The Lead Crown: Ch 1c, Steam-Punked (pt 3)
Tranquil Waters: The Lead Crown Ch 1-3, Steam Punked
Inigo had obediently followed Alarice's orders ever since she had paid his debts to free him from his previous life. A mix between obligation and adoration, the bat had no reservations about doing as she had asked... until she told him to leave her at such a pivotal time. She had revealed that there was strong evidence that the University's project had been compromised, and yet she was sending him away for support? They couldn't have had THAT much time for reinforcements, and that meant that she was left alone in a hostile situation.
The bat forced himself to push his concern for her aside; she had given him a task, and he was to dedicate himself to it fully. Racing through the streets, the wingless bat dodged from one side of the road to other, adding much more total distance to his trip, but managing it much faster than if he had waited patiently for all of the dawdling passers-by to get from A-to-B at their own pace. It was in the crowded streets that Inigo most missed his wings.
The removal of the membranous skin had been another one of Alarice's orders. Ever the elitist, the human woman had reasoned that the bat's ability to blend into any societal costume was far more important than his ability to glide. He had agreed with her at the time as she always knew best but, in times such as the one in which he now found himself he could have certainly argued for the benefits of being able to travel the city in the air from rooftop to rooftop.
"Well..." the bat paused, "why not?" and the next time he saw a scaffold along his path he veered toward it, scampering up the wooden structure as if it were a ladder. He might have lost his wings, but he was confident that none of the alleys were wide enough to create any real obstacle. As it turned out, he was mostly right. The closest clumps of buildings allowed him to make great time in bypassing the crowds, but, ultimately, he came to one of the main streets of Newport, and crossing it would be no easy leap-- without wings there was no way he could make it forty-something feet.
Glancing around the immediate area, Inigo looked for a quick way down. It was just after identifying a reasonably soft landing in the market stall of a cushion merchant that the bat suddenly realized he wasn't alone atop the roofs. Off to the left, Inigio caught a glimpse of a white fox springing from building to building, nimbly clearing the storm walls common on the roofs closest to the docks. The bat could tell the fox was following someone below him on the streets, but that was the limit to his information and he didn't have time to stop and gawk-- the roof tops were busy.
To his right, far closer toward the north entrance to Newport was a large, thick-furred wolf. Inigo glanced to the half-naked lupine, surprised that one of the tribals would have a reason to be in Newport-- but twice as surprised to see him slowly scaling the city's cathedral. Stowing the thought for later, the bat sprang down from his two story perch onto the raised roof of a one story building and, from there, took a flying leap toward the stall of the merchant selling pillows.
Inigo landed unceremoniously, tearing through the canvas of the stall but having aimed just perfectly to come crashing down onto the huge pile of cushions. By the time the street merchant had recovered his wits, the bat was already up and running off, quickly disappearing into the crowd amidst calls for the guard. Inigo smirked to himself, realizing that the guards were far too busy with the University's reveal to be anywhere near the Center Street Market. He quickly turned down an alley, and sprinted the last dozen yards to Alarice's base of operations.
Right away Inigo could tell something was wrong; Alarice had a number of warning signs that anyone in-the-know would be able to set within the base to let any member of their team approaching it know that it wasn't safe. The bat saw that there was a lantern placed in the rightmost window of the third story-- that was their most basic warning sign. Even if he hadn't spotted it, however, there was the obvious fact that the front door had been completely torn off its hinges. The bat flicked an ear as he carefully checked his 'foofy' clothes for his two pistols and his blade-- they were where he wanted them, and, despite the warning, slowly crept his way into the building's main room.
What Inigo would normally have called 'signs of a struggle' were much more obvious as a drawn out full military-style engagement. Several bullet holes were present in the wooden paneling of the main room, and most of the furniture had been turned sideways to provide cover. Inigo's favorite lounging sofa looked to have been used as cover in a sword duel; each cushion had been slashed open and one of the armrests showed signs of blade impacts. Most of Alarice's crew preferred guns, but when forced to rely on melee weapons chose stabbing blades to slashing ones, leaving Inigo to contemplate what kind of assailants his teammates had been forced to combat.
His team mates! The bat suddenly straightened up, pulling his short blade out with his right paw, cocking the hammer on one of his pistols with the other. He had still seen no bodies, and there were only so many places to search downstairs. Assuming Alarice's forces had won, the bodies would have been dumped-- they wouldn't have let any invaders live. If the attackers HAD won... "No..." Inigo murmured to himself, he didn't want to think about that.Checking the first downstairs room the bat was still no closer to finding any bodies. The second room, however was the kitchen, and it looked as though even the food prep area was not safe from the chaos of combat; he was able to identify several scatter marks of blood from what was likely an edged blade, and found a bloody cleaver nearby.
Geoffrey had always commented in his dry tone about using the kitchen as a fall-back since there were so many bladed implements close at paw but, until that moment, Inigo had never been sure whether he had been joking or not. It wasn't until he saw the otter's body that he knew for certain: the otter had been dead serious but now, Geoffrey was just dead.
The bat crept closer, kneeling down beside the counter next to his fallen ally. Was ally the right word? Inigo wasn't completely certain. Geoffrey had been many things to him during their time together... definitely a teacher and instructor... a sentinel and guardian to be sure... they were lovers, in a way, though Inigo was never truly sure how much the otter felt for him other than in a physical way. Was Geoffrey a lover, or just another lay? Strange, he realized that he had never thought about it before that moment. Was he even able to call the marksman a friend, or was it just a relationship of convenience?
Inigo had thought himself numb to death but, as he looked at the unblinking, unfocused gaze of the dead, he wasn't so sure. Geoffrey had once stared at him with wanting, and longing... but none of that remained... none of that would ever show again. Whoever had done him in hadn't even shown the otter the simplest of courtesies; the bat reached out a shaky paw, and gently lowered the otter's eyelids-- the reddish-brown eyes closed forever... and still Inigo did not sob. Folding his companion's webbed digits together on top of his bloody chest, the bat stood slowly back up, ears working at all angles to see if whoever was responsible was still around.
Slowing his breathing, the bat fought back the inclination to feel... well... anything. Having spent so much time around death, Inigo wanted to know he wasn't as dead inside as he felt, but he wasn't able to take the time to analyze what his heart was trying to tell him. Taking measured breaths and forcing the beating of his heart to leave his ears, the bat listened... and heard something. It took a moment for him to realize what it was but, once he did, his weapons were put away and he was sprinting up the stairs to the third story.
"Faula!" Inigo shouted, lifting his foot to lash out at a table pushed haphazardly against the entrance to the room. He kicked the piece of furniture out of the way, and batted a coffee table aside as he began flailing his way through the destruction and debris of the wolf's room. "Faula!" he called again, then paused when he heard a faint shuffle from her closet... her closet that was full of more musket ball holes than one of Geoffrey's practice dummies.
Forcing the damaged door open, the bat let out a wordless cry; the back wall, also pierced by its fair share of ammunition, was also splattered with blood. Laying on the floor, wheezing, was Faula. Inigo stood stunned, looking down at the wolf who he identified as powerful... imposing... deadly... and all he saw was a quivering mass of bloody fur. "In...ee...go?" she murmured, her voice little more than a feeble rattle.
"Oh gods..." the outdated tribal explicative escaped him before he was able to regain his composure, "Faula... what on earth--?"
"Men..." she rasped, "lots.... of them..."
"Well... of course." he offered, kneeling down to her, attempting his most flattering smile despite being shaken by the sight of the dying wolf, "They would have needed an army with you here."
She whimpered as he pulled her head up to rest on his thigh, but she groaned the sound away and bared her teeth against what was obviously a great amount of pain, "Al... ar.. ees?" despite the wolf's great pain, she still managed to hold onto her accent. It was an odd thought, but it still somehow brought the bat a strange amount of comfort.
"She's fine..." Inigo announced, trying to figure out where to start aiding the wolf; it looked like she had more blood out of her than inside, "better than you, anyway." he offered another weak smile in poor attempt at humor-- at that point the bat just didn't have it in him.
"They're..." she licked her pale lips with a nearly-white tongue, "...after her."
"Who's 'they'?" the bat asked, his heartbeat suddenly picking up. Inigo was well aware that Alarice had made many enemies over the course of her life, and the thought that one had decided to take revenge was not unexpected... but the fact that they had already met with so much success was much worse than merely "unnerving".
"Duh-no..." Faula wheezed. "They..." she rasped, "...taah...toos..." had to gasp each syllable, "Taah... toos.... on..." her eyes slowly closed.
"Faula?" Inigo called, "Faula?" he gave the wolf a shake, and her eyes reopened, a burbling breath drawn in as she did so.
"Hand..." she pushed the word out through a red froth on her lips, "Tah... toos... on hand..." she blinked again slowly, managing to pull in another breath; Inigo grit his teeth when he saw several bubbles emerge from the holes in the wolf's chest.
"Tattoos on their hands?" the bat asked, looking back to the bleary-gaze Faula had leveled on him, "The men have tattoos on their hands?"
Faula nodded mutely, "Cir... circles... with... with lines..." she managed to speak, though her voice was trailing off. Her gaze unfocused further as she took in another half breath, "Save her, In-ny... save... Al..."
She had been a bitch... and not just because she was a wolf. Faula had often made Inigo's life difficult in any number of ways. Other than being the dour target of many of the bat's jokes, Inigo had trouble imagining a single thing about her that he actually appreciated... especially with regard to her personality... until her last words. She told him to protect Alarice; even with her last breath Faula had been loyal. Despite their differences, the bat realized, they had at least shared that much. Only in that moment was Inigo able to cry.
The wave of emotion swept over him as everything came crashing down. The wolf woman's head still in his lap, the bat cradled her there as a single tear trailed its way down his muzzle. He wasn't crying for her, he realized... he was crying over what he had lost... EVERYTHING he had lost, not just his two coworkers. Is that what they were-- coworkers? He had attachments to them, that much was certain, but were they anything more than that? Certainly he had cared for Geoffrey after a fashion, but was that anything more than a basic infatuation? An appreciation stemming from familiarity?
Familiarity-- the word struck home. In Inigo's entire life he had never truly found the time or reason to get to know anyone. He hadn't had a chance to build any strong feelings for anyone until he had spent time with Alarice and the other two group members. Geoffrey, he had come to appreciate... even like. There was a fondness there... a casual bond that he'd never been able to form with anyone else. Falua, he had disliked in a fashion, but even then there was that certain familiarity; he greatly enjoyed knowing enough about her and coming to know her well enough that he could feel that off-putting sensation realizing that she probably hated his guts... which had always seemed to make Alarice smirk.
Alarice-- suddenly the bat's heart jumped into his throat. She had saved him from a life of veritable slavery and elevated him to something greater. Alarice was the first person to give him any degree of trust and, in return, he trusted her implicitly. But it was more than trust... as with Geoffrey, Inigo enjoyed having her around but, more so than what he felt with the otter, the bat felt something... a connection maybe? His heart almost stopped when he realized that she could very soon end up like his other two slain companions, and that's when he realized exactly what he felt.
"No." it was a single, simple syllable, but it was what he needed to push himself back into motion. It meant a lot of things. No, he was not about to let the tattooed men do the same thing to Alarice as they had done at their home. No, he was not about to let them get away with tearing a part of his life from him. No, what he felt for Alarice was far different than what he had felt for Geoffrey... or for anyone else for that matter. No-- he could try to argue it with himself, but he wouldn't succeed... he loved her... he actually DID love her.
The epiphany would give him the strength he would need to get back to Alarice before something bad happened. It would give him the drive he would need to see her to safety. It would give him the focus needed to exact revenge for what the tattooed men had done and the things they were planning on doing. What it didn't give him, however, was the time needed to escape the building before the charges went off. His whole world turned on its side as his home literally came crashing down around him.