Anson and Baldwyn made their way down the stairs, but before they could get back down to the first level, they ran into Cyril on the steps. Holding a crossbow with a rope attached to an arrow, he explained how he found a potential alternative escape. It was to punch a hole out of the wall in the third story, shoot the crossbow to another building and then either glide or crawl to the other building using the attached rope. Anson thanked him, but before he could move on, Cyril stopped him once more. “We have a new problem.”
“What?” Anson asked.
“When I went to the first floor to get some rope, I noticed that civilians, the Sovan Triad, some Kadon Triad members, and city guard have completely surrounded the building.”
“And?” Baldwyn asked. “We aren’t leaving through the front door.”
“One of them,” Cyril hesitated to say. “Is my dad.”
Anson stood still as he tried to process what Cyril said. “Does your dad know you’re here? And second, who is your dad?”
“No, our relationship is not the best. You know, there is a reason I am in the mercenary triad and not working for his business.” Anson leaned forward, looking for an answer for the second question. “What is my last name?” Cyril asked.
“How would I know?” Anson responded.
“It’s Bakas. Cyril Adonis Bakas.”
There was a moment of silence before Anson remembered anyone with the last name Bakas, but it didn’t take long. Taking a deep breath. He asked Cyril to clarify, in the small hope that it was another rich and famous Bakas who lived in Kato Kanali. “The one with the monopoly on stagecoaches?”
Cyril nodded.
Without responding, Anson pushed Cyril out of his way, and went into the bathroom where Deo was stuffing a Sovan Triad member’s face into the hole, threatening to throw him into the canal if he didn’t talk. “Get that man out of here.” Anson calmly demanded.
“Again?” Deo.
“Again.”
Dragging the man out, the three of them waited in the bathroom for Deo to return. When he did, Anson had a very simple question for them. “Are there any more parents, children, or any other surprise relatives that may be prove to be a liability or used as a hostage within immediate future.”
Deo laughed before responding. “Trust me. I have no liabilities or enemies.”
“You?” Baldwyn asked. “You have no enemies?
“Yes.”
“You’ve haven’t made an enemy of anyone in the past?” Anson tried to clarify.
“Well, I didn’t say that. No one in particular you have to worry about.”
“You sure?” Anson asked.
“If there is, I’ll take care of it.”
“I suppose that works,” Anson nodded. “Have you gotten any information out of the Triad members?”
“Not much, only an approximate location near the Sovan Tirad Headquarters.”
“That’ll do,” Anson said leaving the bathroom. As he left, he saw a rather pompous middle-aged gentleman inside of a stagecoach, asking questions to one of the guards. Looking back at Cyril, he eyed up that man to ask if he was Cyril’s dad, to which the Cyril nodded. Approaching Zeki, who was strangely face down on the floor, he looked at the location that he wrote out. “Good job Zeki. Your location matches up with the other one. Now get up.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“There are Kadon Triad members out there, and if they discover I went into a rival local chapter without telling them first, they will kill me.” Anson looked outside and saw a couple of men who were noticeably tanner than the Sovans, and like Zeki, they seemed to be bilingual as they were chatting with some of the Sovan city guard. “I know that you only promised to get rid of the Chairman, but I can help you. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. I just need to get out of here.”
“You’re willing to help us more?” Anson asked, with Zeki nodding. Plans spun in his mind as he grabbed the Knees player, and careful not to expose his face to the world, dragged him into the bathroom, making sure everyone else followed as well.
“What is it?” Cyril asked as he closed the door behind him.
“We’re getting out of here. Cyril, give me that crossbow with the rope.” Anson responded.
As Cyril swapped crossbows, Anson introduced Zeki to the group. “This is Baldwyn, Cyril, and Deo.” Anson said quietly. “In five minutes—Where’s my watch?” he asked looking at his wrist.
“You left it upstairs.” Baldwyn responded.
“Okay, I’ll get it later, but for now. Zeki is joining us.” Everyone stared at Anson like a mad man. “It is the only way we can get the 15,000 shares back to headquarters and continue with the operation while staying on the clock. The man set to collect the dead drop for this location is most likely gone, so Zeki you are going to go down to the underside and make your way to a manhole five block to the east. Bring the money back to Mercenary Headquarters. If Mercenary Commander Eros wants you to do more, he’ll tell you that.
“Cyril and Deo, you are going to head north to the next location, which means you have to go through the underside. Before you ask, we aren’t separating, I’ll just meet you later on. Also, I don’t know if have been to the underside settlements before and you haven’t told me, but regardless of that fact, try not to get bogged down or lost down there. We need to be at the next location in half an hour to stay on time, but we won’t make that, so we are trying to make up time.”
“North?” Cyril asked. “We aren’t getting the rest of the Sovan money?”
“We are, but the first Kadon location is closer, so we are hitting that first.”
“Anson,” Baldwyn asked. “What about me?”
“You are going to surrender yourself to your daughter.”
Cyril and especially Deo protested this. “You and Commander Eros said to die before getting captured,” argued Deo.
“He is not actually getting captured, he is getting temporality removed from the mission, but don’t worry Baldwyn, I’ll get you out of prison after I escape.” Anson paused before continuing. “Or at some point, I really don’t know when, so just get comfortable, and most importantly,” Anson reminded, pointing and Baldwyn. “Don’t talk.
“Okay? Everyone get there supplies. We need to leave in three minutes. The guard outside is probably starting to question why we brought Zeki into the bathroom.” Before stepping back outside, he told Cyril and Deo to that if they don’t see him at the next location by 7:30, just to continue with the operation.
Running back upstairs to get his watch, Anson paused before heading back down. As he gingerly put the watch back, he couldn’t believe how fast the time was going. Strange how time worked like that. The mind always seemed to be making it so when things needed to go slow, they went fast, and vice versa. One would think it would go the other way, and maybe there was a way to control it, but all Anson could do now was rub his eyes in frustration.
Heading back downstairs as he watched Baldwyn make his way outside. Opening the door, Baldwyn slowly removed his mask and disarmed himself as he walked forward with his hands up. Cyril was grabbing the last supplies as he made his way back into the bathroom. Ansons’s eyes darted between the two as he heard the city guard outside demand where Zeki was.
Everything seemed to be going well, that was until Cyril dropped his crossbow outside the bathroom. Calling out to Cyril without saying his name, it took Cyril a moment before he noticed, but with the little amount of time they had until the guard inevitability forced their way into the building, it felt too late for Cyril to get his crossbow as it seemed he was already in the hole. But, almost without enough time to get back out, Cyril opted to reach for the crossbow from the bathroom, and though he was able to recover it, Anson watched in horror as Cyril had already taken off his mask in preparation for the underside. His eyes snapped back to the front window and saw Cyril’s father recognize his son. Cyril seemed to see this as well as the skinny mercenary hesitated for a moment before heading back into the bathroom. The father immediately notified the guard, and they prepared to enter.
Taking one last deep breath before his escape, Anson heard the ticking from his watch roar back as he ran to the third floor. Each thunderous step was amplified by that horrendous ticking sound that marched forever forward with time. With nothing halting its progress. Hearing the city guard enter the building, he ripped out boards from the side of the wall as fast as he could. Once the hole was big enough to fit through, Anson could see the now 200 strong crowd look up at him. Cyril was right, the building was completely surrounded.
Aiming his crossbow at the nearest building, he shot the crossbow so it would stick right next to a window and stick to the wall. Once he shot, the rope flew past him, and the tip of the arrow stuck into the building just as he had hoped. Anson tied his end of the rope down to a nearby post as he heard the city guard go up the steps, Anson looked down, and felt a wave of hesitation go through his body. If someone told him there was an invisible barrier stopping him from going forward, he would believe him as sweat was formed on his hand at an exponential rate. He didn’t have much time to convince himself to go forward, instead remaining himself that there wasn’t any water under him, and simplifying his predicament by telling himself he would be captured if he didn’t jump. So, using the duffel bag as something to glide the rope with, he slid to the other building with the crowd looking in awe. When he nearly reached the end, he jumped off and flew through the window. Luckily, whoever this person was, they were not rich enough to have glass on their windows, so Anson fell in without any cuts on his body. Though, that didn’t mean the fall didn’t shoot his sides with pain, almost convinced Anson that he broke a bone.
However, he shot back up with adrenaline swimming in his body and found himself in someone’s empty bedroom. Throwing off his mask, he stuffed it in his bottoms’ pocket, quickly changed his outfit with whatever was in the room, which left him leaving the bedroom with nothing but rags on his body, a watch, medal, and knife in his pocket, and a knife hidden in his pants.
Sneaking out the door, he found himself in a people-ridden hallway with people sleeping on the floor, smoking, and staring at him as he passed by. He could only make it down one floor before he heard the city guard barge into the building from the first floor, in a moment of relative calm for what he was going through, he decided that it would be best to just blend in with everyone else for a couple of minutes before sneaking out of a window. How in the world did they get here so fast? he asked himself.
Taking a seat next to a man passed out on the second-floor steps, he closed his eyes for about five seconds before pretending to be woken up by the city guards storming the place. Throwing himself into a corner, he pretended to be high as a kite, so the guards wouldn’t give a second look. Luckily, the guards ignored him as they shot up to the third floor, and after a couple of minutes, Anson slowly made his way to a window on the first floor. Though, that itself wasn’t without difficulty. People were now swarming the stairs as they didn’t know what to do, and on top of all that, there were people lying on the steps. If they were dead or alive, Anson didn’t think about it, and if he did, probably wouldn’t be able to tell anyway. However, as he reached the first floor, he overheard some of the guards talking about searching everyone in the building, so he picked up his pace, but for whatever reason, every apartment on the first floor had a lock on it.
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Barging in would be too loud, so he eyed up the front entrance which was closed and blocked by a city guard. Still pretending to be high, Anson tried looking for any exit possible and made his way back to the second floor, once again taking some time, where he found a room with its door cracked open. Slowly opening the door, he hoped to find it empty, but instead he ran into a couple of junkies taking hits. They didn’t take so kindly to a strange man walking in on them, so they demanded he leave, but before he could, Anson looked back and saw a couple of city guards approaching, eyeing up the bulge in his pocket formed by the mask.
With only one option, Anson backed up into the room with the city guard demanding that he stop, but Anson shut the door behind him and made his way to the window. Peeking through it, he saw about a five-meter drop to a mud filled alleyway. Anson hoped he would have a moment to prepare himself, but the guards swung the door open, and he found himself falling to the mud.
Landing on his feet, he shot back up as he didn’t feel anything in his body except the adrenaline yelling at him to run, so he did. As he made his way out of the alleyway, he could hear the guard’s yell: “We got a runner! Heading to the street.” To protect his identity, Anson put the mask on again, and when he got to the street looked to his right to see where the front entrance was. There he was a dozen guards huddled in the front, and though Anson snapped his head to the left, they immediately became suspicious of the masked man and demanded that Anson come over there.
There was a split second when he turned to the left, which was north, he considered blending in, but considering the guards in the inside had already announced there was a runner, so Anson took the more primal approach in running.
Sprinting north through the increasingly crowded streets, he weaved his way between people as dawn approached and they made morning preparations to set up food stands and markets in the street. After about ten seconds of running, he looked behind him, and saw every guard running toward him with some on horseback, while most were on foot. However, there was one man who didn’t run. A Kadon man with a scar on his neck, who simply stared at Anson as he got on a horse and headed east.
The men on horseback would have been a death sentence for Anson, but they couldn’t get through the crowds of people, no matter the amount of yelling that came from the city guards. So, it was a matter of simply outrunning twelve people and losing them. In a vain attempt to lose them, Anson found the first street that led east and took it before finding the next street. After that went north, but when he did he found a horrific sight. There were not enough people to block the city guard from chasing him.
There was no chance that the guard wouldn’t be able to catch up to him, so as Anson ran down the street, looked around, and found a couple of buildings to his left that were connected around the second floor, so looking back with the city guard hot on his trail, he swerved to the west and threw himself against a door, but it didn’t open. There were mere seconds until the city guard would be able to catch up to him, so he took out his knife and jammed it into the lock and it flew open. With no time to close it behind him, Anson shot up the stairs and made his way to the end of the second floor.
There he found a small opening that led to the buildings next to it, but it was only big enough to crawl through, so he got on his hands and knees and crept into the next building. Looking behind, he saw a city guard mere centimeters from him, and in a second of desperation, the guard tried to rip off the boot. Luckily, he couldn’t, and Anson kept going. Reaching the next building, he kept running before realizing that the crowd of city guards were simply shadowing him outside. He would have kept going, but a city guard went buildings in front and blocked off his route. Looking back, the guard behind him was not far, so there was once again, only direction to go.
Finding a room on the west side of the building, he found another glassless window, and like the first one, jumped out into a mud filled alleyway. However, this time to leave the alleyways, he had to squeeze through a tiny crack that he could only fit through if he inhaled and squeezed his body. Even then, the wooden walls scrapped his arms and gave him splinters as he fit through. When he got out, he found himself in another street with a decent amount of people. Trying to form a mental map, Anson figured that the guards would have to wrap around the previous street and come in from the north. Looking over, all he saw was a man on a horse who didn’t look like he was part of the city guard, so he had a moment to get to the next street. Luckily, another alleyway was right in front of him that led the street to the west. Running over, he went into the alleyway, but right before he got through, he saw a couple of city guards turn into the street, and fortunately for Anson, didn’t notice him enter another alleyway,
As he made his way through the alleyway, he noticed from his peripheral vision that the street was empty. Sure, it was a little foggy from the morning mist, but he would still be able to notice anyone near him. Looking north than south, he couldn’t see either end of the street, but it was far enough that they wouldn’t be able to chase Anson on foot. Looking south, Anson threw off his mask, before catching his breath.
It seemed that he was out of the way for the moment, and he would have to find a way to get back into contact with Baldwyn, Cyril, and Deo, but before he had to get to the underside to find the latter two. He couldn’t see a manhole to the south, so Anson turned back north.
Conveniently, there was one a couple of meters ahead. Making sure his knife was snug in his pocket, he put his mask back in his pocket for when he robbed the next locations. Walking forward, Anson checked the south again to make sure it way clear before bending down to open the manhole cover.
However, there was a split second that Anson looked up and saw the hooves of a horse around fifty meters in front of him. He thought it was the city guard, but it wasn’t them, rather Anson saw the fog slowly clear up to reveal the Kadon man on a horse with a scar on his neck. “Fuck,” Anson muttered under his breath.
And with that, he slowly stood back up and saw around fifty men huddled in front of grandiose building. They stood there as if they were waiting for him. Most of them looked straight forward while others talked to each other and adjusted their clothing. Anson didn’t know what the personification of death was, he never knew that much about Gomaism, but if there was a personification of death, this would most likely be it. The mental map snapped into place as Anson’s shoulder’s fell down as he watched the crowd of young, armed, and bitter Kadon men, slowly turn to face Anson. One of them looked to the man with a scar, to which the man with a scar nodded before looking at Anson again.
Standing completely still, Anson grabbed his knife and realized what was in front of him. Kadon Triad Local Chapter Number Five. There was a group of about eight to ten people who looked for confirmation from the man with a scar, with that man in turn looking behind and summoning another horseman to come forward. The man did as instructed and approached with his back straight, determined face, and with a spear in hand. Anson looked at his watch, to make sure it was still working, before hastily putting it back in his pocket. There was one instruction from the man with a scar on his neck. “Al o adamı!” which was in Kadon, but in Sovan meant “Get him!”
Afterward the horseman came riding the street, and with no other choice, Anson decided that there was no other choice but to try and take the horses. First, only one came running, but shortly after a second horseman appeared followed behind the first. The only weapon, a small knife, was not a suitable weapon for a horseman charging with a spear so as Anson stood there, trying to figure out a plan, the horse came ever closer and would reach him in a couple of seconds. The knife became loose in his hands, sweat beads fell down his neck, and he wondered if he was truly a failure in what seemed to be his final moments. Was he a failure to Baldwyn? To Cyril and Deo? To Mercenary Commander Eros?
There wasn’t much time to figure out a plan, so he did the first order of events that he figure out. Anson swung his body and threw the knife at the horseman.
Jumping out of the way, Anson watched as the Kadon horseman limp to his side and fall over. Throwing the knife worked better than Anson expected as it seemed it hit the man straight in the liver, which caused the man to drop the spear and cry out in pain. Falling not more than ten meters from Anson, he rushed over to pick up the man’s spear and try to climb onto the horse before the other one showed up, but it was too late as the second horseman tried to stab Anson, but only caught the side of his clothing as Anson weaved back and forth to grab onto the distressed horse.
The second horseman tried to turn around, and so Anson continued, but before he could even get the horse to stand still, he saw the rest of the Kadon group yell and charge down the street. The Scarred Man also rode alongside the group as Anson reached for the footholds on the saddle.
The second horseman came back around and lined up his spear to his Anson straight in the stomach, and knowing that he couldn’t dodge it, Anson moved at the last second to fool the man and did what only seemed logical: trip the horse. And so, he did, leaving the horse trampling over itself as it fell to the ground. This came with a price, however, as Anson shin felt like someone had stabbed it and snapped it in half the same time.
As the horse fell, Anson had gotten finally gotten onto the other horse—though with his shin burning with pain—and got ready to ride with his spear in hand. However, he soon realized that the horse wasn’t moving, and he had no idea why. Didn’t horses just move when they were stressed? Why was it in such a fuss earlier? Looking behind him, Anson saw the group mere seconds away, so once again he did what seemed like the right option in the moment and so he slapped and kicked the horse at the same time.
This obviously worked and the horse flew down the street, almost throwing Anson off. Grabbing the reigns at the last second, Anson kept kicking and hitting the horse until it reached the end of the block. The Scarred Man still chased on behind him, but at least that Kadon mob was gone now.
He needed to get away and regroup, and the only way to do that was to find another manhole cover and waiting nearby until Cyril and Deo showed up. Riding around the block, The Scarred Man kept following as Anson kept looking for a manhole for several minutes. His legs were shot from kicking, eyes blurry as sweat, and hair covered his eyes.
The horse got slower as The Scarred Man creeped forward. The streets, which were empty, began to fill as people wondered why men were riding around early in the morning. Finally, after about another minute of riding, Anson found a manhole and pulled on the reigns to stop. Almost flying off the horse again, he got the horse to calm down, but before he could come a complete stop, The Scarred Man was right next to Anson and tried to grab him. Barely missing, Anson fell off his horse, dropping his spear, while he attempted a desperate escape to get away from the man. He shot back up, picking up his spear, but before he could do anymore, The Scarred Man lunged forward, trying to stab Anson.
Stepping back, the two men were now off their horses and slowly circling. Anson considered running past the scared man to find another manhole, but finding out which of the two men was the faster was something Anson wasn’t too keen to find out. Instead, the interaction played out how Anson imagined a swordfight, or a Knees match, would play out. The scared man smiled like a manned man as he fainted as probed Anson, trying to stab him in the stomach. Anson was mostly defensive, trying to find a way to maneuver himself to the manhole. This continued for about a minute or so as the two went back and forth. There was even a moment, where Anson was on top of the manhole, but couldn’t do anything since he would be stabbed if he let his guard down for a moment.
The rest of the group could be here any moment, Anson told himself. So, he decided to change his strategy. Stepping forward, he tried to get The Scarred Man as far away from the manhole as possible and soon Anson walked over it and kept going. He wasn’t sure how long to step forward, but it soon turned out it didn’t matter. The scarred man up until this point was swing his spear almost like a sword. Anson thought it was quite stupid, but The Scarred Man was enjoying himself, until that was, his grip must have loosened, and Anson accidently swiped at the other spear, knocking it out of his hands. Seeing this opportunity, Anson jumped back for the manhole, inadvertently letting go of his spear in the process.
Now on the ground, next to the manhole, Anson tried reaching back for the spear, and was barely able to grab it as The Scarred Man dismounted and approached Anson. Trying to grab him, the man didn’t even try to get his weapon as he kicked Anson’s spear out of his hand. Crawling back, Anson tried to escape as the Kadon man slowly reached for him as if he was a fruit that had fallen on the ground, but it was in vain as the man grabbed a hold of him.
Fumbling around to get the man to let go; Anson felt the texture of the manhole cover behind him. The thought of hearing those waves shuttered Anson, but would it be worse than enduring whatever torture the Kadons would put him through, and failing the operation? No. God, no, and if there was a way to make this operation go through, and make sure everyone got out alive, he would do it, so without any more thought, Anson turned over, grabbed the manhole cover, threw it off and tried to crawl inside.
The Scarred Man grabbed Anson’s leg to pull him away, but Anson caught the lip of the hole and kept himself in place. His fingers felt like they were about to rip off, but he kept holding on as the man with The Scarred Man nearly tore off Anson’s leg. Slowly, and over the course of a minute, Anson kept pulling and slowly made more ground until he could see inside the hole. Getting more of a grip, he pulled himself in faster, and could into the hole, but instead of a wooden beam like last time, it looked as if there was a tunnel filled with water, sewage, and a terrible stench. Smelling it made Anson gag and lose his grip more, but he kept going as he knew that tomorrow this would all be over. Tomorrow.
Finally, he finally pulled through and fell into the pile of sewage, though he had no time to process the disgust he was surrounded by and ran through the tunnel. He looked behind to see if The Scarred Man had followed, he had not, but he did hear what the man said, which was: “İyi şanlar!”
He would need some luck if he couldn’t come up with a plan in time.