The air was cool at this time of the morning, and Lowe turned up the collar of his jacket against the biting wind.
As he was enjoying a much higher Health Pool and significantly raised Mana Regen courtesy of Mylaf's French toast and freshly squeezed orange juice, he actually didn't need the extra protection.
This was going to take some getting used to.
Likewise, the temporary rise in his physical stats meant he was making the journey across the broad avenue of Captivation far quicker than usual. Not that the hundreds of commuters dragging their way towards this district's Portal Stone—heading for jobs that singularly failed to put a spring in anyone's step—noticed Lowe pretty much bounding past them.
He was lost in his thoughts of the case - that someone else had been in the room and had, presumably, entered and exited through the window, was playing on his mind - which charitably might explain how he managed to miss that the street was suddenly completely devoid of other people.
Indeed, the first he knew of the somewhat ominous change in his circumstances was that the only sound he could hear was his heels clicking on the cobbled streets.
He spent a moment in complete disorientation. Captivation was one of the busiest streets in this part of Soar, and the idea that there was suddenly no one about during the morning rush hour was . . . just plain silly.
And then there was a second, unwelcome change to Lowe's surroundings.
A bunch of other very heavy footprints were suddenly behind his own, and he found himself being grabbed roughly from behind and driven forward to grab a mouthful of brick.
"This him, boss?" a low rumble asked
"I don't know, Zurro. Why don't you make an enquiry of this fine young man and find out whether he is the man we have been asked to meet?"
Lowe was spun round to receive a crunch of fist against jaw, which rocked Lowe backwards and back into the wall behind him. Roll with the Punches triggered, and he pushed himself blindly forward at his attacker, just in time to catch a second punch to connect on the other side of his face.
This threw him, again, back into the wall - fracturing his skull - at which stage discretion seemed the better part of valour, and he stayed where he was.
Splattered against the brick like a beetle.
"Ha! Man's like a fucking Weeble. He wobbles, but he don't fall down!"
Not for the first time, Lowe wondered whether the Skill he had worked so hard to level up was really worth it. The healing was nice, of course, but it did tend to encourage people to come on a bit stronger than was truly necessary.
He sometimes felt he was treated like a particularly novel punching bag.
Lowe's mana plummeted downwards as the injuries were repaired, and he found himself very glad for the Skill of his new housekeeper. If he was going to survive whatever this confrontation turned out to be, then having access to a deeper Mana Pool and increased Mana Regen was likely to be a pretty key reason.
"Guys, trust me, I'm not resisting. If there's a message you have for me, I'm listening. There's no need for any more unpleasantness."
Strong hands grabbed his jacket and drove upwards against the wall, tearing skin as it did so. He was lifted - far too easily - upwards so that his feet dangled about a foot off the floor. His jaw itched as a bunch of new teeth popped through his gums, displacing those shattered by that second punch.
"You're going to be told this once, do you understand?" The second voice, presumably the boss of the strategically shaved
He was probably going to need every last drop to keep him alive.
"Absolutely. I'm all ears!"
"Do you know what, Zurro? I'm not wholly sure Mr. Lowe is taking this situation as seriously as could be hoped. Let us see if we can concentrate his mind a little more. Please relieve him of one of his ears."
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One of the hands at Lowe's throat let go, and then there was a rather stomach-churning ripping noise followed by a blinding pain down the left-hand side of his face.
It didn't take a detective of his renowned ability to realise what happened.
"Fucking hell, boss! Look at that! It grows right back!"
"Interesting," the second voice was closer now, "that must be very helpful in your professional sphere. I wonder how much mana it requires to work?"
"Too much," Lowe managed, very aware that he would not be able to continue to receive too much of this sort of punishment before bottoming out. Indeed, without all the buffs that Mylaf's breakfast was giving him, he sensed he might already be dead.
Or, at the least, permanently earless.
"So be it. Never let it be said I am not a merciful guy."
Lowe held his tongue, not wanting to risk making a bad situation worse.
"Gianna d'Avec. You are to let it go."
"No worries. It's done."
There was a pause. "I must confess I am a touch disappointed to hear that. What? Is there to be no pledge of 'duty' to the city? No, tearful follow-up questions about why we are making you abandon a case? I had heard such good things about you, Mr. Lowe. Why, I had even briefed Zurro that we would have to be at the very top of our game to warn you off this case. What a waste of an early get-up."
"Mate, you've just had your goon tear off my ear. Whoever you are, you've got enough clout to clear a fucking street at rush hour just to kick the shit out of me. Maybe, once upon a time, it would have been different, but if you know anything about me since I became Classless, you'd know I'm all about self-preservation."
"Oh, Mr. Lowe! Have you truly become so craven?"
The thing was, he really wasn't.
And the part of his brain that still believed he held a Class and was very much not at home to this sort of intimidation and wanted to do something about it.
Lowe was aware he had enough mana left - providing the light torture section of this morning's activities had now passed - to do something injudicious, should he be so inclined.
Of course, the smart play was to do precisely what the second voice was telling him: to let Cenorth know the case was a bust and then return to a life of quiet desperation and failure, where the kickings tended to stop just short of actual murder.
Hey, please don't knock it until you've tried it.
On the other hand - and that was the hand that was trying to get his attention - if he could just keep these guys talking for a bit longer, his consumable-boosted Mana Regen should give him just enough juice to be able to trigger his third and final Skill.
He'd needed to argue long and hard to retain Slugger when his Class was removed. Traditionally, the Classless only had two Skill slots, and whether it was appropriate for him to hold the third was a matter of some debate by the Council. Eventually, though, when the impact of his low Mana Pool was highlighted, it was decided it was all a somewhat moot point.
One ex-colleague was even heard to describe him as 'One Punch Man.'
The fucking wag.
"Mr. Lowe. I asked you a question. It is considered rude in most cultures to ignore such things. Perhaps you need some re-education."
The boss had obviously indicated it was time for some further roughing up as the goon holding him aloft took a moment to re-adjust his grip and pulled his fist back for what, at the very least, would be a reasonably devastating blow.
At that precise moment—and had he any belief left that the gods of Soar gave him any thought whatsoever he may have thanked them— Lowe felt his only offensive Skill become available.
A year of frustrations boiled to the surface.
He had thought he had made his peace with what had happened, but . . . well, apparently not.
Before he knew it, his mana had dropped to zero, a headache the size of a small continent threatened to split his brain in two, and—perhaps most significantly—his right fist felt very heavy indeed.
He couldn't remember the last time he had used this Skill in anger.
The beauty of Slugger, and the reason he had chosen it as his Level 15 reward from a god who hadn't bothered to answer his prayers for more than a few years, was that it was almost entirely undetectable. Unlike flashier skills, it didn't make his hand glow. There was no accompanying choral music. And he didn't need to say anything trite to trigger it.
He didn't even need a backswing.
With no further ado - he couldn't hold the energy in his fist indefinitely without risking an explosion - he flashed a punch forward towards the centre mass of the
Interestingly, one of the other useful things about Slugger is that it did not need the person using it to have any noticeable talent for hitting things. This was quite lucky, as Lowe really sucked at using his fists. It wasn't that he didn't have plenty of fighting experience, it was just that - certainly of late - he had become more used to leading with his face.
Right here, right now, though, he felt it was time to roll the clock back to another, more vengeance-minded version of himself.
Lowe's fist - and then his entire arm - passed straight through the chest of the
A wash of XP hit Lowe, surprisingly pushing him into Level 20 - he had been miles and miles away - but that was an issue for a later time where hopefully he would still be alive to consider it.
He was dropped to the floor as the lifeless corpse holding him up crashed to the cobblestone ground.
"Oh, Mr. Lowe. You are really going to regret doing that." The boss' soft voice was above him.
To be fair, Lowe would've agreed even before looking up into the eyes of a very irritated man holding a ball of lightning. Mana exhaustion was no picnic, and without anything left to fuel Roll with the Punches, he was feeling pretty exposed.
In fact, there was a part of him which actually welcomed the oblivion coming his way.
The boss pulled his arm back and released his missile.