed his nose with an axe handle during a duel. "I probably should know him," Teric continued, without missing a beat, "but the name doesn't ring a bell..."

[Rayse Valentino]

A few hours later, Rayse walked back to his apartment with his head hung low, thinking of what to say. Not many of his contacts were around, but the ones that were didn't have much to say. Rayse had to hear them talk first, as he couldn't very well mention Kenrick's death, yet they did not seem to be aware of it. With an organization like this, news of its crumbling should have at least reached some ears. The idea that they killed some sort of doppleganger and the real Bale Kenrick still lived was a disturbing one. Nonetheless, he would finally know everything in about an hour. At least, that's what he thought, but concern overtook his face when a man ran up to him, exhausted. He was right at the front door of the apartment building, and he seemed to be in a panic.

"Mr. Valentino, sir! I have something to report!" Said the man between breaths.

"Dan, I paid you good money to go to that meeting spot. What are you doing back so early? Did you meet the man with brown hair and a knife wound on his right arm already?"

Dan replied, "No sir, someone else came there."

"9 o'clock, old business district, Emerald Street east side?"

"Yes!! It was a pale-looking blond-haired man with sharp, blue eyes. No brown hair and no knife wound. He actually told me he wanted to meet you in person."

Rayse became concerned. If it wasn't the contact he thought he made at Kenrick's Base, then just who was he?

"Do...do I still get paid?"

"Since you couldn't complete your previous job, I'll only pay you if you complete this new one. I want you to go back there, completely undetected if you can, and scout out the area. I want you to report all your findings. I will check myself later, and if it's not exact, I'll personally find you and cut off your scalp. Understand?"

"Y, yes sir! You can count on me!"

"I know I can, Dan. We go way back. Now get going, I don't know how much longer he's going to be there. You should still have your spare key to my place, just come inside when you're back."

With that, Dan ran off and Rayse found himself alone in front of Neil's building. He couldn't help but make a connection with the lack of rumors regarding Kenrick's death and this new stranger at the meeting place. Also, whoever was waiting for him there had most certainly prepared a trap. Grinning, Rayse found it amusing they would go through so much trouble over someone like him. He was going to march into this trap head on, he was not scared. Although, he was going to need Teric for this.

Stepping inside, Rayse confronted Teric, "I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that it looks like our little unconscious witness has blabbed, and I'll be heading into a trap soon. The good news is, I've found something for you to do."

Rayse closed the door behind him and sat down, content that he still had some time to explain the situation to Teric. He told him that before Teric left Kenrick's room, Rayse had made the guard into a contact, and was supposed to meet him to discuss payment over whatever information he had that could be of use to the job. Before he continued, he wanted to ask Teric some things about this Bishop Draklira character.

"Like I said, he's a real nutjob, but I don't know who he was before he had this position. I think you might know him, but he wasn't exactly a famous character for a long time. If you can remember anyone who may have been some sort of religious wacko that worked under the man who started the first mercenary empire, it might be him. He should be in his 70's by now, so back then he could've been old enough to be bitter about the end of that organization. Of course, the possibility of you seeing this man is well over fifteen years ago, so you might have never seen him, but anything would be good."

There were two things about taking down the next target that bothered Rayse: One, it would not be at his base or anywhere near it. Two, it would be in broad daylight. If Kenrick's intel proved inaccurate, Rayse and Teric would find themselves six feet under in very short order.

[Bloodrose]

"You're going to walk willing into a trap?" Teric asked, incredulous. For a brief second he had thought about asking Rayse why on Althanas he would try to turn one of Kenrick's guards into a personal contact, but then the young contractor had dropped that bombshell in his lap. Red flags went up in the old mercenary's head, and a half dozen questions started floating through his thoughts. "Who's trap? Why? What are you, stupid?" They all came tumbling out in quick succession, for now was not the time to keep holding things back and allow Rayse to run them willy-nilly into a pine box.

And that was assuming whoever lying the trap was nice enough to give them a proper burial...

Teric's fist banged off the table, making the empty beer bottles jump, and a couple to fall over. It was the first time in a long time that he had been frustrated enough to let it make him act out like that. Frustration was a fact of life in Teric's world, but usually he kept his composure. A couple of deep breaths allowed him to regain some of his cool, but breathing couldn't soften the dark lines that crinkled his brow, the area around his nose, and around his mouth. The scowl would be more than evident for a while, if his mood played any part in maintaining it.

He couldn't even think about Draklira right now, so preoccupied with the sudden hazard that cropped up so soon into the operation. Kill one guy and people start asking questions. Kill a couple of guys and people start getting on edgy. Maybe by the third or fourth guy, people will start catching on to what's up, and start making plans; but to have that happen after the first kill?

Thinking about the Bishop wouldn't have mattered much anyways. Draklira wasn't the sort of name that brought a dozen fond memories of the warrior's hey-day back to life. If you mentioned Kenrick, or Stefan Tyray, a veritable volume of history came down of the shelves of Teric's mind and revived a period of the warrior's life. The volume sitting on the shelf with Draklira's name of it was an empty one. The cover and the binding were there, but the pages were either blank or missing...

"Do have any idea what's waiting for you?" He added.