The entire time after Hawthorne explained everything to me, I was wracking my brain trying to come up with some way to get out of here. Well, not just here as in The Pit but also how to escape The Fold up there. Like I learned this morning, I’m only one man and I can only do so much on my own. In a fight against multiple people, I’m bound to get bogged down and inevitably torn to shreds because I can’t block everything nor can I dodge everything. That is, if I’m by myself. But what if I’m not?
I’ve already thrown away the idea of sneaking away and escaping by myself because for one, I have no idea where I am. The Fold has held onto and controlled this territory for decades and I have to assume they know this region like the backs of their hands. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have mapped out patrol routes like the night I ran across Gavin. They’ll catch up to me in no time as evidenced by what ended up happening to Ruben and Shadow. For another thing, I’m not confident I can safely and discreetly sneak past hundreds of people.
With how solid and tall those walls and gates looked when I first arrived, I doubt I can find a way out of here without raising suspicions. If that’s the case, the only way then would be to fight my way out. Which, once again, I’m only a single individual against a swarm of mad lunatics. But what if I’m not alone and I had the help of around… 50 or so people? The odds are definitely still against me by a huge margin but they’re better than before and as long as I introduce a few more variables when I get out of here, there’s a real possibility that I can bring this place crumbling down. Like Hawthorne just told me, The Fold’s at war with some bandits and war gives birth to opportunities.
It’s not the best idea ever and in the end, it might not even work and I’ll probably end up dying filled with remorse. But it’s an idea which is better than anything else I have right now and if I don’t have the conviction to put my life on the line to see this through, then how will I have the conviction to fight for Midriver’s criminal throne against the likes of Alira? When I’m a few yards away from the group stomping on the man on the ground, I take out the knife in my right pocket with my right hand while my left hand grabs a handful of dirt from my left pocket. A few of them spot me and stop attacking the man, warning their buddies of my approach.
When the one I’m aiming for turns around, he’s only greeted by my beautiful smile right in front of his face before being stabbed in his belly. A blood curdling scream erupts from his mouth as he falls to his knees, grabbing onto the wound to stop the bleeding. Horrified, his two closest friends freeze when they realize I have a weapon but both of them are met with facefuls of dirt instead. As they try to fall back while blinded, I rush up, stabbing the one on the right in the belly while forcefully shoving the one on the left and making him fall down.
The remaining three are terrified at what they’re witnessing and two of them run away while the last one stays and reaches into his pocket before taking out his own knife. There’s a solemn look on his face as he braces himself for a fierce fight and hunkers down his body. Giving him a playful smile, I quickly reach into my left pocket for another handful of dirt before tossing it at his eyes. He cries out in pain and wildly swings his knife around wildly, finding nothing. Circling around his back, I stab him in his left flank and he howls in pain but he doesn’t go down.
Instead, he swivels around and blindly waves his knife around behind him, trying to find me but I’ve already left his range. Circling around him again, this time I slash at the back of his neck and he falls to his knees, dropping his knife before holding onto his neck with both hands. “Please, please. Let me live. I swear I won’t hurt anyone ever again. I’ll go back to my cave and I won’t leave it ever again, I swear. Please, just let me live.”
With a laugh, I walk up in front of him and kick the knife off to the side before giving him a pat on the shoulder. His eyes are still tightly shut from the dirt and his forehead is covered in sweat. Seeing this, I whisper, “Shh, shh. It’s okay. Everything will be alright. I’ll let you live.”
The despair on his face lightens considerably and he asks, “Really?”
Grinning down at him, I answer, “Really,” before stabbing him in the throat. He tries to say something but all he can get out are gurgled croaks as his blood spills forth like a waterfall, drenching his rags and giving them a vibrant shade of crimson under the moonlight before his lifeless body tips over. That was a bit much. A bit unnecessary even. When did I start to take such pleasure in killing people? And why does it feel so wonderful?
My intoxicated trance is interrupted by the rest of Corbin’s crew arriving at the scene. Seeing how half of them are furious while the other half are terrified, I give them a dull glance before slowly bending down and grabbing the dead man’s knife, stashing it in my left pocket. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the woman from before and the man who was getting trampled on holding onto each other, sobbing into the other’s arms. Her clothes are a bit disheveled and there’s a few bruises on her face and arms but other than that, it looks like she’s fine.
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Seeing how their whole crew isn’t willing to say or do anything at the moment, I walk over to the man I shoved down earlier who is still trying to get the dirt out of his eyes. I grab ahold of his hand and drag him by his arm in front of Corbin’s stationary crew. Giving them a contemptuous glance, I swiftly slice through his wrist with Corbin’s knife, severing the arteries and blood leaks from the cut. The man below me wails in anguish which slowly tapers off into tearful blubbers. Corbin’s crew hisses in unison and glare at me in silence but not one of them is willing to step forward to stop me.
When it was just punches and kicks, every single one of them was more than willing to step in first to grab onto me and hold me down. What was the worst that could happen? They’d get knocked out but the ones immediately behind them would get revenge for them once they had me on the ground. But now that I’ve elevated the stakes of this fight by pulling my knife out, no one is willing to come forward and sacrifice themselves. Even if that means one of their friends gets their wrist brutally sliced open right in front of them. Smiling at them, I crouch down and clean the knife on the back of the wailing man’s shirt.
As I’m cleaning the knife, someone’s voice rings out, “Don’t think you’ll get away with this.”
My hands pause mid cleaning and I look up at them, unable to determine who spoke up just now. Raising an eyebrow at them, I ask, “Now what is that supposed to mean?”
After a moment of silence, one of them, the youngest one and also the one who tripped my foot last night, barks with a scornful look on his face, “You don’t scare us one bit. The moment you fall asleep, one of us will cut your throat and we’ll see who gets the last laugh.”
I look at him in stunned silence for a moment. I can even tell my mouth was left ajar from his words. Seeing how his words stunned me, the boy smiles in derision. A second later, I break out into uncontrollable laughter and I even have to wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. My sudden change in behavior wiped the smile from his face as he looked at me with confusion.
I go ahead and clear it up for him, explaining, “I think you have the wrong idea here. I think you all have the wrong idea here. There is no later for us. This doesn’t stop here and I hope you all understand that. Just because you showed up here with the rest of your group and you feel safe being surrounded by your little friends doesn’t change anything.
“Tonight, between your group and I, one of us will cease to exist. It’s as simple as that. You should have all rushed at me the moment you got here.” Blood drains from their faces and their complexions pale as they look around at each other, gesturing for someone to make the first move. Don’t mind if I do.
While they’re distracted with choosing who to sacrifice, I target the boy first and dash at him. Flustered, he frantically searches his pockets before pulling out a small knife and prepares to intercept me. The other members of his crew either already had their knives out or were taking them out by the time I got to them. All of them positioned themselves around the boy, ready to gut me like a fish the moment I tried attacking him. At the last moment before I entered their ranges, I shifted my body to the right, towards one of the two who ran away from my first attack to get help. He’s one out of three people here who don’t have knives and he was my actual target from the beginning.
Wincing in pain from the strain I’m putting on my left leg, I focus on his widened eyes and the absolute look of terror on his face to forget my own pain. He puts his hands up as if he’s surrendering or pleading for mercy but I ignore all of it and sink my knife into his belly before backdashing away. Fuck, my hands were too slippery from the blood and I couldn’t get Corbin’s knife back. The man who I just stabbed looks down at the knife sticking out of his body in horror and reaches his shaking hands down to pull it out as his clothes gradually begin to redden with his belly as the starting point.
He painfully pulls the knife out of his body with violently shaking hands as he lets out the occasional whimper. Even from this distance, I can see his scrunched up face, morphed by the pain. I can see him biting onto his lower lip as his upper lip trembles. I can see dots of sweat forming on his creased forehead as a few of them slowly roll down, dripping off the end of his nose. And I can see how tightly he has his eyes closed, unwilling to bear witness to his own demise.
When his eyes do finally open, all he does is stare at me soullessly, despair etched onto his face. There’s no anger, there’s no hatred, there’s only resignation in his eyes. A wound like that down here is a death sentence and he knows it. Perhaps he’s searching for sympathy from me? I apologize, but you have the wrong person. Instead, I give him a smile and slowly wave at him, a farewell on the long journey to come.
With that, the knife drops out of his hand and he falls to his knees before tipping forward and falling to the ground facefirst. The rest of his crew is stunned by what just happened. In just a mere moment, one of theirs is lying on the ground, facefirst, his life or death uncertain. Furious, one of them steps forward and points at me, screaming, “Get him!”