A breeze whipped through the courtyard, causing the lantern held by the ratman to sway, casting shifting shadows in the blocked-off area. The buildings prevented some of the rainfall from making it down to the pair at a standstill, but it had been enough to thoroughly douse the area over time.
[Something isn’t right; why is he here?]
“Gregor! Grugg has something to give assistant,” the cyclops beamed at his now-official Deputy, uninterested in the tense body language of the ratman.
“It will have to wait.” The words came out through clenched fangs as Gregor started tapping his foot with impatience.
Grugg paused, finally taking the hint that the ratman wasn’t just being his grumpy self. “What is wrong?”
“Remember what I said earlier, about one of us dying? Look’s like it’ll be sooner than I thought.” Gregor kneeled and placed the lantern on the floor in front of him, switching his dagger from his tail to his hand. The Deputy remained in that position and licked his fangs nervously, the lighting from the lantern making him look demonic.
[Grugg, I can sense something behind us - something magical.]
The Detective turned slowly back towards the alley they had come through, and gradually the sound of footsteps overcame the beating of the rainfall. A cloaked figure emerged into the courtyard, followed by two, no, four, further people obscured by cloaks. The sound of footsteps continued, as from behind him, more figures appeared from the other alleyway.
[This isn’t good. The one that came through is a wizard of some kind.]
Grugg looked over his shoulder, and there seemed to be another handful of cloaked figures on that side. One of them was taller than the rest, bulkier. That made… at least ten in total - he tried to count on his fingers, but he didn’t have enough. It did give him time to go over a brief itinerary of his inventory. Despite the weight, he had continued to carry with him the iron knuckle dusters, for situations just like this. The Light rune was empty, and Bart maybe had a couple of uses of Voice in him. It wasn’t the best he could have hoped for.
“Ah, Detective and friend. What fortunate circumstance it is that we so happened to cross paths on this dreary evening.” The voice of the arcane user was smooth and educated sounding, with the slightest hint of malice.
Gregor growled, still hunched down, seething like a cornered animal.
Grugg shrugged. “Is you Don Kean?”
“No. I am his right hand, Yarlen Greencap. I give this name to you freely as soon you will be dead and have no use for it.”
“Gregor,” the Detective turned to the enraged ratman, “Make sure remember that name for arrest report.”
Yarlen chuckled as the Deputy continued glaring at him but nodded his acknowledgement.
“In all my years in Helpart, I don’t think I’ve met a Detective as brave or incredibly foolish as yourself, Detective Grugg. Tell me, why? What brought you here and put you on this track?”
“No comment,” the cyclops calmly responded, as his fingers on his right hand slid into the knuckle dusters.
[Be careful; they are liable to be jumpy. They intend to kill us sooner or later. Don’t let your guard down.]
“Stop playing with yer food,” a gruff voice came from the bulky cloaked figure behind them. “Always with the talking; Don jus’ said to kill them.”
“Oh, cheer up, Fixion. Always has to be business with you.”
“Oi, I did not give yer permission to tell them my name, ya long-eared fop.”
[Long-eared? Magic user to the South may be an elf, then.]
The bickering amused Grugg. These were two henchmen of the Nightshade leader Don Kean, just prattling about like children. Perhaps, the fact that they were arguing about killing him and Gregor should have given him more cause for concern.
“Enough!” the arcanist decried, “Do you have any final words, Detective?”
“Yes-umm.” The cyclops kneeled down beside the angered ratman, pulling out the Deputy badge and affixing it to the front of the padded jacket. “Gregor, you now Private Eye.” With a pat on the bewildered Deputy Detective’s shoulder, he stood again and gave the hooded arcanist a goofy grin.
“And here I was, ready to just loot the one off your corpse tonight,” the ratman replied, the hint of a smile curling at the edges of his snarl.
“How quaint, but utterly useless as when you-” Yarlen began before being cut off as the cyclops sprang towards him.
Gregor spun around and stood, using the momentum to catapult the lantern towards Fixion and the small group of cloaked figures to the North. The glowing path of light streaked towards them, darkening the courtyard on the South. Fixion dodged and rolled to the side, clearly an experienced fighter. The crack of the whip resounded in the clearing as the ratman struck the lantern mid-air, the oil and flame jumping out and latching onto two of the cloaked goons. Somewhat dampened by the rainy conditions and the small size of the lantern, it only provided a brief distraction whilst the pair tried to put the flames out.
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Grugg ran towards Yarlen, fist raised and ready for punching. As the other henchmen fanned out to move in and drawing their weapons, the arcanist raised his hands as if to physically stop the cyclops. As the distance closed, Grugg started to feel very sluggish. His legs felt like they were made of lead, and his pace slowed dramatically. It was all he had to abort the charge and instead barely dodge a wildly swung sword from the closest hooded thug.
[Oh, a curse! That won’t do… let me see…]
Gregor jumped backwards to avoid the downward swing of a shortsword and sidestepped to get a better angle. Six versus one. He tried to keep them bunched so they couldn’t all attack him at once, but he would run out of room, eventually. The ratman feigned a dodge and then lunged at the attacker, his silver dagger finding success in the chest of the Nightshade spy - between the ribs. But just as soon as the figure started to slip away to the floor, Gregor was stuck in the side by a heavy force, knocking him tumbling to the floor.
Grugg grabbed out and caught the blade of one assailant in his left hand, the sharp edge biting into his palm just as a second slashed across his right arm. With his slowed reactions, he was not able to defend against so many attacks at once. Grimacing through the pain, he watched in slow motion as the threads of his jacket flared apart and split, his bloodied flesh starting to soak into the fabric. He fought the anger, the boiling rage like a volcano rising up inside him - he could control it. He wasn’t a brute like his family. The hands of the Detective started shaking, the same phrases repeating in his head.
[Hold them off for a little longer, Grugg. I almost have this…]
The sound of metal against stone reverberated around Gregor as the ratman rolled away from the onslaught of attacks. The brutish Fixion had struck him with some manner of bludgeoning attack that felt like a club, yet the man was unarmed. Gregor rolled to his feet backwards and lashed out with his whip, catching a hand of the approaching criminals and disarming one with a yelp. Then, reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a handful of objects and flung them into the short path between him and his pursuers.
The volcano erupted, and the piercing yell of the cyclops echoed around the enclosed courtyard, the ferocity an almost tangible presence felt by all in the scuffle. Grugg pulled on the sword, putting the cloaked figure off balance as the blade slid through his hand to the hilt, and then snapped the wrist of the man all the way backwards. A second sword swipe against his right arm, cutting at the fabric and flesh alike. The cyclops turned with eye ablaze with anger, but his movements slowed further. Yarlan remained stood with arms outstretched like a statue.
[Okay, get ready - this will take all my mana, but three… two…]
The spies cursed in pain as they stepped on the spiked caltrops in trying to approach Gregor, which bought him momentary relief. Fixion, however, took a running leap over the hazard, aiming straight for the ratman with fist held back ready. Gregor went to roll to the side, but feigned again and instead ducked low. As the brute landed just before him, expecting to have to swing high and wide, the ratman instead dug his bloodied dagger into the foot of the henchman. Then, with the slight unbalance, he jumped up Fixion, knocking him over onto the caltrops, much to the brute's anguish.
Grugg could do little but stare as he moved in slow motion. Continuing the bend at the restrained man, the forearm was the next to snap against his inevitable strength. The cloaked spy that had been cutting his arm winced at the sound and wavered with his continued assault under the furious stare of the single electric-blue eye. A third figure readied their attack to stab the Detective through the chest.
[One.]
And then, all of a sudden, an explosion. But not of fire, just pure rage, as the curse on the cyclops was undone. He dropped the man in his grip to block the chest attack, again tearing and slicing his sleeve and flesh. The second spy caught an iron knuckle duster to the face, the wet clonk sending them back several feet before collapsing to the floor. He dodged the next desperate attack, twisting to the side and kicking out with his boots. A crunch as the leg broke at the knee, and the figure sprawled to the floor, clutching at their leg in agony.
“W-what? Why is my Slow not working?” Yarlan stared at his hands in disbelief and then looked back up to see the cyclops looming before him.
Gregor hopped off Fixion as the brute tried to wrestle with him, slicing upwards with his dagger and catching the hood. It split and fell apart, revealing the face of the man: dark skin, a reddish beard, bald head, and a panicked look in his eyes. “I know your face now,” the ratman hissed as he gathered up his whip.
The Detective grabbed Yarlen by the arms and stretched them wide, the sounds of the struggling arcanist culminating in a pop as both shoulders dislocated. Grugg continued to pull with rage burning in his one eye, before a sudden wave of cold and nausea washed over him. The Nightshade magic user dropped to the floor as Grugg held his hands over his face, dropping to a sitting position on the wet courtyard pave stones.
A scattering of footsteps followed as the uninjured attackers decided to cut their losses and ran out of the alleyways. Seeing both their superiors felled and outed, none felt like invoking the same fate. Fixion attempted to clamber to his feet, the caltrops lacerating his arms and back in the process. This was what Gregor had been waiting for, and the whip wrapped around the ankle of the brute as he began to sprint. The henchman’s head cracked against the stone floor as his footing slipped away, knocking him unconscious.
The ratman limped over to the sitting cyclops, clutching at his side. “Maybe tomorrow then, ser Grugg.” He placed his clawed hand on the Detective’s shoulder as Grugg slowly sobbed into his hands. Gregor withdrew the Message stone from the sack and tapped it impatiently to get it to flare up. “Ser Patson, Deputy Detective Gregor here with Detective Grugg. We have several injured Nightshade in the courtyard between Jugton and Renway Streets. Requesting backup and medic.”
'Understood, Deputy. Mobilizing now.'
Grugg sighed and wiped the snot from his nose along his partially intact left sleeve. “Grugg doesn’t like it when Grugg angry.”
“Yeah, well, ser Gregor doesn’t like it when he has to get beaten up to help you.” The ratman slunk down and sat up against the cyclops, wincing as his broken ribs wracked with pain. “We do what we have to, to catch criminals, though, right?”
Detective Grugg looked around the courtyard, the sound of rain briefly overcoming the groans of the injured. Down the alleyway, he could just make out the sound of armoured footsteps approaching. As the adrenaline wore off, he felt cold, and the pain in his sliced arms throbbed as his head ached. He would need to get some kind of bracers, he mused. Then, a realisation ran through him, and he closed his tired eye once more.
“Grugg now have to do even more paperwork.”