Korran paused, making sure that the invigorators had cleared their post before dashing up the steps. The invigorators didn't host much of a challenge in a one-on-one battle, but he might be regarded as a part of the terrorist group that blew up two ships if he was to be seen fighting them.

The oak door opened readily, croaking a warning to anyone inside, which annoyed Korran to no end. He entered warily, taking in the room in one fell swoop. Someone was behind the counter, half-turned as if they were in the midst of going through the plentiful shelves overflowing with various documents that gave the room the boring aroma of brine, ink and aged parchments.

The man behind the counter seemed young despite his bent posture and a pair of the bushiest eyebrows Korran had ever laid eyes on. "We're closed," the man said lamely, taking in Korran's hooded robe and drawn daggers with widening eyes.

Korran's instinct told him this man was no mere desk worker, his eyes simply moved too deliberately and guileful, compared to the leisurely untainted gaze of a person who made a career of stamping and organizing documents. Moreover, Korran suspected he was a part of the group they had encountered, despite his simple attire comprising of a gray tunic.

Korran took one cautious step forward then another, saying, "Is that so? Sorry to intrude but I suspect you know what I'm after, so I'd rec-"

The words died on his lips as he sensed the faintest leak of bloodlust from his right. It was considered the greatest embarrassment for an assassin to be snuck up on, but especially one as experienced as Korran. The truth was his rib was at fault - the damn pain had enveloped him again after the jolts as a result of him running to the building. The Kalio clan considered it so critical that their members learnt to banish the presence of pain from their mindscape at an early age because pain had the power to dull even the greatest fighter's senses, and so it was one of the greatest weaknesses in existence.

Had he been able to relegate his pain, he would have noticed the misshapen shadow in the corner when he'd swept the room with his eyes, however, excuses didn't allow a redo on the battlefield.

As Korran turned, he confirmed with composed clarity that there was nothing he could do. His attacker was simply too close for him to guard in time - much less counterattack. He could hope that luck blessed him and his attacker missed a vital spot, but Korran didn't think much of relying on the unreliable.

Just as Korran braced himself, he felt the projection of bloodlust from another direction - this time it was as if the murderous intent was being purposely broadcasted. His assailant ducked, revealing an object that flew past where his head had been not a full second ago. The man stayed on task though, transitioning into an attack from his crouched position. Because Korran had never stopped turning his body, he was in a better position to observe the trajectory of the man's blade and he jumped over it this time, gracefully spinning in the air to perform a roundhouse kick aimed at the man's skull.

His assailant betrayed some experience of his own, tilting his shoulder forward to take the brunt of the kick while simultaneously preventing the attack from reaching full momentum. Still, the force of Korran's kick sent the man sprawling backward toward the counter.

Usually, Korran would jump at the opportunity to stay on the attack while the man was off-balance, but as his foot made contact with the man, pain shot up his hip. The intensity of it shocked him and he landed almost clumsily against the floor.

He regained his feet in a split second, waging a mental war against his aflame nerves to drive his pain into his subconscious. It was especially hard with the adrenaline of battle soaking his veins, and the pain only subsided by a bit as a result.

"A thank you would be nice," Fiona's confident voice crowed, seemingly unaware of his discomfort as she walked up beside him.

Korran ignored her comment, using every precious second to try to put reigns on his pain. Saved by a Kiershan of all people.

Korran's assailant regained his feet and Korran got an eyeful of the weapons that had been inches away from skewering him. They were short blades with a wicked deep curve furnishing the point of the swords. The man kept his eyes on them, but addressed his partner behind the counter who had returned to furiously surfing through the documents. "Find them yet, mate?"

"No, but the fact that it's taking this long proves master's theory that they always change the ship's name between ports."

"Well you better get a move-"

"Found it," Bushy Eyebrows exclaimed, triumphantly raising a parchment in the air. "They keep the captain as the same name."

It dawned on Korran that these two didn't realize they were after the same target; they probably thought that Korran and Fiona were just two looters taking advantage of the chaos outside to steal the valuable information residing on the wall shelves.

"Best get that information to the others, then. I'll occupy these two while you go on your merry way." He said the last part matter-of-factly, as if it was a done deal he could overpower the two in front of him.

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Korran sighed, satisfied that he'd pushed all the pain he could to his subconscious and eyed Fiona. She was an assassin like him, which meant that they didn't specialize in direct combat. The other man had already showcased some experience absorbing Korran's kick with his shoulder and Korran worried that Fiona would just be holding him back.

Fiona scowled when she saw the look on his face, venom lacing her voice as she said, "I can hold my own."

Korran remained unconvinced. "Right," he said, not bothering to offer a fake air of confidence.

He was in the midst of sketching out a mental plan before the thin man with the curved blades took action. He launched himself in their direction and Korran took on a defensive stance, having no choice now but to trust in Fiona's ability. The man threw a glancing swing at Korran, which he easily evaded but he seemed more focused on Fiona, rushing her with a flurry of attacks that she narrowly weaved in between.

Korran had been taught to prioritize the strongest person in a group, ideally dealing a critical hit in the first charge and disheartening the rest as a result; this thin man seemed to follow a different set of rules, looking to eliminate the weaker opponent quickly.

Just as Korran prepared to step in he heard a big boom and looked back just in time to see Bushy Eyebrows exiting through a smoldering hole in the wall. For a second he entertained the idea of the poor postured man being a Pateral, but he ultimately decided against it, figuring that he must've used some type of bomb.

"Go after him," Fiona commanded after a precarious dodge that seemed more from instinct than prediction. "You heard them, he has the parchment with the name of the ship."

Her attacker visibly tensed at her words, realizing his mistake to assume they were simple petty thieves. He easily maneuvered behind her body, displaying a noticeable boost in speed and raked a blade vertically down her back.

Fiona didn't utter a sound despite being bloodied and falling to a knee. In a show of impressive pain tolerance, she stabbed the man in his knee with a needle when his attention shifted to Korran.

Korran had no doubt the needle was lined with poison, but the man seemed to have some measure of poison tolerance as he lashed out with his other foot, catching Fiona square in the face. "I wanted to avoid killing a female unnecessarily, but your vile fighting style has made it necessary."

Fiona was downed after the direct kick, looking up dazed at the man as he raised his hooked blades, a focused fury decorating his eyes. Before he could plunge them into her, his body appeared to cave in on itself as he slumped to the floor, his face now a mask of horror and pain while his swords clattered uselessly to the floor. Korran stood in his stead, the responsible dagger drenched in fresh blood clutched tightly in his hand.

The man had given Korran the opportunity to do what was second nature to him. Seeing Fiona completely take his attention, Korran's pain dulled to a dim roar as every sense in his body became laser-focused on crossing the few feet between them in the most silently quick steps possible. He could feel every pound of his weight as he distributed it evenly along the sole of his feet, making each landing as soft as padded shoes on dirt, yet he remained prepared to dash forward should his cover be blown.

This was what he was made for.

He drove his dagger into the man's lung without him ever catching wind of the danger he was in. He watched as the man crumbled to the ground, a feeling of innate satisfaction sweeping through him. "We're even now," he told a downed Fiona that regarded him with shock.

Her shock was quickly replaced by annoyance at his words. "Are you telling me you've jeopardized the mission because you were fearful I'd hang my timely intervention over your head? You were supposed to get the ship's name out of that other guy!"

"A thank you would be nice," Korran recited with an easy shrug, basking in the shame that glinted in the prideful woman's eyes. "Besides, letting him lead us to his team and following them to the ship is a more reliable plan."

Fiona huffed, which Korran assumed meant she couldn't find fault in his hastily thrown together explanation. She braved the burning pain that Korran was all too familiar with, standing on her own. Korran felt sure that even if it was two broken legs rather than a deep slash across her back, the woman would've found a way to stand rather than asking for help.

"What are we waiting for then? Let's get a move on before he blends in fully with the crowd," Fiona said gruffly, her voice's change of pitch a sign of her masking pain.

"Sure," Korran replied with a nod. He moved toward the downed man who had smartly rolled onto his side to stop himself from suffocating due to his punctured lung.

"There's no need for that," said Fiona grimly. "He's a dead man once the poison infiltrates his bloodstream."

Korran wasn't so convinced. "He seems to have built up a resistance."

Fiona shook her head, "Sadly enough for this bastard, it doesn't matter. The poison coating is special grade, able to defeat the strongest resistances with its slow inevitable takeover of the nervous system. It was specifically made for..."

Her awkward pause made the unsaid words clear. Specifically made for members of the Kalio clan.

Korran swallowed the hate that rose from within like bile in his throat. He couldn't disassociate from everything his clan had planted in him, but he made a decision right then and there he'd decide who to dislike, rather than let clan politics influence his emotions

He chose to focus on the resourcefulness of such a poison instead. "You may have to show me how to make that sometime," he said, "perhaps as payment for saving your life." He hurried out of the building before she could point out they were even.

Outside, the invigorators were hard at work steadying the chaos and were making progress in that regard, which allowed Korran to catch a glimpse of what he suspected was his target's back heading down to the docks. He took a moment to swipe his dagger through a patch of grass to clean off some of the blood on it, which happened to give Fiona time to catch up.

"At the docks," Korran said, to which Fiona nodded and darted ahead, giving Korran a clear view of the grisly slash across her back.

The disturbing sight reminded him how close he'd been to having one of his own - or worse. This was no privileged noble or moderately experienced merchant that had pissed off the wrong person who endorsed Korran to tie up the loose end permanently. These men were skilled and serious, and above all dangerous.

It was time for him to get serious too, despite the consequences.