“Is all of the town like this?” Soune asked through furrowed brows and a raised mug.
“Like what?” Gress responded, absentmindedly picking at a sweet pastry.
“So…old, and quiet.” She gestured around, they were sitting at a wrought iron table on uncomfortable, matching seats outside of a small brick-built bakery. Soune tried, and failed, to remember the last time she’d seen such a display of antiquity. It was a far cry from cramped mess halls, vending machines and ration packs.
She didn’t mind it. Though the image of the packed tent camps outside King’s ironworks compared to the vacant town bothered her.
“Maybe it's just new and loud out there.” The Splinter mumbled, focusing back onto his novel. Her mug, half emptied of instant coffee, scraped nastily against the metal table, a filigree pattern hardly a solid surface for their breakfast. Alongside her coffee, a sandwich of pickled and shredded vegetables on fresh bread, just the few bites she’d had were overwhelming compared to the bland meals she’d grown accustomed to.
“Maybe…” She answered, leaning back in the chair to look around. Her options were pretty open, she could just run for the gate - she was confident she’d win again if Gress tried to stop her. She wasn’t restrained in any way, feeling more free as a prisoner here than she had outside in years. She’d still failed a job, and would have to deal with the consequences eventually. For now, coffee and breakfast seemed like a better alternative. “This place is nice.” She continued.
“For now, you people are pushing for that to change.” A gold glare shifted towards her.
“...It’s just a job. Nothing personal.” Gress huffed and rolled his shoulder uncomfortably.
“I’m really sick of hearing that…” It was a good time and chance for a subject change, and if Soune was smarter about it, she would’ve taken it. Instead, she leaned forward on an arm to confront the Splinter.
“Maybe it is personal, actually, because I’ve got the running theory that this place is barren and frozen because of you.” Old habits of stirring aggression weren't met with a challenge, but a defeated sigh.
“It’s not a theory, that’s it. People who come here either don’t know about me or are here because of me. Either way, they’re turned away. Until recently anyway, now it’s a hotspot for suits .” He looked at his pastry with disgust. “You and your band are just a wave of muscle…I don’t know the details very well, but do you even know what’s going on with them?”
Soune shrugged, she hadn’t given it much thought. Hadn’t really wanted to.
“One side wants to tear the place down and kick us all out to make a…road or something. Everything around you, wrecked and burned for that.” He paused for emphasis, letting Soune’s eyes wander around the ramshackle town, admiring the sullen beauty of it. “And the other wants to keep it as is, which seems fine but…” Soune noticed the tension in his jaw.
“...Comes back to you then, doesn’t it?” She finished, gently sighing at Gress’ tight nod.
“Either way. If they get what they want. I’m out and at the mercy of either the wilds or damned Shoulders…So, I decided.” Gress turned his gaze flat to Soune, forcing as much quiet threat into his voice as he could. “I’m not leaving, nobody is. We’re staying here if I have to fight off dozens more like you.”
Soune huffed a laugh at the audacity, and Gress winced back.
“Sorry, sorry but. You already lost to me. And sad to say I'm not exactly the peak of what the companies can organise.” Gress deflated into his seat, shifting uncomfortably. “...I’m sorry to say, Gress, but this isn’t a fight you can win. And thinking you can, well.” She waited for him to see her stern, serious features. “It’s naive. And selfish, how many people will get hurt in the crossfire?”
“I know…I know.” Gress trailed off, looking at the worn, distant fence of the town. Fingers gripped white into the gaps of the metal table. “...What other choice do I have? This is my home. They won’t just take it from me.”
“...I’ve lost my home before, not really the same situation but. I can tell you, it hurts.” Soune couldn’t bring herself to eat anymore, a deep ill-feeling had swelled in her gut. She’d hoped that a harsh dose of truth might help the Splinter or unravel more of the mystery around him, instead he just looked close to breaking down. Soune cleared her throat, adjusting the sleeve of her coat.
“...If you got an offer to kill yourself to save those friends of yours. Would you take it?” He asked flatly.
“Not a chance.” Soune responded in a snap, not giving the question any real thought.
“No hesitation huh? And you say I’m selfish.” Distaste pulled his lips down.
“Self-preservation isn’t selfish…” Soune shook off creeping thoughts ready to argue the opposite, bringing unwelcome memories with them. “This some kind of weird hypothetical game?”
“No.” Gress produced a card from his cloak, Am-Ray branding and a frequency number. “The way he put it…I give myself up, everyone else lives.”
Soune paused for a bit, chewing the inside of her lip in thought. She was beginning to notice the Splinter’s tendency to leave out key details in his sentences, the who’s and why’s. It was getting annoying.
“Why don’t you just leave?” She said, a little snappier than intended.
“What?” Gress baulked back.
“Well, if you’ll die from this-” Soune flicked the card back over to him. “-That’s out of the question. But if the problem with the ones wanting to keep the town is you being here…well, I know what I'd do.”
“It’s not that simple!” It was his turn to be snippy.
“Why not?”
“Because, the ones that want to tear it all down, Seere, they’ve got a lot more weight in their deal.” His eyes didn’t leave the dirt floor. “...that deal’s the only way Am-Ray has the support to match Seere. I leave by myself, everybody else loses.”
Soune made a mental note, Seere wants the town gone, Scirocco was here with Seere before. Am-Ray wants it preserved, but doesn’t have standing in the deal without Gress as an ante. She blew out a sharp breath.
“...Rough.”
“Yeah…” Gress agreed.
“Shame too, with your tricks, you’d make a pretty good Stranger.”
“What’s that?” Gress asked, turning his attention back to Soune.
“What wanderers do for work, like a…freelancer, you go roaming around the world, stopping by towns and cities, helping out where and who you can. Getting paid pretty well for it too.”
Gress paused, twisting his head in contemplation.
“So a mercenary.”
“You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to. Pick your own jobs.” Soune smirked seeing a flash of interest and light in the Splinter.
“That doesn’t sound so bad, actually, and that’s what you are?”
“Not yet, I got trapped in a bad deal, I’ve got one more year of work under King.”
“How long have you been working for him?”
“About four years now.”
“Four years of muscling people out of their homes?” His tone turned sharp, she caught the chilling gold glare over her cup.
“...Four years of doing whatever I could to survive. Some of us don’t have entire towns at our backs.” The sides of Gress’ lip-lines parted, sharp canines flickering into realspace.
The staredown was gratefully interrupted by the Baker coming up to the table. He left a large paper bag in front of Gress, then pointed at Soune’s breakfast, she looked up incredulously at the man.
The Baker turned and gestured signs to Gress. “He wants to know why you didn’t finish your food.” Soune’s eyes snapped to the large, puffy scar across his jugular. “Didn’t you like it?”
“No, no it was good. I’m just not that hungry.” She nodded thanks and forced a smile at the baker, letting the interaction lower her temper. He didn’t seem convinced. “...It’s the best food I've had in years, and much better coffee than the old lady.” The baker stepped back in faux shock, running a zipping motion over his lips. His chest heaved in a silent laugh, Gress joined it, and Soune was dragged into the chuckling. More signs.
“He says thanks, by the way.” Gress added, and the baker nodded to agree.
“No worries…Sorry but, I don’t have any cash on me.” A double handed gesture, No.
“We don’t charge within the town, just look after each other.” Gress added, a slight edge added back, making sure that Soune was aware of what she was working to undo.
“...Oh.” She held out a hand, offering a shake as a means of payment. The Baker warmly took it, seeing her and Gress off with a nod.
“...Alright, let’s get this to the docs.” Gress awkwardly tried to wrap his good arm around the packed bag of bread and pastries. Soune stood up and over, taking it in her arms. “...Thanks.” Gress muttered, rubbing at his bad shoulder.
“Don’t mention it, let’s just get moving.”
Away from the earshot of the bakery, Soune risked the question. Curiosity burning at her.
“Hey, the baker…What happened to his neck?”
Gress paused midstep, bringing the woman’s attention to him. He forced a tight smile. The afflicted arm snaked out from the part in his cloak, sharp claws offering a meek wave.
“...Oh.” Soune pursed her lips, she so desperately wanted to ask and unravel the mystery of the town, but it hardly seemed like the right time. So many questions about the town, about him. Chief amongst which was two simple words.
What happened?
“...He never held it against me. He was one of the first ones to come to my side actually.” Gress retracted his arm, a pained but genuine smile spread out. “Would’ve starved if not for him…The funny part is. I don’t even know his name, nobody does. He just shrugs it off if anyone asks. And anyone who knew won’t tell.” He turned to Soune, smiling wider after seeing her perplexion.
“Ingram town, centre of secrets.” He finished.
Soune snorted a laugh, it turned Gress’ smile into his own share of confusion.
“What’s so funny about that?”
“Nothing. Just…irony. The secret centre of secrets is losing its secrecy, huh?” She dropped her amusement, realising how poorly that might’ve come across. To her relief, Gress was cackling beside her. Something caught her ear in it, deep under the tired, low laughter, the slight, shrill ringing of fine glass. So quiet and dulled, so light.
“Yeah…I guess it is.”
Both Gress and Soune felt a similar worry at the sight.
“Hm.” They grunted in near unison, the empty handcuffs were neatly arranged on the waiting room lounge.
“Should I be concerned?” Genuine worry was in Gress’ tone.
“A little…I don’t think she’d do anything stupid like start another fight, especially alone…probably. Her stuff is still locked away in the station right?” Soune had set down the bag, investigating the cuffs. Red scuffs and torn skin were visible on the inside, she’d certainly put up a struggle against them before whatever released the locks.
“Well yeah but-” Gress finished his point by gesturing to the unlocked cuffs.
“...Good point. You’ll have to tell Eleanor later…”
“You do it.” He said, a rare hard edge to the snap. She side-eyed the Splinter, he was tense. Good time to back off. Staying on his good side seemed like the best course of action for now.
“Alright…well, like I said. She isn’t stupid enough to pick an unwinnable fight…” The trailing off didn’t inspire confidence in Gress, despite the hidden and unintentional compliment. “Anyway, in here?” She asked, turning her head towards a door, Gress hummed in confirmation, Soune gathered the food before heading towards it.
“Are you coming in? She asked Gress.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” He was staring at the cuffs still.
Soune shrugged at the response. “Whatever, your choice.” She elbowed the door handle open.
Soune breathed out heavy relief as Razgrith sat up, they met each other’s smiles. Raz held a finger to their lips, gesturing to the snoring man in the bed close by.
She was expecting it, but seeing Antonio suspended on his side, the extent of his injuries made clear by the folded wheelchair ready beside his bed. The warmth from seeing Raz upright was quickly stamped out into frigid dread.
“...Hey, Silver.” Raz whispered out, calling Soune’s attention to them.
“Raz.” Soune nodded, trying to keep her features tight. Raz turned their gaze to the other bed.
“I know he’s alive but...I can’t see from here, and the Doctor won’t tell me…” The question was clear. Soune sighed, setting the bag of still-warm bread down. The wheelchair beside the bed gave her a clear indication. She gently shook her head, Raz choked out a tight whimper. They took a few, bleak moments to steady themselves.
“...you see that monitor there?” Raz nodded at the device beside Antonio, stuttering out a broken image. “It’s been driving me crazy… just blinking out garbage.”
Soune stared at the machine too, silently engaging.
“Simple fix too I'd bet. It’s on and off, so there must be a bad connection or wire… I could fix it.”
“I’m sure you could, Sparky Raz can fix anything, right?” Soune tried to turn to her friend with a smirk, a frail attempt to lighten the mood. Her smirk dropped, seeing the trembling in their face, their eyes no longer on Soune or the monitor.
“Not anymore. Can’t fix anything from here. Just stuck looking at it, broken and waiting to be repaired…”
Soune shifted uncomfortably next to the device. The sputtering inconsistent image was annoying her too. It would be an easy fix even for her middling grasp on electronics, but the daunting tubes and cables snaking between the display and Antonio made her reconsider.
“I can fix it. In my own way. The mechanical way.” She said, then waited for Razgrith’s tearing eyes to meet hers. Raz chuckled as Soune turned the screen away from them.
“Much better, thanks.” Raz laid back on the cot, staring at the ceiling. “...The Splinter was here last night.” Raz started in an anxious rush. Soune stiffened, unsure what to make of that. “...Have you met him yet? Properly.”
“Yeah, we had breakfast.” Raz laughed quiet and weakly, then went wide eyed when they saw Soune was dead serious.
“...What do you think?”
“He’s bloody weird. But, kinda knew that from last night.”
“Yeah…” Raz agreed, looking back at the ceiling, then back to Antonio.
“...Hey Silver.”
“Yeah?” Soune asked, busy divvying up the bread.
“...I think I like this town.”
Dread silence hung between them. The ticking of the wall clock tempting them to break the silence.
“That’s a pretty quick change of tune.” Soune said, trying to force indifference.
“Well, so far it’s made a good impression. It’s quiet, and even though we started the fight. They’ve treated us well, the Splinter too…King wouldn’t have helped us like this, especially Tonio.” They winced, imagining what’d happen if the tables were turned. The word ‘Cull’ came to mind.
“...We have a job to do, Razgrith.” Soune forced out.
“Do we? You and Kirche maybe but…we’re done, Soune.” Their hand reached over and traced gentle circles over Tonio’s.
“...If we finish, you and Antonio will still get paid.”
“I don’t want it. I don’t want his damned money anymore…I’m tired of it. Fighting and killing for him, and for what? The privilege to do it all again tomorrow.” They inhaled shakily, having thought of what to say was one thing, venting it another.
“Me too, but I’ve still got a year to go of work, then I’m free. I can’t mess up here!” Soune’s chest was starting to beat hard, anger building with nowhere to go.
“I know, you’re still locked in your own contract, but what's keeping you there though? Why not just leave?”
“Because my home is in his damned territory, I need to get it back…” King, that’s where the anger deserved to go, but couldn’t. The King. The untouchable, invincible King that held her life on a sheet of paper.
“You can always start a new home.” They smiled weakly at Tonio. “That’s what we’re going to have to do…”
“It’s my home! He won’t take it from me!” Soune barked, then realised what she was saying. “...Fucksakes.”
“What?” Raz asked, raising themselves on their elbows.
“Nothing…” Soune breathed deep, recentering herself. A spark of an idea came to her, a bad, terrible idea, it faltered against the stone wall of logic. “...I can’t stop here, Raz. I’m too close to the end to breach the contract and lose it all. Everything I’ve done under him, it can’t have been for nothing.”
Razgrith didn’t respond, meeting Soune with apathy.
“...Six. I’ve killed six people for King. If I give up now. Six people died for nothing.” Soune simmered, working to shut out the encroaching guilt. Even if four of them came from a moment of exploited rage, and two from separate moments of self-defence, six lives ended for him.
“That’s it? I’m at nine, It would’ve been ten if things went differently last night…well, whatever works out for you, I can’t stop you.” They laid back on the cot, turning their head away from Soune, ruminating on their own sins.
She sighed, rubbing her neck under the scarf. Silently, she took a warm loaf from the bag and placed it beside Razgrith. Her friend didn’t look back.
“...What could I change if I wanted to, Raz? It’s beyond us. We were just the outriders here. We might as well make the most of it.” Soune loathed the words, not nearly as much as herself in that moment for speaking them.
“I always thought of us more like gears...” Raz knew she’d fill the gaps and left Soune simmering on the metaphor. Before she could open her mouth to haul more excuses and reasons to her friend, the door opened to the small ward.
Doctor Bedan loudly cleared his throat. Nasally voice drawling with command.
“Whoever that is, you best not be upsetting my patients.” He looked up from a clipboard, a soured, miserable face pulling further downwards at the sight of Soune. “You...Come here.” He beckoned her over with a wretched finger. She tightly obeyed, keeping herself tense and ready to either fight or run.
Bedan gently closed the door behind her, looking at the woman with sunken, dull eyes, rife with bitterness. She met his scowl with her own, parted lips showing a thin line of gritted teeth.
“What a savage look…how uncouth.”
“You wanna see uncouth? Wha?-Don’t TOUCH ME!” Soune hit the thin hand away from her face, not before it had pulled at the skin under her eye. Bedan sighed deeply.
“No contacts. Roots don’t show signs of dye. I was hoping I was wrong but, this is what became of the Argent child is it? A hired thug? What a disappointment.” An icy spike pinned Soune in place, he casually strode past her.
“Pedigree reduced to an attack mutt. That’s the legacy she left?” He added over his shoulder.
The door closed with a soft thud, leaving her alone. Stunned with shock, shame and self-hatred.
“...Doctor Bedan’s bedside manner is…rough.” Gress piped up from a nearby seat, cross legged and tight lipped. ”...Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” A too-curt response. Gress turned his head slightly. There was that furrow to his brow that she could only see as pity. Worse than that, the sneer. The ugly, wide sneer of the Splinter lines.
“Don’t fucken’ look at me like that.” She fumed, Gress’ brow just turned further downwards. She sighed, and stormed out and away from the surgery. Gress considered following her, then smartly decided against pursuing the volatile woman.
