...In Which Our Hero Takes Out The Trash

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Every dagger, club, and broken bottle in the joint was aimed at me.

I was surrounded by an assortment of your standard ruffians and ne'er-do-wells, hired thugs and all-purpose assholes. One thing I could credit the island of Lorinus--especially the slums that grew in the dark shadow of The Floating City--is that there was no shortage of them.

The man that lay face-down on the dirty, pockmarked wooden floor of the tavern I had visited tonight choked out a protest. I dug the heel of my boot into his spine just a little bit more, letting him know that continuing to do so would not be in his best interest. He immediately shut up, and instead began to claw at my delyn cable, which was wrapped tightly four times around his throat to no avail.

Two dozens pairs of angry eyes bored holes through me as I addressed my captive audience. "All I want is to know which hole Lucas Freebird is cowering in. This doesn't have to be such a difficult process." I looked around the dingy, candlelit tavern, daring each of the men in turn to come at me with my own venomous gaze. "I'm getting sick and tired of killing all your friends to get to him. Believe it or not, it gets so boring ending the life of one unimportant, faceless goon after another..."

One particularly brave soul, a balding man with an patch over his right eye and a dark leather outfit stepped forth. I gave a quick tug on the wire that was wrapped tightly around the man's neck that lay on the ground, bending him backwards. "Don't even think about it. One step closer, and I'll pull so fucking hard that your friend's spine will snap. Failing that, you'll end up exactly like what's-his-teeth over there." I motioned my free hand towards one of the front of the tavern, where the fresh corpse of one of the thugs who decided to get rowdy was draped and bleeding all over a table, a steel throwing dagger planted firmly in his throat.

A gruff voice from the back of the tavern broke the tense silence that filled the air. "You won't do shit without your demon pal here to back you up, bitch."

The grunts slowly lowered their weapons and turned towards the person who spoke. They then shuffled off to the side, giving me a better look at the man who was slowly approaching me. He was tall, pushing seven feet, and just about as wide. Brick, as I had suddenly taken to calling him, had a sailor's tan and the physique of a seasoned blacksmith. His salt and pepper beard was unkempt and stretched down to his ribs, and his dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. I noted that his left eye, marked above and below with a series of three scars, was made of glass and tinted red. Brick snarled at me, displaying two rows of rotting and missing teeth.

"Finally, a dialogue," I snarked.

Brick pointed at the man pinned underneath my heel. "Let him go," his booming, harsh voice commanded. I pulled up on the wire once more, causing another fit of choking and gurgling from the thug. Undaunted by the fate looming over the head of one who I would assume to be a comrade, the mountain of a man took another step closer. "You wouldn't, you whore. Not without your flame-throwing friend here to bail you out and save your fucking ass again."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Is that so?" Tightening my frown up into a scowl, I pivoted on my free foot and stomped down hard on the man's back. At the same time, I wrapped my free hand around a slack portion of the wire, and pulled back with all my strength. The cracking of bones and the unearthly howl of the thug's cries were noises that I wouldn't forget any time soon.

[Zack Blaze]

He watched as Madison took on the thugs, a smile spread across his features as he watched the girl handle the ruffians. It wasn’t until one of them mentioned the fact that the girl was without her Lornius Corporate Championship partner that Zack Blaze finally stood up, cracking his knuckles in the process. He let the airbags spew more venom towards the wire-wielding woman, and watched as she dispatched one of them to make good on her threats.

“By the way,” he finally spoke up, stepping beside this woman. Zack still had bandages over his stomach from the terrible execution his friend and ally, the demonkin Aurie, had inflicted upon him. Before the brutal death, however, Zack had been engaged in a heated battle with Madison, asking her constantly through the fight to join his team of specialists as part of Misery Business. She had adamantly refused for the most part, but now that Zack had heard of the librarians true goals, he felt as though he could recruit her for sure now. “She may not have her demon partner, but she has me.”

“I don’t need you,” Madison spoke as she readied herself for the assault that would surely arrive in moments.

“Oh trust me, I know,” Zack threw one of his fists up into the air, the back of his hand slamming into the nose of a would-be attacker. The assailant fell to the floor with a thud, knocking over a table and sending plates and bottles spilling all over the floor. Zack grinned and allowed his fists to become consumed with flames, his eyebrows perking up as he shifted his gaze back over towards Madison.

“You need answers to your questions, and I’m really good at interrogating. You just need to tell me the conditions.” His fists now looked as though they were miniature fireballs at the end of his arms. The smoke rising from the fire slowly starting to fill the bar. There was a brief pause before anything else was said, but a smile beamed out from Zack’s face as soon as he was given his orders.

“Leave one or two alive. The rest, do whatever you want.”

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

I'll spare you the details of the fight, as the majority of them are rather underwhelming. But if you must know, imagine your standard tavern brawl; but instead of a giant melee where everyone is at each others' throats, picture one of those fights that you'd read about in books--the one where two lone warriors faced insurmountable odds to overcome their adversaries, which outnumbered them greatly. ...Just not as epic.

Exactly five minutes after I had snapped the faceless thug's back, the spark that set off the powder keg, Zack and I each pulled a stool up to the bar and decided to get a celebratory drink. All around us, tables and chairs laid in charred splinters, discarded daggers and cudgels were strewn in every direction, and the broken bodies of our attackers collected in haphazard piles on the floor. Some of them got off with broken arms, noses, ribcages, and an ankle or two--those people let out a soft chorus of groans as they re-evaluated the poorly-thought-out choice they made minutes prior. Others weren't so lucky. Burned skin and clothing marked the handiwork of the street fighter seated next to me.

"Did you have to kill them all," I asked Zack after surveying the damage.

The youth flipped his blond locks to the side as he leaned forward on the bar. "You did say 'do whatever you want'. Besides, you were doing a good enough job leaving not just one or two alive, but half of everyone who came at us."

I shrugged. "Guess I'm losing my killer instinct." It was true, though... I had become rather uninterested in outright killing anyone and everyone who looks at me cross-eyed lately. I had realized that killing doesn't really serve much of a constructive purpose ever since I left the assassination game, where at least I'd be able to score a few pieces of gold in exchange for ending the life of some minor crime lord or person of interest. That's not to say I would never kill ever again; if the situation had no other obvious outcome, or you were my parents and brother, you were going to get your neck snapped or a dagger slid between your ribs.

Zack looked around the back wall of the bar for a brief second, then stood on the brass rail at his feet and hoisted himself over the beer-soaked and peanut shell-littered bar to look for the bartender. He found him crouched and cowering in the corner, a bottle of vodka imported from Salvar spilling its clear contents at his feet.

"My good man," the boy teased, "me and my friend would like some service."

The bartender stood up, and even then was barely taller than the bar. His wrinkled face still had that look of fear upon it as he stuttered out a polite "What will you have?"

"A Radasanthian, no cherry." Zack shot a glance my way, searching for any critique from me for his cocktail choice, finding none.

The old man looked at me. "M-ma'am?"

I scanned the back wall quickly, looking for something to take the edge off after that little burst of violence. I nodded towards a particular clear bottle full of amber liquid. "A double shot of that dwarven firewater on the second shelf from the top."

"Right away," the bartender squeaked out before turning away to fix our drinks.

I turned to the street fighter as he sat on the cushioned stool next to me. "He doesn't seem too concerned about the damage we caused here, Zack..."

The boy shrugged his shoulders, then focused on a scraping off a speck of mud that had rubbed off on his green leather jacket with a fair, manicured hand. "In a dumpy little place like this? Probably happens every other night."

I muttered an agreement and stood from my chair. With a couple lazy steps, I approached one of the thugs who weren't so lucky. Half of his face was melted away by a leaping, twirling, fiery backhand delivered by the flamboyant but useful Zack Blaze. I felt around on his corpse for a coin purse, finding one attached by the straps to his belt. Tearing it free, I fished out a few gold coins. I could feel Zack looking at me inquisitively as I took my seat at the bar once more.

The bartender returned with our drinks; I set the coins down in front of him.

Zack chuckled. "The least those wastes could do for trying to kill us, eh?"

"I was doing fine until you muscled in," I muttered half-jokingly as I took up my glass and downed the whiskey in one gulp. The firewater lived up to its name; Dwarves are a hearty race, and brew their beverages accordingly. My throat burned with the intensity of the midday Fallien sun as the alcohol touched it. A few clenched tears rolled down my face as I slammed the glass back down on the bar. I managed to let out something that wasn't quite a scream, yet not quite a gasp.

Zack smiled that bastard smile of his as I rubbed my eyes and regained my composure. "The Fabulous Madison Freebird. Such a brave soul..."

"Fuck you," I said through the back of my hand as it wiped the excess whiskey from my upper lip.

"So what's the game plan now?"

"We take a couple of these assholes where nobody is going to find them, and you do whatever you need to in order to find out where my brother is holed up. Turns out that I'm not that good at getting what I want most of the time... I usually end up getting frustrated and killing them." I shrugged, then signaled the bartender to fix me another round of the firewater (because I am an idiot and an alcoholic, and will never learn better).

"Whatever I need to, hmm?" Zack's serpentine smile grew behind the rim of his cocktail glass as he took a sip.

[Zack Blaze]

Zack finished his less-than-manly drink in moments upon hearing Madison’s orders. The youth smiled as he prowled the room, the tip of his boot seeking out any bodies conscious enough to release a moan. One by one, Zack physically examined each of these bodies, until he had found three still breathing, albeit soon to be unfortunate souls. He grabbed two of the men by their hands, slowly dragging them out of the bar. As he left, he could see Madison slowly subduing the third with some of her fine, thin wires…

Nobody said much as they passed through the streets. To the wandering eye, the pair seemed to be barflies dragging a few of their more intoxicated buddies’ home. With each step Zack took, he could feel the weight of his quarry getting lighter. The youth chalked it up to his drink, the effects of the alcohol slowly setting in while he pulled the two heathens around.

“So where are we going?” he could hear his female compatriot ask a few feet back.

“Misery Business has bought out a lot of these abandoned buildings,” Zack explained, taking his prey through a dark alley. The light of the moon barely revealed the rickety door hidden within the shadows. Several boards were nailed to the outside, sealing anybody from getting in or out of the establishment. “Lornius is almost on par with Alerar as far as technology goes. But for every invention that benefits man…”

Zack dropped the legs of the dragged hooligans, his hands grabbing at the boards. He placed a foot on the wall and ripped the wood from the walls they were nailed to, loud cracks echoing through the darkness as splinters flew out in every direction. He grabbed the rusted gold knob of the door and turned, pushing the entrance open and releasing a rather foul, ammonia like smell. “There’s always at least two inventions that prove man is not ready for such responsibilities.”

Zack grabbed the semi-conscious bar brawlers and proceeded to drag them into the building. The interior of the building was huge, with many tables and chairs strewn about. Beakers of various shapes, sizes, and liquid contents litters almost every inch of every table. Charts were hung up on hooks, the papers clipped to them withered away and slowly deteriorating more and more. The rancid odor was much stronger within the place, soaked into every board and cloth that was available.

By the time Madison had gotten her captive into the building, Zack had already tied his two men to wooden chairs, their wrists and ankles bound by a small yellow rope. Zack balled his right hand into a fist, a small pop of electricity emanating off of his digits. The street fighter slammed his hand into one of the men, causing him to jolt out of unconsciousness.

“Now then,” Zack’s face grew into a more sadistic grin as he cracked his knuckles, “how about you tell me where my friend’s family is located…”

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

While my fair-skinned cohort of convenience was busy tying up our unfortunate guests, I was busy exploring the warehouse. I went around, lighting oil lamps set on dusty workbenches, providing a little bit of warm light in the dark expanse. Grabbing one of the lamps, I began making my way around, searching drawers, cabinets, and crates for nothing in particular.

From the center of the warehouse, I hear one of the two thugs cry out with a hoarse whisper, "I won't tell you shit, you creep."

"Not right now, perhaps," Zack replied with a bit of sadistic glee, "But eventually you will. That's what your kind does, right? They're built up just to be broken? Only as loyal as long as the money holds out, am I right?"

I heard the beaten man hock a very wet-sounding loogie, which landed on Zack's girlishly handsome face with a loud splat. The street fighter recoiled, let out a short laugh that was an even mix of disgust and surprise, wiped his face clean with the sleeve of his jacket, and then turned back to the thug with a malevolent fire in his eyes. The bound man chuckled in defiance.

Zack raised a balled fist in in the air between the two, his knuckles white and crackling with electricity. "Wipe that prissy look off your face! Want a mouthful of crushed teeth?"

I quietly went back to my searching as Zack followed through with a few electrified punches to the thug's jaw. Screams echoed throughout the warehouse as bone connected with electrified bone. The chair the thug was tied to scraped against the concrete floor with each blow, sending involuntary chills down my spine. After a few more seconds of looking around the back area, I stumbled upon a workbench that had several beakers, alembics, and calcinators set up on it. Next to the alchemy gear, I found a glass case with a piece of tape covering it that had a skull and crossbones warning scribbled on it. Yep, this was going to be as good as anything.

With the hilt of one of my daggers, I shattered the glass and started pulling random chemical vials out of it. I will be completely honest with you; I had no idea what I was about to do, or what kind of effects it would have. But I grabbed one of the dirty plastic, and began pouring chemicals into with complete disregard as to what I was actually mixing. The alchemical mixture--if you could even call it that--started to bubble and fizz, emitting a foul stench from the beaker's opening that caused me to gag. I reached in with a metal stirring stick, which began to dissolve as soon as the metal touched the viscous liquid.

Good, that's the effect I was hoping for.

Zack was still pummeling the man as I grabbed the beaker by the neck. The plastic was hot against the exposed skin of my palm, but it was about to be far more uncomfortable for someone else here in about five seconds.

I called out to the street fighter, "Zack! Wake the other one up!"

The street fighter turned around, disappointment etched across his face as he pulled out a rag to wipe his bloodied knuckles clean. "Just as I was starting to have a little bit of fun..."

I moved swiftly across the warehouse towards the beaten thug, my boot heels clicking against the concrete. Zack threw up a spark on an extended pointer finger, and jump-started the second survivor of the tavern brawl.

The poor kid looked very disoriented as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. He was mumbling curses as the two of us as I locked eyes with him. "Listen closely," I hissed, getting to the heart of the matter. "Lucas Freebird is lurking somewhere around here. I know he hasn't left Lorinus yet. I don't have the time or patience for this bullshit anymore--I want you to tell us where he is, and quickly. Let me demonstrate what will happen to you if you don't cooperate."

Slowly, I began pouring the beaker's bubbling contents onto the lap of the first thug. The mixture quickly ate its way through the front of his trousers, and began working on the unfortunate soul's extremities. The scent of burning, melting flesh began to fill my nose as his screams echoed throughout the steel walls of the warehouse.

[Zack Blaze]

Zack’s eyes widened while Maddy castrated (or rather, acidrated) the poor sap before him. The smell of flesh as it bubbled away into nothingness caused Zack’s body to tremble in fear. Was this the same girl he has somehow beaten in a straight up fist fight? Zack made a note to never to allow his fellow fighter to ever pull out chemicals in a fight.

The scream of the victim pierced Zack’s eardrums; worse than any other sound the youth had ever hear. He could not even fathom the pain in which the henchman experienced. Zack held a hand over his mouth, his eyes still wide as the thug screamed nearly incomprehensible jargon. Something the crook said among his gibberish quickly caught the boy’s attention, and his hand grabbed the wrist of Madison Freebird, and pulled the putrid potion upwards.

“He just said ‘I’ll Talk’,” Zack said, though his voice indicated he could care less about the guy’s actual well being. Zack’s eyes moved back towards the man,s whose screams had now turned into whimpers. The street fighter figured that the man was either in mourning over the loss of his most valuable asset, or so weak that murmurs were all he could produce. “Start talking,” Zack said, his free hand engulfed in flames, “or me and her are gonna start working on making you a wider hole.”

He left what hole to the man’s interpretation, but the dejected thug quickly began to stammer. “Th-the prison. I… I heard a guy named Freebird… he was headed towards Terrinore…”

“Show u--”

Before Madison could finish the comment, the chair, with the ‘headless’ man still attached, was set on fire. His body twisted and turned as the man’s screams roused his partner in crime. Before the other could react, his own chair was also ignited, and his screams of torture only added to the echoes of the first. Madison shifted her eyes towards Zack, a squint as if she were displeased with his actions.

“What?” The boy shrugged, “We didn’t need em going to tell their friends what we’re capable of, and I know exactly where Terrinore is. I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone. Not my fault the stone’s a lava rock.”

Madison sighed. “Let’s just go.”