Summary: Sometimes, people aren’t who you think you are. And other times, you have to work with the ones you hate most in order to save yourself.
Warnings: violence, foul language, blood
When the night falls and the hard working husbands rejoin their wives and children at home, even the busiest streets of the city empty out and only the drunk, the lonely and the lost can be found outside.
This was Michael’s favorite time of the day. It meant that his work was over for the day and he could make his way to the nice tavern located in the market area.
The tavern may be nice, but the streets sure as hell weren’t. At dusk, the guards would thin out and thieves and assassins would dare to leave their hideouts. Fortunately, Michael‘s had plenty of experience with scum like them as a mercenary. With one hand on his trusty short sword, he made his way through the darkness and to the warmth and light of the tavern.
He made it there without a fuss and quickly stepped inside. The sounds of laughter and conversation filled the tavern and Michael felt right at home. He observed the different groups present out of the corners of his eyes while he walked forward to get a drink. He knew everyone. Everyone, except for one man who sat at the counter. Michael dropped a gold coin in the open hand of the tavern owner and grabbed his ale without taking his eyes off the stranger. The man slouched over his drink and Michael couldn’t catch a glimpse of his face.
Strangers had always worried Michael. They usually brought trouble. Be it less work or trouble, they just weren’t any good. At least he’d be able to take him out, Michael thought. The man didn’t seem like he was in good shape. The leather vest he wore was torn in several places and his boots had rips and holes in them. Michael took a step towards him to see a little bit better. The stranger had thin, black hair that looked like it had a mind of its own. Michael checked to see if he carried any weapons, but couldn’t see any.
Not being able to relax without knowing this man, Michael walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Hey.” Michael said simply.
“What do you want?” The stranger replied not turning around to look at Michael, sounding annoyed and a bit out of it.
Probably another one of those drunken assholes, Michael thought. Travellers usually stop in a town or city for the night, get drunk and leave again in the morning. He’d always hated people who just passed through his city. They bring a lot of problems with them and have nothing to add.
“Where’re you from?”
“Who’s asking?” The man replied, finally looking Michael in the eye.
“Michael. Now answer the question.”
Michael observed the man’s face. He had dark, sunken eyes and a big, curly moustache. Apart from that, he didn’t really have any noticeable facial features. Now that Michael stood right next to him, he noticed how skinny the strange man was. The leather vest he wore hung loose on his shoulders and Michael could almost count all the bones in the man’s hands. Michael nearly felt bad for him, he looked terrible.
“Came from halfway across the country.” The man muttered.
“Why?” Michael asked, genuinely curious.
“Got into trouble.” He grinned at Michael.
“I didn’t catch your name.” Michael said, ignoring his grin.
“That’s because I haven’t said it. You’ve got a nice sword.”
“Uh, thanks?”
“Can I see it?” The stranger said, still eyeing the short sword that hung from Michael’s hip.
“I, uh, I’m not sure if I-“
Michael couldn’t finish his sentence, because halfway through a bunch of guards busted in through the door of the tavern. He glanced at them, trying to follow their gaze to see who was in trouble. For a second he thought they were looking at him, but he soon understood they were looking for the next to him. He was quite sure of it, because the man had grabbed his cinquedea and was now attempting to flee. When he looked up, his new drinking buddy had already jumped through the window.
Michael didn’t hesitate and went after his sword. He climbed through the broken window, which resulted in him getting cut by a glass shard across his cheekbone. He barely noticed it. He darted through the streets, desperately trying to get closer to the asshole that stole his sword. The man was fast, Michael had to give him that, but he was also pretty drunk and not in full control of his body.
On every turn they made Michael managed to gain on the stranger, until he finally managed to lunge forward and tackle the man to the ground in an alleyway.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Michael snarled, pinning the man to the ground.
“I panicked alright!” The stranger replied, his voice breaking.
“That doesn’t give you the right to steal my sword, you asshole!” Michael yelled back.
“Shhh.” The man shushed Michael and, to his own surprise, Michael immediately fell silent and listened.
They could hear footsteps approaching. An awful lot of footsteps. Soon after there was yelling and the rattling of armor to be heard.
“We can’t outrun them.” Michael stated.
“Nope, we’re fucked.” The man replied, seeming calmer than he was before.
Michael scrambled to his feet and the man did the same. He handed the cinquedea back to Michael and held out his hand. Michael reluctantly took it.
“I’m Geoff, sorry about earlier.” Geoff said and smiled.
“Yeah, just don’t start running from those guard again, alright?” Michael said, readying himself.
Usually, he knew how to handle these situations, but there were a lot of guards in full armor in the tavern and Geoff didn’t even have a sword.
“How are you going to fight?”
“With my hands.” Geoff answered.
“What?” Michael said confused and whirled around to look at Geoff.
He seemed dead serious. Then Michael noticed the gloves Geoff wore. The gloves were tied to his wrists with leather strips, but they had iron plates on the outside and sharp spikes on the knuckles.
There wasn’t much time to admire Geoff’s weapons, because the guards soon appeared in the alleyway. They were greatly outnumbered; nine to two. They didn’t back down though. Michael brought his sword up, trying to decide whom he was going to fight first. Meanwhile Geoff put his hands up to his face next to him, eyeing the guards.
Michael didn’t hold back. He stepped forward and crossed swords with the guard in front of him. The guard wielded a long sword and clearly felt like he had the advantage in this battle. Thing is, and Michael knew this as well, Michael was much more agile. He pushed the guard’s sword aside with his own and kicked the guard in the stomach. His opponent doubled over in an instant and Michael hit his temple with the pommel of his sword. Without hesitation he moved on to the next guard.
Geoff didn’t have any trouble with taking the guards out either. He blocked their swords deftly and proceeded to hit them in the throat or head to take them down. Four of the guards went down without any trouble. A guard carrying a halberd, however, was a different story entirely. The long weapon kept him at a distance from the guard and he couldn’t get close enough to land a hit. Geoff tried to trick the guard into making a bad move, but he wasn’t successful. The guard jabbed at Geoff again and again and soon Geoff felt a wall behind him. He had nowhere to go. Just when the halberd drew blood from Geoff’s neck, Michael appeared behind Geoff’s attacker. Michael pulled the guard away from his weapon and from Geoff and slit his throat with the dagger he’d drawn from his belt.
Geoff dropped to the ground and touched the wound in his neck with his hand. When he looked at it, his fingers were covered in blood. Michael knelt down in front of Geoff and inspected the wound.
“It’s not that deep, but if it gets infected you’re done for.” Michael said. “Do you have any bandages or rags on you?”
Geoff merely shook his head, still a bit shocked.
“Alright, don’t move.” Michael ordered Geoff.
Geoff watched as Michael started to rip of pieces of his shirt. Once he’d gathered a few strips, he carefully bandaged Geoff’s wound, making sure the bandage didn’t restrict his breathing. Michael admired his work for a moment and then stood up and held his hand out to Geoff. He took it and Michael hoisted him to his feet effortlessly, before pulling him out of the alleyway.
Summary: Sometimes, people aren’t who you think you are. And other times, you have to work with the ones you hate most in order to save yourself.
Warnings: violence, foul language, blood
A/N: I finally wrote something again.
“Such an adorable attempt on my life.”
Gavin sucked in his breath at the sound of the man’s voice. How did he know he was here? He’d entered the church through the steeple. No one had seen him climb the walls and he hadn’t made a single sound. He’d even tried to keep his breathing to a minimum, afraid of giving himself away.
It was the middle of the night, so the church was completely empty, except for the two of them. Gavin was on top of the rafters, desperately trying to hide in the darkest corners of the church and his target stood in front of the altar.
He knew this man would be a difficult target. Many have attempted to kill him, all proved to be no match. Different men tried different strategies, but this particular target would always see right through them and, in the end, the target would remain. Thanks to this man being insane and murderous, the reward was great. That’s the only reason Gavin went after him, for the reward. He hardly knew the man, but he had heard a lot about him. Apparently, this guy was also an assassin, just like him, he just went too far every now and then. Usually assassins don’t kill fellow assassins, unless they stray from the path like this man had. Kills are supposed to be swift and silent, but he would laugh in triumph and show his work to the world. They say he also has a habit of playing with his target. Long story short, this man had to go.
Gavin watched as his target slowly moved away from the altar and stepped down from the dais. He didn’t stop until he was in the middle of the church, between the lines of pews. There was no way Gavin would be able to jump on him now. He was too far away and even if Gavin could jump that far, he’d break his ankles in the process. Instead, Gavin carefully made his way to the floor, not taking his eyes off his target.
“I have to admit, at least your attempt is more original than the others.” His target chuckled and moved into Gavin’s direction.
Gavin placed a hand on the hilt of the rapier that hung from his belt, not that it would do him a lot of good in this fight. His opponent carried his characteristic broadsword. There was no way Gavin could beat that giant sword with his rapier, it’s far too elegant for a fight with a mad man.
He observed him as he got closer. There was a reason that he was still alive, of course, but Gavin had hoped that he’d have a limp or just a weak spot in general. His target’s stride was confident, arrogant even.
It wasn’t his brightest idea, but it was Gavin’s only chance.
He drew his rapier from his belt and jumped over a row of pews, trying to get to his target before the man could get his sword out.
Gavin crashed into the man and together they fell on the marble floor of the church. Gavin desperately tried to get the blade of his rapier against the man’s throat, but he’d gotten hold of Gavin’s sword arm. Nails dug into Gavin’s wrist as he tried to bring the rapier down with all his strength. The blade inched closer, but it never met its destination. Gavin’s target grabbed the blade with his free hand and pushed Gavin and the blade away.
They’d switched positions. Gavin lay on the cold marble, trying not to get killed by his own weapon. Blood dripped on his cheek from the place where the blade had cut into the man’s hand. Gavin just wasn’t strong enough, the man’s strength and weight were too much for him and Gavin’s arms gave in.
“When I look at your pretty face, I almost don’t want to slit your throat.” The man said and Gavin felt the cold steel of the blade against his Adam’s apple as he closed his eyes.
“Any last words?”
Gavin said nothing, didn’t even move. He didn’t deserve to hear Gavin’s last words, he probably wouldn’t pass them on anyway.
“Alright then.” The man said softly and Gavin felt the pressure against his throat build.
He knew this man was a worthy opponent, but Gavin never expected the fight to be over this quickly. His mind was racing. Did he have anything in his pockets he could use? He thought long and hard, even though he knew the answer from the beginning. His pockets were empty. His plan was based on silence and swiftness. He’d left everything he didn’t necessarily need in his hideout. As if his bow could have been of use in this situation anyway.
Just when he felt the blade draw blood, the tension went away. Gavin anxiously opened his eyes and saw the man stare at him, surprise written all over his face.
The rapier clattered to the marble floor and that was the only sound to echo through the church.
“It can’t be.” The man whispered.
Gavin tried to understand the situation. He followed the man’s eyes to see what had made him drop the sword, but he was just looking at him. Gavin knew the man had never seen him before, so it was not like he suddenly recognized an old friend.
Gavin swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke, “What are you on about?”
“That mark,” the man said and pointed into the direction of Gavin’s collarbone, “Where did you get it?”
Gavin had to look down to see what he meant. He was talking about the brand just below his shoulder and above his chest.
“I don’t know where I got it. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember.” Gavin answered.
The man ran his fingers over the burned skin as if to check if it was real.
“Why?” Gavin asked.
The man didn’t make a sound in return. Instead the grabbed the collar of his robe with his hand to show a brand, identical to Gavin’s, on his own skin.
