Recon
It was supposed to be a simple recon mission on his part. No one knew Rickon had skipped school to make this happen. His father had no idea that he overheard about the 'favor' he was doing for the Baratheons. Laundering money. It was supposed to be simple, just make sure the Baratheons get their million without raising any red flags. His father has done this before for his close friend Robert Baratheon. He never failed... until now.
His father was a huge fan of structuring and if he had been able to do it his way the entire million would have been transferred to the Baratheon funds within a year. But Robert needed half the money A.S.A.P. so it was decided that half a million was to be deposited throughout a course of five months and the other half would be acquired through bulk cash smuggling.
Only a few people were to know about this transfer of money, but the night his father send a group of his men to collect the money they were ambushed. The corpses and blood of Stark men were the only thing left behind and the Baratheon money had been taken. To say Robert Baratheon was pissed was an understatement. Rickon refused to let the blame fall on his father. He'd figure this out one way or another, but first he had to find some leads.
It was by luck he overhead a few men talking about having gotten the mother load of money only to have it stolen from them. Rickon decided to follow them and learn more. Hiding in the third floor of an abandoned warehouse he found out that this group had been the ones that killed the Stark men and took the money, but while trying to get away one of their own had gone rogue. They no longer have the money. Rickon left his hiding spot and tried to make his way out as the men made plans to hunt that other man down. Not unless I find him first. The rotten wood gave up under his weight.
He bit back a curse as he fell through, but in the last moment grabbed onto the railing of the second floor. The warehouse had gone quiet and as he dangled in the air he didn't have to look over his shoulder to know they had spotted him.
"Get him!"
Rickon swung himself over the railing and dropped to the floor as bullets flew over him. Shit! Shit! Shit! He took deep breaths to calm himself and crawled on his elbows trying to put as much distance between himself, his assailants and the risk of getting shot. Rickon heard the sound of footsteps on metal over the roar of bullets. Fuck! He got on his feet and ran not bothering to look back. He heard a bullet whiz passed his ear as he turned right... into a dead end with a lone locked door.
He turned the doorknob desperately and slammed his body against it. Think! The rapid footsteps were getting closer. He took two steps as he remembered his training. Focus. Without warning he stepped forward and brought his right leg up as he turned a complete 360 and kicked the door open. Rickon didn't have time to think about the stinging pain that licked up his leg as he shot forward and down the stairs. The door was right in front of him. He had just turned the door knob when someone slammed into him from behind. The door opened and both of them fell onto the street.
Rickon tried pushing him off but the man grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head down. He hissed and his vision blurred as pain exploded through his head. I can't let them... A growl echoed through the alley, a heartbeat later the man was off of him. He turned around to see Shaggydog biting into the man's throat. Blood like a river flowed out of the man and bathed the concrete crimson. He snapped out of his daze when he heard the men. Rickon whistled signalling Shaggydog to follow him as he ran.
He pulled on his hood and didn't stop running for three blocks. He quickly got into a cafe that he spotted from the corner of his eye. Rickon wasn't naive to think those men would give up the search. Three blocks was still close, but he knew he couldn't keep running. Not in the shape he was in and if he confronted them it would only end with bloodshed. He wasn't confident enough at the moment that he will be able to come out alive with Shaggydog. The last thing he wanted was to get them both killed. The cold metal of his gun holstered inside his hoodie reassured him that if they did find him he still had a chance. Shaggydog rested his head on his thigh. Rickon could feel blood seep into his dark blue jeans. His hand fisted the wolf-hybrid's dark fur as pain pounded against his head and continued to throb on his right foot.
