Chapter 14: Scoped

Tybalt left the training center as the night was falling. With a little alcohol in his system, he felt himself tired more than anything else. He needed a good solid night’s rest before he could really make an attempt at breaking into the storage locker. Who knows, by this time, the thin man could have given the authorities of Carrion Hill enough information to round up Corvus and confiscate the items in the locker. Perhaps, he would need to hunt for all of the items that had been in the locker and has since been disbursed throughout the Republic.

Still, as Tybalt stumbled through the streets with an ever-increasing fatigue, he wanted nothing more than to get this whole thing over with. He would lift the items for the locker, deliver them to Zoltan, and then help take them down. Anything he could do to dig his own talons into the transportation company would satisfy his growing impatience. He needed blood sooner than later. He could not seek revenge and keep coming across all of these obstacles. Soon, he would need to do something drastic in order to feel as though he was moving the right direction.

Despite his fatigue, Tybalt walked toward the storage building. He wanted to get a rudimentary scope of the situation before finding some place to rest for the night. As he walked by the buildings, he caught a patrol of two guards walking from the building.

“So, what, we just wait until noon tomorrow?” one guard said to the other

“Something like that,” the other one responded.

The two men walked out of earshot. Tybalt kept his course, thinking about the whether or not the men were speaking about his locker. Within a few steps, he reached the building, spotting more of the city guards mulling about. Tybalt turned through an alley and tried to double-back in the cover of the night. As he got closer, he only heard the captain of the guard talking to the rest of them.

“Only one of the perpetrators remain loose in the city. The others are in jail and are waiting for execution. By city guidelines, no men can be executed before a new reeve is appointed, so we’re sitting on them for the time being. If anyone catches the last guy, I’ll give him a new plump bonus.”

A mutter shimmered across the remaining guards.

“Alright, that’s everything. We’ll deal with this stuff tomorrow. You know your assignments. Go!” With the dismissal, the crowd disbursed, with the exception of two men who remained at the front door. Clearly, the city’s officials took the death of one of their merchants seriously. A lot of resources had been spent on making roads safe for travellers.

Tybalt left the site. He wandered aimlessly and let his thoughts tumble as they did.

At this point in time, the moon had ascended to its place in the sky. The birds of the midday and evening had quieted to a gentle stir. Meanwhile, upon the streets, the characters who moved through the shadows filled the majority of the crowd. The young men of new money had taken to the streets with their drunken revelries at the same time cut-purses began to work in earnest. Tybalt roamed the various corridors of the city, through the narrow paths and the wide road, aimlessly. His walk familiarized himself with the city with the knowledge only the body and instinct could understand. His mind moved too quickly, concerned itself with distant matters, to absorb this urban reality.

He had never lived in a walled-city. With his brother, all they had managed was the simple life within those makeshift metropolises which sprouted throughout the wasteland, the kind populated with more beggars than honest citizens. Here, in Carrion Hill, at least guards patrolled the roads. The criminals within the inner walls were professional thieves and bandits. None of this half-witted brigandship out among the plains and forest. Only the best survived in this outer ring, including the criminal underworld.

“Mister! Can you spare us some coin?”

Tybalt turned his attention to the shadowed corner of the alley. From behind a dumpster, two young boys huddled themselves. The elder of the two had called for his attention. Tybalt felt pity for the children. He grimaced and relented to the softness of his heart.

“Yeah, alright.” He pulled out a singular coin stamped with the half-profile of the former reeve of Carrion Hill. The young boy scrambled from the shadows and took the coin from his palm.

“Bless you, sir.” The boy ran back to his hiding spot. If Tybalt had not seen the child emerge and vanished back into his hiding spot, he would have never guessed that two tiny humans huddled there.

“No problem,” Tybalt said, leaving the kids in the wake of his footsteps. His own mind spun toward memories of he and his own brother begging. If his coin could get those kids through another day, it would be enough. He knew from his own experience the wealth of a week would vanish before he and his brother knew it. It was better to receive a small amount daily than an abundance at once.

Tybalt shook his head of the thoughts. He detested this sentimental side to his personality. He only wanted the effective, the straight-forward, the ruthlessness that his profession required of him. He had told Corvus that his profession was that of death. This had been no lie.

He came to outer curve of the city’s wall. He looked up at the fortifications, watching a guard walk across the battlements. Carrion Hill clearly took its defense seriously. Indeed, he had to kill to get behind these walls. Tybalt thought about the whether the city find itself in war with the New Federation of Borealia after his meddling.

After walking for over an hour, Tybalt needed to rest. He thought about sleeping on the roads, finding comfort in his childhood circumstances, but shook the idea free from his mind. He had enough coin to rent several rooms at several of the city’s inns. He had enough of his night stroll and decided to lodge in the next place he could.

Approaching the door of a seemingly reputable hotel, a guard pushed him from entering.

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“You in here?” the burly man asked.

“I would have been if you didn’t pushed he out of the way,” Tybalt snapped. He was not in the mood for these sorts of games. “I’m going in to get a room.”

“It’s too late for that.”

“It is not! Let me through.”

“We’re closed.”

Tybalt’s rage shimmered to a breaking point.

“Look, just let me in. Or I’ll make you.”

“You’ll make me, huh?” The guard shifted in his place, one hand descending to the heavy club at his waist.

“You know what,” Tybalt said with an exasperated sigh, “I have some extra coin here. Why don’t you just let me go through so I don’t have to deal with this. I have a big day tomorrow.”

At the mention of a bribe, the guard’s eyebrows moved up. He quickly shot them down, trying to feign indifference.

“What you are offering is not enough,” the guard said. He tried to appear disinterested. Tybalt could tell that he would not have to sweeten the deal too much.

“You are right. I’m sorry,” he said. “Let me make an offering more appropriate to a man of your calibre.” At those words, Tybalt knocked a few other coins into his hand, alongside a standard bullet. He smiled at his own pun.

The guard slipped the bribe casually into his overcoat pocket while he pulled open the door for the inn.

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.”

Tybalt gave the man a knowing nod and entered. He just wanted a good night’s rest. He approached an innocuous looking woman at the front desk. She had been flipping through some of the city’s publications.

“Excuse me,” Tybalt said, forcing the lady to look up from her text. “I’m looking for the room for the night.”

She returned her gaze to the publication without saying a word.

“What do I have to do in this city? Must I bribe or kill or rob everyone in this forsaken pit of snakes to get the basics of my day.” As he said this, Tybalt placed a stack of coins on the desk beside his unholster handgun. “Which of two do you prefer tonight?”

The lady, stunned at this outburst, snatched the stack of coins – more than enough for one of their rooms – and quickly handed a key to him.

“Enjoy your stay,” she said overly-happily.

Tybalt grunted in response.

He lumbered to his room, unlocked it, and made for the bed. He threw himself onto the hard mattress and feel asleep before he had a chance to remove any of his clothing.

* * *

The sun filled the room with its light. Tybalt blinked his crusted eyes open, slowly realizing where he had fallen asleep. Despite not changing out of his clothing or removing his boots, he felt himself refreshed by the rest. He stripped himself to his undergarments and poured himself a basin of cold water. He washed his face and splashed water on himself. After a short routine of morning exercises, exercises he had long neglected in the chaos of the last few days, he slipped back into his clothing, pretending they were new and fresh. It had been a technique he had long employed to feel as though each day yielded promise rather than an unending series of failures.

With a yawning stretch, Tybalt looked around the room. He took inventory of his items. He had been clothed with a mixture of stolen linen and the clothing that Odvar once wore. Likewise, beyond the dead biker’s clothing, he also carried the man’s gun. In his pockets, Tybalt had a nice array of bullets and Carrion coinage that would allow him to move about the city with some ease. The expenses to enter this hotel, however, had left a dent in his pocket. He still lacked the fortunes that he had been accustomed to acquiring after a good job as a mercenary. He was owed much for his mission to stop Mercury Transport, albeit, he was no longer attacking out of a desire for funds. He wanted real revenge. Every morning, he stoked the flames of his rage and anger. He needed to keep his mission at the forefront of his mind. He wanted revenge, cruel sweet revenge. Nothing else could distract him. He wanted blood for blood. For Bassian, for Herostratus, for Spectre, for Unity. All of them would be avenged in due course. It was Tybalt’s hope that each of them would rest well by the end of this week, having been giving libations of another’s blood.

Still, this whole mission for reacquiring the items in the storage locker was a means to an end. He needed to get through this day, this silly little distraction, so he could get Zoltan’s trust, and, thus, get closer to his target. This mission was merely an appetizer for the main meal.

Tybalt left his room and let the door shut itself. He climbed down the stairs into the main room, where he saw the guard from last night sitting at the lunch table. More time had passed than Tybalt had thought. He approached the guard who splattered a meat spread on a piece of toast. He looked up at Tybalt, suspicious of the man who had bribed him yesterday.

Tybalt gave the man a masculine nod, acknowledging each other’s presence, before reaching for some of the fresh fruits that that were lined on the table. He took an apple in hand, tossed it, and took a bite from it. The juices from the apples filled him with a forgotten delight. He loved the taste of apples. He and his brother would hop the fence of various orchards and stuff their pockets full with apples. The joys of those simple thefts made him feel happier than he ever had. Repeating the action, a little older, in an orchard of pears, however, showed him how depraved the action was. He stole then not out of need, but out of habit, out of a sheer desire to do some.

Tybalt finished the apple, tossing the core on a plate on the table. He had no desire to eat the core. He was not that desperate anymore. Instead, he plucked a few slices of dried meat, stacked them on top of a piece of bread, making for himself a rude sandwich. As he took a bite from the sandwich, the man at front desk, an older looking fellow, approached him.

“Excuse me, sir,” he whimpered politely. “Have you paid for your meal?”

“Hrmph,” Tybalt responded with his mouth full. He couldn’t articulate himself with all the food in his mouth. He tried to chew faster, but just gave up on it. He just took his time, allowing for the older man to get ever more agitated.

“It’s okay, Jan.” The guard from last night spoke up for Tybalt. “He’s with me.”

“Alright, fine!” the older man turned back to his desk. He slipped his behind the various account books, continuing to crunch the numbers.

“Thanks,” Tybalt said, finally choking down his bite.

The guard shrugged complacently. He took another savory morsel from the table and popped it into his mouth. He leaned back in his chair, kicking the front two legs from the floor.

“Hey,” Tybalt said to him with a sudden insight, “did you want a job?”

The guard dropped forward in his chair. He leaned closer to the table.

“What are talking?” he asked, casting a furtive look to the older man by the front desk.

“I have a little mission that might require extra man power. It’s for someone name Zoltan.”

“Zoltan, eh?” The guard settled in his chair a little. He plucked a wooden tooth pick that had skewered a piece of food and began to pick at his teeth. “You are one of his men?”

“Not really,” Tybalt admitted. “It’s more of just a working relationship. I need him for something else, but he needs something else from me first.”

“Hm.” The guard pulled out a stray strand from his teeth. He examined it intently and then flung the debris to the ground. “What’s the job?”

“I need to break into a storage locker and gather all of its contents.”

“Easy.”

“The city guards are guarding the place,” Tybalt said.

“That’s not a problem. Trust me.” The guard picked an apple from the table and threw it into the air. When he caught it, he broke the apple in half with the palms of his hands.

“What’s the split?”

“50-50.”

The guard tossed one half of the apple to Tybalt, who caught it mid-air.

“It’s a deal.