Ingrid crouched behind a couple of trash filled crates in the alleyway across from Mort’s hideout. The stench nearly overwhelmed her delicate nose, but she stayed focused on the task at hand by only moderately cursing whoever filled the crates. She wished she could watch from the rooftops, but they were crawling with Mort’s scouts. He was a snake and a criminal, but he was far from stupid. And he had clearly spent the last few weeks beefing up his security. But it wasn’t remotely enough to stop her. She had a job: gather intel on Mort’s incoming guests. The group of Ferals Mort dealt with for the past couple of weeks would be arriving soon.

Mort’s front guards leaned up against the walls by the doors, eyelids half closed. Is every guard in this city this lazy or do I just find the gems? One of the layabouts yawned, then his eyes darted around, most likely reading something off of his character sheet or an ability timer he made.

He tapped on his partner’s shoulder. “Another ten, then we’re off to Juli’s. Oh I can’t wait. I’m backed up as all get out over here.” He said with a raspy laugh.

The other guard nodded his head excitedly at the news.

A whole army of monsters are marching their way to our doorstep, and these two are only thinking of getting their…ugh I’m not going to think about it. Such behavior wasn’t anything out of the ordinary though. Aside from the initial mass exodus of raid soldiers, everything in the Gloom was business as usual during raids, just a little more silent. It never lasted long, however. Come morning, the shops on main street will be packed, filled to the brim with soldiers needing to let out some trauma in whichever way their genes desired. Though all in all, it tended to be a much needed break for the Gloom.

“Hehe.” The guards giggled to themselves again. “I hope Sweetie is free. She usually only works nights, but I can’t get enough of that luscious—” The guard made some unseemly gestures to really get his point across.

“Oh shut it you horny bastard.” His companion in debauchery said, punching the nasty guard’s shoulder.

Ingrid, now thoroughly repulsed by the male species, turned her attention away from the disgusting duo and looked around, making sure no one was near. She lowered her hood and stuck her ears out. As long as the guests weren’t completely silent, she should be able to pick up on their footsteps.

Her ears twitched and pointed in different directions searching for any out of place footsteps coming in this direction. The blaring alarm in the background made it more difficult. Seriously, why does it need to ring for an entire hour? I’m sure all the little soldiers start marching to their deaths within the first ten minutes. I wonder if Liam is heading that way. She shook her head, getting rid of that worthless thought.

After a few minutes, she found something. Three people made their way to the hideout. She covered her head back up and looked around the area. Ingrid, still crouching and sticking to the shadows, made her way across the street and next to the Mort’s compound while the guards continued with their pathetic whimsy.

She needed to get a better look at her targets. Gather the best intel and all that. Yeah, that was all. Ingrid shifted uncomfortably.

Confirming Ingrid’s observations, three people walked up to the hideout’s front door. The first was a large woman, clad in rough, worn leather armor. Though calling it that might have been a stretch. More just tanned hides sewn together. Her brown hair braided and tied in a bun. A large axe sat on her back. Ingrid couldn’t see any sign of a trope. Must have been hidden.

The next person’s trope wasn’t. No his trope was front and center. Dark black plumage grew along the man’s arms and torso, only his chest and stomach were bare. He wore no shirt, understandably, just dirty black slacks. He was a small man, small compared to the first woman at least. His hair was dark, long and shaggy. His eyes flicked around the area, most likely searching for uninvited parties such as Ingrid, herself. Ingrid slinked further back, instinctively.

The final guest wore a dusty cloak, completely covering their body. Well, almost. There was no hiding that giant bushy orange tail. Ingrid’s nose twitched.

The guards let out a sigh, annoyed they would actually have to do their jobs before their romp on the town.

“Oi, slower down there, precious.” The guard said to the woman up front while raising up his hand. She stared down at the man with the same annoyance as if an insect bit her. She then grabbed the guard’s outstretched arm and flung him aside. He collided with the street with a meaty thunk.

His pal jumped up, spear at the ready. The woman reached for her axe.

“Woah, Woah. Everybody, let's breathe for a moment.” The feathered man stepped in front of the woman.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Glenna, we’re guests here, darling. And good, honorable guests don’t go slinging their hosts around like that.” He said with a sweet, almost harmonic quality.

“Yeah that’s right you—” The guard retaliated, until he was cut off by a piercing gaze from the crow feathered man. Dangerous, ominous Aura flooded out of the man.

“And gracious hosts wouldn’t dare threaten or offend those who have given them so much. Would they?”

The guard winced at the overflowing weight cast from the shaggy man, whose Aura only intensified, crushing the guard’s spirit even further.

“Now be a good boy. Let. Us. In.”

Panic blossomed over the guard as he rushed inside the doors, slamming them shut.

The large woman scoffed. “And you say I was going too far. Pfft.” Her voice far more feminine than her stature would suggest. The feathered man only shrugged and placed his hands behind his head. Though his eyes immediately went back to scanning the area.

The final cloaked member coughed. “Enough with the antics. I don’t want to be here any more than you do, but it's a necessity, for now.” The stranger’s voice was firm. Ingrid swallowed upon hearing it.

“Yes ma’am.” The two said in unison.

Another round of the knells filled the air. The cloaked woman turned her head toward their source. “We need to make this quick, we’re on a timer.” Her tail swished impatiently.

“Yes ma’am.” The two repeated, hurrying over to the door to hold it open for her. They entered the hideout together.

Ingrid slipped out of her hiding place. She walked up to the door, holding her ears up to it. The replacement guards were going to be here soon, this was her best and most likely only chance she’d have to get in. She recalled the layout of the hideout in her head, she’d been inside the foyer and Mort’s throne more times than she’d like to admit. A small rush of happiness filled her. That life was over.

The rafters, that’s where I need to get to. West side wall had a shelf. Two hops and that should be all I need. If he doesn’t have a scout up there. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Mort was a cautious guy. And that little confrontation out front didn’t spell out trusted partnership to her. Maybe turning back would be the better move with so many unknowns. Ingrid’s chest tightened. Yeah that might be best.

“Ugh, the actual fuck?” The flung guard from earlier roused from his forced slumber, curses floundering about from his mouth. But Ingrid didn’t hear many of them. She already ducked inside the building before he saw her.

Her feet glowed blue for a second as she darted over to the shelf she envisioned. She leapt to it, praying it wouldn’t make a sound. Or worse, break. Her prayers went answered this time, it supported her weight with only a light creaking. Then made her way up to the rafters with the next hop, clinging to them once she landed. Thankfully Mort kept up with the maintenance on the inside of the building. She wouldn’t have tried this maneuver with many of the Gloom’s structures.

Thump…Thump…Thump… Her heart raced, unsure whether or not she’d been made. The following moments ticked on endlessly. Any second she’d hear someone shout out at her and alert the entire hideout. But it never came.

Calm down. You're in here now, focus on the job. Where did they go?

Ingrid leaned over the rafter she clung, seeing her targets were still there. The feathered man sat down in one of the chairs scattered about, the woman pulled one over to the cloaked woman, but she refused.

Good, the meet hasn’t happened yet.

They all sat there, waiting. Mort always loved his power plays, making others wait on him. It pissed ingrid off to no end, and it looked like her marks shared the sentiment. The feathered man’s toes went to tapping, his knees bouncing. The large woman made no movements but her face betrayed the annoyance, an aggravated vein popping out of her forehead.

The cloaked woman coughed, making her presence, and irritation, known to any that could hear. Then a moment later, one of Mort’s lackeys, a small man with a rodent-like nose, walked out with a wide smug grin. Ingrid recognized him but couldn’t recall his name. She never could be bothered to remember their names. Something that she should probably change on account of the nature of her new gig.

“He’ll be out in a few minutes.” The lackey’s smile turned naughty. “He’s busy with a…friend right now.”

“Hey, expedience was a part of the deal, rat face.” Said the feathered man as he rose from his seat.

“Ooo, that’s a big word coming from you savage bastards.” The lackey jeered.

The large woman’s head twitched at the insult, her hand slowly making its way toward the axe.

She was stopped by the cloaked woman. “Tell Mort he either comes out now, or the whole deal is off. And more importantly his shipments end. Tonight. I’ve no time for his playacting. If he wants to prove himself a businessman, then he best start acting like it.”

The rat faced lackey squinted at her. Not moving from his spot.

“Okay. We are out of here.” The large woman and the feathered man headed for the door.

“Hold up.” A voice spoke, coming from the room the lackey just left. Mort walked on to the scene, wiping his knuckles with a bloodstained cloth. “So sorry to make you wait, my friend. Please, this idiot does not speak for me.” He smacked the side of the lackey's head. “Clean up back there.” The lackey looked at Mort, then back to Mort, repeating the action a few more times.

“Now.” Mort said with a crack of his knuckles.

The lackey ran off without another protest. He sneered pathetically at the visitors as he left. The feathered man gave him a little wave with his fingers.

Mort turned back to his guests, a wide smile growing on his face. “Your request…” Mort licked his lips, “has been fulfilled.”