Chapter 32: A Snake Is Born.


    Neutralising the would-be robbers was so easy that even now, just seconds after doing it, Nero could barely remember what he’d done. All he knew was that it was tedious and a waste of his time.


    Time that he could have been using to save Stradale.


    He looked down at the blonde man. He was on his back, a slight welt to the face where Nero must have hit him. Evidently Nero had held back, because he was still conscious.


    There was terror in his eyes, enough to leave him petrified, lips quivering and body trembling.


    Nero wondered why for a moment, and then realised that the man was mistaking his annoyance for an intent to kill.


    He was about to turn around and leave when the man finally found his voice.


    “Please… Please don’t hurt us, we’ll do anything.” He croaked.


    Anything huh.


    Well, he had just the thing in mind.


    Selvas had come to the decision that she didn’t very much like cities. They were loud, cramped and filled with far too many ambush spots.


    That would, of course, be all well and good if her goal here was to ambush someone, but it was not, so it was an entirely negative feature of a place she was now stuck in.


    And now Nero was out there alone.


    She could have followed him, but she didn’t see much use. Besides, if he couldn’t survive on his own without her for more than a bit, then she had no business working with him in the first place.


    Then there was the Death Rattle crew.


    She’d spent the last few hours thinking of how best to reach them, and no plan that came to mind seemed particularly helpful.


    Perhaps they could put the word out that they had a job for them and see if that drew them out, but that ran into the same problems as before, they were still outsiders, still untrustworthy and all they’d be guaranteeing is that the city knew they had a lot of rubies on hand.


    A knock ran through the door, five times to let her know it was Nero.


    Selvas got to her feet and walked over to answer it.


    What she saw on the other side left her at a loss for words. Nero stood in front of her, to either side of him were strangers.


    The one on the left had scraggly blonde hair and green eyes, the one on the right had low cut dark hair and a huge frame.


    They both looked incredibly displeased to be there.


    “Can we come in?” Nero asked, grinning ear to ear like some special kind of idiot.


    Selvas didn’t let her amusement show, it’d only encourage whatever behaviour she was about to be greeted with.


    She stepped aside and the three men entered the cramped room.


    “So…” Nero began. “This is Jeto, and this is Erik.” He said, pointing to the blonde and the big man respectfully.


    They both gave her somewhat of an awkward nod and Selvas returned the gesture, hopefully less awkwardly.


    “I assume there’s a reason they’re in our room?” Selvas prompted.


    “I’m getting there, I’m getting there.” Nero waved a dismissive hand then continued. “I have a plan to get us a meeting with the Death Rattle Crew.”


    That certainly grabbed her attention.


    She considered that attention well wasted when Nero finally explained his plan however.


    “You’re an idiot.” She informed him, on the off chance that he wasn’t already aware of the fact.


    “Hey, I’ll have you know we worked very hard on that.” Nero frowned.


    She raised an eyebrow. “We?”


    “Yes, we.” Jeto the blonde finally spoke up. His voice was a thin thing, as if being squeezed out of a pipe. He looked more offended than Nero if anything. “I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent actor, your bloke here had no idea that I was going to rob him when I led him to that alleway.”


    “You what?”


    “Woah, woah, woah, woah.” Nero stepped in and grabbed her hand, she hadn''t even known she was reaching for her dagger already. “We’re all friends here. Also-” he began, now turning to Jeto. “I had a very strong feeling that the strange man leading me into a secluded alleway was going to try and rob me.”


    Jeto shrugged. “Guess I have work to do then, I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”


    Nero was likely about to explain that he wasn’t trying to give him coaching on how best to mug people, but a thick booming voice barged in.


    “So are we doing this or what?” They said and Selvas didn’t recognise it was Erik who spoke, because until now he had only stood quietly and looked mean, which would come quite in handy when their plan kicked off.


    “Yes.” Nero said. “Yes we are.”


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    Nero- no, not Nero, the Cobra, the Cobra stood in the centre of a bar. It was closed now, as it often was so long after working hours, but the Cobra’s time was always well past working hours.


    He was, after all, a crime lord from the lands of Burden who had travelled far and wide in search of a mercenary group that would suit his very specific needs.


    He was dressed in regal furs, eyes spectacled with bright golden glasses and wrists wrapped in jewelry. All fake of course, sourced by Nero’s new friends in low places, but then even counterfeits meant to fool a man in a poorly lit room didn’t come cheap.


    It was worth it for the invention of the Cobra, and the Cobra would thank Nero if he wasn’t just another pawn to be used in his grand machinations of… Evil. Just like everyone was.


    They were sat around a table.


    To the Cobra’s sides were his employees, Jeto and Erik, men, dangerous men who did dangerous things dangerously.


    Danger.


    Standing behind the Cobra was Selv- well she had declined to pick a name or ‘Play part in this silly charade,’ so for now she would just be known as the scary woman.


    In front of the Cobra was a barkeep by day and notorious gangster by night who went by the name of Ramsey Del. He had ginger red hair and a long beard that reached down to his round belly.


    The scar where his left eye used to be told the Cobra he was dangerous, and while Nero might have been unnerved at the sight of such a gnarly gash, the Cobra was unmoved. In fact the Cobra was certainly not feeling queasy just staring at the empty cavern of ruined flesh.


    What mattered was that Ramsey knew how to contact the Death Rattle Crew, and the Cobra would get him to do that for them.


    “So, this is the guy with a job for the Rattle?” Ramsey asked, voice like crushed stone. His eyes on Jeto.


    The Cobra was about to speak, in fact he had a whole script in his head of just exactly how to cement the idea of who he was and what he did into this man’s mind.


    That, however, was thrown out the window the moment Jeto opened his mouth.


    “Oh, he’s the real deal alright Ram.” He said, leaning in conspiratorially. “Heard he killed five crims with his bare hands.” He added, earning a raised eyebrow from Ramsey.


    The Cobra couldn’t yell at Jeto to stop ruining his plans, as that might give up the gig a little, instead he subtly kicked the bastard in the shin.


    Jeto just kept going.


    “Bloke’s the largest dealer of arms on that side of Tayalnisyan, heard he’s making waves in Luxuria too.” He added, and that birthed scepticism in the man.


    Shut up, you fucker.


    He did not, in fact, shut up, and only continued speaking. “And, I hear the brothels fear him, for any woman that has seen beyond a dozen years is far too old for his taste.”


    “Really?” That earned a look from Ramsey and it was far from one of approval.


    Nero could not contradict Jeto if he wanted to keep this already rickety ruse from falling apart. So he just had to agree. It seemed the Cobra, amongst many other things… was a pedophile now.


    He met Ramsey’s eyes, cocked his head back a fraction and shrugged. “I have my needs.”


    The man’s face twisted in revulsion. “Well, you’re a sick fuck aren’t you.”


    A hand slammed down on the table with the sound of thunder, Selvas’. She dragged Ramsey onto his feet by his long beard and pressed her dagger to his throat.


    Eyes like a tundra she glared deep into his soul with enough emptiness to banish any semblance of composure he might have had left in him. “Talk to my boss like that ever again, and I’ll carve out your one good eye and shove it up your arse.”


    Ramsey looked up at Selv- no, he looked up at the Scary Woman, trembling and sweating. The dark patch on his trousers told Nero he’d soiled himself somewhere during the whole ordeal.


    “Understood.” He croaked and the Scary Woman let go of him. Ramsey slid back into his chair, and his eyes fell on Nero. “I apologize, if you have a job for the Death Rattle crew, I’ll relay the message to them immediately.”


    Nero did his best to hide the mix of terror and arousal that currently ran through him at Selvas’ display. “That is agreeable.” He said, and waved a dismissive hand with all the poise of a man who was used to having attractively terrifying women under his retinue.


    They got up after that, and made their way out of the tavern. Once they were far enough away, Nero turned to Jeto.


    “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He snapped.


    The man shrugged. “Probably an unwillingness to be emotionally vulnerable with my loved ones.”


    “You nearly ruined the plan!”


    “I had to do something, you were losing him.” He chastised.


    “I hadn’t even said a word yet.” Nero replied, finding himself suddenly tired. He rubbed his nose. “Look, what matters is that it worked.”


    “So we’re square?” Jeto asked, and the man suddenly looked smaller, uneasy and weary.


    “We’re square.” Nero assured him.


    He sighed in relief and so did Erik. “Glad to hear it.” The man breathed. “Just remember my directions and don’t get caught.”


    Nero nodded and watched the two men disappear into the night.


    He turned to Selvas and grinned. “Thank you by the way.”


    The edge of her lips arched upwards an inch. “You needed the help.” She shrugged and then in an instant all signs of relaxation were gone from her. She was tense as a spring and ready for action. “Now onto the next part of your not-so-stupid plan.”


    Nero grinned wide. “You called it not so stupid.”


    Ramsey’s ceiling was a cold, musty, dusty and cramped space to hide in, but Nero couldn’t think of anywhere else he could do so without instantly being seen and or killed by the people they were trying their best to hire.


    Selvas didn’t seem to mind, then again she didn’t seem to mind anything that Hell threw at her.


    They could see into the building’s reception from the holes in the ceiling, it allowed them to observe Ramsey and much of what they observed was a whole lot of nothing. It turned out very little happened in the middle of the night.


    Still, who said stake outs were fun?


    What they often were was necessary, and this one was moreso than most.


    Nero couldn’t bank his entire plan on the Death Rattle being willing to talk to the Cobra after meeting Ramsey, if they didn’t then he’d effectively be back at square one and with nowhere to go after that.


    So they watched Ramsey see to his business, cleaning plates, rinsing cups and so on.


    “Well, this is boring.” Ember whined as she floated up between him and Selvas. She’d made herself a dull, barely perceptible glow where she once used to look like a miniature sun.


    Nero assumed she’d made that decision to keep herself from being seen, but he’d never actually seen Ember consciously alter her brightness, it always seemed like something that reflected how she felt.


    He would have figured that was also what was happening here, had her dress not also changed, where once long and flowing, now it stopped just above her ankles. A minor, inconsequential change, but a change nonetheless.


    This paired with her recent behaviour towards Demons led Nero to believe there was something more going on here.


    “It is boring.” Selvas agreed with a whisper. “And, it was Nero’s idea.” She added, thrusting the entirety of the blame onto him. Such a stand-up girl she was.


    Ember as a result glared daggers at Nero.


    He was about to explain himself when someone new walked in.


    Hooded in an all-black cloak, the only discerning feature Nero could make out from above was a strand of red hair that peaked out of the hood.


    They held a spear in a gloved hand, runed and dark as night from shaft to tip.


    The stranger walked lightly, feet barely seeming to touch the ground with what little sound the wooden floor made in response to their weight.


    Ramsey however was an explosion of reactions. He was immediately on edge the moment the stranger walked in, spine straight, eyes ahead and hands nervously gripping the counter. “You came.” He began, with a voice that was equal parts relief and displeasure.


    “I did.” The stranger responded. Voice soft like a whisper, yet sharp as a knife. Female.


    “So, I know you said you’re not taking any jobs right now.” Ramsey began hesitantly. “But there’s the guy, big shot, sick fuck, but he pays well so who cares, and-”


    “We told you we’re not taking any jobs.” The woman cut in, voice sounding edged now.


    “Yes, but-”


    “Shut up.”


    “Won’t you at least listen-”


    “Shut up.” The woman said again, this time more forcefully and severely.


    Ramsey did, but the woman said nothing after, she didn’t leave either, just stood there, head swivelling from left to right and then right to left.


    Something’s wrong.


    Nero met Selvas’ purple eyes and they seemed to scream the same thing.


    When he looked back down at the woman, her spear was shooting straight up at him like a ballista bolt.