Chapter 21: Reprised

Tybalt dropped a few small coins into the hand of the snaggle toothed girl operating a beverage stand. Her father crushed juices from the pulp of fruit and mixed it with some water. He handed the glass to Tybalt who drank its entire contents in a single gulp. He placed the cup back on the stand and thanked them for their drink.

He returned to his observations of the city streets. He had only heard a smattering of rumours from last night’s assault. He asked people about the news, trying to find anything he could about Vassilos or Unity. With such an event occurring merely the night before, people were ready to share everything they heard. Tybalt couldn’t help himself from smiling when he heard people repeat the same lies he had told them. After a while, however, it grew on his nerves. His own pursuit of truth had been complicated by his own lies. He had set a trap for others, but fell into it himself.

“I heard that it was GoldenFlax attacking Mercury because agreements soured just before the election. Rubio wanted to take over their shipment lines, wanted to have the world to have his flax. Terrible. He was such a nice boy, I cannot believe he did this.” The old woman sitting on the porch of her house continued to smoke her clay tobacco pipe. She blew the thick smoke through her nose. “I must pray for him.” She pressed her scaled lips together and lost herself in thought.

Tybalt wheeled away from the residential districts and their crowds. With an hour of searching, mixed in with some snacking, he felt no closer to finding what he needed. He moved into the more wealthy markets, passing by Bartek’s stall. The old man whistled out a little tune until he spotted Tybalt.

“Welcome back, friend! Have you come to buy something from me today?”

“No, only words.”

“I have many of them, but few are worthy to be heard.”

“Men waste their money on worse things,” Tybalt placed a small stack of coins on the man’s stall. Immediately, Bartek began to shake his head.

“No, no. You take this back. I speak for free, friend.”

“Tell me, where does Vassilos live?”

The old man’s eyes bulged from his face.

“Dangerous. Be careful with whom you speak. They will cut your tongue from your mouth. He is in the inner ring. He walks easily between the rings. Everyone knows him by sight.”

“Does he have buildings in the outer ring?”

“Many.”

* * *

Tybalt followed the old man’s leads. As we walked around the circumference of the inner ring of buildings, he kept his eyes out for a signage of a pair of crossed wings. Bartek had told him that the graffiti would mark their main office in the outer ring.

He didn’t need to look for the sign as he found a long queue of people spiraling around the building. Tybalt asked the people in line for the line.

“The doors have not yet opened,” complained an ugly looking man. He kept turning his head toward the sun and then back to the watch upon his wrist. The glass upon it had been severally broken. “I’ll take my business elsewhere!” He shuffled out of line.

“It was the attack, no doubt,” a young man said to Tybalt, unprompted. “I heard it that it was Zoltan’s caravan that got hit by the city guard, but I also heard that Zoltan had hit GoldenFlax. It seems that Mercury is the real victim here.” The young man peaked over the shoulders of the people in front of him, hoping that he saw some forward movement. “I’m beginning to doubt if the doors will open at all today.”

Tybalt left the line. There would be no way to enter through the main entrance. Only by finding an alternative way into the building would he be able to find more information, perhaps even find someone who has the information he needs. He might need to torture them, but it would be valid in order to get his final vengeance. Everything had to serve the ultimate purpose of his vengeance. Otherwise, the spirits of his comrades and companions could never rest in peace. One companion less now that Unity proved both to be alive and the source of their betrayal. She, above all others, needed to die. Her blood alone would atone for the damage that he had received. If it were not for her treachery, perhaps they would all still be alive.

Tybalt checked the sides of the building, but it had been firmly entrenched into the architecture of the adjacent structures. Still, at two-storeys, he would be able to access it via the roof. He walked around the block, searching to see if any of these ensconced structures had a way up. One of the attached buildings also belonged to Mercury, but the other ones seem to be independent businesses.

He slowly stalked around the structure, dodging into the thin walkway that split one massive cluster of buildings with another. The walkway flowed into the hidden garden. While lacking much of the flowers or other delights one would expect of a inner-city garden, the burst of greenery pleased his eyes. In the middle of the space, a poorly constructed fountain ran dry. Despite the pleasantries of the garden, no one spent their time in it. The bench on the opposite end of the garden proved that it had been well-used by someone. He was simply lucky that he had no witnesses currently.

Tybalt sized the wall that he hoped to scale. He identified a few handholds upon its structure that he would be able to climb with, but he needed a little boost to get to the first one. He grabbed the heavy metal bench, a local creation welded from scraps, and dragged it against the wall. He flipped the bench vertically, so that one of its ends stuck into the ground and the other into the air. Securing it, Tybalt gripped the slats of the bench and pressed his feet against the wall. It took two serious attempts to reach the vertical height, but he managed it. Then, he gripped the uneven wall -- grappling onto the putlog holes and grabbing the projections that struck from its flat surface -- and reached the flat room of the structure.

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The building he had scaled was a bank. From a ceiling window, he could look into the main space and see the people exchanging their funds, converting ammunition into Carrion Hill coinage.

Tybalt carefully stepped around the ceiling window. He crossed over the roof and approached the wall of his target. The two-storey structure of Mercury Transport’s outer ring headquarters stood before him in its makeshift grandeur. The building had been a mixture of old resources supported by new. Clay had thickened its walls. While it had been wet, artisans had put their own engravings and designs into the clay, which has long since hardened. Indeed, this headquarters seemed to be among the most majestic buildings in the outer ring.

From the roof of the bank, Tybalt did not have to climb any higher. A window of the Mercury building gazed out over the roof of the bank. He merely approached the window and tried to force it up. Unfortunately, it was locked. He tried to force the lock by lifting the window pane’s lip, but it was no use. He checked the other windows, cautious about whether or not some employee mulled about inside. Yet, every window he checked had been locked tight. At the very least, the building seemed empty and devoid of anyone. It would make his hunting much easier.

Tybalt selected the window that looked the most fragile and prepared himself to break it. He took off his gear and removed his shirt. Wrapping the linen around his hand, he formed a padded ball with his fist and punched into the window. The glass cracked. He struck it again. The window shattered, make noise as the hail of glasses covered the ground below. Using his padded fist, Tybalt pushed out all of the jagged shards of glass which thirsted for his blood. He broke them into smaller bits, allowing him to enter safely.

He examined his shirt as he put it back on, noticing a new hole that was made by one of the jagged edges. He didn’t mind. He threw the shirt onto his back and geared himself. Alert as to whether someone inside had heard the glass crack, he kept his revolver in hand. He moved to the door of the room, looked into the hallway, saw no one, and re-entered the room. He locked the door from the inside. He had time to go through the papers. He started to rifle through the filing cabinets, glancing over the tabs of the folders. Nothing here pertained to what he wanted. He needed names. He needed contacts. Information that would allow him into the inner ring. To have a meeting with Vassilos. All he saw, however, were receipts and correspondences with other cities, contracts with the NFB. None of it was useful for his ends.

He began to doubt his plan. What did he expect to find? At the very least, if the structure had indeed been empty, he could try to set fire to the whole structure. Let Mercury feel the flames of his wrath. Tybalt needed to be sure the whole structure was empty.

He entered into the corridor and started to check room after room. Yet, they looked the same. It was merely a series of rooms for functionaries to process orders across the Wasteland. He felt impressed by the operation. He had never seen anything so orderly, so functional, so reminiscent of the Old World. He even spotted a working computer in one of the rooms. It would be grand shame to destroy it, but it would be that much more damaging to the enterprise.

The second floor had been completely empty of persons.

Tybalt made for the staircase, holding his revolver out in front of himself. He took each step carefully, moving with cat-like tread. He made his way halfway down the staircase when he put his weight upon a very squeaky plank. The plank grinded noisily with its neighbouring parts. Tybalt scrunched his face with anxiety. Although it seemed as though the building had been entirely empty, he lamented the sound nevertheless.

He reached the main floor without any other issue. He moved slowly, holding himself as close to the wall as possible. While he didn’t press himself to it, he moved cautiously. He looked into the first room without finding anyone present. He pushed to the next. Nothing.

Tybalt only had one more room to check in order to discover if the entire building had been truly empty of human life.

He placed his hand on the door knob and pulled open the door. Using the muzzle of his revolver to pry open the door, he snuck in. Inside, he saw Unity sitting at a table with an unknown man. At the disturbance, the man startled from his position and reached for a gun in his breast pocket.

Tybalt was faster and shot the man through the head. The man slumped into his chair and then slipped from his seat onto the ground. There, the crimson of his veins coated the floor.

“Tybalt!” Unity exclaimed. “I thought you were dead!”

“I could say the same of you.”

Unity propelled herself from her chair and went to embrace Tybalt. He thrust out his hand, gesturing her to sit down. He did not want her to try to charm herself out of this situation.

“Sit,” he commanded.

Unity returned to her spot with a creaky unease.

“What’s this all about, Ty?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“But it’s what…”

“Stop.” Tybalt stepped closer to her, throwing the chair in front of him out of the way. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“About what?”

“About what!” Tybalt nearly laughed at the absurdity. “About why you’re sitting inside this building.”

“I was just talking to…” she turned to the dead body that had slunk to the floor.

“Very likely, if it wasn’t for the fact I saw you drive that transport vehicle into the city.”

Unity’s eyes narrowed. She dropped the pretense of ignorance.

“So, you were with them.”

Tybalt remained silence.

“Well, Ty, if you must know. It’s a long story.”

“You have time, Unity. In fact, you have the rest of your life to tell it, because regardless of what you say, you are not walking out of this room alive.”

“Come on now. What about all of those good times we had.”

“We’re not returning to those days. I thought you loved me.”

“I did!”

“Then, why did you betray me!” Tybalt could not contain his anger. He hated this weaselling. He wished for clean and clear answers. He was getting nothing from her.

“I didn’t! I swear!”

“Save it for someone who cares.” Tybalt rolled his wrist. He aimed his gun with lackadaisical dispassion.

“Ty, you can’t. I’m innocent.”

“Of what?”

“Of betraying you. It’s not what I think.”

“Then clarify!” Tybalt yelled his words loudly. If anyone else had been in the building they would have heard of his rage.

Unity said nothing. She blinked her eyes and frowned. She never was one to cry and she wouldn’t at this moment either.

“Do what you came to do.”

Tybalt felt the fluttering of his heart. He felt the well-spring of his emotions for her. Every instance he felt love, every instance he felt frustration, the heights of his affection, the depths of his hate. He pulled the trigger. He shot her through her heart. With a few coughs, Unity slumped dead.

Tybalt’s eyes watered.

His revenge did not feel sweet.