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Twenty-Six: Crossfire

Michibiku awaits me just outside the front gate. After a thorough sharpening of my Khopeshes and packing them up along with my Katana and Naginata and the remaining few of Jack's bombs, I am ready to depart before lunchtime. As hesitant as I have been, I also have Giffard's logbook buried in my trunk. To my surprise, it is the grizzly bear attending the post alongside another serval. This is the first time that he sees me wearing my grey pinstripe suit. The distraction affects my aim of where my raven friend would alight. He settles upon my shoulder instead of my forearm. I have no words about Wickerson's choice. He has no words either, yet he glares at me. My expression becomes stern.

He looks down, making his eyes seem to glow with the late-morning sun. Still, Wickerson makes no move. This is a man that I profoundly respect, yet I make no gesture as much as I feel compelled to. Instead, I nod and take my baggage to the carriage that I have driven here. Before I even make the first step, my friend flaps away. Upon approaching the carriage, I give both mares a long series of strokes along their muzzles. They like the gesture, but they still appear sceptic. As long as I can get to the train without hassle, they need not wear themselves out.

Thankfully, there is no problem as I head to the train station and then ride the tracks for the day. I have eaten enough to get through the day. I might not be the only one on the edge as I ride the trains--first before I rest for a meal, and then the one taking me to Knightsedge--based on the expressions of the people that I pass. I find couples worrying about someone mugging them. I find workers more than eager to get to the next borough where they live. The evening has started approaching when I get off the train and exit the station. I must be quick now.

The situations in Knightsedge are worse than I might have estimated. The marketplace outside the train station has taken caustic damage: the panels of the stands singed and partially melted. The foods are so scattered that I cannot tell where they fell from. The few merchants present, gathering the items that they meant to sell, try their damnedest to hold back their tears. If the attack on their square happened just today, those assaulters have already done worse.

For the part of the borough where the wealthy reside, Knightsedge is to lose my recognition. The many brick constructs with shingled roofs or metal roofs on just the next block have taken damage. Singe marks on the edges of the walls are evident. In other spots, something has taken chunks out--probably dynamite. The houses along the sidewalk that I tread are like that. I can discern the chips in the edges and the small holes from bullets. Has the war between Jack and Giffard become severe enough to utilise the entire borough as their battlegrounds? If Jack is still well enough to schedule a meeting, that has to count for something. Oh, I hope I can continue to rely on Jack. If I need him at any time, this is the pinnacle of such.

After I have eaten a quick dinner and stayed with Michi for meditation, I head out into the city, clad in my blue tailcoat and trousers, brown vest, white shirt, and golden mask. I proceed to my destination by jumping from roof to roof; it is the safest method right now. Without a doubt, Giffard has yet again raised the bounty my head. The sun is still up, but the sky is bright orange, the clouds looking dark purple. Then again, at both day and night, someone commits a crime involving the use of their hands.

I expect the park to have been turned into a piss pot. I still do as I climb down the house nearest to it. I stride across the road, the sidewalks here looking empty. Before reaching the edge of the park, I draw my Khopeshes and keep them behind my back. I scowl and bare my teeth. This could be both a trap and a genuine meeting, for this is the part of the city with the most greenery.

Contrary to my next expectation, no stench of blood is in the air. No blood has stained the grass. As far as my eyes can see, I cannot discern a burn mark on the ground or the trees at all. I look up to the orange sky and howl. The answer that I get is the one that I anticipate: Michi cawing. He glides and alights upon my shoulder. I tell him, "I hate the look of this, regardless." I can sense him cocking his head at all angles that he can reach. I continue, "I have seen bodies decorate a floor, but mostly after I killed those people. I have never watched a gang war. I always kill people on the streets or inside a room. What should I watch for when in a place such as this?" Oh, Michibiku, you astonishing corvid, I may need you more than ever. I add, "Nani mimasu ka?" He caws and lifts off. I watch him flap and glide for several metres. I sigh. There is at least a kilometre of grass and trees. I have never felt so lost in my life, both metaphorically and literally.

I jog to catch up with my friend, who has taken to the growth of trees. The sky's shade has gone unchanged even at this time. I must commend Michi yet again for how well he can navigate parts of the city where I have never been. Then again, I have been in this park before, but not this far into the green. I let Michi keep in front of me, hoping that he can something interesting before I can.

I eventually detect a distinct scent... Metal... ash... and ale... Not Jack. The second I hear a fire crackling, Michi caws sharply. I change my direction to where the smell of fire and ash comes from.

Let them hear the grass rustling as I continue my jog. I stop when the fire is in my sight. Only a skeletal tin with a bonfire is there. I stick to the shadows, far from the fire. Deer are the only herbivores that can see at night. So, why leave a fire active on a Summer night? I close my eyes and sniff the air from all angles. Whoever is here cannot be far. They could be--

Stab. Right next to me. I see a dog between whose ribs I have just stabbed with my left Khopesh. I pull it out at the same second he splutters blood. In the next second, two dogs approach me, a Shephard in front of me and one from behind. I thrust my left Khopesh forward and my right Khopesh back. The dog behind me stumbles, whereas I miss the one in front of me. I pull my right Khopesh out of flesh and bone as I leap toward my next opponent--

Correction: my next three opponents. Mercenaries. I spin kick as I approach them, knocking one off-balance. I then slash sideways, and then spin, slashing across with both Khopeshes, managing to draw blood, but only with slits. The dog on my left pulls an ivory-hilted sabre from his steel staff. I kick the leg of the Shephard still standing. He backs up. So, I leap toward him, legs outstretched. I thrust both Khopeshes toward him, and he ducks from both. As the other two canines are about to strike, which I deflect, the Shephard makes his move. I block with my leg. I twirl my Khopeshes in anticipation of another strike. This is taking too long already, but these are mercs, much smarter than other criminals that I have slain. I duck and sweep with my leg in a semi-circle. I stand back up instantly, Khopeshes straight out and slashing upwards. Each of them collides with a cane. I stretch my arms out to thrust my Khopeshes. I let the Shephard uppercut my jaw, and purposefully stumble backwards.

I hear a pistol cocking. That is when I flip backwards. I spring toward the group and slash the air in a circle. The Shephard is about to shoot me, but I leap aside and kick his back. He fires, the bullet landing in the Rottweiler's shoulder. With both Khopeshes, I gash across his midsection from behind, and he stumbles. I focus on the Rottweiler, the one with the sabre and cane. I deflect both strikes from his two weapons, and then headbutt him. I swiftly turn around, parrying the sceptre of the Doberman. I shift aside, and utilise the hook of the blade to shove him past me. I need only step to meet them again. I deflect another strike from each dog and scrape my blades against their weapons. Sparks fly.

I make a slit across one arm on each of them, and then stab their chests--only to realise that they each wear armour. I growl. I yank my Khopeshes out, and then parry more melees. I utilise the Rottweiler's knee as a step, and jump straight up. He fails to block my Khopeshes, which I plunge through his eyes. His yowl is instantly cut off. The second I reach the ground, the end of the sceptre hits my back, and I fall forward. The Doberman then hits my head. Though it does not hurt my head, the resonating sound of metal on metal hurts my ears. Whilst I am disoriented, the dog beats upon me, hitting my back and shoulders with his staff. After the third blow, I roll aside. I then kick his shin. As I stand back up, I utilise my Khopesh to pull on his leg. This gets him off-balance. This is my chance. I deliberately get my left Khopesh caught in his armour, so I have the support to jump higher. I flip-kick his chin. Upon reaching the ground, I yank my Khopesh out of the hole that I made and use the same blade to slash his throat. He drops to his knees, gurgling, and falls aside. I check on the Shephard, who still hyperventilates. I stab him in the back, and then he stops breathing.

I look around before I sheathe my Khopeshes. They must have been told to prepare for me. That they just tried to kill me tells me which side they chose. Surely, they recognised Michi, but it is not his fault that these men knew that I was not far behind.

Over the next half of an hour, I watch as Michi feasts upon the Shephard's body that I stripped naked. He has widened the gash as he has dug into the body for the liver and intestines. Eventually, a familiar scent comes to me: Baccy and whiskey. Even at a time such as this, I cannot afford the chance. I swiftly draw my left Khopesh and turn around.

There he is: the arctic fox with a thick crown dyed green and an eyepatch. His fur has greyed with the Summer, but he still looks handsome to me. He wears a navy-blue jacket over a green vest, white shirt, green tie, and matching blue slacks. I lower my arm, commenting, "For a vulpine, you seem to 'ave forgotten about sneaking."

He quips, "Maybe I wanted you to notice me." He adds, "Let us find a more decent area." I follow him without hesitation. He leads me to another area framed by elm and sycamore trees. By this time, the sun has set, leaving the sky dark. I feel a little peaceful now that night has fallen.

Jack speaks, "Yeh made quite a show these past few months, Lass. I must reiterate: yeh've done a much better job than me mercs despatchin' Giffard's inner circle. I was told that he went barmy after yeh cut Diefenbach in half. The aristos 'ave witnessed him having fits when learning of the killings of traffickers, particularly of the Tirrell sisters and the Derrickson siblings. I tell yeh, he is out of it, as if he's close ta gettin' rabies."

"That is not the Giffard that I know. He and his right-hand are full of rage, yes, but he expressed none of that to me."

Jack is about to yell, but he holds back. He closes in on me, hissing, "He captured you again?"

"He captured someone else. That is what I must inform you of, why I come to you at such a difficult time." The fox backs up and tries to look as stern as I am. I continue, "Giffard and Lieven led a faction to set siege on an embassy, where I reside, to rest and prepare. His men have taken hostages: a woman and five cats, one of which is her daughter, both of whom mean so much to me."

Jack is stern now, his one eye, widening. He sighs. "Death." Pause. "I-I did not know"--

I interrupt, "It must be whot he does. If Giffard has one thing in common with his conspirators, it is that they tear families apart."

"Lady Death, I may not know Giffard the way you do, but I know his right-hand man and his arms racketeer." He digs into his inner breast pocket and presents a page. "Another note for which I had no space on the list that I gave you. I am also glad to tell you how firearms work." He pulls out a pistol and presents it. The gun is just like what he had when I first met him: a gold-tinted steel auto-loader with a swirl pattern etched into the handle and slide. He speaks, "The basics"--he points at each component--"Front sight, rear sight, hammer, slide, barrel, trigger. Both the handle and the slide of this particular gun are the chamber. Only pistols and dual-barrel shotguns have hammers fer safety. Even now, firearms rely on exploding gunpowder to eject the bullet. The longer the barrel is, the more accurate the firearm is, but accuracy also depends on yer movement." He holsters his pistol, so that he can pull a folded page from his pants pocket. What he unfolds is a chart. "This is one variation of machine guns that I sell to other factions. Like rifles, they have a latch on the side, fer their safety. The shells are released below, just in front of the magazine deposit. Machine guns have at least an 'undred forty parts, an 'undred sixty at most."

I weigh in, "If I remove one of those parts, would it make a difference?"

"Bad powder could do it if yeh want ta sabotage the weapon. Dismantlin' every gun and rebuilding with one missing part would be tedious and take hours. Faulty or fake gunpowder would do it, leading to misfires and likely damaging the firearm." He lowers the page. "Now, forgive me fer a lack of knowledge; I buy from a manufacturer, and I fund them, but I 'ave not full control o' them."

"When one's clients are angry, the vendor will be much angrier."

"By my understanding, his buyers are warlords, furious about exiles by their governments or hungry for power over their governments. Maybe both." He refolds the page and places it back in his pocket. "If y-think that to fulfil our goals, we must work together, yeh be right. I will 'ave me informants keep their ears open on the next scheduled visits of Giffard's clients. I olso contacted Marius as yeh requested. He was willing ta let Leigh-Anne come 'ere ta Knightsedge. If she is as good as yeh saur of 'er, she will be quite valuable. Just like the orphans and young runaways me men 'ave recruited before." Again, cubs working for Jack is better than being a child slave kept by Giffard's traffickers.

"Until tomorrow, Seàn."

"Enjoy yer evening, Lady Death." He grins and nods before turning and walking away. This is your chance, Seàn. Prove that you are my friend, and a valuable one.

"Hyatt Coombs. Bloodhound. The arms racketeer funded by the Lowell House. He stays close to his manufacturer, in the worst slum of Highcond. For as long as the word slum has been in our vocabulary, the district was named Ignisater Pillars. Due to the stories in only a few years of its inception, the aristos and police treat it as a place from another realm. Every criminal uses this to their advantage, attempting to make a name for themselves in the Underworld.

"Of all members of Giffard's crime clan, Coombs has been with him the longest. I know Coombs to have a military background, but it happens that his records with them do not exist. I doubt nothing about his time with the military as he disciplines his men. Be careful not to cross his mercenaries, for any of Giffard's mercenaries also belong to Coombs. I insist that you strike his wallet before you go for the throat."

Almost four months ago, I got this list. Now only two names are not struck out. Jack was not lying then; he cannot be lying now. I have already attacked Giffard's wallet, having framed his trusted banker of swindling him. After I despatch Coombs, Giffard has but one asset, who might have already lost trust in Giffard. Even still, I cannot let that kind of people get away with their crimes. However, I must be subtle, especially in the daytime. As the Lowell House is here in Knightsedge, his hostages may be closer than I think.

High Priestess, I cannot apologise enough for having you involved in my conflict with the man that I once considered a monster. His mother may have _shaped_him into an unnatural entity, but he is not one at all. Yet, he deserves no sympathy from me. He killed my mother and step-father, and with a petty motivation. High Priestess, this is one man that deserves to be slain more than his followers.

I refer to Jack's other list of names. These are the ones that sell to other mob bosses from abroad. There are more of large felines abroad than there are, having immigrated here. The chances are that hyaenas are among them, as well. I could fulfil bounty hunts if they are wanted by police, but how can I know that bribed or extorted officers are working under the Chief Inspectors' noses?

Jack has mentioned the districts where his men know the dealers to make the trades. That is a start. However, I must find a way into where Coombs and his manufacturer keep their guns. I have already been in the hellhole that Crowsridge is. So, why should the slum of Knightsedge be any different?

Just when I have bought from a market, the makings for my breakfast, I hear a fight break out on just the opposite sidewalk, started by metal scraping and clanking. I turn to the scene. Two pairs of canines brawl with one another, utilising canes and sabres. No doubt members of opposing factions. The three police officers that I spot, I can sense are confused. They could break up the fight, but might be wondering if they need to pick a side, as well. Shit, this could have been every hour of every bloody day for the past week. I reckon that this gang war became serious before Hinds's demise.

I just walk away. I cannot even determine which pair works for Jack. Even when I am past the marketplace, I can still hear the colliding of blades and staffs. If I have to deal with more men like them, my attack on Coombs will much harder than I assume.

Shortly after I have eaten my breakfast--eggs, thin meat slices, and bread--I am near the bridge's northern end across the lake of the beautiful Tree Park. What a simple name. This place is the most gorgeous area in the whole city. Despite the turmoil that Knightsedge has seen of late, I still detect couples being romantic and musicians treading the paths to where they would practise, if not put on a show. All the well-dressed people could gather around a string quartet. For all I know, the mobs could attempt to break into those people's houses and loot their accessories.

I hear speech from those who pass me and take in the chirping of siskins and nightingales. It astonishes me how those small birds can come off as carefree, wanting only to sing to each other and flutter their wings. A bird may never forget where they live. They may always return to the tree that they long since claimed even if they flee the second a bullet starts a gunfight.

"I think you dropped somethin', Ma'am", a young female voice speaks.

There she is: the golden-brown rabbit. She wears a burgundy dress with frilly white cuffs, and the collar closed. Even in the Summer, the small girls show no skin. She presents me a page, which I slowly take.

I reply, "I am glad ta see you, Leigh-Anne."

"Likewise, Ma'am", the rabbit responds.

"I take it, your boss is well."

"Never better, Ma'am", Leigh-Anne proclaims cheerfully. "Mister Dolan wanted me to inform you that he is thankful fer yer efforts. His men 'ave abolished the slaving operations in Ashcrown and driven the Lowell House out." It was probably too easy for Dolan. After all, killing Ross and his agents were easy in comparison to the Derrickson siblings. Leigh-Anne continues, "My fellow agents in Solmil informed me, as well, of the corrupted officers in the borough's police facing prosecution. Sentencing 'as just passed for the last one. Even Mister Dolan got them ta talk. But Julian still needs 'elp in Agnarge. 'Tis where the Lowell House 'as not given up."

Now, she has me curious. "What about Muspax, Manusdale, and Roseberg?"

"I am afraid I am not as aware of news there. But I hear from the criers about the stock market. The Lowell House, in particular, has seen a steady decline in their stocks' value." That is woeful news for him.

Leigh-Anne changes the subject to why she is here. "Even the cubs 'ere in Knightsedge see things that they should not, especially in Ignisater Pillars. They see grown dogs carry out metal boxes of firearms. Mister MacNiadh tasked me to give you that, in case yeh lost familiarity." I unfold the page, to see that it is the borough's map, with marked areas--no doubt where the dealers frequent.

I state, "I appreciate your efforts, as well, Leigh-Anne." I dig into my pants pocket for a note and hand it to her. "I can pay more when you tell me the times the dealers meet their clients."

"In the meantime, Mister MacNiadh tasked me to inform you: he will accept a meeting in his office for further information."

"Brilliant. And good day, Leigh-Anne."

"Good day ta yeh, too, Ma'am." She bows her head and walks the way she came.

I never thought that I would be back to the Queen o' Clubs so soon, yet here I am. And it is before lunchtime. So, nobody has come in to drink ale and play games. It feels odd when I enter. The Spotted Hyaena named Faraji tends the bar, even early in the day. The memory of the Red Fox named Bones comes rushing back. I was ready for when he would trick me as one would expect of a vulpine. I scowl. Why should I care how long he had been Giffard's spy in Jack's ranks? I stride the length of the bar counter with only a wave to acknowledge the hyaena.

Again, I have that odd feeling upon entering Jack's office. The previous time I was here, I was hostile toward him, even though I wanted to be the first to inform of who leaked information and that I sealed the leak. There the Arctic Fox sits. He wears a black vest over a white shirt and emerald-green tie. He stands up, showing his perfect black slacks. He speaks, "Best o' the day t-yeh, Lass. I look forward ta working with yeh ta settle the gang war."

I quip wryly, "It better be the 'best' of the day."

He chuckles before he responds, "I have whot yeh requested of me, Lass. And I kin assure yeh, the chaerts that yeh see are no lies." I pull out a page that he has already given me from my inner breast pocket, the outlines of the guns that Giffard's men distribute.

I lay it out on his desk before he unrolls two large parchments. I comment, "I hope the display overlaps nothing significant."

"Only the sketch of a bellend inserting itself", he replies sarcastically, pinning the chart on his left with his hands. "Come ta this side." I do so.

I examine the components of the infernal contraptions, only to lose myself in puzzlement. Any of those pieces could go anywhere.

Jack explains, "These paerts are all that make up the most common machine gun sold on the black market. One cannot afford to put a piece in the wrong location. Every rivet and screw must be securely fastened. Nobody 'as ever found out the haerd way, faer as I know. Better ta not take the chance." He indicates the second chart that he also pins down. "These er the guns that Coombs distributes. I understand what you intend ta do, but it will not be easy. If yeh want the firearms ta seem defective, this is the fastest way ta take an essential component out. If this pisses Giffard's clients off, 'tis sure ta piss him off.

"The problem is performing this action without Coombs's notice. I know him ta run a tight ship. There are no hateful slaves ter 'elp, if that is yer first instinct. Me men 'ave reported young people in rags washed up on Subroot's wes' side of River Numo. The news released the fact that they were under a contract with the Lowell House." I look away ruefully. I might have no other ideal method to divert Coombs's attention. The fox continues, "Lady Death, I know yeh kin do it. And I would spare a few o' me men fer yer plan."

I shoot back at him, astonished. "Jus' like that?"

"Like I said, we must work together."

"Better I go in without my face", I state.

"I pay them, and they follow me orders, which is ta follow yer orders." My raven friend must stay out of this. I hope that he would understand such command.

I change the subject. "Whot kin yeh tell me of Nadine?"

Jack shoots himself straight up from his chair. "Giffard's sister?" he asks back. "Whot has she that is important ta you?"

"Giffard is my priority, but Nadine supposedly has equal control."

As quickly, Jack narrows his eye, furrowing his brow, his muzzle seeming to droop. He speaks lowly, "Nadine could be a lurkin' bint, waitin' fer Giffard ta cock it up. She is not my priority, either, as I consider her one o' Giffard's assets. If she controls anything, I have the impression that she is the lead treasurer."

I ask, "Can you harbour an 'ypothesis about why the two 'ave a taboo relationship?"

"I dare not ponder upon such."

"My apologies. But after I recovered from my illness, I read Giffard's secret life." I go into an explanation, what I read him do to slaves that he was forced to fight, and the day he killed his mother.

Jack slowly sits back down and slouches back. He lifts an arm and buries half of his face in his hand. Upon lowering his arm and straightening himself, he states grimly, "That is fecked-up."

I kneel, to align with him. "Giffard's mother controlled him all 'is life. Even fer 'im ta kill her wos a plan. She might still control 'im even now. He thought that I wos her when I saur 'im in Agnarge Asylum. He let Rodicer imprint so deeply in 'is mind that she hovers next to him. I told this to him. His defensiveness proves it." I show him worry in my eyes. My mind goes back to the High Priestess. She and her daughter could be anywhere in this city. A city so vast that the first full borough map was unreadable.

Jack seems to have regained his composure, for he says, "We know Nadine to frequent the Heart of Highcond, primarily the House of Stocks." I was so focused on Hinds at the time I never considered where Nadine might be. What an amateur mistake. I scold myself inside. Noting this, Jack adds, "What is done, is done. With Hinds dead, Giffard 'as only Lieven ta trust now. What a slag: he is intimate with his sister, but they argue like a couple on the brink of divorce."

I inquire, "Whot business does Nadine have with the House of Stocks?"

He scoffs. "She prob-ly schmoozes owners of merchant franchises. She _does_control the money. If she is willing ter 'old up the foundation of crime, she could seek new merchants ta swindle or seek replacements fer the drug division." He stands up, and I follow suit. Jack continues, "I kin order me men ta keep their eyes open and inform yeh when she returns to Knightsedge, too."

"If whot you say is true, I could divide them. Even Rodica divided families, and taught Giffard to do it."

Jack narrows his eye, quizzical about that statement. Sorry, Jack. I will tell you why Giffard is so significant to me, but today is not that day. I place hand over the side of his face with the eyepatch. I dare not ask you why you lost your eye, either. I might love you, but you and I could be on opposite sides after the end of the Lowell House. I lower my arm. "Tell your men to meet me on the east side at ten tonight."

"Aye, Lass", he whispers. He hesitates, seeming tempted to kiss me. Then, he proceeds to roll the pages of the charts, the one with the gun components he gives to me.

I whisper back, "I am residing in the Tailford Inn, room five. I will see you soon."

As I turn, Jack speaks, "Best of Symphon, Lady Death." I will need that.

How gobsmacked Jack's five mercenaries are to find me in my grey pinstripe suit and eyepatch. One of them, a grey wolf in a taupe tailcoat and matching slacks, scoffs, "Lucky Jack expects me ta follow the orders of someone half-blind?"

I point out, "I am not the one fighting here tonight. Jack is paying you ta follow my orders on this occasion."

Another grey wolf, his fur seeming blue, his white underbelly visible under his black tailcoat, asks, "Then what want you of us?"

"I need you as a mere diversion. Every resident here is a criminal, and will want a piece of a wealthy-looking woman. I hope that Jack is correct to trust you men to keep thugs away from said woman."

A badger wearing only grey slacks with suspenders, pistols on his belt, hisses, "We are bodyguards? What bollocks are you trying to pull?"

"I am pulling 'bollocks' on Coombs. If you want to never see him, you should trust your payer's judgment."

The blue-grey wolf chuckles, "Yeh must be daft to put yerself against Lord Lowell's arms racketeer."

I object, "Tell that to the she-wolf who beheaded Ross Samuels, cut Doctor Diefenbach in half, and stabbed the Derrickson siblings and both the Tirrell sisters." Silence. And satisfaction.

The first wolf asks, "So, whot is yer first order, unnamed she-wolf?" Jack must have told them that I have no name.

"Follow me." I walk to the opening between the two wooden houses, crossing the sidewalk. I enter the superstitiously-proclaimed portal to another realm.

I should expect activity here, the place with the most dangerous criminals. I would wager that both Jack and Giffard have competed to recruit the most residents of this district. Jack must be true to his word that this is where Coombs lives. The slums are the ideal areas for gangs to claim their territories. Whether Jack drove Coombs here or not, the arms racketeer has an army at his disposal.

I can look around carefully without Michi's guidance. I have made it out of a form of Hell alone before; I can do it again. I close my eyes so that I can hear and smell more effectively. My ears bend, making odd positions as I angle my muzzle or my entire head. When opening my eyes, I see in the distance from the house in front of which I stand, my back turned, two rottweilers in ragged-looking brown suits. I lift my left arm, getting my company's attention. I point to the grey wolf and the badger, and then to the two distant rottweilers. They get my message, for they start jogging. The blue-grey wolf and two other mercs, a Greyhound and a green-grey Husky, walk with me along the row of beaten houses of wood and dirt. Almost immediately, I hear the fight break out, but it lasts only a short duration. Two guns fire and that is that. As I discern each construct equivalent to an abandoned sculpture, I hear two pairs of rapid footsteps approaching, and there the two are. We have past two rows of houses that I have deduced as residence of poor people, if not hiding muggers.

I am correct about the latter, for I hear three pairs of light footsteps coming from behind. The mercs hear it, too, for they fire their guns and the rats are no longer running. I spot another pair of dogs headed my way. I signal with my right arm, and then point to the thugs approaching. The blue-grey wolf and the ash-grey wolf dash to meet them and fire their guns, each needing only one shot. That is when another fight breaks out from behind, which also has a short duration.

I look around carefully again, trying to discern the townhouses among the row. We just near the neighbourhood's pub, the most dangerous one in the city. The chances are that this district has seen the most bar fights out of any block. The blue-grey wolf whispers urgently, "Our ammunition is not limitless, and we are not the only people ta fight dirty." I understand that. Any unit could be the workshop and storage for Coombs's guns. I turn to the deck outside the pub, seeing the dusty and scratched tables occupied by canines and weasels, most of them glaring at me or my company. I narrow my left eye, to look more closely.

Aligning their line of sight, I turn to a unit that seems much cleaner than the other units. I approach the doorway and sniff thoroughly. Only someone making more money than these thugs can afford vinegar and bleach. I wave for the faction to near me, and they comply. I whisper, "Nobody gets inside here." The blue-grey wolf nods first.

Upon kicking the wooden door open, I assume a fighting stance, fists up. I turn my head swiftly, expecting the silence to break in a second. I predict there to be more security. I take the opportunity to draw my stiletto, and keep it at the ready. If only I laced it with poison again. I take short and slow steps in the hall dimly lit by the fires outside. The ceiling has electric lights, only one of which is active. A creaking board threatens to give me away. Upon the hearing the creaking, I spin back, and then look to the sides. I look straight up, and nobody clings between the roof supports. What should be the living room turns out to be the storage for metal boxes. Three stacks of eight cases are in a line against the opposite wall. Based on the length of them, these contain the machine guns. I cross the threshold--

And a gun clicks. I just know that the one handling it, points it at my head. A gruff voice growls, "Drop the knife." I lunge backwards, body slamming the man. I turn around swiftly and bring my stiletto down--

Only for him to stop it with his forearm. The dog, wearing only striped slacks with suspenders, struggles to keep me from plunging the blade into his jugular. I knee his groin, disorienting him, and I do as I intended. My stiletto goes hilt-deep below his jaw, and he starts gurgling. I pull the blade out and let the limp body fall. I pick up the pistol, to empty its chamber. I keep it on hand, expecting more.

I proceed to the living room. I make haste to lay down the boxes and open them. Twelve boxes. Each one contains two of the same firearms. Every screw and rivet must be securely fastened. As the construction of these guns is complete, dismantling is hard, but should not be impossible.

I keep my heart rate at an average pace as I turn the screws with my stiletto. I look carefully at the directions and the guns as I open the side of the first gun that I pick up. I always hated guns. My heart slightly accelerates as I take out what I expect is a crucial component: a plate. It is the size of a bolt, but it should make a difference. I calmly reconstruct the gun and put it back the way I left it. Out in the distance, through these walls, I can hear melees connecting and metal collide with metal. How long can those men last against an army of muggers?

I try a little differently with the second gun, taking out and pocketing what I assume is a springboard the size of a few rice grains. The fight among the faction and the thugs continues as I move on to the next pair of guns, also removing different parts made for the ejection of the bullets. The fight gets closer as I focus on the third pair of guns. Still, I work while maintaining my composure. This is delicate work. Things seem to go well until I have removed a component from the thirteenth gun. That is when a rat squeals. I instinctively turn around to the rodent at the threshold, still standing there, squealing. I lunge toward him and grab him with one hand. I hold him by the throat with a vice-like grip. I keep the tight grip on him until he stops breathing and goes limp. I lay him on the floor--

But I am too late; a dolphin wearing only a leather thong and carrying a broadsword makes his presence known. He runs to me, thrusting his sword, and I dodge it. I jab his nose with my elbow; it lands. I continue with a downward slam to his arm. I advance on him, but he kicks my shin. He knocks me down with the blade's side against my hip. He prepares to bring the broadsword down like a guillotine--

But I kick him before he can perform the motion. I scramble to get up and push him. I hold his right arm to the side and cling to his left hand as I rely on momentum to shove him through the doorway to the empty kitchen. The dolphin headbutts me as I have him against the wall. I sweep his leg as he swings his sword, making him miss. I stamp his wrist to lessen his grip. Bang!

A chunk of flesh flies off his head, and he lays motionless, eyes wide open. I look up. There the blue-grey wolf is. I speak, "I had that."

"Not from where I stand", he retorts. I return to the living room, where he stands in wait. As I return the task that I gave myself, the blue-grey wolf adds, "Coombs knows that somebody's here. We were too late to stop the messenger from alerting reinforcements."

I order, not looking back, "Keep your eyes open and slow them down as long as you can."

"Are you daft?" he barks. "Do you even know whom Coombs'll blame fer this intrusion?" I ignore him as I continue opening the gun. "Master MacNiadh has a lot to lose. I want him to win the gang war." He growls as I remain focused on the gun and collected. He knows that he must trust me if he trusts Jack. He persists, but with, "What are yer orders now?"

"Bring the others here, and prepare to make a stand." He begins running as I start the fifteenth gun. I barely finish when four sets of footsteps jog along the floorboards.

I turn, to see all five men still alive and well. The ash-grey wolf speaks, "Those are the guns to sell next, but there are more upstairs. Trust me." That is when I think. All of them could come off as defective, but that could mean more money for Giffard. What if they test one? What if the dealers supposedly trick their clients?

I inquire, "Are these meant fer oll three of Giffard's next clients?" The badger runs off without a word, thumping the stairs as he speeds.

I have not even touched the sixteenth machine gun when the badger returns. He speaks up, "There are handguns and shotguns in the two rooms upstairs, not quite complete." That spells a complication in my objective. Still, I handle the firearm patiently and repeat the sequence of taking out a component the size of a bolt and pocketing it. I can sense the tension from the mercenaries without looking back. Almost as quickly as they have ended a fight with only two opponents, the wolves start pacing the hall, from the doorway to the kitchen. Surprisingly, I have sabotaged eighteen of these contraptions before more of unwelcome company arrives. I then close all cases. I place them in stacks against the walls, just as I have found them. I stun the wolves as I run to the stairs and up.

In the first room with a workbench in the place of a bed, I find what should be the components of pistols, complete with bullets. Three small metal cases idle in what should be a closet. I open one, to find two revolvers. I can tell that they are made of steel. I ignore them and head to the other bedroom. It is shabby, but everything is well-organised, just like the first. The only difference is that this one is larger. Shotguns lay incomplete, needing the rivets to bring the chamber, handle, and barrel together. Why wait to deter the assembly?

Among the many boxes containing pieces of the next set, I lift a case of what appear to be long pins. Then, I dash back downstairs. I almost unintentionally body slam the blue-grey wolf when reaching the ground floor. He speaks, "They are here. Coombs is with them."

I reply, "This is one fight from which I must run. I will go north. Lure them away."

"Aye, Madame."

The faction clears out before I exit the front door, the same thugs watching me. Without looking back, I go the way I intended to. I can just hear the thugs approaching me as I jog, the pins rattling back and forth with each step. Upon reaching the sidewalk outside the district, I slow down, and the same two weasels follow me. I open the case and take two of the long pins. I toss them one at a time like knives--

But they remain undeterred. I just keep going until I am out of their sight. The predator that I am knows how to stick to the shadows. Now that I have done this, I have another objective in mind.