Unchained and Unbound

Shortly after the man, the next to arrive was likewise a tightly dressed figure. Gender indistinguishable from their thick clothing and mantle, even the hood covered their face to an extent as they arrived at the tavern being dropped off by a merchant's cart. The cart itself merely pulled around to a place here the horses were safe from the rain, the merchandise and supplies in the back protected by the tarp canopy. While the tavern was quite seedy, the person in question didn't seem worried about the things left in the open. A large black dog laid lazily atop a few of the barrels, it's cold and fiery eyes watched the rain from within diligent of any trespassers who wandered too close. It would occasionally bark viciously to deter those foolish enough to try and contest it's territory, but otherwise would remain docile if not provoked too heavily. That black creature alone was extremely ominous and as if held back by an invisible leash on the verge of breaking maintained a measure of restraint with strangers.

Pushing their way into the tavern there wasn't an ounce of respect of face given to anyone as the door was thrown open. The barkeep didn't seem to mind though, as if they recognized this individual even through the layers of clothing. It wasn't as if they were some callous young lad who had no respect for their elders, it had the impression on looking down things that were clearly beneath them. Advancing through the bar, towards that room that had once been so dimly lit, as if they'd understood the procedure to some extent but didn't care enough about formalities to assert herself, they followed the same route as the previous person only to open the door and find that there was someone there first. Seeing the man's face, they finally went about pulling off their cloak and mantle to hang it idly over her own chair.

What she revealed was a beautifully sculpted face, as if carved from fine white jade there wasn't a blemish or flaw that could be pointed out easily. It might have been perfect if the woman's features weren't so frigid and uncaring, as if her gaze alone could drop the temperature of a room by 10 degrees she had an indifference that was peerless and without equal. She advanced into the room, her blank face and eyes devoid of thoughts or feelings, one might mistake her for a corpse if she'd been laying down, but she sat down crossing her legs as if this were just another item on her itinerary. This certainly wasn't the first potentially illicit thing she was going to be doing today and it likely wasn't the last either. "This leaves a lot to be desired..." She murmured, her gaze sliding from the bottle to the condition of the chairs, the first light of feeling coming to her face was contempt. "Cheap..." She complained, her voice a monotonous drone that didn't match the disgust she felt internally.

She didn't spend her time only complaining though. Instead, she reached for a glass, much like Jack trying to pour herself a glass. Even while complaining about it, it was cheap stuff under her gaze, but it seemed to at least be free cheap stuff. Bringing the glass to her lips, before drinking she'd let it round the glass slowly, trying to breath in the scent before taking a sip. She'd attempt to idly pass the time waiting for anyone else in silence with eyes closed.

 

Bera de Búrca

The tavern was rather lively, the chatter and movement of people carried from end to the other. Some indulged in the presence of their friends and family while others took it upon themselves to embrace a new experience and create new ties. It was places like this that seemed to draw the best and the worst out of people all at the same time. Not everyone was able to handle their drinks as well as the next or previous, though they'd all go home with a memory of the night. It'd turn to a haze when they awoke as it would either weigh on them throughout the day or bring a smile to their face as things slowly came back to them. None of this applied to a man that sought strength, however. The toxic substance would only bring courage to the coward in his eyes, and would lead those that were incapable of committing mistakes to stray in their paths.

A man that thought in such a way and sought strength could be found sitting at the bar. His cold gaze that reached out to an alternate universe plundering the weight of his burdens on those that wished to approach him. Though, the stare would keep them from attempting to do such. Many would find the way he carried himself at the bar to be an insult or a nuisance. It'd crease their foreheads as they grew with anger and lean to one another speaking soft words, not letting their eyes peel away from his being. The man could feel their staring judgement crawling on his skin, though it wouldn't be enough to break his fortitude and press on with his thoughts. His hand approached the small half glass that sat at the bar in front of him. It had sat their for near an hour now growing in warmth as the bodies began to pile into the bar and recycle its oxygen. The sound of leather tightening on a glossy surface muttered from the surface of the cup as he pressed it to his lips and swallowed the contents. A body would pass by his back and head to a staircase visible to his peripherals.

He'd raise his hand to the barkeep signalling a replica of what he just had. The barkeep would be prompt in response to his call out, turning over a bottle to a fresh glass and sliding it in his direction, clink. The glasses would meet just before he'd straddle the filled cup with his black gloves clenching the glass tightly. He'd down the contents letting out a small sigh before the gaze faded with the arrival of a black-clad individual that walked in the same direction of the other. A smirk crept to his face as he slid the chair out behind him, placing a few gold pieces on the counter and nodding to the barkeep.

He'd make his way to the room just as the others did, traveling up the spiral staircase and heading into the once colorless room. He'd enter the room without muttering his sound, the door would creek shut bringing some sort of attention to his position. He'd stray his gaze for their own and grab an empty seat letting out a small groaning sigh as he did so.

♚ BERA ♚

== @Hades ==
== @Jack Anders ==
== @Atticus Usur ==​

 

Unlike the others who arrived at the rendezvous in garb that hid their identity, Atticus endured the rain in his usual attire. He entered the The Tipsy Ifrit, looking as though he had gone for a swim in his getup. "Can believe this ridiculous rain?" Atticus moaned as he made futile efforts to shake the water out of his armor. He was already late, and now this, maybe his karmic balance is finally tipped too far and the universe is paying him back for all the nefarious deeds he had accomplished. Realistically, however, it all stemmed from his oversight in leaving his raincoat back home, for reasons that are too vain to describe.

"All of the words in this bloody world and you just had to choose the most stereotypical name for a goddamn tavern. You shame me a Kaios-kin, barmaster..." Atticus taunted the barkeep who was nearly a foot taller than him. The bronze man brushed off his harsh comment, however, and pointed to the stairs on the other side of the room. Finding no pleasure in teasing someone without a single display of emotions, Atticus sucked his breath in and ascended the stairs, leaving damp footprints across the creaky wooden floor.

Without a knock, Atticus invaded the rendezvous point, however, he was immediately met with a thick stench and crude sounds of the wooden bed slamming against the wall, dulling the combined moans of two people screwing on the other side of the room. At the sound of Atticus opening the door, the male immediately jumped up on his feet and pulled out a short sword hanging off his trousers which dangled on the dresser’s door. He shouted at Atticus with a threatening voice to hide his fear, “who the hell are you? And why are you in here? D-do you plan on robbing me?” Even with a dimmed candle light in the room, the naked male displayed his entire form, a physique befitting that of a pig. The woman on the bed too had a look of utter fright on her face.

Knowing that he had attracted some bad attention already, Atticus moved at lightning speed toward the male and knocked him out with an impactful punch in the abdomen area. To soften the sound, he leaned the unconscious mass over his arm before he slowly set the unresponsive body down on the floor. Afterward, he moved toward the naked woman on the bed and who was futilely covering her form and backing herself against the head of the bed. Fortunately for her, Atticus was more delicate toward the fairer sex—she was out like a light the moment Atticus’ struck the back of her neck. "Gross" he grimaced as he wiped his armored hand on the edge of the bed.

With a sigh, he entered the room across the hall, carrying with him the stench of dirty sex. "So can anyone bloody tell me why we couldn’t have just met outside of the garrison?" he complained. When Atticus looked up at the faces in the room. "Well, I'll be damned, Mr. Jack and Hades, our employer sure gathered up all the heinous villains and tossed them into one big, happy party, huh?" Atticus said, his eyes directed at Bera the entire time. "And who might you be?"

 

Hades' gaze was critical as the drink rounded the glass under her frigid gaze. Her blank stare just as empty as always, but being told that it was her second favorite drink, Hades sipped a bit more draining half the glass before sucking at her own tongue with disapproval. "Third favorite--" She answered, her monotonous voice still a drone, but her words were spoken curtly without a hint of attempting to hide the rudeness in her word choice. "--For the second... I do adore anything with pomegranate, it speaks of earlier times, back when I took my first consort." She explained idly, not caring much for her own life story she haphazardly threw out without care. The reason however, was so when people knew what to gift her, they wouldn't make attempts at sending her uselessly cheap things; at least if she were to receive something, she wanted it to be something she actually wanted.

Though the talk of interns didn't interest her, Hades had little care for mortals and their experiences, provided a job could be accomplished she didn't necessarily care how it got done. It wouldn't interfere with her cut after all; instead she kept silent, observing the other two with a criticizing gaze as she usually did, as if assessing the worth their lives accumulated to. Talk of gathering up a heinous bunch of individuals though earned a response from Hades who leaned back further into her chair. "I stand on the side with the most profits, I've no interest in whatever political or diplomatic investments you mortals make with one another-- Your gold is just as good up here as it is down there though... Increasing the capital of my side is a natural thing." She explained knowing her alignment wasn't necessarily evil, it just so happened that evil paid the best. Naturally though she'd scowl hearing that they'd all just arrived here without much thought. Looking down at her hands, as if considering the situation for a moment, she glanced back and forth between them before finally speaking. "I can't say it requires a lot of ability to get inside, my presence just adds some legitimacy. It would have been problematic if someone had gotten sloppy and gone in with a plan like 'meet up at the garrison and hope everyone's asleep'." She'd criticize without an ounce of respect for anyone as her gaze slid from one person to another

After a monotonous rant though, she'd fold her hands back into her lap, setting her glass on the table with a sigh as if this were stressful for her. Despite there not being any stress in her body language or in her blank tone, she still attempted to put on such a show as she continued. "The garrison is a secure place, but it takes in supplies once a week to support it's prisoners and guards. These supplies are taken out of what the town collects in taxes but the garrison is not the only structure that receives a portion of these assets. It runs through every place that could be considered property of the kingdom. I have a contract with the public servant who oversees this duty; In exchange for giving his wife ten more years, he works on my behalf normally for other purposes but this time we will be using him to get you into the prison. I have added three extra 'barrels of wine' to the list of goods to allow you all an entrance. I'll spend time being entertained by the guards after having come to relieve boredom. If you want to exit via the cart as well, I've been paid to escort you out if you want, if not, I'm still being paid." She spoke flippantly letting them know of the role she would play in this. She wasn't a fighter, and she was a Goddess which made her easily noticeable so she couldn't sneak around like them. Her presence however gave validity to the resources they would be using to get in, and her identity would call for extra security making it thinner around the other parts of the prison where she wasn't. "Now, if anyone has any complaints or concerns, allow me to assure you of how meaningless your lives are. Unless you want to pay a contractual guarantee for your lives, you are not my responsibility. My job is to give you a way in, and then out provided you stick within the arranged time frames." She explained blankly.

 

Interns? Bera's gaze would shift over to Jack, though his head would not follow. While words like this typically warranted some form of verbal repertoire in response he didn't wish to let things between the three get so tense. It was clear that everyone that was within the room seemed to have their own views and differences, something that Bera had to keep in mind as he came into this meeting. If friction were to be created by the members in the room it would result in the mission not being complete, none of them getting paid, and Bera missing out on another opportunity to become stronger and complete his goals of finding his father.

His eyes would shift back to the blank space between the two, his elbow providing support for his head on the table as a deep breath was emitted through his nostrils. He could tell the two that were odd characters, your typical crooked individuals. One had a jaw that could flap at the gust of a wind, while the other was just a prude and rather materialistic. Had she not been a God, Bera would have more than likely left the room once he first heard her mouth open. He was never much for chatter such as this, something that she seemed to shine on rather easily. Her small response to Jack resonated the words uppity blank and forced Bera to press his lips as the next body entered the room, a rather interesting fragrance following behind him. The smell wouldn't stop where he did, though. No, it would carry into the room and reach into the senses of everyone. It was noticeable when it did, as well.

His eyes would be the only thing to move, a rather stubborn aura seemed to resonate from the man as he felt the group all knew one another, and Bera seemed to be the variable in the equation. The constant prodding to find his alias seemed to be an interest of all but the woman. He'd roll his eyes to the other side of the room, not answering any of them as the woman began to send a barrage of information. His eyes drifted from the empty spaces in the area to her, back and forth. The way the woman carried herself and spoke just left a rotten taste of forceful micromanaging, the way that it was all set up prior to this left the client to have a good eye for evil before he ended up coming into this room. Though it would all seem to come to a crumble as she spoke of an over-elaborate way to break in, that seemed to be riddled with little to no fun. Before she could finish her first segment Bera would stand, the chair chattering upon the wooden floor as he did so. "Bera." He'd say interrupting her before he made his way toward the door. "I'll be waiting outside." His addiction called out to him, he wished not to speak of strategy or how things would be done. It was a sure case that everybody in that room was more than capable of getting into the prison one way or another and all he would need to get the job done was a certain amount of guts. As he'd step to the doorway that the other man stood at he'd attempt to slide by giving a solemn nod as he did so, and patting his back if he were allowed through.

"I'm not traveling in a damn barrel."

 

Atticus remained on his feet as his back rested against the wall near the cruddy door, observing his human colleagues’ responses to Hades reciting her rehearsed monolog. The woman was mechanical as can be and always stand on the side that pays the most, that much he knows. But on the flipside, Hades is only as trustworthy as the amount of gold that his employer deposited into her pocket. Who knows what she might do the moment the good guys pay a surplus. It puzzled him as to why anyone in their right mind would hire someone as flippant as Hades, knowing full-well that her arrogance completely undermines what little trust and tolerance a party of baddies would have for one another already.

To Atticus, it seemed as though she was hired to order them around more than actually doing anything useful, and her pay would most likely have been a cut above all three of them. Nevertheless, he kept his tongue in check. Atticus may be egotistical himself, but if there’s anything that he’s learned from being in Khaos’ familia, it would be never to injure a god's pride. They may be immortal and eternal, but it seems they all have such fragile ego that threatens to crack at a touch. Through his Goddess, Atticus learned the hard truth that all gods are naturally scummy and are only out for their own interest. To these divine beings, mortals are nothing more than a source of amusement. As such, Atticus would never put his life in the hand of an ethereal being as Hades. Had he known beforehand that Hades would accompany them on their job, Atticus would never have agreed to work the mission. But, what done is done, he does have his professional integrity to uphold. With Hades in the mix, however, Atticus entered a state of high alert as his life was gravely in danger, more so than the usual human/mortal element he deals with in his profession.

As Hades droned on about the specific plans they were to follow, the orange-headed man named Bera displayed his discontent and headed right out of the door. When Hades continued, Atticus shot Jack a look of disbelief. Although he had always found Jack easy to work with, considering that they both held some respect for their “job” and skillsets, this mission may put to the test their relationship. Turning toward Hades, the blond man waited until she had finished her monologue before he chimed in, “why Hades, you’ve got such a wonderful plan for all of us, but per my client’s request, I am to follow my own order and judgement and make use of my specific personal skillset for the sake of the mission. As long as you do your job, I will do mine. Let’s act like professionals, huh? Surely, it’s not your first time in the business, let’s act like professionals now.”

While Hades' words cut deep, he wasn’t so stupid as to throw insult at the Goddess that preside over the Underworld now—for all he knows, Hades could have completely erased his dust-like existence. Nevertheless, he could help but made snarky remarks at her to establish the clear boundary between them. He remained in the room, however, waiting until the group worked out its issue and got on with the job as nighttime was approaching, fast.

 

Hades wasn't exactly oblivious to the collective disapproval many had for her, but instead it didn't seem to matter to her too much. Love or hate her, good or bad reputation, right or wrong method, what was most important was results, results that she endeavored to try and achieve efficiently and in accordance with the conditions she was given upon taking the job. Naturally, the delivery of supplies wasn't something that came from her, and the 'barrels of wine' were naturally empty to support passengers while the others were a part of the delivery from the start. There's no doubt others would have documentation about what they were receiving while other deliveries wouldn't have been written, this was how Hades intended to lend her hand initially. Upon hearing the collective find the idea unsatisfying though, Hades stiffened briefly. As if provoked, it might seem as if she'd lash out, others might have, some would perhaps even be suspicious that she would given the lengths she tried to go to to make this happen.

Instead though, after that brief pause, her eyes closed to a half lid in thought. "There is a problem with barrels then? Bags might have been better, but the ledger would have become messier... Would Crates have been more appropriate? Or perhaps a false bottom on the carriage?" She tried to muse without shame since they were opposed, she wanted to know the reason why for future jobs so that she might provide a better service in the future; What was essentially a survey tried to be conveyed quickly since it seemed they were ready to leave but Atticus's words resonated only leading to more confusion. "Hm, these are all overly emotional responses, I can't understand where you might feel professionalism is left lacking after going through all of these efforts." She answered rather surprised that anyone might consider her to lack professionalism since she felt she'd been rather thorough. If she was oblivious to anything, it would be the fact that something like trust, instinct or even agree-ability was an issue for them. None of which had ever really motivated Hades in the past, though she could in some ways understand how it motivated others, to the extent that they'd turn down what she felt was a perfectly good plan only added to the confusion.

"Mm... A Mortal quirk perhaps. I'll have to ask about it when I return." She murmured before trying to rise back up from her seat as well since the meeting seemed to be concluded. She reached out for her cloak trying to bundle herself back up to get out to the wagon, it seemed that she wasn't needed, but she was uncertain just how worthwhile her efforts were if they wouldn't use her as a means of entry. "This employer, a strange one." She added before she began to make her own preparations since it seems they'd be moving separately.

 

Bera de Búrca

As he proceeded through the door the words of the woman would shout out to him as he stopped dead in his tracks and closed his eyes. Clenching his fists to a shake, "I know when things are headed the wrong direction, I can sense it. I've always been able to... This plan of yours beckons failure to me, something that isn't a choice at this point. I feel hope in what we are doing, and it has come crashing down at the words that have been laid on the table to you. It's churned my stomach to a whirlpool, honestly." He'd look back to the Goddess, "Do Gods even fear death? Surely, a God such as yourself has seen the fear of those that have fallen. Yet, for one reason or another, you're willing to send these very same faces that are before you to a life in the Underworld. Tch." He'd suck his teeth before letting his head drag back forward. "I fear death... it makes me strive to grow stronger, it drives me to defeat the odds. Though, they're not odds to you... they're just loose ends." He'd continue to walk out of the room. His words would reach out with a very chilling sting to them, the crisp words would roll smoothly from his mouth as his hands steadily shook in pressing anger at his side.

His name would be called out to as Jack seemed to follow suit with him, feeling the same discomfort that Bera felt inside his stomach. A slight smirk would reach to his face. "We're wasting time then." He'd state as he came to a short pause in his pace before continuing on again outside. As he'd get there, he'd look back on his previous words as he lit a stick rolled in a thin paper stuff with a brown substance the people called "tobacco". It was this toxic leaf that had an addictive trait to it, but without he felt utterly motionless and useless. He had grown to not know what life was out without the substance, and it often drew people to walk away.

Bera looked over to Jack glancing him up and down. "You didn't grab that bottle?"

♚ BERA ♚

== @Hades ==
== @Jack Anders ==
== @Atticus Usur ==​

 

Atticus felt like a champion for being able to hold his tongue in the presence of the maddening bitch Hades. Before he could take a celebratory swig, however, he thought that maybe it this triumphant feeling just meant that the screwed in the head Khaos had gotten inside his head from overexposing him to her antics. Shaking away the awful thought, Atticus put a grin on his face as he followed his former colleague, Jack, and the new addition to their two-man duo out.

“Well then,” he said, pausing briefly to grab someone’s cloak that was hung up on the wall near the ground floor entrance, “let’s get started. Do you what you do best, Jack, infiltrate the compound and give us a way in that doesn’t involve a barrel or anything resembling a container, huh? Also I don’t know why our contractor hired you, carrot top, but I assume your job is to kill people. Let’s just do that.” Atticus gave Bera slight pats on the shoulder before he opened the door and emerged from the tiny entrance where he had to lean down, otherwise he would have hit his head.

Although the rain and wind were ferocious when he arrived, it seemed the worst part of the storm had passed. Little did Atticus knew what seemed like a normal rainstorm would turn into something incredibly monstrous in a day. If he had some kind of ability to look into the future, Atticus would have bought himself something that is much better at shielding him from the storm.

Without a signal from the other two, Atticus headed toward the garrison. Although he would have liked a swig of the strong drink to keep his innards warm on the lengthy walk, he had a strict policy to never drink before a job as it was bad luck.

 

Bera de Búrca

Bera puffed from his nostrils looking to Atticus that seemed to be barking orders at the two. He didn't know where this sense of leadership came from with the guy, but he'd bite his tongue on that for now. He would much rather like to touch on the little pronoun that was used instead of his name, the thing the guy originally asked for then blatantly dodged using. What was the point in knowing who he was if he wasn't going to call him by that name? Sheesh. Not to mention little names like this seemed to dig at him, his hair was always the focal point of every joke that was sent his way, it got old, but it never set with him right. He'd never grow used to something like disrespecting his name or anything else that he couldn't help having. After all, he'd decide not to make any remarks about it and just take his small little pat on his arm and act as though nothing had happened. "Right." He'd say before they'd carry on.

During the journey there, Bera would hang toward the back. Letting the two chummier ones lead the way. He didn't feel comfortable standing between the two or even in front of the two, so he'd decide on the rear. He'd be able to watch the shady duo better from here, anyway. It wouldn't take the group too terribly long to make their way to a good place to get inside. Bera would watch as Jack flung a grappling hook up to the top of the wall that he had planned for them all to scale. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at the idea of approaching this from the top level, but then again the next best thing was those damn barrels. He wasn't going to be doing any of that, that was for sure.

Following suit, he'd wait for Jack to get to the top to not put too much faith into the structure of the building. Once Jack was up he'd go ahead and make his way to the top, hand over hand as he'd let his feet softly land against the surface of the building. He'd make his way up as fast as he could, without making much of a sound, that is. When he'd get to the top he'd regroup with Jack and wait on Atticus before noticing they'd have a decent amount of time to make their next move.

((I'm not sure what I'm looking at here, the use of the word girth distracted me from further progressing. I was thinking big rectangular building before, now I'm thinking more of a fortress. I'm not sure.))

♚ BERA ♚

==
== @Jack Anders ==
== @Atticus Usur ==​

 

Atticus encountered some difficulty in scaling the tower due to the awful rain obstructing his upward vision and made the rope all slippery. Through a lot of heaving and internal curses, the blonde finally managed to get himself up without falling flat on the ground like a fool. After they had arrived at the peak of the westernmost tower attached to the fortress Atticus checked out their surroundings, marveling this impressive structure that seemingly had been built to stop an invading army. It was rather uncharacteristic for it to be so secured. However, he figured its construction must have been influenced by a war-nut of a god somewhere. Fortunately, they weren’t amid wartime, so the garrisoning troop was a bit lax on security. If a god of war had sponsored this fortress, what kind of crook would mess with it anyways?

After Atticus had finished his pleasure viewing of the slum in the distance, he hopped down from the stony vantage point and took a short walk down the stairs before he knocked on the wooden door next to the tower; it looked as though it was the only way into the tower. If the garrison is anything like those he had been in before, then they would have needed to go down the tower, before they could get into the fortress’ interior. At that point in time, he had no idea where the prisoners are kept and would like it if they didn’t end up walking right into the enemy’s dining hall. After several loud knocks, the door finally bust open as a cranky guard barked at Atticus, “What do you want Weiss? It hasn’t even been 30 minutes, and you wanna switch already? Hey, who the he—!!!” Before the portly guard could finish his sentence, however, Atticus had already run his long dagger over the man’s throat. He then slowly lowered the guard down to the floor and maimed his tendons in both arms so he can’t prolong his death while drowning in his own blood.

Right then, footsteps could be heard approaching them. It appeared to be the man the dying guard referred to as Weiss. “H-hey, what the fuck?!!!” he screamed when he saw his co-worker gurgling on the floor. He immediately turned around and bolted the other direction across the walkway that led to the eastern tower.

• In my head, it is a fortress. From my description, it's a giant building with four circular towers sticking out from each of the corner. We're up on the roof right now, it seemed that there is a small walkway between each of the tower. The tower goes up further as well, it's where the guards go to access the vantage point.

 

Letting their third accompaniment handle the runaway guard, Atticus quickly pulled the door between them to a close, cutting off the heavy wind and rain splattering against his attire and face. “For a second there, I thought you were going to tell me to strip off the guard’s equipment and put it on. This may be a discrete mission, but I don’t take kindly to such thoughtless strategy,” Atticus formed a smirk as he grabbed a cloth nearby and wiped the blood off his short sword, making sure it is nice and clean before he stuffed the cloth into the sealed crate. Although putting on a disguise to navigate the prison would have been the more efficient choice, it wasn’t Atticus modus operandi. He was good at killing; he was certain their employer hired him for what he’s good at, not to do something that was Jack’s specialty.

“Let’s go, we have people to kill and prisoners to free, time's a-wasting,” Atticus said. With quick strides, he marched to the other side of the room and opened the door that led into a stairwell. Descending the flight of stairs, Atticus arrived at a smaller room similar to the one above. The moment he saw another guard reclining his head against the back of the chair, dozing off, Atticus approached him without wasting so much as a breath and snapped the guard’s neck, instantly killing him. Then, he dragged the lifeless body toward a barrel in the room and stuffed the corpse into the container. While the body was a snug fit, for the most part, the arm made it a challenge to close the lid completely. If anyone were to look extra carefully, they would be able to see a glimpse of a hand. He couldn’t be bothered to perform a quick fix, however, as it would have dirtied his blade.

“Now then… do your thing, Jackie, where do we need to go?” Atticus said without looking at his companion. To pass the time, Atticus grabbed the seat the chair the guard was sleeping on and took a seat, crossing his legs as he began reading what looked like a diary of some sort. “Wendy felt amazing, I couldn't believe how good a woman could make me feel, she's certainly different than the others… I need to thank Adde’s for his recommendation sometimes, and perhaps recommend it to the rest of my unit…” he trailed off as a smirk docked his face, eventually giving way to a guffaw, “that good, huh? Maybe I’ll give Wendy a visit after the mission to see if this guy’s telling the truth.”