Rendezvous on Noxus Excerpt
Where were the peacekeepers when Paras needed them? They weren’t on a major thoroughfare, but it wasn’t some dingy alley. The main corridor was a few steps away from where they were gathered and not only had no one else come down this way, but there had been no peacekeeper patrol. They were supposed to be on constant patrol; safety was one of the top selling points of this place! What a load of shit!
Brava—or Anto—stood in front of her, confusion muddling his thick features. A conflict of conscience perhaps? At first glance, they appeared to have been a callan for some time. Their hesitation said something else. For a second, Paras harbored the idea that they could be swayed away from this filthy woman. Paras could offer them honest work, none of this shaking down people bullshit.
Then, he slapped her. This was no love tap. Paras’ ear rang, and her cheek felt like it as already swelling.
“Phaen Re’s tits that hurt!” She didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of crying out, but conviction was hard kept when a small bomb was going off in your head. This was all amusing to Raggedy Shirt. Her laughter went on and on.
“Why don’t you come back?” Paras shouted. “I like the way you do it.” Paras didn’t know why she said that. She had no control over her damn mouth. It was as if she was a passenger in her own body, and the booze was driving her straight towards her doom. Once the booze burned off, she’d have to deal with the bruises.
No one was amused by Paras’ outburst, and Anto-Brava didn’t hold back his feelings. He drew back and landed a blow right over Paras’ left eye. She drooped in Brava-Anto’s grip. He stood her up straight soon enough. The ear that had been ringing was silent now as bright spots obscured her vision. She had no clue how she was still conscious.
“Not so mouthy now, huh?” Raggedy Shirt pushed Hiye 1 out of the way. “Not so pretty now.”
You think I’m pretty? Paras tried to get that snappy rejoinder out, but instead gaped like a landed fish. Communication from brain to mouth was temporarily out of service. It was just as well. Thinking was starting to hurt.
“That’s really cocky for someone who’s got others fighting for her.” That hadn’t come from Paras. The woman and her spineless hiye hadn’t said it either.
Finally, finally someone else had entered the corridor. He wasn’t a peacekeeper from the lack of uniform; he didn’t strike her as intimidating. He wasn’t thin or tall. He barely made it to the hiye’s shoulder. But Paras was thankful for any help she got at this point.
Raggedy Shirt signaled Hiye 1 to follow her as she moved to stop the newcomer before he got too close. “Keep moving. This doesn’t concern you.”
Anyone who valued his or her safety would have done as the woman with the heavies suggested and gone on their way. “What if I made this my business?” This guy wasn’t a mere passerby.
“This bitch owes me money. You can either pay her debt, back off or you can join her.”
“Oh. Well.” The man kept coming closer, ignoring the threat those looming hiye promised. “If she really owes you money, we can get an advocate to sort this out.”
Laughter tinkled in the air like shattered glass. “Are you simple?” Raggedy Shirt snapped her fingers, and Anto-Brava jumped to attention. “Get rid of him.” Anto-Brava moved to do as he was ordered, reaching for the interloper.
The interloper sidestepped the hiye’s grasp, stepping in close, and once he was beside that meaty arm, he took hold of the wrist. Paras had trouble following what was happening. The hiye was on the floor in two swift movements, bent around his arm, howling. Hiye #2’s grip on Paras tightened as his companion went down, his anxiety palatable.
Hiye 1 started rolled on the floor, holding his arm that was bent below the elbow. The interloper stood, unruffled, like he hadn’t left someone a foot taller than him on the ground at his feet. “It’s broken,” he said, addressing the hiye holding Paras. “You’ll want to get him to a med center soon.”
Raggedy Shirt, who’d stood by, dumbfounded, as one of her lackeys was injured, roared back to life when the threat of the hiye colluding against her raised its head. “You don’t talk to him, you talk to me.”
“Alright, then.” The interloper stepped over the writhing hiye, steadily pressing in on Raggedy Shirt’s personal space. “Let this woman go.”
“Or what?” Raggedy was still talking trash, even when her manpower was cut in half. Vaguely, Paras wondered where she got her confidence. “You’ll call the peacekeepers? We’ll be long gone by then.”
The interloper shook his head tiredly. “I was going to say, before you cut me off, was ‘or I’ll break your arm, too.’”
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