Is someone bad by nature, or are they influenced by outside forces to do bad acts? Does it define them? These are the thoughts racing through Victor Cain’s head as he lounges on the cold stone bench, waiting. Dimming sunlight seeps through the sheet of clouds, casting a dull glow over everything. It’s midday, and the usual derelict benches are filled with recently reunited families, workers on lunch and a healthy peppering of loners. Hundreds of feet pass over the thawed cobble streets of Vintermarche’s city centre. Hundreds of eyes dodge the excitable faces of the Seekers that try drawing your attention to pitch you their job offer.

Victor examines the crowd.

“Excuse me, could I get a minute of your time to talk about the Archive?” a smiley-faced Seeker ambushes him. Victor winces.

“No.” Victor raises his hand and gestures him away.

“No problem, sir,” the Seeker replies, shuffling forward to the man that is sat next to Victor. “Excuse me, could I get a minute of your-” the man scowls at the Seeker, cutting him off. Exhausted but determined, the Seeker puffs his chest and moves on to the next bench. Victor glances over to the man sat beside him. He’s leaning forward, scanning the area as he breaks off pieces of bread and chews them methodically.

“Do they annoy you as much as they annoy me?” Victor says, leaning over to him. The man’s shoulders tense up before relaxing again when notices it’s Victor talking.

“Is it that obvious?” he chuckles. “I know they’re just doing their job, but I really don’t care about the Archive.” he rips off another chunk of bread.

“Also, I don’t know what they earn, but it cannot be enough to do this day in, day out. I think they’d be better off getting a different job.” Victor drops his shoulder, leaning his body more towards him.

“They probably would, yeah.” he responds with a weak grin, keeping his body angled away from the conversation. The droning of the crowd fades into the growing silence between them. Victor leans in again.

“Y’know, I used to work as a courier for a few trading companies. It was pretty dangerous, believe it or not, and there was always a high turnover in that line of work, so the trading companies were always hiring. These guys could go there for work instead.” silence returns between them. Victor stares at the man, who refuses to meet his gaze or acknowledge his words. “Although, I was speaking with a friend of mine who still works at one of the trading companies recently. He told me how a few days ago, his company, and a couple of others, got scammed out of their money. He said that apparently, it was just one man who tricked them all and that he’s gotten away with it.

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“So, I don’t think these companies will be hiring couriers for a while. In fact, this will probably ruin the companies, which in turn will ruin the lives of their employees.” Victor maintains the pace, shovelling point on top of point. The man beside him exhales a deep breathe he’s been holding and finally cranks his head, coming face to face with Victor. “I would guess twenty to thirty people work for each of these companies. That’s around one hundred people that will probably lose their jobs. Could you imagine doing something like that?”.

The rest of the world dissolves away, the only thing existing to the two men are each other and the distance between them. Victor’s knuckles turn white, knowing if he clenches any harder, he’ll break something. Still glaring at Victor, the man relents with a snicker, conceding the staring battle.

“I would say it is the companies’ responsibility for being susceptible to scammers in the first place.” the man answers, his smirk growing with satisfaction knowing it’s gnawing at Victor.

“Hm. Blaming the victims for allowing themselves to be scammed? That is… an interesting viewpoint.” Victor slaps his hand down on the man’s shoulder, digging in his gritty fingers. He shuffles closer, grabbing the man’s wrist with his other hand. “You’re funny. Let’s see if your sense of humour holds after we hand you over to the city’s guard. Now, no sudden movements.” Victor unclamps the man’s wrist. The man keeps his head looking forward, but his eyes burn a hole through the side of his head to glare at Victor.

Victor cautiously removed the handcuffs from his waist, steadfast with his gaze and hold on the man. The man’s eyes flick upwards past Victor – his eyes widen before he turns to face the attacker.

“Hello! Sorry to interrupt, would either of you have the time to learn about the Archive?” A Seeker beams with a misplaced smile. Like a cat, the man slips out of Victor’s momentarily distracted hold, jumps to his feet, swoops around the Seeker, flashing a dagger just long enough for Victor to see before plunging it into the Seeker’s stomach. Victor freezes, locked on to the man’s eyeline. The Seeker falters. Resting his body weight onto the man, he sets the gasping Seeker next to Victor on the bench.

“If you follow me, I will kill the first child I see.” The man sneers, discretely pulling the dagger out and flinging it onto Victor’s lap, splattering him with blood. He straightens his coat, gives an unmoving Victor an insolent wink, and saunters into the afternoon crowd. Victor’s eyes dart between the bleeding, panting Seeker beside him and the care-free man leaving his sight.

He guides the Seeker’s hands to put mild pressure on his wound. “Keep pressure on it, I’ll get the city guard.” The Seeker’s distressed gaze follows Victor as he stands up and leaves him alone. Bolting into the crowd, Victor frantically scours the sea of faces. Short-winded and desperate he pushes past a family, earning dirty looks as he does. He doesn’t notice them, nor does he recognise any face in the crowd. Victor looks to the sky and sighs, a flash of rage erupting from him that he quells a moment after, raking his rough hands against his scratchy short hair. A crowd gathers around the Seeker, calling for the city guard, but Victor doesn’t wait or return to the bench he flees the scene, knowing first-hand how easy it is to fade into the crowd.