28 – Tuesday is Always Like This…
“Gonna skinny you”… this is… I almost laughed out loud, this is bad. Maintain a straight face, maintain it, it’s not even that funny…
Crow exhaled through his nose, annoyed, struggling not to laugh. He’d had about 4 hours of sleep and probably lost half his blood volume. “Yeah... it’s party time.”
Then raised his hand, palm up, and beckoned with a repetitive curl of his fingers. “Come on then, all of you. Let’s make this fast.”
The biggest man put his knife flat on the bar.
TUNK.
“You. Talk too much.” He approached Crow a little, then continued. “You’re asking to die, forastero.”
Crow raised his hand toward the bartender without looking away from the crowd. “Another bottle.”
The bartender sighed again, longer this time, and threw it.
Crow caught it.
The men moved forward half a step.
Crow raised both bottles, one at each side.
The thinnest one, who’d said he was gonna “skinny” Crow approached him fast, baring his teeth. “Then come, hero!”
CRACK.
The bottle exploded against his head. He dropped to the wooden floor instantly. Guess his “skinny” time was up.
Crow took one step forward.
One guy in the background shouted, “You picked the wrong tavern, fool!” The man who was drinking stood up and came straight in, knife high…
CRACK.
The bottle caught his wrist, the knife spun away, clattered somewhere.
Another guy tried the left side in the meantime. “I’ve got you—”
THUD.
Crow’s elbow drove into his sternum and the man sat down hard, all his air gone at once and he vomited something colorful.
Another thin guy lunged quickly from behind.
SHING.
The blade grazed Crow’s ear, close enough to feel the air.
“Almost,” Crow said, turning his head without hurrying. “You guys really need to eat more, and drink less—”
The thin one who’d tried to backstab him took a few steps back, looking at his friends and nodding to the ones still standing; then, he charged. “Die forastero!”
Crow kicked the chair.
BAM.
It caught the thin man in the knee, and he stumbled, swearing something.
The two guys that were still standing looked at each other, and whispered something.
Crow tapped what was left of the bottle against his palm. “You were so enthusiastic thirty seconds ago…”
One of them swallowed. “You’re not... normal.”
“So you guys are the normal ones?” Crow shrugged. “Maybe you guys need some manual head fixing.”
The thinnest man woke up and forced himself back to his feet, rage overriding whatever sense he’d had to begin with. “I-I am done playing! You coward, you caught me off guard! Now I’ll truly SKINNY YOU!” He pulled another knife from his pocket along with a vial of purple liquid, coating the blade in one swift motion. Then, he drew a second flask—this one wrapped in cloth to hide its color—and downed it.
“Just to confirm…” Crow said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Your gang is named… The Skinn—”
The man charged with everything he had.
Crow raised the broken bottle. “Jackpot.”
CRACK.
A few minutes later, Sharon came down the stairs rubbing her eyes. “Crow...” She looked around the room. “...what is this? It’s worse than last night.”
He was holding a big guy by the collar, the last member of the gang still conscious. The man stared at her, but the moment she yawned and revealed her fangs, he passed out, dangling limply in his grip.
Crow looked at her and sighed. “Yeah, somehow things ended this way...”
THUD.
The man hit the floor.
Sharon stared at the landscape of dazed bodies. “...You genuinely cannot go five minutes without starting something.”
Crow made a doubtful expression. “What are you talking about?” He pointed at the bartender and continued. “They started it.”
“I didn’t start anything,” the bartender said.
Sharon pressed her hand to her face. “Fine, let’s go before anyone else wakes up.”
Crow turned back to the bartender, now with an empty expression. “Hold on. You owe me some information, remember?”
The bartender froze. “Okay, okay. Look, before the whole thing, about that guy, right… I already knew. He’s been hitting locations all over the city. Right now he’s hunting a rival gang, the Sons of Grandma. In the east quarter, probably.” He pointed in the wrong direction.
NOOOOOO! Sons of Grandma??? Are you kidding me… Calm down… yeah, it’s fine, I don’t want to see that hidden boss… right… right, I just need to find the guy and leave… yeah, let’s just leave the hidden scenario to the hero, it’s not worth it.
Sharon glanced at Crow, his expression completely blank, and she gave him a small signal with her head, pointing to the door.
“Wait, we need to look into that…” he said, turning his gaze toward the bartender again. “I think you need to do something in the back… no?”
The guy didn’t respond; he just headed out the back door.
Crow took a chair from one of the tables that survived the party. “Come here, I’m going to check you…”
Sharon took a few steps closer to him, but she didn’t sit; for some reason, she stood in front of him. “Right… I forgot about that, but I am better now, make it quick…”
He stared at her for a while.
***
[Status]
Name: Sharon Von Hollowfar
Condition: Sleepy and… something.
Level: 99 probably.
***
What? Why does she have the same surname as the Queen? Hey sage, why is the condition saying something instead of the problem, and why is her level “99 probably?” Are you kidding me now? I don’t have time for games.
[Too many questions, son. You looked both girls in the face and still don’t know why they have the same surname? Are you blind? And you think I can see the outside world easily? Most of the time I just feel the mana, bro, I am trapped, remember? How would I know her condition, or what she has inside of her? Give me a break...]
Look who’s talking back now. You said I looked both of them in the face and still didn’t get it, but then you just said you can’t even see out here, and I’m the one who’s blind? Right… maybe I’ll just sell you to someone. Yeah, that sounds much better.
[Whoooaaa, take it easy, I said only the truth… I can’t tell what she has, but her mana is draining slowly, I can feel something strange in her core, maybe she ate lavender or something like that, I don’t know, just leave this place soon and she will be fine, her mana is more stable now… I think she’s poisoned; and about the girls’ faces… I do know them, but that’s a long story, better left for another time.]
Sharon tilted a little to the side and covered her chest with her arms in an X position again, her face becoming reddish. “W-why are you s-staring so much without saying a word…”
“Sharon… did you, er… eat something strange? Apparently your mana is being drained because of something you ate… maybe?”
Still in her X pose, she responded, “No, the only thing I ate was you—cough… no, I don’t remember eating… anything strange.” She averted her eyes and stepped back.
He stood up from his chair and started walking straight in her direction.
Sharon tensed as she inclined backwards. “W-what?”
Crow walked right past her; as he reached the door, he said, “Let’s go. It will be better if we find that guy and leave before you feel worse.”
If it works out… one more person to help against the Hero would be a game changer; the Hero is too strong and will only become stronger; better safe than sorry.
“Berthold,” Sharon said automatically, already moving behind him. “I’ll try to contact him so we can meet near the clock tower and leave together...”
This girl…
They stepped out of the tavern into the back alley and stopped.
Crow didn’t need to think much before saying, “Sharon... enough talk about splitting up. I don’t know; let’s just forget about that guy, Bartolu, or whatever his name is, and go together. We already know a bit about what’s happening in this city; if we recruit the troublemaker, it’ll already be worth it; with your condition, let’s take the safer way.”
Sharon looked at him. “I understand. However, while you were asleep, a teleportation spell was used to send a letter to our room at the tavern. Since the magic was directed at me, and Berthold doesn’t possess that kind of ability, it means he has already found the information guild and gathered the information he was looking for. So, if you don’t find this troublemaker, I can just get that information from Berthold and we can all go together. We still have one day before the Inquisitors arrive in the city.”
Crow approached her and walked past, stopping a few paces ahead before speaking. “Sharon, you might think I’m paranoid, but I’ve survived this long by avoiding unnecessary risks. Honestly, if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t do this. But I’ll admit… if it goes well, your plan would settle everything in just a few hours. So, let’s do this: if something goes wrong, just stick to what we agreed on before, alright?”
Sharon nodded with a faint, confident smile. “Fair enough, Crow. I’ll see you at the clock tower then. Don’t be late.”
She turned on her heel and headed in the opposite direction.
Why was she so insistent on going there... She’s weakened, poisoned, and still decided to split up. The guys here aren’t that good, so I can handle my side easily, but Sharon... she was acting strange, like the poison was making her lose her mind or something. I need to head to that place fast, recruit the hidden character, and get back to her. Yeah, this is the only way… To be honest, I can feel this is gonna be bad, but I didn’t have much choice. She said the clock tower, but I don’t remember her saying where she would find that Bartolu guy. If she actually finds him, at least she won’t be alone if things go wrong. Never mind, I just have to trust her and do my part for now… Like I would do that.
Sharon was almost leaving the dark alley when… “C-Crow??? What are you doing?”
“Change of plans… I am not a genius, but I am not that dumb either, if I leave you here, you might die today, remember all the fights in this city… this place… something is very wrong here, and you are not in good shap—”
“O-ok, ok, you can r-release your hand now…” she said, looking at the floor, her hood hiding her face.
The way she is talking… yeah, I was right… she is really in bad shape.
Crow released her hand. “Let’s go together, if the guy isn’t in this tavern, I will go with you, and we’ll leave this place, better safe than sorry.”
Crow continued down the path, Sharon following right next to him. After leaving the alley near the tavern where the lunatics had tried to “skinny” him, they entered the territory of their rival gang. Things felt a little different in this new area. Maybe it was just the atmosphere, the vibes?
This brings back old memories… Yeah, I don’t need to think about it, this is the right place… the guy did a good job… Or should I say a bad job?
He stopped at the end of the alley, almost reaching another main street, in front of the destination. “Sharon, stay here. I will enter the tavern and confirm the situation; if the guy really is there, being alone will be easier. If things go wrong and he escapes, just try to stop him. I will try to convince him that we aren’t his enemies.”
She was silent for a moment. “Fine, I will wait here.”
Crow approached the ruined tavern. The place was riddled with holes and nearly falling apart, with countless stone fragments scattered across the floor. The swinging doors were partially destroyed; he pushed the left one, as the right was already off its hinges. That wasn’t all that lay on the floor, though; inside there were bodies and blood everywhere.
Crow saw one guy in the bar.
No, it’s not the guy I’m looking for, he’s too different, and where is the bulky figure? It’s not a butterfly effect, right? And the hidden character is one of the dead ones on the ground…
He addressed the man in the chair, who was nursing a drink. “Did you do all this? Some moderation is good, you know.”
Seated there was the masked man. Broad shoulders, some hide clothes torn and stained with blood. He looked like someone waiting for something. A bottle in his hand, dripping wine onto the red-stained floor.
The man took a bit too long to turn, clearly aiming for a dramatic effect. “No. I was only here when it happened... Tuesdays are always like this.”
Oooooh, really? This guy is nuts. He’s covered in blood, but it’s obvious it isn’t his…
The masked man calmly set the bottle on the bar’s edge.
Crow stepped over a piece of broken chair and kept his eyes on the guy. The mask covered everything above the jaw. The jaw itself didn’t give much away either. “You’re the one tearing this city apart, right?”
“Tearing apart.” The masked man turned the phrase over. “Generous of you.”
Maybe it’s the right guy, how he is too different... maybe because it’s not a game anymore.
“I have a proposal.”
The masked man was quiet for a moment. Then: “What kind of proposal walks into a room full of bodies and decides now is the best time?”
“The kind that can’t wait when the inquisitors roll in tomorrow.”
Silence.
The masked man turned fully. Crow felt the weight of the look even through the mask.
“You’re not from here, are you?” the man asked.
“No.”
“Then how do you know about the inquisitors?”
Crow didn’t answer fast enough.
The masked man stood up. He wasn’t tall in any remarkable way. He just occupied the room differently when he was on his feet. The broken furniture near him was giving some vibes.
“Who sent you?” he asked while adjusting his mask.
“Nobody you know.”
“Then maybe I don’t need to hear about the proposal.”
Crow recognized the tone wasn’t exactly anger; the guy was definitely putting on a little pressure, probably to check if he’d step back.
But Crow didn’t. “You can ignore me…” Crow said while taking a step forward. “But ignoring the inquisitors is a bad idea, they will come here tomorrow. And the offer is really good. What do you think? New job, some allies, maybe it’ll help you out.”
The masked man touched the edge of his mask with two fingers, adjusted the angle slightly. “Fine. Talk.”
The man moved his coat a little, and a revolver was visible there.
Crow didn’t wait. “Didn’t know there were revolvers in this place.”
The man twitched and stopped walking. Something shifted in his posture, a tremor, brief and controlled. “Then you’re with them… Whoever I’m hunting used one of these on me before. You’re going to tell me more about it...”
The first shot cracked through the room.
Crow deflected it off the flat of his Claymore in a short, tight movement, already moving forward. The second came faster; he cut through the air and stepped inside the angle, and the two of them were suddenly too close for comfortable shooting. The bodies on the floor shook with each step, the old wood vibrating under the impacts as they moved through the wreckage.
The fight dragged on. Gunshots and steel, the revolver loud enough in the enclosed space to leave a ringing in both their ears. The Tuesday guy moved coldly and methodically, every shot and every step. Crow worked the angles with circular footwork and blade deflections; the guy was too fast for him; regardless, he kept closing the distance every time a chance opened up.
“.357,” Crow said between movements. “End of the world, apparently. Things just got worse.”
The man’s composure cracked.
“YOU! Y-you know the caliber. You know the name. WHO MADE IT. WHO WAS IT THAT ATTACKED ME!?”
Crow almost laughed. “Easy. It’s a long story, but I’m not involved with those people.” He said it while blocking a strike that would’ve taken his ear off.
CRACK.
The walls shed small pieces with each .357 round that missed and found stone instead.
This… will be fun.
The masked guy was reloading. Crow took the chance to look at his Claymore.
Thankfully, this was made with one of the strongest materials… and it’s like this now, almost breaking...
Crow got a grip on the wrist when the masked man extended his arm to fire. He wrenched the revolver away, and kicked him, then stepped back to remove the bullets. “You’re the one we came looking for—”
Maybe I kicked him too hard?
Crow ignored it and said, “What is your name?”
The man hit the bar on his way down, splitting it clean through the middle, and landed on the other side still conscious. “Hahahaha—cough, cough—HAHAHAHA. Like I’d remember. After what happened to me.” He said it with just enough doubt in his voice to make it unclear whether he was joking.
The laugh that came out of him sounded too wrong, like a madman’s.
Crow stepped around the debris and crouched near him. “Fine. I’ll call you Tuesday then.”
The man’s left hand came out of his coat pocket.
Something small and cylindrical hit the floor between them.
Crow looked at it.
“That’s not what I think it is, right? Tuesday.”
The man opened his left hand. A pin was in it.
“...” Crow’s expression was almost blank; this time he couldn’t maintain his poker face. “Oh come on—”
BOOM!
Author's note: Thanks for reading, guys! If you spot any grammar errors, just let me know in the comments. I revised this a lot, but a few minor typos might have slipped through the revisions haha, so my bad if I missed anything!