Nestled on a forgotten street corner, where the cobblestone was cracked and loose, the Leaky Mug tavern sat in darkness. Its wooden exterior was ridden with gaps patched up with wood that had been ripped directly from the creaky floorboard; the openings in the roof had been crudely filled with a tarp torn from the awning hanging over the entrance. A flickering lantern cast a feeble light on the worn sign that squeaked as it swayed above the door.

Draxl gazed up at the sign.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“It's Draxl. I don’t know the password or anything, but I knew Robin. Ask anybody who's been here for a while. They’ll know me.”

The door creaked open slowly. On the other side was a young teenage boy with a shaved beard—and a few fresh cuts along the face—wearing ragged clothing that had been messily sewn together to patch up any holes.

“Everyone knows you,” the boy said.

“Thanks.” Draxl stepped inside. “What’s your name?” He extended his hand out.

The boy quickly accepted the handshake. “Dennis.”

“Nice name.” Draxl glanced around the room, taking in his surroundings.

The Leaky Mug had been abandoned for months, yet the air was alive with laughter and camaraderie. The members of The Free Few scattered across the decrepit tavern: hanging from railings upside down, standing atop tables, or laying down with one head on one chair, and their legs on another. Everybody was young, most under 25, others as young as 14.

In one corner, a game of dice was beginning to unfold; in another one of the older members sat on a chair with many of the younger ones gathered around on the floor as he regaled them with tales of his various escapades—many of which were either greatly exaggerated or entirely fabricated; in another a massive vat of stew bubbled away as the cooks ripped up floorboards and chucked them into the fire; in another there were people placing pillows and laying down tarps to sleep on to avoid getting splinters from the old wood.

“Boss will want to see you. He’s up on the second floor,” Dennis said.

“Good, I was looking for him. Which room?” Draxl asked.

“Only one that’s still got a door on its hinges.”

Murmurs rippled through the space and heads turned as Draxl made his way up the stairs toward the second floor. Despite Draxl’s rough past couple of days, he was still relatively clean and put together—enough to stand out. Just above the bar at the top of the balcony, he saw a single door locked shut.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“It’s me.”

The door swung open so fast it nearly snapped off its rusty hinges.

“Draxl!”

Rushing out of the room, a girl, a few years younger than Draxl, wrapped her arms around him. The girl’s skin was lightly tan. Her brunette hair was tied up in a high ponytail. Her attire was very similar to Draxl’s, though less extravagant—fewer pouches, her armor was less polished, and instead of a scarf she had on a hood—and in a dark navy instead of a white and royal blue.

“Hey Rose,” Draxl winced. “Little tight.”

Rose squeezed even harder; any tighter and Draxl felt his ribcage would crack.

“This better?” Rose asked.

“Much better,” Draxl groaned.

Glancing inside the room, Draxl saw that everything inside had been removed, aside from a lantern hanging on one of the walls and a single table. On the table was a world map with several daggers embedded in it.

At the far end of the table was a young man just a few years older than Draxl. Both of his hands were gripping the table, and his back was hunched over the map. He had on a hooded black cloak that ran down the right side of his back. A set of leather armor, tools, numerous pouches, and two daggers tucked away in sheathes, each a dark black accented with streaks of gold adorned the man’s body.

As Draxl’s gaze met the man’s he recognized his unique eyes. Instead of white, the man’s eyes were predominantly a deep black; in place of an iris, the eyes had a golden halo. The man’s skin shared the same empty night sky black color as his eyes. He pulled his hood down revealing messy, dusty silver hair.

“Hey, Draxl.”

“Hey, Zeke.”

“Rose, would you let go of him for me?” Zeke asked.

Rose frowned. “Five more seconds.”

“Don’t think you have a choice,” Draxl said.

A few moments later, Rose released Draxl from her vice grip. Draxl sucked in a big breath of air.

“Do you think you could give us a moment, Rose?” Zeke asked. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

Rose didn’t verbally protest, but she did pout. She quietly left the room, shutting the door on her way out.

Zeke noticed Draxl’s eyes were fixated on him, nervously looking him up and down.

“They’re there.” Zeke unclipped his bracers and rolled up his sleeves. It was difficult to discern due to the poor lighting and his unnaturally dark skin tone, but Draxl was able to recognize burn scars all along Zeke’s arms. Zeke tightened his hands a few times. “Hands still work. Just a lot more sensitive where the scars are. That’s about all.”

“Anywhere else?” Draxl asked.

“Pretty much everywhere. But hey, I still got my pretty face, so that’s something.”

The tiniest smile appeared on Draxl’s face.

“Two years, huh?” Zeke said.

“Something like that.”

“How’d you find us?” Zeke asked.

“Long story.”

“I bet.”.

“And, you? How’d you get everybody back together?” Draxl asked

“Long story.”

“I bet.”

The two looked at each other and exchanged a brief chuckle.

“So, are you ready to come back?” Zeke asked.

“I’m a little preoccupied. I just need some information,” Draxl said.

“Shoot.”

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“You guys captured an avatar, Elric Feu. I need to find him. What can you tell me about that?”

Zeke sighed. He hesitated to answer Draxl, but only for a moment. “There was this rich client in Journey. Only ever sent a messenger, so I had no idea who they were—always met in a public place too. They wanted Elric captured, so I took the job. Handed him over to the messenger a little less than a month ago. Haven’t seen Elric since.”

“Huh? A diviner said Elric was in Wishmoore not too long ago,” Draxl informed Zeke. “Figured you’d still have him since you’re back in town at the old hideout.”

“No,” Zeke said, confused. “We’re here for an auction. Out of town there’s this barn. There’s a [Planar Connector] to an auction house set up inside.”

“So that’s why Elric is here. Doesn’t explain who wanted him, why they wanted him, or how he ended up here, but I can’t see any other reason for him to be in Wishmoore.” Draxl turned around and started heading toward the door. “Thanks for the info.”

“Woah, woah! Hold the fuck up!” Zeke exclaimed. “You disappear for two years, and won’t even stay the night? Rose has been dying to see you for forever. All of us have. Stick around, share some stories, spend the night.”

“I’ve got somewhere to be tonight.”

“Okay, so spend an hour,” Zeke insisted. “Just to talk.”

“I’m good,” Draxl said. He refused to turn around and look Zeke in the eyes.

A loud thud shook the room as Zeke slammed his fist onto the table in frustration. “Don’t do this shit again! We’ll wait for you to finish whatever you need to do.”

“You know it’s not that simple.”

“What isn’t that simple?” Zeke asked angrily. “Here’s an idea, if things aren’t that simple alone, maybe, just maybe, they’ll be easier with other people. Have you ever thought of that?”

“It’s not easy! It’s not simple! It’s worse!” Draxl shouted. “You of all people know that. Surprised you’re able to forget what happened last time.”

“You mean these?” Zeke rolled up his sleeves and flaunted his scars. Still, Draxl refused to turn around. “I don’t give a shit about these! You can’t just protect everybody from yourself.”

Draxl hung his head down, just inches away from the door. As he stared at the door, something caught his eye: the door was slightly ajar. He distinctly remembered closing it. Someone had opened it to listen in on them.

Draxl smirked as he let out a faint chuckle, not out of happiness, but rather the absurdity of an idea that had crossed his mind.

“Why don’t you shut up?” Draxl turned around and stared daggers into Zeke. His misty eyes were now bone dry. All the care, compassion, kindness, and concern in his voice evaporated like an ocean in Hell. “All this self-righteous bullshit. You spout all this nonsense like you’re better than me, but I’d argue you’re ten times worse.”

“What?” Zeke asked, too shocked by Draxl’s sudden shift in demeanor to say anything else.

“You’re confused? Don’t worry I can explain,” Draxl reassured Zeke with a sly grin on his face and eyes wide with intensity. “See I at least know there are parts of me that I need to protect people from. You on the other hand, oh boy, you still seem convinced you’re perfect. That there is nothing you can do wrong.

“Must have been hard for you when Robin was around. Constantly getting all your ideas shot down. I bet you blamed it all on favoritism, or that Robin was biased against you, and only ever listened to me. When in reality, you were wrong.”

“Where the fuck did you get this idea from?” Zeke exclaimed dumbfounded. “First of all, I talked to Robin numerous times without you there. Also, she shut you down a hell of a lot too. On top of all that, Robin agreed with me sometimes!

“Robin gave the reason behind her decision each time. Her decisions weren’t always the most logical, but they had a reason behind them. I respected her—”

“You respected her?” Draxl reiterated louder, with an exaggerated confusion. “Coulda fooled me, because from what it sounds like you decided to trample on her entire legacy. One rule. We had one fucking rule. Steal from the rich, and give to the poor.

“And I know the number one thing you kept pushing for was to keep a little more money for ourselves. To treat ourselves right. It would piss you off every time Robin would be dismissive. Always complained about how she’d say ‘we have enough.’ I know that drove you insane.

“Then all of sudden, there’s no more Robin anymore, and you finally have your chance. What do you do with that chance? Do you live up to Robin’s legacy? Do you acknowledge the parts of you that were wrong?

“Of course not! You decide let’s be fucking mercenaries. Those elites whose oppression we were fighting against, fuck it, let’s do their dirty work. For what?”

“Because!” Zeke shouted. “Because we needed the money too—”

“We needed the money, what a fucking suprise. Moment Robin was gone you just ran towards being a leader and left behind all the lessons she taught you.”

“Well, maybe Robin wouldn’t be gone if it wasn’t for—” Zeke cut himself off.

“I fucking knew it!” Draxl exclaimed, with a manic smile and hysteric look in his eyes. “I knew you blamed me for Robin’s death. Always have!”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Oh don’t try to hide it. In the heat of the moment, you fucked up. Your mask slipped off. No point trying to scramble to put it back on. Good to know how you really feel.”

“That’s not how I feel!” Zeke insisted. “I’m not going to lie to you and say you didn’t have a part in Robin’s death. You did. So did I. But at the end of the day, Robin made the decision herself.”

“And you probably think it was a stupid ass decision, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want her to die! You wanna who else I didn’t want to die? You!” Zeke shouted. “But none of that matters anymore. We’re here now.

”I can’t pretend to know all the shit going on in your life. I know you have a million things you need to do, and if you don’t want my help, fine, I can’t force it on you. All I want is for when you inevitably go through hell and back, that you remember this place is still here for you if you need it. The same way it was there for both of us.”

“Same is a stretch, but sure I’ll keep that in mind,” Draxl said. “Thanks for nothing. Maybe I’ll buy some marshmallows on my way back. You know, for when this place goes up in flames, again. Just fair warning, when that happens you won’t be able to blame me again.”

“I don’t blame you Draxl,” Zeke said.

“Sure you don’t.” Draxl spun around and grabbed the door handle. The moment he did, he could hear shuffling just outside the door.

“Draxl,” Zeke said.

“What?”

“Robin doesn’t blame you either.”

Draxl remained silent. He cracked open the door, and immediately looked around for who was listening to their conversation. Initially, nobody caught his eye, until he looked up, and saw Rose clinging desperately to the ceiling.

He immediately broke eye contact with her. He physically couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes, knowing she had heard everything he had just said. Silence echoed in the tavern. It wasn’t just Rose; everyone had heard Draxl and Zeke.

As Draxl turned his back to her and started to walk away, Rose called out to him. “Are you just going to run? Again?” The sniffles that broke up Rose’s words tore at Draxl’s soul.

Draxl stopped. Realistically, he should have run as fast as he could. Before Rose or Zeke could say another word, because if they did, there was no guarantee he could walk away, and Draxl had to walk away.

Draxl marched away in silence, the echoing of creaky floorboards filled the run-down tavern. Everybody in the tavern had gone dead silent. Though they likely hadn’t heard the entire conversation like Rose, as things got more heated, undoubtedly bits and pieces made their way throughout the entire tavern.

Zeke slowly stepped out of the room. He knelt to Rose who had collapsed to her knees crying, and gently embraced her.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Zeke assured Rose, gently patting her back. “He just needs some space.”

“He didn’t mean what he said, I know he didn’t!” Rose shouted.

“I know, I know.” Zeke helped Rose stand to her feet. “I’m the leader and he still finds a way to take on a heavier burden. Bastard just hates losing.”

As Draxl grasped the door handle, the door began to rattle profusely. Draxl kept a calm exterior and emotionless face, but his whole body was shaking. Just before he opened it, he was stopped by a voice shouting out from behind him.

“Hey, Draxl!” Zeke shouted from atop the balcony. “The job was only to hand Elric off to the messenger. We aren’t connected to him anymore. So if he goes missing, it won’t look bad for us.

“Oh, and one more thing. When angel hybrids become fallen angels, they gain a few new abilities. My personal favorite is that our eyes can detect when somebody is lying. Just something I figured you’d wanna know.”

“Why would I give a shit about that?” Draxl asked, as he cracked the door open, and stepped out into the frigid cold, empty streets of Wishmoore in the dead of night.

As Draxl walked down the street back to Wishful Wanders to rendezvous with the rest of The Hangmen, he looked around and didn’t notice anybody nearby. The solidarity gave him enough comfort to think aloud.

“What did he say? ‘You can’t just protect everybody from yourself.’ Well, I just did bitch, so fuck you, Zeke. So long as they hate me, nobody gets hurt.”

“Is he talking to himself?”

Draxl glanced behind and noticed a group of friends walking behind him. He realized he must have missed them when looking earlier.

“That’s pretty weird.”

“Everybody talks to themselves.”

“But this late at night.”

“And by yourself too.”

“That’s some serial killer behavior for sure.”

Draxl scoffed. If anything the group’s commentary helped to distract him from everything that had just happened. “I wonder if everyone else’s outing was this emotionally taxing?”