Chapter 22
The slums of Outer Aureu were not as busy as they once were. The Battle for Aureu had made jobs and houses available inside the city proper, and the advancing Fronts gave thousands the opportunity to leave the slums in one of the wartime Stations. Still, some people remained there after falling through the cracks. They lived closer to Aureu than before, their houses were better fortified, and their streets had basic drainage, but they still lived outside, beyond. Contegons appeared every now and then, a reminder rather than an effective force, as those selected to be stay-at-homes during a war weren't the most effective.
The Gangs adapted quicker than the Stations: some now wore veneers of respectability, were applying to join the Merchants, whilst others kept their activities hidden. Because of this, the Gangs now ruled the Stationless of Aureu without the city realising.
Maintaining that secret ruling was why the two Gangers hid as a Contegon patrolled. And the injustice of it was why Slant remained in the shadows, watching them.
“I'm telling you, we could take them,” one said. He was short and squat, built for brawling. Over his body was a rough jerkin with metal plating. “Snap her pretty little neck. Contegons aren't shit.”
“Shut up,” came the eloquent response.
They waited. Slant waited too, having all night to get this right.
When the smarter of the two was convinced the Contegon was gone, he stood. Taller than his partner, he stretched. His bones audibly cracked, and the weapons beneath his thick coat clinked. He would be the more dangerous of the two, the one Slant would take out first.
“Still think we could take them,” 'Short' said.
“We couldn't take the heat that'd come with it,” Tall replied.
“Heat? We'd be heroes, never have to buy a bindle again.”
Tall sighed. “We’d be labelled as Disciple sympathisers, Heretics, and they would burn us. You keep forgetting about the damn Acolytes, don't you?”
“No. I just don't believe in them. My brother says they're a big scam.”
“They'll sure as Lun believe in you if you kill a Disciple.” He sighed. “Come on, let's go.”
The Gangers sneaked out from the side street and onto the main road. Slant followed, keeping a good distance. His grey clothing helped him blend in with his surroundings, hide where necessary, especially in this renewed part of Outer Aureu well. It was a cold night. Most streets were dark beyond reckoning, which was to his advantage. Slant relied on Short's heavy footsteps and occasional suggestion of targets to follow them when he lost track. Twice, he nearly lost them altogether only for Tall to sigh loudly or denounce his partner's poor taste.
“There,” Short said at last. He pointed across a narrow back-street at a Merchant's shop. “They'll have a few Circles, I'm sure of it.”
“Finally, a decent target.”
Tall looked both ways before approaching the building. He rubbed his thick hands the mottled brickwork, then tapped it twice: having brickwork in Outer Aureu was impressive, but many Artificers made shanty buildings look like sturdy homes. Real brickwork belied the value of the score. Satisfied, Tall turned to his partner.
“Yeah, you're right. We'll do this one.”
“Yes!” Short said, raising his fist. “How?”
“There's two doors, front and side.” Tall pointed to each door, making his directions painfully clear. “I'll knock at the front. You break into the side. When they hear you, turn away from me, I'll take them out. We'll meet at the centre and turn the place over.”
“Great. I've got the lockbreakers: they'll only know I'm there when I stab them.”
From a distance, Slant suppressed a gasp. Lockbreakers! If he could get his hands on them, he wouldn’t have to hunt again for days...
“Good. Hoot when you're done. Get moving.”
Slant ran almost silently across to the backstreet once they’d separated. Stopping, he checked the alley Tall went down: lantern light framed the Ganger, turned his wait to commit murder into an intimate portrait. Slant was about to take him out when the criminal looked over his shoulder: Slant pressed himself against the building and just avoided being spotted.
Tall was aware of his surroundings, professional. Slant wouldn't get the jump up on him like this. He went instead to where Short worried at the side door, his tongue extended in concentration. His full attention was needed to use the delicate lockbreakers, and that would be his undoing.
Slant took a deep breath, calmed the adrenaline racing through his body, and pulled a baton, a faithful companion through every hunt since his third, from a holster on his hip,. The black lacquer and leather grip were almost worn away, but the treated wood stood firm, good enough to last for months.
Good enough to stop these two.
Ready, Slant snuck forward. He complimented his grey clothing with a blank fabric mask so his pale skin wouldn’t stand out in the low light he worked in. Even if Short turned to him, he may not pick him out.
Hitting Short over the head was tempting, but the thunk might attract Tall's attention. Instead, he slid the baton around Short's neck and used it to slam him against the floor in one practised movement. Short wheezed in surprise as the air tried to fly from him, but was blocked with his windpipe mostly closed. The lockbreakers remained in the door, jutting like arrows from a creature's hide.
Slant planted his knees in the Ganger's back and strengthened the chokehold. The criminal tried to stand, but Slant leapt to slam his knees into the man's back, taking any air he had left. It was a well-crafted clinch, one he'd learned from observing Contegons. Short soon left his conscious state, drifted away.
Without pause, Slant took a length of rope from his waist and hog-tied the Ganger. This done, he searched the Ganger, finding three more tools from a lockbreaker set, a dagger, and twenty Circles. Slant pocketed the money and lockbreakers: the dagger he threw away.
Knocking someone out rarely lasts longer than a few seconds. Short was no exception, as he soon started groaning. Slant gave him a kick, made him groggier, and dragged him into another alley. Then he hid and waited for Short to do his work for him.
Short moaned and groaned for a minute before rolling over into a more comfortable position. “What the... Oh, fuck, no. Toggle! Toggle! Toggle, get your ass over here now!” Short called his partner for a minute before saying, “Oh, there you are. Hey, get over here, help me!”
“Will you shut up?” Toggle hissed.
“What else was I supposed to do to get your attention, huh?”
Toggle took a step forward. “Who did this to you?”
“I didn't see the guy. He just took me down like I was nothing. Come on, let me out.”
There was silence. Then Toggle said, “No, I'm not stupid. I've heard the rumours about the Grey Shield.” He turned to the alley at large and shouted, “I know you're still here.”
“Of course I am, I'm fucking tied up like–”
“Not you, idiot. Him. The one who attacked you, the Grey Shield. He's still nearby.”
“Wh-what makes you say that?”
Toggle stepped again, his footsteps graceful and almost silent. “Because it's what I'd do. You take one down, and use him as bait.”
Slant grimaced, wishing he could've taken Toggle out first. He considered leaving the scene now: he had got what he came for, something valuable from someone rotten, but he couldn't. As much as he did this for money, he also wanted to stop people dying as his father had. If he left now, Toggle and Short would find someone they could rob without the lockbreaker set. He couldn't leave them capable of visiting that pain on someone else.
“Sorry, I'm leaving you to this,” Toggle said. He was not great at subterfuge. “Good luck.”
He was a good enough liar to convince his partner, who screamed, “No, Toggle, no! Stop! Don't go! Stop, you bastard!”
With that, Toggle heavily plodded away. His footsteps quieted, as though he'd taken a side street and was leaving. Short's screams followed him, ma
king it tougher to pick out where Toggle went, but Slant knew he hadn't gone far.
Using a rough drain pipe and a window, his baton in his mouth, Slant climbed onto the building he hid by. 'The Grey Shield.' The Gangers' superstition was bad for him, gave his deeds a name, which might lead to Contegon investigations. He cursed them all as he crawled along the roof, trying not to raise the inhabitants' alarm. They didn’t want to pay attention to what happened beyond their walls, but would raise hell if he damaged their roof.
Short settled into a whimper as Slant scanned the streets for Toggle: he found him walking along the main street, doubling-back on himself. The brute was sneaking back towards his partner. This part of Outer Aureu was a honeycomb of alleyways and dead-ends, so Toggle had to check each side-street, each nook, for his attacker. Unwilling to leave his partner behind or risk untying Slant's ungodly knot, the man crept along, a long knife in his hand, ready to attack.
Slant quietly got to his feet and waited for Toggle to walk below him. It was an excruciating wait, minutes as the cautious criminal crept back. With a deep breath, Slant jumped onto the Ganger, landing on the man's shoulders. The impact knocked Toggle to the ground and earned him a high-pitched scream.
Not that Slant came out of the impact well. Bruised, hurting, it took him a moment to get back to his feet, which allowed Toggle to recover his composure too. Slant charged, brought his baton down on the Ganger's shoulder, trying to make him drop the knife. The brute roared in pain, but didn't let go. Instead, he tried to tackle Slant, something Slant couldn't afford with Toggle's strength and size advantages. Slant dodged, just, and slammed the baton against the back of Toggle’s neck.
Toggle stumbled forward. His breathing quickened, and he snarled. Pain and anger taking over, he rushed Slant, not as intelligent an opponent now that punches were being thrown: the vigilante side-stepped the attack and let the fool run headlong into a building. Toggle twisted and tried to bounce off the wall, which left him open for another smash across his neck. Slant delivered one with perfect timing.
The blow stopped Toggle short. Another strike on the shoulder made him drop his weapon. Slant then delivered a half-dozen smashes that broke bones, entering a rhythm of hatred and violence. When he stepped back, Toggle collapsed in a bloody heap. Moaning, gurgling, the Ganger was no longer a threat.
Slant would search him too, but first he had to ensure Toggle would never threaten anyone else. He would have done this to Short had he not needed the man for bait. His Contegon saviour had taught him how to ensure public safety: he reached for the Ganger’s knife and, face carefully blank, swiped its blade along the backs of Toggle's legs and stabbed through his hands.
Short started screaming again when he saw the Grey Shield approaching, stained by his partner’s blood. No one came to help. No one even seemed to notice the screams and mayhem: if they even paid attention, they were just glad it happened beyond their walls.
Sometimes, Slant wished someone would stop him, that a citizen would intervene to say what he was doing was wrong: if that happened, people would be ready to stop criminals from preying on the weak, and he wouldn’t be needed. But it hadn't happened once, and didn't that night either. He walked away richer, with blood on his hands, but he walked away unchallenged, unimpeded, and saddened.