Thursday, January 16, 2014

Day Six-Hundred-Fourteen: It gets worse

"I am goin' in there and you can't fuckin' stop me, bitch."

"Will you listen to yourself? You're losing it. Do that and our chance to save 'em is ruined."

"I do not fucking care. He's telling me not to but I HAVE TO. Get OUT OF MY WAY."

That was the last conversation I had with Libby before she decked me in the face and jumped through a window.

Let me backtrack. Surely this requires some explanation.

After the revelation that the Non were in Trademore's black market, Libby and I searched for their hideaway. It didn't take us long to find Doc and his entourage - following him is like following the sun in the sky, he's so damned obvious - but it took him a while to decide to stop.

Doc is one restless fuckhead. He wandered the alleys for at least four hours today, bickering with damned near everyone he came across. He seems to do it for sport, usually to the point of unnerving even the most hardened of criminals. I'm sure he would've been shanked long ago on his own, but his hulking bodyguards protect him at every turn. I kept hoping that Titan Blue would step on him or something, but, nope. She puts up with his rampant ego.

Though Doc was operating under the guise of a 'rich man' visiting the black market, he's such a loudmouth that he more or less spelled out his plans: he wants to dissect someone. Probably Dragomir. He thinks there's something fantastic residing in Dragomir's body, and he wants to know what it is. But he can't do a proper dissection until he's back in his lab, wherever that might be. So he's been window shopping in the meantime, looking for more 'inventive' tools to rip our fearless leader apart.

You can imagine the effect this had on Libby. Doc is disturbingly specific, and every time he mentioned plucking out Dragomir's blonde hair or 'inspecting' the scar on his belly I held Libby back. Her restraint is admirable...

... but worrying. She doesn't look right. She's... jittery. Tense. Something's wrong with her. Her face is ashen, there are bags under her eyes, and she's constantly shuddering, as though she's fighting something. I want to say she's sick, but other than her looks she seems healthy enough... didn't have any trouble walloping a dude who tried to steal my coin pouch...

Doc gave up shopping eventually, and we followed him back to a house in the east end of the black market. (I think it's the east end. Direction is sketchy down here.) There, peering through a window, we spotted three familiar (and glum) faces, all trussed up and pathetic. 

Also, surrounded by bounty hunters.

"Hellooooooo, my pretty pretty." Doc waved at his captives from the door, tearing bandages away from his face to reveal sharpened teeth. "Did you have a good day? Yes? No? Maybe? I hope so. I'm so, so, so sorry for the delay, yes, but we'll be off soon. Oh yes. Did you have fun?"

Dragomir, his mouth gagged, rolled his eyes and spat on the floor. Or, uh, he tried. The spit simply formed a little wet spot on his gag. Beside him, Edmund and Grylock silently laughed.

The big penguin, the one who beat up Libby last week, swatted bard and goblin alike. "Quiet. Quieter. Pay?"

Prancing over to the group of bounty hunters - a purple goblin, a beefy orc with shaggy hair, and an old human with a box on his head - Doc shook his head. "No, no no no no! I keep telling you, Umbro, my chap! We pay when we can leave, and not a second later! It's not as if you can leave, either, now is it?"

Umbro sneered. "Busy. Waste of time."

"Oh, you're getting paid for this overtime, don't you worry. Doooon't you worry." Doc hopped onto Dragomir's lap and tapped his chin so hard that it drew a tiny bit of blood. "Any more trouble with the, er, um, ah, locals?"

The old man nodded and cackled. "Weee hee! Nearly got in, they did! Tried ta bribe ol' Wilhelm, 'ere, they did! Pulled out th'drink, they did!"

"Worked, too." The goblin, who appeared to be missing one of his ears, grabbed an empty bottle near the old man's feet. "Fucking idiot let a little girl in whilst the rest 'o us were nappin'. I had ta chase her off."

"She broughts us a drink, lad!" The old man smiled with broken teeth, lifting a bottle of gin to his beard. "Hobo Wilhem II willna t'ever be called a man who refuses a drink!"

The orc looked tough and said nothing. 

"Still here," Umbro concluded. "Money. Pay up. Too much trouble."

"Soon, soon!" Doc continued to fondle Dragomir's head, pinching his cheeks and tapping his throat. "Ahhh, what a specimen. Worth every cent. Been tracking you a while, I have... my little pet kept an eye on you..."

Doc continued to rant while Umbro demanded his payment. I imagine their words were important, but I was distracted. Libby had captured my attention.

"I'm goin' in," she muttered, doffing her cloak.

Hissing, I pulled her away from the window we'd been watching through and shoved my face in her ear. "No. Don't you dare. They're stuck for now, okay? So long as that army's up there, they're stuck. We wait for an opportunity. I have an idea -"

"I am goin' in there and you can't fuckin' stop me, bitch."

I stopped. Couldn't help it. I was too preoccupied with studying my partner. The confused intensity in Libby's face fascinated me, formed of bulging veins and sad eyebrows. She was crying in her fury. She knew it was a terrible idea, but she couldn't help it. 

I put a hand on her shoulder. "Will you listen to yourself? You're losing it. Do that and our chance to save 'em is ruined."

She pushed my hand aside as though it was burning her shoulder. "I do not fucking care. He's telling me not to but I HAVE TO. Get OUT OF MY WAY."

I did the opposite. As she lunged towards the window I tried to step in front of her, despite knowing that her yelling had given us away. She punched me in the face, sent me sprawling, and dashed through the window. Moments later she was caught, pinned by a fat penguin and his cronies.

I'm by myself, back in our alley. My only defense is a dagger.

This is... troubling.

Despite the predicament I'm in, I'm forced to wonder about Libby. She's a... passionate... woman. She seems the type to fight rather than flee. This, then, begs a question: why did she leave Dragomir's side in the first place? It was a good idea, yes, but not in her character.


Why'd she do it?

And why'd she give up on good sense now, of all times?

Ah, well. This is all moot. We're kinda screwed.


Bora the Bartender


  1. Back. I like the way Bora writes.

  2. Second line: should it be, "You're losing it"? If so, it happens again later, when it's quoted from the start.

    1. Dangit. Thanks, dude. Blast the allure of copy and pasting.