Chapter 11 Goodness, Justice, and the Smile of Fate (4)
At the border of the relatively decent quarters, a a sonorous child's voice echoed from an alley:
"Wait, sis!!!"
Soon, a blond boy of about eight years old emerged from there. He looked very scared and on the verge of crying.
"Please, help! My sister Lia! Her leg is pinned! She's in pain, and the log is too heavy! Hurry! Come with me!" The child continued to babble, attempting to grab me by the belt, but he received a slap on the hand and didn't try to reach where he shouldn't again. However, he didn't stop creating a fuss. "Please! Please, you're kind, right?" The boy started sobbing, and tears streamed down his face.
"Quite the talented kid."
The young performer wore inexpensive but fairly clean and tidy clothes, creating the image of a son from a not-so-wealthy but caring family. Combined with his frightened and concerned expression on his angelic face, it created an image that didn't raise suspicions, even on a dark night. On the contrary, everything about it begged for help for a child in distress and his sister. Well, it would if his target had more developed parental instincts.
And if I hadn't noticed the guy's appraising looks ahead of time.
It might have seemed that I was behaving carelessly, but any competent assassin was always ready to fend off an attack or strike back, even in such circumstances. With heightened senses and the ability to sense others' aggression or attention, sudden attacks or simple surveillance became quite challenging. Not impossible, but they required individuals of a similar caliber, which this street urchin certainly wasn't.
"Well then, lead the way, Virgil," I grinned, deciding to satisfy my curiosity and see what tricks they have up their sleeves to lure victims, taking advantage of their kindness.
And to demonstrate how wrong they were.
Altruists willing to come to a stranger's aid were already rare, and thanks to characters like this, they became even rarer. In return for their willingness to help, they would, at best, lose their wallets, and the next time, the good man would consider it best to pass by. Like dozens of other people familiar with his story. Thus, such groups, even if they were engaged only in robbery, managed to spoil the world around them no less than any inveterate scumbag who are fond of rape, torture, murder and other fun things.
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"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" the little boy exclaimed, nearly jumping up. "Come on, let's go!" The boy ran into the alley but slowed down when he saw that I wasn't picking up the pace. He then led me further into the courtyard.
"Come in!" the kid exclaimed as we passed a narrow passage between buildings, partially blocked with debris. Grinning wickedly, he scampered to a roughly-made table crafted from boards. There, four shady-looking men were playing cards by the light of a Primus lamp. On the table, in addition to five mugs and cards with money, there was a deep plate of some snacks and a clay jug with about four liters of liquid inside. Two more empty jugs lay on their side nearby, not far from the players.
"Nice one, Chiki! We just started discussing chicks, and he already brought a fresh catch!" a scruffy red-haired bandit with a crooked nose and a scar on his forehead grinned. He threw a hefty copper coin to the young man, who quickly caught it and hid it under his clothes.
"So that's what 'little sister Lia," I drawled mockingly.
"Ah-ha-ha-ha!" erupted a shrill, jittery laugh from the slender, short guy with greasy, undefined-colored hair. "Did you hear what that little hole called our Rusty? Maybe we should change it up for him? What do you say, lads?"
"Come on, Hore!" snarled the crooked-nosed one. "You've completely lost it, you little bastard. Got extra teeth growing in? I'll fix that for you!" Redhead clearly didn't appreciate the humor.
"Well, kiddo?" the swarthy, pockmarked fatso turned towards me, his voice carrying a Southern drawl and a malicious grin mirroring the crooked-nosed man's. "It's like this: your wallet or your life, huh?" He spoke with the same sardonic tone as his companion.
"Not a gang, but a dream come true for a dental prosthetist," I thought to myself.
"Alright, hand over anything valuable, and I won't have to kill you," I said, tilting my head to the side as I awaited their reaction. This sort of crowd usually had a keen sense for trouble. I was curious if they could connect the weapon at my hip with the untypical reaction of their would-be victim and decide whether to settle things peacefully or not.
The fatso tensed up briefly; his hand rested on the hilt of the knife at his belt, and his gaze darted towards the passageway. Finding nothing dangerous there, he relaxed and shifted his eyes back to a point behind me.
"What an idiot. He'd probably poke his finger at his own accomplice," I thought, though that wouldn't have changed much. The "Stealth Master" a couple of meters behind me was wheezing like he was imitating Darth Vader. In addition to the smell of alcohol and unwashed bodies, the bandit ninja also trampled like an elephant "It's strange that he didn't try to grab me right away. Or maybe these romantic highwaymen are feeling brave today?"
Are you joking?" - exclaimed the mottled, stocky man with a distinct Southern accent, his anger apparent beneath his momentary startle. "Funny to you? Huh? We'll have a laugh too!" His face, scarred with pockmarks, twisted into a malevolent grimace.
"A little chatty harlot, I love those!" chuckled the bandit known as Rusty. "I'll be the first!"
"And what do you find in these youngsters?" asked the suddenly composed Southerner. "No rear ends, no bosoms, just kids. A good lady should be big, soft, and sweet. Like a peach!" He dreamily squinted his eyes and smacked his lips.
"But their tightness is something else! And when you unwrap them, they squeal with joy, heh-heh!" grinned the crooked-nosed one in a lewd smile. "Don't you want more of that?"
"Strange," I thought, observing the "experts on female beauty" discussing the specifications of my body. The patronizing attitude from the owner of "Destiny's Smile" and the pity from the minion about the "maimed girl" had managed to irk me slightly before. But now, I felt nothing but languid interest, like a zoo visitor watching a chimpanzee's antics.
"And me! I want to play too!" piped up a small, overly emotional boy.
"Hush!" barked the previously silent, oldest-looking bandit with dark green hair and an eyepatch over his right eye. "Quit yapping! And you, Chiki, shut up! You haven't even worked off the last screw-up. We were told not to touch the face, so why the hell did you gouge her eye out?! Moron!" The one-eyed man shifted his authoritative gaze behind me. "Enough messing around. Grab this fool and take her to the hideout!"
"You have chosen."