Book Three – Chapter Eight – Part Seven – Wetwork

Servi chose to remain quiet. She strained her ears to their limits in an attempt to pick up on any footsteps. About ten minutes into the search, Servi heard a single set of steps coming towards. She pressed her body against the glass of the building she stood in front of, pulling a dagger with her free hand. She had to drop an arrow to the ground, but there were plenty in her quiver. Old Man mimicked her motions and cut short his breaths.

When Servi saw the gleaming silver armor of the guard walking right past her, she sprung into action. In a single second, she had the guard pressed against the ground with her on his back. The dagger held close to the guard’s throat proved his attacker wasn’t playing around.

“Mansion. Yellow roof. Where is it?” Servi asked. She put a bit of pressure against his neck and drew blood.

He stuttered, frozen by fear and imminent death, but Servi didn’t like that. She spun the dagger in her grip and slammed the handle of it against his wound. He cried out, but such a foolish action only rewarded him with another slam.

“Where! Is! It?” Servi asked in a hushed tone, emphasizing each word to demonstrate her impatience.

“It’s...it’s…down the road I came from! Don’t kill me! Don’t ki—”

She had her answer, and his usefulness came to an end. It was an act befitting a brutal warlord. She held no remorse or any kind of emotion when her dagger’s blade ended up being the final thing the guard touched. “Come on,” she said for what must’ve been the third time that night. “Let’s hurry and finish this up.”

Old Man looked down at the corpse of the man that had died so suddenly and cruelly. He didn’t think it was right to suddenly start caring for the sanctity of life, especially after everything he had done for his late son and granddaughter, but the years of it all had begun to chip away at his conscience. He wanted nothing more than to be a grandfather for his granddaughter, but such a future was an impossible dream.

If I want the medicine, I can’t look away. The least I can do is bear witness to those who have to die so my granddaughter can live.

His footsteps were heavy and echoed with his crying soul, but he continued on and left the corpse behind. The monstrous girl he followed so closely led him down a side street. She took a left, cutting down behind a tall house with a red roof. Four of its fifteen windows were illuminated by candlelight, which cast a gentle shadow as she emerged into a large cul-de-sac filled with mansions and exquisite houses. Servi stared at the homes with the intent of slaughtering the cowardly nobles inside, but Old Man only saw an endless supply of dupla.

If I rob even just one house, I bet I could buy enough medicine to last a year! Maybe—

“There it is.” Servi crouched low and pointed to the house furthest away. That driveway, unlike the driveways of the dwellings around them, held no carriage. The iron fence surrounding it was the only fence Servi saw. “It’s strange. If he’s the mayor, then there should be guards. Why aren’t there any guards?”

“…” Old Man remained quiet and only moved when Servi made a mad dash across the street. Her target was the carriage nearest to her target, and after arriving with no issues, she gripped its wooden body and peeked around it. Servi still saw no guards, and while it wouldn't bother her to charge ahead while under the effects of The Shadow's Embrace, Servi had a tag-a-long. If there was a bridge or a large shed she could hide under, then she could kill Old Man and continue on with her mission, but her route wouldn’t allow it.

I should’ve done it in the brick tunnel. Shit. Servi cursed herself as she ran towards the mansion with a yellow roof. Her boot-covered feet pounded the asphalt.  Every window she saw had light coming from it. The shadows she saw must’ve belonged to maids and butlers. On the third floor, she saw a single window. That’s my location. I doubt there’s a way to climb up there. Going through the house is the only way. Wait, why don't I just kill the bastard now? Well, it might fun to see him struggle... And if I get caught, I can see just how much that old son of a bitch can defend himself... Haha!!!

As she gauged her options, Servi turned around and leaned against the house, grinning like a drugged-out cat. There were no windows above or next to Servi, so she couldn’t be seen by any of the house’s inhabitants. Motioning with her hand, she waved Old Man across and decided on a plan when he made it to her destination.  By the time he reached her, she had removed her smile and replaced it with a neutral expression.

“We’ll enter in through the front, so stay close behind me. Our goal is the top floor. There’s a study there, and Frankie should be there at his desk. It’s going to be an easy kill, and after I do it, we can leave,” she said. The hot weather didn’t do him any good, and neither did his aging bones and muscles. Old Man nodded through the immense sweat and prepared himself for the final push.

“I’ve been thinking about,” he whispered. “Let me do it. I need the money for medicine. If I pull this off, then I should have enough for at least a year, right? Killing a mayor is big, and the reward has to be worth it.”

“I’m being paid 13,600 dupla for this contract,” Servi lied. She knew she wasn’t going to get compensated.

“That’s enough for nearly two years. And a year if it’s split in half!”

The smell of money is too important for him to ignore. “That’s right...” Servi internally grinned, “Kill him. Land the killing shot, and I can convince Carmelo to give you more. Truth be told, I already have enough from the four previous targets. I can finally buy back my friends and family.” Once again, Servi lied.

Old Man should’ve known better that some things were too good to be true.

He knew that. He swore he knew that. But the night, long and hot and stressful, along with his advanced age and ‘interesting’ life, caught up with him. His senses were dulled for only a moment.

“Thank you, Williana, for offering me the chance to kill him,” he said. Though he didn’t know it, his fate was sealed.

“I’ll give you the weapon when we get up there. For now, follow close and stay quiet.”

Servi gripped her bow and nocked an arrow. Staying close to the mansion, she crept along against the brick foundation until she came to the door. After checking to see if it was locked via Telekinesis, and it was, Servi stood in front of it and gave it a little kick. That was used to disguise her absorbing it and promptly bringing it back out and holding it in place with Telekinesis faster than Old Man realized what was happening. I don’t have to hide it anymore, do I? Especially when I’m standing in front of a dead man.

It wasn’t locked?! And it was open?! Old Man logically came to a false conclusion, but he remained silent. He kept close to Servi to the point where he nearly matched her footstep for footstep.

The area past the front door led to a dazzling entrance hall. Extravagant chandeliers hung from above. The candles atop of them reflected off a set of angled small mirrors embedded into the ceiling. Servi’s eye naturally followed the reflected light, but they only came to a painting of a short man with no hair. It was of his entire body, and Servi mentally compared it to the drawing she received from Carmelo.

I’m sure that’s the target, but I don’t see any stairs. Shouldn’t there be stairs in a welcome hall? This shitty place better not be as weird as Parrel’s mansion.

Silently, Servi readjusted her bow and walked over to a set of doors on the right-most wall. The left wall also contained a set of doors, and since there wasn’t a set of stairs, she had an equal chance of guessing right. But like she did with the front door, Servi used Telekinesis to prop it open and slowly walked in.

It was a hallway, but it was brightly lit. Servi's and Old Man's shadows were visible against the curtained windows to their right, but she couldn’t spare the time to think about blowing out the candles responsible for those shadows. Up ahead, a door clicked open. A man wearing a black suit with a shapely beard emerged, and he promptly received an arrow to the side of the head. The metal tip pierced the wooden door frame, pinning the corpse to the wall with no way to slide down.

Servi waited for a scream and concluded he was alone when it didn’t come. Rushing forward, she searched his pockets for anything worthwhile but came up empty. And Servi didn’t bother to check the room he came from since it only appeared to be a bathroom. Silently, she nodded her head forward and continued on to the end of the hallway. Old Man didn’t question a single thing and followed along like a lost puppy.

When Servi entered the room at the end of the hallway, she grinned. “So that’s the layout, huh? Instead of having a central staircase, they have one at the end of each wing. I suppose it’s better for us. Good thing I picked the right door,” she muttered. She only saw the staircase and nothing else, not even a utility or janitorial closet. She walked up to it, gripped the handrail, and moved one foot in front of the other as she ascended it.

Servi arrived at the second floor and noticed it continued on to the elusive third floor: her goal. If only I was by myself… Though I suppose it’ll be that way soon. I can hold off on the killing for a few minutes.

“We’re skipping the second floor. Come on.”

“Got it.” Old Man nodded in affirmation. He retrieved a rag from his trouser pockets and wiped his sweating face. Though he felt like the strength in his aching legs was ready to disappear, he never mentioned a peep and fought through the pain.

Once they reached the top floor, Servi entered through the only door available to her and came to a single hallway devoid of any paintings or pictures. She saw a door at the far end, but it wasn’t her destination. No, her goal laid behind the mahogany door situated in the very middle. The walk to the door was long and intense for Old Man, who chose to trust Servi. His palms became wet enough to almost drown a fish.

“Just pull back, aim, and release. It’s a bow, alright? It isn’t some advanced secret weapon,” she returned the loaded arrow to her quiver and handed the weapon to Old Man. He took it in his weathered hands. The wood was soaked by the moisture in his shaking fingers, and the string lost some of its elasticity. But as a weapon capable of killing, it could still do its job. “Carmelo says he’s in here,” Servi whispered and continued. “And here’s the plan. I’m going to slam open the door. The noise should startle him. You’ll have a few seconds to shoot, so don’t fucking waste it.”

He nodded and took an arrow from Servi’s waist-bounded quiver. The image of his granddaughter enjoying an extra two years to live painlessly appeared in his mind. Such medicine for his aching soul full of sin calmed his shaking hands, and a rousing new determination sprung forth. With a renewed sense of pride, he nocked the arrow as he had done so many times in the past when he trained with his adoptive father and pulled the string back.

“I’m ready,” he whispered.

Servi nodded and put a hand on the brass doorknob. At that moment, the gears in Old Man’s mind turned. He remembered what Servi did back during the day they sold Monotonia, how she talked about expecting the worst but hoping for the best. He most certainly didn’t forget she was right about it all.

What if she doesn’t need money because she sold me out, not because she’s been paid? What if she lied about her friends and family? Think! Think! There have to be contradictions! There has to be! Why else would she—

The door slammed open. Old Man turned his head towards a devil in Human clothing, and his heart dropped. She whispered, “Bye-bye,” with a devilish grin, and Old Man turned his attention to the open doorway. A man, short and bald, laid dead, slumped against the desk. The killer? A tall Elf with a one-handed cross-bow.

“WILL—” Old Man raised his voice, turning his attention from the Elf to the traitor, but the Elf fired his weapon before Old Man could attack Servi. The strings used to propel the arrow had more than enough strength to sever Old Man’s head from his shoulders. The tension left his arms. With nothing to hold back the string, the arrow remaining in its grasp fired.

Servi remained still as the arrow flew past her head, piercing the wall behind her. A red soul followed suit and landed in her ring. She walked in front of the doorway and turned to the Elf inside. Stepping over Old Man’s lifeless body, she entered the room.

“And you must be Mierkia,” Servi said. She looked to the left and saw the corpse of the Dwarf who visited Carmelo before she left to kill Snare. Yeah, I figured something like this would happen. Too bad I couldn’t kill him myself. What’s that foaming coming from his mouth? It’s the same coming from Frankie's corpse. No, I can focus on that later. “I want to say it’s nice of you to help me out on this job, but I know you aren’t here for that. Why are you here?”

“Before I answer that, I want to say how impressed I am,” Mierkia spoke while leaning back in the chair that used to belong to Frankie Ost. He still wore the slim-fitting cloak he had on earlier.  “I never expected Carmelo’s dog making it all the way here. Tell me, how did you get past the guards in the tunnel? Did you scale the wall? You aren’t blessed, are you?”

“I killed them. No. No, I’m not blessed. Now, answer my question.” Servi walked further inside, closing the distance between her and the bald Elf with one pointy ear and one Human-shaped ear.

He remained sitting, but he raised his one-handed crossbow from Servi's heart and pointed it at her head. “I’m here to hopefully not kill you. Carmelo confided in me and said he wanted me to test you. I mean, it won’t do him any good if—”

“Markka. Merkia. Mirkia.”

“Eh?” He was taken aback. “What do my brothers have to do with anything?”

“After I slaughtered Snare, that worthless Carmelo gave me three people to kill,” Servi said. “You might want to prepare three funerals.”

“Hahahahahaha!!! You dare to threaten me with the lives of my brothers? Did Carmelo tell you about the assassin after their lives?”

“You haven’t heard from them, have you?” Servi asked.

“No, I have not. My brothers sent word to me that they were going into hiding until they were safe. I don’t know where they are. Even if Carmelo has a high opinion of you, you wouldn’t be able to kill them. I may be the strongest out of us four, but they are far stronger than a simple unblessed Human. And they wouldn't have been waiting alone just to die. I'd assume they'd hired guards or some mercenary troupe for protection.”

Servi pulled a chair from her ring and sat down. It was an act that certainly caught Mierkia off guard, and he immediately became as quiet as a mouse. “I killed Markka first. He thought he was safe if he hid in a building near that giant building. I assume it's the guard's headquarters? Maybe it's just their barracks? It doesn't matter because I still eviscerated all who stood in my way. After I stole his life, it was a simple enough task to carve his tattoo off. Merkia? He thought he could hide—no, I don’t even think he took the threat seriously. I assume you heard about the RASP building collapsing? Well, I did that. And he was inside. I’m sure you can figure out what happened. And Mirkia…poor Mirkia thought he would be fine if he surrounded himself with hundreds of warriors. Well, I’m happy to say that his plan failed. They did what you just said they would do, but it just wasn't enough to stop me.

“Mierkia, I killed your shitty brothers, I carved their tattoos from their necks, and I handed them to Carmelo. And you know what? He gave me explicit orders to kill everyone inside of this room. And if they do happen to have a tattoo on the back of their necks? Well, he told me to bring it to him.”

“Shut up! SHUT UP! MY BABY BROTHERS AREN’T DEAD!!!” Mierkia shook with anger and yelled. Servi copied his shaking and laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

“I enjoyed killing them, Mierkia. They were worst than cow shit. Literally, they were the scum of the earth. The death I gave them was merciful. My only regret is that I couldn’t make it more brutal. How does it feel, Mierkia, to know that your friend was the one who gave the order? He betrayed you. He never thought anything about you.  Carmelo only thinks of you as a stepping stone. As for what he has planned? I don’t know. Hahahaha!!!”

“Fucking die!” Unable to withhold his unwavering rage, Mierkia was deadset on pulling his weapon's trigger. It was a modified crossbow capable of being wielded with one hand. The self-pulling string worked by using the recoil produced when the arrow launched to sling it back into a locked position. When the trigger was released and allowed to go back to a resting state, an arrow from the top rack would drop down into place. A small iron bar would then lock the remaining projectiles in place. It was a genius piece of engineering that only could’ve come from the war and technological-focused Westera.

In the instant before he fired his weapon, Servi noticed a small puddle of green liquid on the desk beside the deceased mayor. Instead of being worried, she showed off a confident look that indicated she had no worries about being faced with death.