Jack and I were walking down the street, eventually coming up to the Harlowe Pub. The area around it looked a little more modern than the parts of town I had previously seen, but still had a distinctive look to it that felt like I was unquestionably still in the exact same city as usual.

“This is the place, I take it?” Jack slips a hand into his pocket, about-facing to eye up the sign and the windows of the pub.

“Yeah, this is the pub that Nick told me about. Let’s have a look.”

We walk inside, and are greeted by a place with an abnormally large bar counter, with several seats filled with the kind of men who looked like they’d seen a barfight before. To my right was a noticeable void where there were no chairs or tables to be seen, just a dark red tile floor with a jukebox that almost looked out of place on the wall nearby said void.

Contradicting this was the sight of a bunch of more normal groups of people eating at the booth seats, a far cry from the men that crowded the bar proper, secluded in one corner of the pub in a somewhat dense manner. It felt like I was going to two completely different pubs at the same time.

“Wait, how are we gonna figure out what we need to know.”

“Simple, we just bribe the barman.” Jack said it as if it was obvious.

“Wait, isn’t that just some dumb shit that gets put in movies but never works in real life?”

Jack tilts his head with a half-smile. “You’d be surprised at how frequently it works.”

We walk up to the counter, approaching a barkeeper who had an elegant vest and dress shirt combo on, further paired with a cowboy hat and a well-maintained but prodigious mustache. If you slapped a holstered six-shooter and a badge on him, I’d think he was cosplaying as Wyatt Earp.

“A few days ago, a man in a gray coat came to this place for a few drinks. Did you see him?”

“Mmmh, maybe.” He puts his hands on the counter. “Don’t know if I want to be blabbering about it to any old passerby, though.” He drums his fingers on the table.

Jack pulls out a $100 bill, slipping it on the counter. “Perhaps I can persuade you with this?”

“Double that and then we’ll talk.”

“A hard sell, I see.” Jack pulls out another $100 bill, though he seems to look displeased about it.

“Alright, I suppose I can let a few words loose...” He takes the bills, quickly stuffing them into his pocket. “So, he did come here a few nights ago, yeah. Seemed real intense, if you asked me, and he was indeed wearing a machete at his belt. I don’t know of any brush that you’d need to clear out here in Halych, let me put it that way.”

“Did he say anything even remotely useful to us? Like, I don’t know, what hotel he was staying at?”

The barman looks around shortly before turning his sights back on us. “Well, he did say something about heading off to the old crosshair house just a few blocks down the street, but that’s honestly all I remember him saying right now. You can come back if you have any other questions.”

“Alright, got it.” Jack turns his head, nodding to me. “Let’s go.”

I had no clue what the hell we were gonna do with that information, but I left with Jack anyway.

We were now back on the street, as I pull my phone out and look for a ‘Crosshair house’. Shockingly, it did come up with a result, the Crosshair Touring House and Hotel, but it was over 20 blocks away from Harlowe Pub.

“The real ‘Crosshair house’ is over 20 blocks away, so what the fuck was he talking about…?”

“I don’t know, but he did specify ‘a few blocks away’.” Jack gestures to the streets ahead of us. “He can’t have gone that far, right?”

I look up from my phone, pocketing it. “So you’re proposing a search on foot, then.”

“You could put it that way, yeah.”

I nod. “It’s better than nothing. Should we split up?”

“If you’re confident you could handle yourself, sure.”

I look over briefly, letting my left hand rest on my katana. “I’d be more worried about you, given how quickly Lenny jumped you.”

Jack sighed. “Alright, point taken.”

We split up and walk in different directions. While I’m walking down the street, I pass by a bunch of people in sleeping bags in front of a business. It appears to be a clothing store, and is highly developed in its interior aesthetic, though looking inside I can’t help but wonder-between the admittedly somewhat bland interior and the nice logo and name-if this is actually an international chain. Almost equally ponderous is that the people in the sleeping bags are arranged in such a manner as to prevent passerby from entering the store with the exception of one gap in the wall of sleeping bags. I didn’t really understand why they were doing that, but I steer my focus back towards the search at hand and move on.

As I walk further down the road, I find a surprising amount of apartment complexes so close to the pub, alongside the other commercial venues nearby it. Not so surprising was how sophisticated they looked. I’d have to imagine it would cost a small fortune to be able to live in one of those apartments-and that might be due in no small part to all the businesses nearby them.

I keep walking, and having searched 3 blocks down, go to the next row of blocks and start sweeping along it, my eyes searching for anything resembling a crosshair. I try and think of what it could mean. Perhaps, four identical buildings surrounding another? The pattern of an old Victorian window? Interrupting my musings, I get a call from Jack.

“This is gonna be a bit of a stretch, but I think I might’ve found the ‘Crosshair House’ in question.”

“Better than any lead I’ve been able to come up with. I’ll be right over, where are you at?”

“Starting from outside the Harlowe Pub and facing away from it, turn right, go one block, turn left and go one block, and then turn right and go two blocks.”

“Got it.”

Retracing my steps, I eventually spot Jack standing with his hands in his coat pockets, outside of what seems to be a two-story house that had seen better days. Strangely, an insignia resembling a crosshair was drawn in red graffiti on one of the walls. I walk over to Jack. “I’ve got to admit, marking your own safehouse like this sounds like a really stupid idea, but it’s not like they’re likely to recognize and make the association, right?”

Jack looks over to me. “I think you give them too much credit, honestly. I think they marked their safehouse so that their drunkards can find their way back to the right house after a long night at the pub.”

I chuckle. “That’s actually a very plausible theory, if we’re being entirely honest. I’ll circle the building and see what I find.” I walk off, circling the house which stood out of place in an area of the city mostly full of apartments. Guess it had some special history to it, not that you could tell how special given that it was poorly maintained. I try to see if I can spot anything through the windows, but they all have curtains on them, shutting out the rest of the world and giving no ground to prying eyes such as my own. The only consolation prize I find is that it also means they’re probably not watching ME, either, as I can’t find any cameras mounted on the exterior of the building. Still, it definitely feels like there’s someone hiding in there, so it’s a worthwhile lead to pursue.

I walk back over to Jack. “Looks like somebody’s hiding in there, alright.”

“Yeah, figured so. Though, there is one thing bothering me here.” Jack looks to the crosshair house, with a dissatisfied sort of stare. “The Blacksmith did mention these guys were mercenaries, so they aren’t our real enemy. We can’t just slaughter them here and be done with it.”

“That’s true, but if we could get our hands on one alive, someone who’s important enough to know something, we could get a hint towards who hired them, and that’ll be where the real war begins.” I cross my arms.

Jack looks back to me, the lowest areas of his trenchcoat now swaying gently. “I doubt it’ll be that easy, but we have to be able to get something, right?”

“Guess that’s our new plan, but I’m thinking, when do we attack? At night, when they’re sleeping?”

“Hell no. You’ve seen how late these guys can be up. During the day, though, a lot of them will be out and about on business, since they’re mercenaries. If we don’t find our guy during the day when we attack, we clean out who’s still there and wait for the rest to come back.”

“So we can’t lose regardless of what happens. Sounds good to me, I’ll contact my boys and see about getting an assault team together...” I pause, thinking of something that should’ve been obvious all along. “Say, you don’t happen to know a guy who’s good at breaking and entering with finesse, do you?”

Jack turns to face me, smiling as he pulls out what seems to be a small fabric container, opening the top flap to reveal a set of instruments that look like they wouldn’t be entirely out of place in a dentist’s office. “A private investigator never knows when the truth will happen to be behind locked doors.”

I chuckle. That line was so corny it sounded like it’d fit in a superhero comic. “That wasn’t the worst line I’d ever heard. But, yeah, I’ll be sure to call you once I’ve organized the boys for a raid.”

“Excellent.”

We went our separate ways after that-but not before I take a picture of the crosshair house.