We were at Worcher Mall, as I stood with half a dozen recruits in their usual cloaks armed with swords in their belts. Unfortunately, Lenny couldn’t come with us, so I’m stuck with a bunch of grunts. Among them is the former leader of the orphans we had captured, whose friend I got killed back at the Barakan hideout raid. He had been giving me restless looks for quite a while, as the rest of us were focusing on keeping our eyes open.

A car drives along the road, and a man in a white suit and wearing a white cowboy hat steps out-it’s the Oil Baron. He looks around, clearly cautious, until his eyes fall upon my team. He tilts his head in confusion, and I raise my hand, holding my fingers up in a V shape. I see him slowly nod and come over. “So, you’re my escort detail, huh?” He looks between the recruits and me. “That son of a bitch sent children with swords to protect me?”

In his defense, the recruits in this batch ranged from 13-16, not exactly Sigmund’s best picks for an escort mission of this importance. Regardless, I roll my eyes. “They may seem young, but they’ve trained.”

“So I’ve got the Children of the fuckin’ Corn protecting me? Wonderful!” He throws up his hands-it was clear in his tone that the Baron had the nerve to be offended.

I put a hand on his back, physically pushing him in the direction of the Grand Carp. “We didn’t get hired on to hear you dress us down. Now move your ass, boot.”

I see the Baron crane his neck towards me, his face betraying his indignation as his mouth was open, searching for words… but he closes his mouth and looks forward instead. I motion for the recruits to surround us, looking across the street and searching for any suspicious figures. We weave through building by building, the tension never completely falling, every corner presenting an opportunity for someone to spring out with a knife drawn. As I look across the street I see plenty of people walking by, but one in particular-a man with long brown hair and a pair of shades-I seem to remember spotting earlier today. I remind myself to not stare at him too long, and keep my eyes on other potential pursuers.

“I can’t believe I’m trusting a bunch of slow-moving children with my life here! This is ridiculous!” I hear the Baron grumble, shaking his head. He’s making the recruits restless with all his seething.

We awkwardly press our way through the Grand Slam restaurant, drawing eyes as we go along, moving like an amorphous blob. I look off to one side once we’re out the other end, and see that same man again. This time, I watch him more carefully, and I see him turn away and press his right hand into his ear. He’s using a goddamned earpiece, isn’t he? Shit. The hope of an easy escort was now shattered, and I had to be on high alert for anything. I won’t tell the rest of the group outright; I don’t trust the Baron to not flip his shit. I do get an idea though, so I clutch a recruit’s shoulder around the back and point at the man while he’s looking away. “He’s speaking into an earpiece, on your guard.” Not long after, I hear him mutter something to the others. Something’s wrong; we’re starting to slow down as we approach the front lobby of a clinic. We enter the side doors, and the Baron stops in front of a wooden table with magazines scattered across it. I see the recruits begin to fan out, clearly unnerved; the patients in the lobby also cowered in our presence, only barely hiding their unease. There were entire walls made of glass here, and I felt absolutely exposed. Why here, of all the places he could’ve stopped to throw a fit?

He clutches at his own scalp as he’s shaking his head. “God damn it, why the fuck would Verelich send me a bunch of untrained kids with no fucking car to see me through!?” Trying to transport the Baron the rest of the way via car would’ve left us at the mercy of a singular spike strip, but of course he was too short-sighted to realize that. I keep my vision between him and the windows, trying-and failing- to drown out his ranting. “Cheap bastard, is he trying to get me killed!?” I spot something shining in the crowd like a signal mirror, and take one glance over. It’s attached to a humanoid shape, and something resembling a-

I interrupt my own thought, running at the Baron as he began to turn. With him running his mouth, I had developed a desire to drop-kick him, and now I had an excuse to do exactly that. “Oh, when I get my hands on him, I’m gonna fuckin-” I saw a flash of something resembling surprise from the Baron’s body language before I jump forward, slamming both feet into his chest and knocking him onto the wooden table behind him, breaking it. Before I even hit the ground, the windowed wall to my right shatters. I glance to my left and find a crossbow bolt dug into the wall. The recruits scatter as they look around, trying desperately to find out what was attacking us as I see a much smaller crossbow bolt bury itself into a recruit’s shin, narrowly missing the Baron’s body. I look back to my right and see a man in a poncho lowering a pistol-style crossbow before running into the building behind him, a much larger crossbow in his other hand.

I scramble to my feet, taking a second to reposition my swords, which had been knocked out of their proper positions by my dropkick. “FORWARD! INTO THE HALLWAY!” I seize the Baron by one arm as he’s still staring, almost frozen in shock, and drag him into the hallway that was in the center of the building. I look around to find nobody in the immediate vicinity to give us trouble. Most of the recruits had managed to make their way into the hallway after me, but the recruit that got shot had fallen over 5 feet from the door, clutching his leg. I step back into the room and seize his arm, dragging him the rest of the way to the hallway and releasing him, turning back to the Baron who was now leaning against the wall, speechless.

“Listen here, you little shit,” I grab him by the lapels, pulling him closer. “All your bitching is getting distracting, and if I were distracted back there, you’d be dead. Now be a good boy and keep your mouth shut.” The Baron simply nods quickly, without speaking. I let go of him and turn to the wounded recruit; he’s clutching his leg, but he’s standing. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah, I think so, but it hurts!” He winces as he touches the bolt’s shaft.

“What’s your name?”

“Samuel.”

I look around his shin to find a simple, narrow point at the far end of the bolt. “Narrow point. You could pull the bolt out yourself, but leave it if you can. It’s slowing the bleeding as it is.”

Samuel simply nods. I turn to the others and find the orphan from before scowling at me. Why did he have his hand on his sword? “Alright, up the stairs!” We make our way up the stairs, to find a door leading towards the Grand Carp. The sign at the doorway reads ‘Apollo’s fine dining hall’. We’d gone over this building specifically during briefing; there was a set of stairs on the other side that would get us to the ground floor. I walk to the window at the far side of the stairwell, pulling back the blinds and peering out to find a window open on the building across the street with a silhouette holding a crossbow. To its left are more windows with crossbows pointing out of them. I turn back to the group, walking over. “You, take off your jacket and your hat.”

The Baron looked over with a look of utter surprise. “Wait, what? Why the fuck-”

“King Pyrrhus switched helmets with one of his underlings one battle to avoid being targeted. I’m gonna try the same now.”

The Baron sighed deeply, staring at his hat as he took it off his head before letting it hit the floor, then making to take his suit jacket off. It was at that moment where, in a sudden bout of paranoia, I let my secondary ears flick up, hearing the familiar rasp of steel against wood behind me. He’s doing it slowly so I don’t hear it. I set my left hand upon my katana’s scabbard, pressing my thumb into the tsuba to unlock it as I closed my eyes, desperately hoping I was wrong. I hear a footfall behind me, all too quickly, as I open my eyes and pivot on my right foot, drawing my katana from its scabbard and swinging it, the point halting as it rested against the attacker’s neck. The orphan from before was frozen in the middle of a downward cut, the resentment on his face now mingling with fear as I try to process what had just happened, my heart picking up pace as I struggle for words-and to fight my urge to finish him off now. I fold my ears back down. “Why did you do it?”

“I wasn’t about to stand by and watch as you threw another one of our lives away, you monster!”

A breath in, a breath out. “Okay, what plan do you have that’s any better than mine?”

“Uhh, I don’t, I could, we could-” The orphan sighed. “I don’t have a plan. All I know is that this isn’t it.”

A breath in, a breath out. I feel my heart steady, but I also feel myself freeze over in a familiar but uncomfortable way. He tried to kill me, and that alone warranted death, but the reason behind it was understandable all the same. Still, he was now a liability to me. I almost made the call to drag the edge across his throat on the spot, but I stop myself, deciding to postpone the decision for a less emotionally pressing moment.

Yet, I would not be letting him off lightly. I slowly press the point into his neck, driving him back slowly, step by step. “You want to end me, but you don’t even have a chance of being a better leader than me. You want to end me, yet you don’t even have a ghost of a plan? What an airhead you are, you’d just get more people killed with your terrible plans.” At this point, his back was now against the wall, and he was terrified of me. “Fuck off and go home. I’ll decide what to do with you later.”

“But-”

“I said beat it, and stop wasting my time.”

As I pull my point back, he pouts, on the verge of tears, but ultimately shows enough wisdom to walk away then and there. I turn to the rest of the recruits, whose reactions range from clearly forced stoicism to barely contained fright. “As for the rest of you, if anyone wishes to challenge me, I will face all my opponents at once.” Nobody moves, or objects. “Good. Now, let’s figure out who’ll get the jacket to fit them.” I slide my katana back into its scabbard.

As I mull it over, my emotions turn to sheer spite and disdain. I was faced with a choice; fight it under risk of letting it affect my decisions, or give in and go for a near-suicidal charge.

My heart still in pain despite my emotions freezing over, I decide to simply give in. I’m getting sick of life anyway.

After a brief visual comparison, I pick a recruit and have him swap his cloak out for the Baron’s jacket and hat, with the Baron now wearing the recruit’s cloak. “Alright, you’re the bait, go as fast as you can before the others go forward.” I look to Samuel. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I don’t know who to trust, so you’re going to be in charge while I’m gone. Get the Baron to the Grand Carp. It should be 3 or 4 blocks away.”

“While you’re gone?” Samuel rose an eyebrow. “Are you really running away?”

I was walking to go down the stairwell, but his words make me pause. “There’s men with crossbows in the building across the streets. I’m going over to deal with them.” I turn my head back to him. “Do not wait for me to return. But, wait 10 seconds after I leave to make the push. Any decisions after that are your own. Just don’t give up on escorting the baron, okay?” Samuel sighed, nodding. “Will we be seeing you again?”

“I don’t know. We’ll see.” Turning my vision back to the stairs, I go down them, resting both hands on my katana as I try and steady myself, only barely finding my center again as I feel my tail split into four. I open my secondary ears again, uncaring of who sees me now.

No mercy, no hesitation, for they are unworthy. A familiar thought that I had been trying to push away time and time again. This time, I heed it, charging across the street, uncaring of any potential traffic. Thankfully, all the civilians had scattered by now, and I have a clear shot, charging through the door, my tails freely swinging around, altering my balance and momentum to help steer myself up the stairwell without losing momentum.

I soon find myself on the second floor, opening the door to the manager’s office to find a man with his crossbow pointingthrough the window. I run forward, unlocking my sword from its scabbard. He turns around, drawing his pistol crossbow as I draw my katana, flowing into a downward strike that shears through his clavicle as he fires his crossbow. The bolt scrapes my arm as I rip my sword out of him, leaving his torso devastated as he drops his weapon, clutching at his chest as he falls over. I hear footsteps approaching the doorway, so I change my pace to not have my feet pounding the floor like they were before as I hide around the corner on my side of the doorway.

A crossbow comes poking through the doorway. I grab it by its arms, yanking it and pulling the man holding it through the doorway before ramming my sword’s endcap into his forehead. He drops his crossbow, falling back and crying out in pain. I step through the doorway, transitioning to an icepick grip as I stab his throat. I hear his gurgles from my secondary ears as I turn and see another man walking into the hallway. I switch my grip back to normal as he begins to raise his crossbow. I hold my sword up in a guard position, my forearm covering my throat as I ran at him. A crossbow bolt slams into my chest and I stumble, fighting through it. He drops his main crossbow and draw his pistol crossbow as I approach. I wheel my sword around into a vicious downward stroke; he springs back, but the tip still slices across his chest. As I realize how short of breath I am-and my left lung feeling wrong-he clutches his chest, his focus pulled away from shooting for me, but I notice another shooter by the window turning his sights on me at the same time. I seize the opportunity and slice upwards into his wrist, stepping diagonally as I hear him scream in pain. Feeling the other shooter’s sights upon me, I dart in deeper and grab the man by his shirt, pulling him with a desperate heave in between me and the shooter. I feel something strike the man’s back as he falls onto his knees, and I let go of him to see the shooter’s crossbow was empty. I’m already feeling the fatigue, but I force myself to hold my sword high and charge at him. He drops his crossbow, his hand fumbling and failing to find the pistol crossbow in his belt holster, so he grabs a knife with his other hand, crossing his arms and bracing against a downward cut. I duck and slice across his midsection at the last second, bypassing his guard while also struggling to break my momentum, barely avoiding tipping over onto the floor altogether. I see him step back, clutching his stomach with his free hand and grunting before gritting his teeth and raising his knife. My reflexes screamed at me to do something about it, but I’d be too late given my lack of balance, unless…

The man brings his knife down for a stab, and I brace for impact only to watch as two of my tails stretch around from behind me, slamming into his forearm and throwing his aim off, as I feel his forearm smash into my shoulder instead of hard steel. I twist my body around, rotating into an endcap strike at his side that drives him back with another grunt. I force my legs upright, as I step forward and slice at his knee, struggling for breath as I practically stumble back in a retreating motion. It was at this point the man screamed in pain, his left hand finally dropping his knife as he clutched both his bleeding wounds with his hands, falling to the floor.

Sucking in air, I tried to figure out why I’m so short of breath so soon, only to look down and see a shaft sticking out of my ribcage. Now fully paying attention to myself, I could feel the walls of my left lung press against the crossbow bolt’s head as it was still stuck inside me, as well as… something, building at the bottom of my left lung. I decide to first wipe my sword clean and send it to its scabbard before dealing with the bolt. The blood hadn’t leaked into my pocket, so my rag’s thankfully clean so far, even if I have trouble holding my katana straight to wipe it. Setting my rag in its pocket, I slow myself down as I see my sword into its scabbard; I didn’t trust myself to not nick my own hand otherwise. I grip the shaft sticking out of my ribcage; I knew it was a bad idea to pull it out, but the way the head pressed against the back wall of my lung was incredibly uncomfortable-it made me shiver with every exhale, like nails on chalk. I tug on it and it gives partway, as I felt something sharp dig into my flesh. I walk to the other assassin I had dispatched, noticing a massive pool of blood building below him. His right hand had a deathgrip on his pistol crossbow… but his arm had no grip on his hand. I walk closer as I notice he’s still breathing, but he suddenly coughs as a small spray of blood comes out.

That’s gonna be happening to me soon, isn’t it?

Fighting my newfound sickness, I put both hands on the shaft, steeling myself against what was to come. I then yank sharply, feeling the broadhead gouge further into my flesh as I pull it out. I stare closer at the broadhead. It was roughly the kind of rounded triangle shape I’d expect, but the rear points stretched, forming the hook-like structures that had further torn into me on the way out. I drop the bolt as I start hearing my own chest sucking and blowing. It made me shiver again, as I fight the urge to look into the wound, afraid of what I’ll find there.

My mind quickly snaps back to what we had come here for in the first place. I jog my wayto the stairwell and out of the building, avoiding multiple pools of blood along the way. Stepping back out into the sunlight, I can see more broken windows at Apollo’s, but I’m not seeing any dead bodies yet. I jog, feeling something bad happening in my left lung, struggling to make each successive breath happen. I cough, doubling over to continue my fit until I start tasting copper. It’s soon followed by a spatter of blood on the road. My left lung feels clearer now, but I know it won’t last.

I press on, to see Samuel on the ground, with a much larger crossbow bolt sticking out of his other leg. More importantly, a figure in a poncho was walking towards him with a pistol crossbow in hand.

Without hesitation, I force myself to start running again, regardless of how waterlogged my left lung felt. I see him raise his pistol crossbow as I close distance, already feeling an urge to cough. At the range they were at, he wouldn’t miss. I hold it in until I taste copper again, letting out a cough as he turns his head to look towards me-but it’s too late. I use my momentum to shove him towards Samuel, as he takes the opportunity to draw his weapon and cut the man down. He tries to throw his weight leftward, but he’s just not fast enough to get clear of Samuel’s sword. I double over again, venting more blood from my lung before looking back to find a crossbow bolt in Samuel’s ribcage. Despite his pain, he wipes his sword properly before putting it back into his saya. “How you holding up?”

He looks down to the bolt in his chest, a spark of fear dancing across his face. “Oh, fuck, am I gonna die?”

“I took a bigger one to my lung, but I’m still standing.” I force myself to show a half-smile to him. I can’t imagine it actually looked that comforting, considering I haven’t stopped to wipe the blood off my mouth yet.

Samuel nods before trying to stand, the bolts in his legs halting his advance as he winces in pain. “F-fuck. I don’t think I can stand straight. Why don’t you come back for me later?”

I seriously considered it, but I figured that by now, the Baron would either be dead or at the Grand Carp. Besides, Samuel was one of the few good recruits I’d seen. “I’m not leaving you hanging.” I lift him up to his feet, draping his left arm across my shoulders. I also caught a glimpse of the man that had tried to kill him; he was writhing and gripping at his guts, his hands now covered in his own blood. I helped Samuel towards the corner of the Morperin building ahead, as I see two men in ponchos running in our direction, one of which had a bolt sticking out of him. It looked like they were fleeing rather than pursuing. I pull Samuel back, pressing against the wall to let them pass.

“What are they running from?”

“I don’t know, Samuel. We’ll have to wait and see.” I walk us further down the road, until we can see the Grand Carp, the building still as grand as ever. There’s a body wearing a white suit on the sidewalk, face-down, a white cowboy hat not far from it. It’s got a crossbow bolt sticking out of its back. Further out in the street, a figure wearing a poncho also lies dead, with another crossbow bolt sticking out of it. I pause to hack up another volley of blood, though by now I can feel the buildup slowing pace.

Verelich himself steps out of the door, his arms wide open in delight, flanked by guards in black suits wielding crossbows. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t it our tough-as-nails captain!”

I rolled my eyes as I approached. “Did we win?”

Verelich frowned. “Oh, it’s always business to you, isn’t it?”

“I have a sucking chest wound… jackass.”

“Okay, okay,” Verelich sighed. “You did disgrace his favorite hat, and ended up ruining his best suit jacket,” Verelich gestured to the body double, as if he were a wine stain on an antique rug. “But, ultimately, you did manage to get him through alive, and I suppose that’s what counts...” I exhale in relief, as does Samuel. “Although, I will say that he was left deeply dissatisfied by the quality of your services.” Samuel lets out a soft chuckle.

“Of course he did. Anyway, does that mean we’re free to go?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

I bring Samuel along with me, propping him up against one of the Grand Carp’s walls. “How many of my recruits got to you alive?”

“Three, though two had taken some crossbow bolts.”

I lean against the wall myself as I pull out my phone, dialing for Lenny. It takes an agonizing amount of time before he answers. “We’re at the Grand Carp. Send two cars if you can, we’ve got wounded.”

“Shit, how many wounded?”

“F-” I’m interrupted by another hacking fit, spitting blood onto my phone’s screen in the process. Serves me right for using speakerphone. “Four, counting me.”

“Damn. I’ll scramble our fleet for you.”

I hear Lenny hang up, before I wipe the blood off my phone screen with my right sleeve. As I wait for the cars to arrive, I look at the body that wore a white suit.

Damn it, I did it again.