Chapter Text
If it wasn’t the Gloom, it was the bloody Black Plague. Garrett had managed to escape the misfortune of catching either, but wounds? Now those were more common, not that he could expect much else. Not with his line of work.
It was just such a thing that had him slipping through a darkened window, automatically moving into the deepest shadow of the room; a corner between a dresser and the bed. None too soon had he, that a figure rippled into view, surrounded by unnatural black smoke. Garrett pressed himself deeper into the shadows, holding his breath – and his bleeding side – as the man looked out the window. The moonlight cast the dips and jagged curves of his mask into sharp relief.
The visage was that of a bare iron skull, welded together with little finesse, the jaw stitched on haphazardly with wire. It gave one the feeling of being watched, even when the man wasn’t looking one’s way. It was unsettling to Garrett, who'd seen his share of ghosts in the night.
Someone screamed out in the square, sharp and afraid, and the man – the Assassin – stiffened. Then he sighed, turning away toward the room’s door only to pause without a step. His gaze was locked on Garrett’s hiding place; one olive hand drifted to the sword on his hip. Garrett reached for his blackjack warily.
“Give it to me.” The Assassin’s voice was deep but hoarse, despite its low volume. A rough growl that any other time, Garrett might have just found appealing. Right now, it was daunting.
The strange pendant in Garrett’s pocket pulsed almost longingly, and without a word he pulled it out. The Assassin’s eyes followed it, and the thief frowned. “I don’t fail a paying job.” The other man pulled a coin purse off his belt and tossed it to the floor. The message - an exchange - was clear.
It was at that moment that the door burst open, five guards pouring into the room. Garrett grabbed the purse, and barreled into the Assassin on his way to the window.
xXx
Corvo got back to the palace just before dawn and made his report to the spymaster, then headed to the Empress’ suites. His night had been illuminating, but in the end, he'd been backed into a corner. Basalm had forced Corvo to kill him. As such, his meeting with Zhen had run long as they discussed how to handle it.
Eventually, they'd concluded the need for the Empress’ input, and Corvo had left in frustrated disappointment.
He checked on Emily first, finding her asleep. She looked… so much like her mother in moments like this. Corvo lingered to simply watch her breathe, eased by the existence of that after the coup, before going to his adjoining apartment.
It wasn’t nearly as polished these days as once before, but the signs of a man with a child were everywhere. A little drawing made with colored wax, of Corvo and Emily and Jessamine, pasted to the wall with a couple wood-tacks. Two small cups, misshapen around the top, made from ceramic and displayed proudly on the fireplace mantle. Tucked against the headboard of his four-poster, a little stuffed blue dog with frayed ears.
He locked the door behind him, toeing off his boots, before moving further into the large room. It was when he began to remove his jacket, that something clanked to the floor.
Surprised, Corvo knelt, picking up the icon of his powers. Huh. The burn of eyes in the dark came to mind. His odd encounter earlier that evening had not, it would seem, been a bust.
A faint smirk tilted the corner of his mouth as he hefted the Rune. What a Thief.
xXx
Garrett made quick work of the cell’s lock, letting himself out within moments of full darkness. The guards were playing a rowdy game of cards in another room, clearly well into their ale. As such, they easily succumbed to the drug Garrett had stashed away in a boot. When he’d allowed himself to get arrested, just for this heist, he’d made sure they had no reason to take them.
Typically, he’d have just snuck in, but the man he was stealing from worked nights, and lived in the palace barracks. The latter was too close to the palace for Garrett’s comfort, so he’d decided to simply get caught stealing. Unlike the barracks, the low-crime prison was further away from the ruling center, and significantly less guarded. His decision had been easy, in the end.
Garrett made his way to an air duct, slipping inside soundlessly by habit alone. The space was cramped, but he made his way through stubbornly, and slid out of the building on the other side.
Straightening, he checked his pocket, pulling out the trinket he’d been asked to steal – possessed by one of the guards he'd knocked unconscious – and then turned to leave. Movement to his left caught his gaze and he drew back against the wall a fraction of a second too late. A lucky guard spotting an unlucky thief… Or so Garrett thought.
In the next instant, a dark figure loomed in the guard’s wake as he reached for his horn. The poor sod crumbled after only a moment’s struggle, body going limp with loss of consciousness when a thick arm crushed his windpipe.
Garrett stared at the Assassin with wide eyes as that eerie mask looked back at him. A beat passed before the ghoul lowered the guard and turned away. Garrett wasted no time in hesitation, taking off into the night.
He skirted hedges and scaled roofs, making good time back to his current hidey hole. Slipping through the window, he landed lightly on his feet. It hadn’t taken him long to get there, maybe ten minutes, but the Assassin beat him anyway.
The man was leaning against the wall of the bell tower alcove, arms loose and ready at his sides. He watched Garrett as the thief slowly straightened. “Time for me to move, then,” Garrett grumbled. What the hell did this guy want with him? Surely, Garrett wasn’t a target… he wasn’t really important enough to warrant assassination. Probably. “I gave you the rune. What else do you want of me?”
A sack of gold hit the wooden flooring between Garrett’s feet with a jangle. Several coins spilled out, one rolling a couple inches before it spun to a stop by Garrett's toe. He didn't reach for it. “A job,” the Assassin murmured. “I need a decoy, and evidence.”
Garrett blinked, though he wasn't entirely surprised. That was a lot of money. “For that?” He eyed the sack pointedly, as if its contents were meager.
“That’s five hundred pieces,” the Assassin said dryly. “You get the other half once the job is done.”
Holy shit. A thousand? Technically, that'd keep Garrett from having to steal for over a year. Not that he planned to retire. “And if I take the gold and disappear?”
“I’ll find you. I never fail a mark,” the taller man said softly.
It didn’t escape Garrett that it was almost an echo of his own words when they first met. “I see.” Cautiously, Garrett crouched, scooping up the fallen gold and its bag. “What evidence?”
“Do you accept the job?” It was eerie, Garrett decided, how little the man before him fidgeted. He was almost preternaturally still, in a way that set off the thief’s nerves.
Nonetheless, Garrett had a feeling that having this man on his side, rather than after him, was a good idea. “Fine. I’ll get your evidence and play decoy.” It was, after all, good money. He rarely ever got that kind of pay straight up from a client. Basso would have nicked most of it as a finders fee.
“Good.” The Assassin finally moved, pushing away from the wall in a suddenly human gesture that made Garrett equally as uneasy, and walked to one of the tables to the side. He tapped the map Garrett kept on the wall above it, finger resting on a specific address. “There is a nobleman, Lord Raskal, that lives here. Do you know of him? Good. He’s been trafficking slaves from the Southern Continent, selling them to other rich nobles. However, the guard hasn’t been able to find any evidence on the matter. I need you to acquire his books, and meet me back here at the end of the night. Make some noise on your way out, get the security to focus on you so I can do my part.”
Garrett’s brow lifted. “Which is…?” he prompted without much hope.
“Do you understand?” the Assassin asked, ignoring the question.
Asshole.
The Thief frowned. “Yes, I do.”
“Good. I’ll be back here just before dawn.”
Garrett watched him walk to the window and simply leap out. By the time he got to it, the Assassin was gone, vanished into the ether without a sign. “Just what have I gotten myself into this time?”