Ferry

The captors took him even further into the woods. He eventually gathered enough of his senses to call out for help, but One-Eye gave a terse command and the white-haired Physician sent out green wires from his fingers that looped around Ferry's lips and pulled them shut, tightening like sutures so it became impossible to scream. That had to be the Life Thread skill. He tried to pry his lips apart, but quickly found that the wires were too strong to break.

Ferry was brought into a small glade where a pair of captors stood guard over two other prisoners like him, who were seated in the moss with their arms tied behind their backs. His heart sank when he realized that one of the prisoners was a miserable-looking Lieutenant Becker. The third one was a woman he didn't recognize.

They sat him down next to the others, and at last Ferry got a good opportunity to look over his captors—five of them in all, now. There was One-Eye himself, cold and predatory and unknowable even in his diminished state. Then there was the Physician, a Level 11 called Hacksaw whose name he had only skimmed over briefly when researching the party guests. Surprisingly, former Garrison Captain Griff was there. Ferry had heard that the man was a pariah and a helpless amputee these days, but there he was, sporting janky metal prosthetics that squeaked and caught when he moved. Even more surprising was the fact that he seemed to be taking orders from One-Eye. Weren't they supposed to be enemies?

There was so much going on that Ferry had no grasp on. It was clear that while everyone had written One-Eye off as a drooling invalid, he'd been making moves behind the scenes. Had he even been injured to begin with? He certainly didn't look it, standing tall and inscrutable and issuing orders as easy as breathing.

The last two captors were a beautiful woman and an awkward young man—Ferry knew nothing about them, and based on their levels, he judged that they were inconsequential.

With a groan, One-Eye sat down on a rock opposite Ferry, his right leg splayed out stiffly to one side. He made a gesture toward Hacksaw, and the Physician did something that caused the Life Thread around Ferry's lips to slacken enough that he could open his mouth.

One-Eye nodded. Leaning forward until he was uncomfortably close, gaze inscrutable behind those shiny black shades, he said: "We're going to have ourselves a little talk, you and me. That all right by you, Ferry?"

Ferry said nothing. He still felt dizzy, and his injured hand had started thumping like crazy, breaking any concentration he might have otherwise been able to muster.

One-Eye smiled joylessly; showing teeth like a hungry wolf. "Good. This is going to turn out much better for you if you play along."

"Okay," Ferry managed to work out. "But…"

"Hmm?"

"How did you find out about the leader?"

"Ah, that." The assassin chuckled. "I lied." He reached into his pocket and took out the skill-affected envelope, holding it up for Ferry to see before tossing it high and letting it sail off into the sky. "But after reading the contents of your Message and seeing the direction it was headed, I know a lot more. Thank you for that."

Ferry's heart sank even further, if such a thing was possible, and he hung his head in defeat. "You were bluffing to make us panic. To flush us out."

"Correct. It worked even better than I'd hoped, too."

"Even though you intercepted it… you still let my Message get through. Did you tamper with it somehow?"

"Just a small gift as a way to formally introduce myself to your organization. It's only polite." One-Eye tilted his head to the side as he watched Ferry closely. "But enough about that. I'm interested in you. Let's get you talking, shall we?" At that, he produced a keen knife and moved closer to hook it through the inside of Ferry's collar and slice his coat open to the navel with one smooth cut, then repeated the process with his undershirt.

"Wait—" Ferry began, but One-Eye gestured with his knife, and once more his mouth was tied shut.

"Shh. Calm down, Ferry. I just want to warm you up a little so you're extra talkative. Besides, I have some things I want to try with you Omen Bearers at the same time, so this is a nice opportunity for me. Just stay still and let me work, okay? Don't worry, I'm a professional."

Ferry wanted to scream when the assassin put the knife to his skin, but all that got past his glued-shut lips was a pathetic whimper.

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* * *

Serene

"Ah, how disappointing… and here I thought I was being clever."

Serene was glad for her Illusory mask presenting a neutral facade as she watched Will take the man apart piece by bloody piece, humming cheerfully to himself all the while, pausing occasionally to let the man blubber out a bit of his confession before continuing.

Aside from numerous long cuts along the torso and several missing digits, Will had completely amputated the Omen Bearer's left arm at the elbow and laid it out carefully on a bed of moss. He had watched the severed limb intently for several minutes, but whatever he'd hoped to see, he came away disappointed.

"It appears that every Omen Bearer carries a secret mark as proof of their allegiance," Will explained to no one in particular, motioning to the dead arm with the point of his bloody knife. "It resembles a strange sort of star or spider, and encircles the Profession symbol to cover much of the left forearm. They can hide this mark at will, essentially rendering it invisible, and I've just confirmed that it can't be sensed with Detect [Ink]. However, prior experience has taught me that the Omen mark will invariably appear after death. I'd hoped that just severing the arm would be enough to coax it out, but I suppose that would have been too convenient."

He sat back on his rock with a sigh and began wiping the knife on some spongy undergrowth. "That leads me to my next experiment. Hacksaw, I assume you're well-versed in performing resuscitation techniques on critical patients?"

"Sure," the Physician replied with a stiff grin, busy screwing a pinky finger into his ear. "You gonna do what I'm thinking?"

Will nodded.

The Omen Bearer shook his head vigorously, whimpering and blubbering through the green stitches holding his mouth closed, but the assassin paid him no mind. The other two prisoners stared at their comrade, no doubt visualizing the kind of torture that would be visited upon them when Will was finished with the first guy.

Serene wanted to be sick. Would she be expected to do this kind of thing moving forward? Will had roped her into becoming an assassin—he hadn't said anything about torture.

* * *

"Aha! Interesting—so it is possible after all…"

After inducing death by asphyxiation, a jagged mark appeared on the man's right arm where his new sheet had appeared. Afterward, Will sat back and allowed Hacksaw to nurse his victim back to life. Though still unconscious, once he began breathing on his own the mark disappeared again.

"What would be the likelihood of being able to reproduce this kind of method in a safe, controlled manner?" Will asked.

"A tad hit-and-miss, I reckon," Hacksaw replied. "This guy was out a while, so he's prolly got some brain damage on account of the hypoxia. I wouldn't recommend doing this to every person you meet just to indulge your paranoia."

"Hmm, fair enough. We can think of a more efficient method later. For now…" He looked down at the butchered Omen Bearer laid out on the ground. "I think I'm done with this one. Serene, why don't you take care of him for me?" Looking vaguely in her direction, Will flipped his knife around to hold it by the red-slick point and held out the handle toward her. "It'll be a good learning opportunity for you."

Serene stiffened at being addressed, and her mask flickered with surprise before she was able to bring herself back under control. For something like this, she'd assumed she would mostly serve as set dressing. Was he actually expecting her to…?

"Don't," Ratcatcher said, suddenly at her side. "This isn't you, princess."

Serene glanced at the ghost, looking all innocent, and felt her stomach twist. Whether from disgust or guilt, she wasn't quite sure. After some hesitation, she finally worked out: "Go away. I don't need you here."

"You're not a killer."

Serene laughed bitterly. "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious."

"Just go away already."

"Serene," Will said sternly, still holding out the blade. "It's time for you to stop playing around with imaginary friends. Frankly, it's pathetic. If you're going to do what I do, you'll need to be okay with cutting a few throats here and there. It's kind of in the job description. Honestly, you should be grateful. This is about as easy of a first kill as you could ask for—the guy's practically dead already. He's not even awake to beg you for mercy or anything. So go on." He hefted the knife in her direction. "I won't ask again."

The Laborer Griff stood leaned against a nearby tree. He packed a new wad of tobacco under his lip and maneuvered it into place with his tongue, then spat and growled something vaguely disapproving under his breath. Wesley looked like he was about to suffer a spontaneous cardiac event and/or bowel evacuation. Only the Physician was unfazed.

"I'll do it," Serene said, and walked through Ratcatcher to take the knife. He reformed beside her as she squatted down by the wounded Omen Bearer, but she ignored his whining.

"You can still walk away," he said. "This isn't you."

"Just poke him a couple times in the liver there and he'll bleed out the rest of the way soon enough," Will said, indicating the general area on the man's bare stomach. "Cutting his throat would be faster, but arterial bleeds tend to squirt, and you don't want to get your nice clothes all messy since we're going back to the party after this."

"I understand," Serene replied.

She did as she was told. Stabbing into flesh was a sickeningly familiar sensation. After she'd put half a dozen holes in the Omen Bearer, Will gestured for her to stop. She watched the man breathe his last as he bled out internally, stomach swelling grotesquely. He went still.

Ratcatcher stood nearby, watching. He gave Serene one last, disappointed look, then vanished into nothing.

Killer.

She looked into the face of the man she had murdered, and felt nothing.

Guess I am. What else is new?

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