Meets with his Gnome accomplice and he is scared - they meet at the Dwarves HQ and find them disembowled as was his whole crew - someones wiping their tracks - red string - Given a contact

22

Rufi blinked blearily. He was sure he had been awake a moment ago. He pulled himself upright and took stock of his surroundings. There were pictures of famous Goblin pit fighters on the walls, the cracked window Pug had broken during one of his drunken escapades, and his chipped desk that was entirely too small for his bulk. He was back in the pool hall, in his little office at the back. That was a positive, at least. He straightened up and wiped a bit of drool from his chin. He looked down at his suit. He was wearing the dark purple one with the red shirt. Didn’t he put that on yesterday? Or was it the day before? Rufi rubbed at his face and leaned back in his creaky chair. There were three piles of gold on the table in front of him. Had he been counting them when he fell asleep? With a deep sigh, he heaved his bulk from the chair and shuffled over to the little sink in the corner. He had to bend almost double to get close to it. He turned the tap on, let it run for a minute, and then splashed cold water on his face. He scrubbed his eyes and hair, then began slurping the cold water until he felt somewhat alive again. He stood, ignored his reflection, dried his face, and then slumped back into his chair. He opened the top drawer to his desk, pulled out a smoke, lit it, and then began putting together a parcel with plenty of Madra. He had just cut up his Chaaraam leaf when there was a knock at the door.

“Yeah?” Rufi shouted, his mouth clamped around his smoke as he began to roll up the parcel.

“It’s me,” Pauli called back through the door.

“Come.”

Pauli opened the door and walked in with a steaming cup of coffee.

“Lifesaver,” Rufi grunted as he accepted the coffee. He popped the parcel into his mouth, worked it into a comfortable position with his tongue, and then slurped at the coffee. “Stick that in the safe, would you?”

Pauli scooped the coins up into a small sack.

“Did you count it?”

“Errr…”

“Do you even remember what it was for?”

“Refresh my memory.”

Pauli shook his head and poured the coins back out, counting them with speed that only a HobGoblin had.

“It’s from the card game,” Pauli muttered as he finished.

“Big Sally’s?”

“That was like three days ago, Rufe. This is from Yarlow’s.”

“Oh right,” Rufi said, toking his smoke. “Good haul?”

“Not bad.”

“Put it in with the rest. We gotta start getting Uncle Sam’s Tribute together soon.”

“Yep, and we’re only halfway there.”

“Halfway!” Rufi said, sitting up, feeling the electric pulse of the Madra coursing through his veins, waking him up like a slap in the face on an icy morning.

“What do you expect?” Pauli said as he took down one of the paintings to real a safe in the wall. “You’ve had the boys running around town boosting burn. Not to mention the payouts and all the partying after Cameron’s. We’re light.”

“Shit,” Rufi muttered. “Put Pug and Mik back out on the streets and get ‘em collecting. Anyone that’s due needs to be hit up. What about Red Roger? Doesn’t he owe us for that shipment of lamb ribs?”

Pauli pulled out his little notebook and flipped through.

“He’s paid half.”

“Then let’s get the other half off him. And tell Mik to chat with the Weatherman, ask if there’s anything coming in we can boost. Oh and tell the Different Dom that we ain’t buying those pork shoulders if he can’t transport it himself, save us a few coins.”

“He ain’t gonna be happy about that.”

“Fuck him. He should be thankful I even let him do business after those rotted salmon he gave us.”

“You want Chuch to have a word?”

Rufi paused with his coffee at his lips and thought.

“Naa, I wouldn’t do that to Dom. How is Chuchy?”

“Recovering. He took a bad one in the leg, so he’s more of a miserable cunt than usual.”

“Any chatter about that situation?”

“Words flying all over the city. They know it was Green but they don’t know who or why. Cameron ain’t heavy enough to do anything about it, but the Landlord ain’t too happy that action went down on his borders.”

“Serves him right for renting space to a rat like Cameron.”

“Other than that, everyone’s waiting to see who starts moving the Burn. Until then, it’s all just gossip and conspiracies.”

“Good, so it’ll stay like that.” Rufi rose from his seat and downed the rest of his coffee. “You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Let’s grab some breakfast. What we got in the coldbox?”

“Breakfast?” Pauli laughed. “Ruf, it’s nearly midnight.”

“Oh shit,” Rufi said, grinning. “Late dinner then.”

Just then there was a frantic knock on the door.

“What?” Rufi barked.

Pug came bustling into the office looking like he’d been running hard.

“Ruf!” he gasped.

“What? What’s happened, Pug?”

Pug shook his round head and bent over double, his hands on his knees.

“Have you been fuckin’ running through the neighbourhood again?” Rufi growled at him. “What have I told you about that? We don’t run! Especially when people can see us.”

Pug stood up and held his side, wincing from a painful cramp.

“Emergency comm scroll come in for you,” Pug gasped.

“From who?”

“Dunno. But they knew the code. Said for you to meet ‘em out in Drawer’s Lane.”

“Out by the Foundries?” Pauli said.

“Yeah.”

“What did the message actually say, Pug?” Rufi asked.

“Said for you to meet at Drawer’s Lane. The little people have been located. No good.”

Rufi thought for a minute, and then he shot a look at Pauli.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Out by the Foundries?” Rufi said to him.

Pauli, who usually arrived at these sorts of mental conclusions a step ahead of Rufi, nodded.

“Shit!” Rufi growled. “Let’s go.”

He turned and grabbed his jacket, pausing only to secure his hatchet and grab a blade from his desk drawer.

“You want me to come?” Pug asked, still trying to catch his breath.

“No, you stay here,” Rufi said.

“Good, I could do with a lay down.” Pug said, wiping his brow.

Rufi stomped out of the office and through the pool hall. A few players nodded to him but most minded their own business once they saw the thunder on Rufi’s face. Rain was pouring down outside the hall. It was so heavy, Rufi could barely see. He waved his arm at one of the carriages that were always parked up outside. The driver, who had erected a mini awning above himself to keep some of the rain off, pulled up, and Rufi and Pauli jumped in.

“Drawer’s Lane! Out by the Foundries!” Rufi shouted to the driver. “And don’t stop for a fuckin’ thing!”

Once they started moving, Pauli turned to him.

“Tiko?”

“Yeah, sounds like he’s found our Dwarvish middlemen. Why would he send an emergency scroll about it though?”

“I dunno. Smells wrong,” Pauli said. “At this time of night as well? In the middle of a storm? Surely they could wait until morning?”

“You think we could be walking into something here?” Rufi asked, lighting a smoke and flicking his used parcel out of the window.

“We’ve been making a lot of noise with all this Bad Batch business,” Pauli said. “And Tiko is the one who sold Cameron that Burn, right? What if Cameron went back to him and they’ve hatched a scheme together?”

“Tiko ain’t that fuckin’ stupid,” Rufi growled.

“You and me are the only other creatures that know that Tiko was apart of the Bad Batch deal. And now we’re in a cab flying out to the edge of the city during a rainstorm at midnight with no backup.”

Rufi gritted his teeth. He hated it when Pauli made too much sense.

“Then be ready for some shit to go down,” Rufi said. “And if Tiko has double crossed us, I’ll tear his fuckin’ heart out.”

*

They arrived at Drawer’s Lane half an hour later. The rain still hadn’t relented. Rufi hopped out of the cab, and despite his insistence for Pauli to stay put, Pauli came after him. Rufi looked up and down in the lane, squinting against the rain. The road was empty. There were only a few workshops this far out, and they were all dark. In fact, the entire street was dark, there weren’t any Glowstones or even cobbles. They really were on the fringes of the city. Rufi loosened his hatchet and palmed his blade. He looked around again and began walking towards the last workshop on the lane. Pauli stuck close to his side, checking over both shoulders constantly. Rufi felt his pulse quicken. If this was a trap, it was a damn good one. He couldn’t see anything in this damn rain. As he approached the squat, wooden workshop he saw the shadow of a small figure. He flicked out the blade of his knife and his hatchet was in his hand a second later.

“Tiko?” he shouted above the rain.

The figure looked around, and then he saw a hand waving to him. Rufi walked slowly towards him, checking every corner and crevice as he did. As they drew closer, Rufi saw Tiko’s purple hair in the dull light of the moon. He stepped into the workshop’s front yard, feeling an itch between his shoulder blades, like he was just waiting to get shot in the back. They stepped onto the porch and got under the lip of the roof. Tiko was standing there, wrapped in a heavy black cloak, a mountain of dog ends surrounding him.

“What took you so long!” Tiko snapped at them as they arrived.

“What the fuck is this, Tiko?” Rufi replied, his weapons still in his hands.

“I found them Rufi,” he said, his voice barely a whisper above the pounding rain.

Now that Rufi looked at him properly, he could see the fear in his eyes and the jitter in his movements.

“What’s going on?” Rufi asked, looking at the dark workshop. “Where are the Dwarves?”

“In there,” Tiko said. “They’re all… they’re all dead.”

“What?”

“It’s a massacre,” Tiko said, his voice quivering.

Rufi turned towards the door, keeping Tiko in his peripheral vision. He pushed the half closed door open. The smell of blood, guts, and shit wafted out of the workshop.

“Here,” Tiko offered Rufi a Glowstone lantern.

Rufi pressed his fingertips to the stone, and it lit up.

“Stay with him,” Rufi instructed Pauli.

With his hatchet in his right hand, Rufi held the lantern high and walked in. He heard the maddening buzz of flies before he saw the first body. It was a Dwarf, or at least it had been. It was now missing a head. The corpse's glistening neckbone reflected the lantern's light, a pool of steadily congealing blood surrounded the decapitated body. Ridley felt his stomach turn sour. He walked further into the workshop and saw three more bodies, all beheaded. One had its stomach opened up, guts poured out onto the dusty floorboards. Rufi stepped over the corpse and saw two more headless bodies pinned to the wall. There was blood everywhere. Their deaths hadn’t been quick. Rufi held the lantern up, feeling sweat trickling down his brow, his nostrils flaring as his breathing became more erratic. He could feel panic setting in. An animal instinct to run from all this blood and death. Rufi, arm held across his nose, turned from the bodies when something on the floor caught his eye by the corpse that had its guts opened up. He forced himself not to look at the corpse. There was writing of some sort on the floor by the dead body’s hand. He turned around and moved the lantern closer. It was written in blood. Rufi’s eyes flicked to the corpse. Had he written this in his final moments, while his guts oozed out of his stomach? The urge to vomit almost overwhelmed Rufi. He swallowed hard and focused on the writing. It was difficult to make out at first but once he found the correct orientation, he read:

‘Turnbull Wrhous 8.’

What did that mean? Whatever it was, it was important enough for this creature to spend his last moments writing it in his own blood.

Rufi stood up and gritted his teeth before walking into the final room. Here the corpse was splayed out on a stack of boxes. It looked like he had been tortured. His hands and feet were tied, so he was spread eagle, cruel cuts and incisions covered his flabby body. Rufi felt acidic bile rise in his throat. This corpse was not only missing his head but also his manhood. Rufi took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. He heard a creak and almost bolted. He stood very still. It was just the building settling. No way whoever had done this would still be here. These corpses looked long dead. Rufi held the lantern up and looked around the room. There was blood and viscera splattered everywhere. Rufi undid his top button. His head was swimming, and he was finding it harder and harder to breathe. The stench of the place made him feel faint. He looked at the corpse's wrists. There was a single loop of red string tied around his wrist. Rufi reached out a shaking hand and pulled the string off. He tucked it into his pocket, looked around the room once more, and then walked as quickly as he could back out of the workshop without taking in any more horror.

“Rufi what is…” Pauli said, but Rufi barged right past him.

He stormed out into the rain and then vomited. He stayed hunched over, spitting bile, letting the cool rain wash away the horror. He stood up straight, and let the rain rinse the vomit form his chin, taking deep breaths as he did. He turned and walked back to them after a minute.

“What the fuck was that, Tiko?” Rufi growled at him.

“I don’t know!” Tiko said, his eyes wide, his pupils quivering in fear. “That’s some bad shit, man. I ain’t never seen no evil shit like that before!”

Pauli, deciding no one was going to fill him, poked his head inside the door, then quickly retreated.

“What the fuck!” Pauli said.

“There’s four more of ‘em in there,” Rufi said to him, spitting into the rain. “All of ‘em with their heads cut off. Two of ‘em were nailed to the fuckin’ wall! The last one looks like he was tortured before they killed him.”

“What?” Pauli said, his eyes wide.

“Who the fuck did you buy that Burn from Tiko?” Rufi growled.

“I don’t know Rufi. I don’t know! But this is some evil shit man. This is… this… who the fuck would do this? Why would they do this?”

“Whoever they are, they’re covering their tracks,” Pauli said. “They know we’re looking for them.”

“Whoever it is Ruf, maybe… maybe we’re better off not finding them,” Tiko said, his tone pleading.

“We have to. Otherwise it’s our asses, remember?”

“Maybe the Kings will just forget about it? You know, once the OD’s stop. You got most of the shit back now, right?”

“And you think Yano is gonna forget about it?” Rufi asked.

Tiko blanched and then ran his hands over his shaved head.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! This is so fucked!”

“Get it together, Tiko!” Rufi snapped at him.

They stood in silence while the rain pounded down.

“What does Turnbull Warehouse 8 mean to you?” Rufi asked after a minute.

“What?”

“One of the Dwarves wrote it on the floor while he was bleeding out.”

“Say it again.”

“Turnbull Warehouse 8.”

Tiko looked into the rain as he thought.

“There’s Turnbull Lane on the riverfront,” Tiko said.

“Isn’t there a shipping yard down there?” Pauli said. “There’ll be warehouses too.”

“Warehouse 8,” Rufi said. “Is that where the drugs are coming in?”

“I don’t know,” Tiko said. “Could be. They wouldn’t have used the main docks, your lot are too hot over there.”

“Then that’s where we’re going,” Rufi said.

“You still wanna find them!” Tiko exclaimed, waving his hands at the workshop. “You wanna end up fucking headless corpse with no dick and balls!”

“They cut his dick off?” Pauli said, blanching.

“I don’t give a fuck who they are or what they’ve done,” Rufi snarled. “I’m gonna find ‘em and end them. Simple as. Otherwise, you and me are gonna lose our heads. Understand?”

Tiko swallowed and then nodded.

“I can’t go with you though,” Tiko said quickly. “Even being out here for this long has put us at risk of me being found.”

“Don’t worry,” Rufi said. “I’ll handle this myself. You go on, and I’ll let you know what I come across.”

Tiko nodded gladly. Without a word, he pulled up his hood, turned, and then disappeared into the storm.

Rufi took one look back at the workshop and swallowed.

“This is fucked.”