17th Bell - 9th Day of Spring, 506AV - Castle Commons
"We're inna' hurry, mate, so jus' geddit an' dun' waste time."
That was all Konrad really needed to hear, but he decided to confirm the tone and the verbal swagger before he did anything else. He looked up from the jar of Wind Reach Honey he'd been pretending to study and tossed a look at the grocer behind the counter. The man walked stiffly, carefully, as if too slow or too fast would get him petched up by someone... but he did manage to catch Konrad's eyes-
-and nod. Face a sweaty, puffy mask.
Okay. Time to work.
He tossed the jar of honey up and walked up behind the two wide boys who were, literally, quite wide. Not tall, though. He topped them by half a foot each and he took that into consideration. Studying their back as he came closer, he didn't see anything out of place. No gang colors or tattoos, scars or brands that would set them apart.
Typical, he thought, remembering Tremor's instructions to him. Never easy. Ah, well.
"Youse can fuckin' wait an'-"
Harry's growled order at the civvie coming up behind them was cut off when he turned around fully at the sound of his steps... and saw that it was no civvie. Tall, clad in black, face the kind that made women mutter prayers and children lose their smiles. The two gutter trash locked eyes and knew each other in that instinctive, animal way in and instant and-
Konrad was faster.
The brawny ganger screeched as a half-quart of honey in a glass jaw shattered against his head, right next to his eyes. Sticky shards flung out everywhere, burying themselves in his eyes, his nose, his tongue when he screeched and coughed, blinding him even as the sweetness dripped into his mouth and-
-Konrad drew back his hand fast and it shot out again towards Dev, the second shakedown "artist", head snapping around in surprise as his partner went down mutilated, blinded and surprisingly sweet-smelling-
-looking further up to see Konrad's palm strike coming for his face-
-only it wasn't a callused palm, but the sharp, jagged top of the jar-
"Shyke!"
The man fell back screeching as Konrad crunched the remnants of the jar into his face, screwing it in as he pulled his hand away, gouging into his eyes, nearly pulping his nose his lips-
-and cutting his own hand open, too. He cursed and made a fist out of instinct. That time, instinct was not his friend. He winced as he felt a sliver driven in deeper to his skin, but not time to worry about that now.
Harry was starting to get to his feet again and Konrad had to prioritize. Swallowing the pain in his hand, his arms shot out and he gripped Dev by the hair and the side of the head, pulling and jerking with a snarl that spat bile and disgust-
CRUNCH
-slamming the ganger's skull into the counter. The second time, something broke like a thick egg being hit with a spoon and Konrad half-released, half-threw the semi-conscious Dev away, striding past him to deal with-
"F-Fucker!"
"Fuck's goin' on in-"
There was a third man, of course. Someone to watch the street, keep any customers out and raise the holler if the Daggerhands stopped by. Their backup, too, Konrad was guessing. A third pair of hands to wade in in case they were ambushed. He filled the doorway as he peered over the rows of bread, cheese, dried meats and jars of oats and barley, sword already in his hand-
SHUNK
For all the good it did him, thanks to Three Eyes. Konrad's partner had been waiting across the street, shaking his little begging bowl and doing a fair job of appearing like he wasn't watching the shop. When it all kicked off and Third Man tried to make his big entrance, what he got was Three Eyes slamming into his back-
-dagger first. Twisting. Plunging. Gouging. Then ripping its way out between the same ribs, breaking one of them as the serrated steel did its job, heart already a ruined mess inside his torso.
Harry didn't know any of this. Didn't know he was the last man alive. Only knew that he was blind in one eye and tasted salty blood and delicious bee bum dung in equal measure... and the fucker who'd done 'im was right in front of him... and drawing a curved blade from the small of his back.
"Who're ya runnin' with, boy? C'mon, lemme know an'-"
Konrad didn't finish his sentence, and by choice. He lunged like the dirty bastard he was and slashed low at Harry, driving him back, hopping like a plump bird-
-his own dagger slashing higher, Konrad jerking to the side to avoid it-
-left fist snapping out to pulp his kidney before drawing back, avoiding his backhand dagger slash that would have laid his arm open-
-retaliating with a low, diagonal slash at Harry's tight.
The muscular thug roared again and crashed down to one knee, muscle gouged deep, ligament severed. He was sure he felt the kukri scrape against the bone as it went through him, dropping him down to the ground-
-flailing desperately with his dagger only for Konrad to twist to the side, going from facing him to sideways to him in a blink-
CLANG
-and the dagger bounced off the long, curved sword in his scabbard, hanging at his side, instead of carving deep into his leg instead. Konrad's free hand shot down and grabbed his wrist, jerking it back-
-and burying his kukri into his arm below the hand, severing more muscle and string strands of crucial flesh, his grip vanishing, lost in a sudden burst of pain and gushing blood-
"Wanker."
-and Konrad finished the job by kicking out with a snarl, throwing his hips into the movement, catching Harry high in the chest, booting him back and-
CRASH
Rushon winced as his new display of Akalak Bath Salts and Oils was bloody well obliterated by the fat little sod who'd been squeezing money out of him the last three weeks. Him and his friends. Harry crash-landed into the shelves like a badly-dressed comet, snapping wood, breaking glass, and the grocer didn't want to think about where all that glass was geting when he slumped down into a bleed, panting heap.
His "savior", the bloke the Daggers had sent to help, seemed less than concerned.
"Who sent ya," the scarred man said, crouching down with his blade still in his hand. "Who? Hmm?"
Nothing. Just panting, coughing, and sullen stares. So-
THUNK
Rushon's whole body seemed to spasm when he saw Konrad hack down at his side without even looking... yet Harry screamed like his world was at an end. When he drew his hand up, Rushon could see why. He tried to count the bloody digits the ganger pressed to his chest and-
Three. They're just... gone.
"Lot more I can take from ya, boy," Konrad said, pressing the wet blade to a face that looked almost as bad as his now. But better-smelling, at least. "Now... who're ya with?"
"G... Geoff..." It took a good deal of gagging and coughing before the full name came out. "Geoff D... Drebin... g-guy w-works on-"
Konrad nodded and when that didn't work he pressed harder until the kid shut up. He knew the name. Up-and-comer, attitude, promising and expanding that convinced him he was destined and untouchable. Konrad knew the type well; he'd ended more than a few of them. But, that was a problem for another day. His role that day was simple.
Stop the little bastards. Find out who they worked for. Protect the money.
Konrad looked around and decided that the last one was... well, Tremor would have to be a little flexible. Sometimes things got petched up even while you were protecting them. But he knew that word would soon spread - was probably already spreading, in fact - of what happened to jumped-up wee cunts that tried to horn in on the Daggerhands' street taxes down here.
Aye, they will, he thought, changing his mind about something. Which means...
"Y'know," he said as he rifled through Harry's pockets with his free hand, lightly slapping aside his groping hand, voice equally airy. "I was meant to leave one a' youse alive. Y'know, carry the message back. But I reckon, message is already sent, and since I have the name-"
Rushon gritted down hard and beat back the bile straining to pour from his throat. The curved blade the Black Hat Man held disappeared into Harry's throat like a magic trick. Instantly his flushed, mutilated face was apoplectic with shock, with begging, with tears as a boy barely into manhood realized that he would die, and he couldn't stop-
"Ah, there we go."
It was a heavy purse. Heavier than some no-name ganger would have for himself. No, that was the proceeds of all their collections that afternoon. Most from Dagger-insured businesses, and Konrad knew that even if he did stray from the letter of his instructions, the spirit was intact... which would sound much better when it came with a bag of gold stolen from the Daggerhands, returning to its rightful... extortionists.
He twisted the kukri and pulled it out, at the same time as he made the purse vanish into his jacket. Harry's eyes went cold, dead, lifeless. Flat as stones and Konrad cleaned of his blade before sheathing it. He got up and Rushon didn't move. Just stared as the tall man started to whistle, flecked with blood and honey and broken glass and strode through the carnage like he was made of it.
"That yer week's payment?" Konrad said, nodding at the handful of gold. "Tell ya what... keep it." He gestured vaguely around them both at the debris and the detritus... and the corpses. "Youse need t'clean this shite up, get rida' these cunts. Tremor'll understand." His lips moved in a way that could have, by some stretch, been described as a smile. "This time."
Rushon just nodded as the man walked away. He saw past the swirling black fabric and noticed the pudgy ganger with a misshapen... no, a mis-painted nose cleaning his own blade at the doorway and gods above, there was another body he had to clear up! Words were exchanged he couldn't quite hear. But the tone was... so casual. Three Eyes shrugged and pursed his lips, like he was getting Konrad's opinion on the weather... then just stepped away from the man he'd murdered like he was a leaf in his path, just as-
Black Hat stopped. Rushon watched, heart beating faster again as he turned to the side... and plucked a little pack of bandages from a shelf. He turned it over a few times, flexed his cut up hand, then looked back to Rushon at the counter.
"Cheers," was all he said, raising the wrappings like a salute, then him and his partner were gone.
