A Dark Moon's Sky

[Nayt]

A Dark Moon's Sky

Tanner adjusted his jacket and tie. They were somewhat burned up, especially his white undershirt, and now permanently in a state of disarray, specifically by way of small tears and tattered sections scattered about his clothes, not considerable individually, but as they were spread out everywhere, there was no way he could wear this suit against and plan on doing any measure of business with it. Well, at least his fedora was fine. Tanner pushed it up a tad by the front brim.

"Explosives," Tanner sighed, "Cute."

Perhaps that was Cyril's line, all things considered. One minute, they were holed up in a house, and rather comfortably so--and the next minute, they were scrambling to get out the door as quick as humanly possible. Holing oneself up in a house when there was only a single entrance outside of the front windows was all perfectly well and fine. One could just board up the windows, and leave their enemies a single entrance to come in. That way, they could only come in one by one, and against four capable men, that left each of their enemies at a horrible disadvantage. They had done just that, too, and for awhile there, they were well off.

However, when it came time for an explosive to be thrown into the window, the four of them--no, make it eight--were at an absolutely horrible disadvantage.

And as soon as they were out, they were quickly separated by necessity--separated by men with crossbows. One even had a pistol. Two groups moved in two completely different directions, only to be further separated by a few larger explosions--and reinforcements.

What separated the three of them, now, was the rubble of the house that had spilled into the street. Piles of bricks at least ten feet high made great cover, but that was only going to last so long . . .

[Ramlock]

Cyril's clothes were somewhat less worn, mostly only pierced in a few places by crossbow bolts that had miraculously only grazed his body. This was due to the fact that Cyril had been the first man out the door when the explosives had been used, and was therefore the farthest from the blast if closest to their assailants.

"Who is throwing them? We need to get him..."

Cyril was a decent shot, particularly if the person throwing explosives wasn't behind cover himself. The pile of bricks was good for now, but would only last them until the next blast, which would flush them out into open terrain. On the other hand, laying low the thrower, particularly with lit explosives, may well create enough of a distraction to let them scatter away...

Maladi wasn't with him, however. And he wasn't sure about any of their smaller companions. He could only really see Tanner, who was at least well-versed in this sort of thing, it seemed. He was perhaps more comfortable with it than Cyril: Cyril could be considered cool in the situation, perhaps, but he was certainly not comfortable at all...

[Nayt]

"Haven't the slightest," replied Tanner.

Describing him as cool in the situation was accurate. He'd even managed to get out with a shovel, just in case these bastards attacked them personally. A shovel wasn't much of a weapon, but it boasted range. Range was a glorious thing. Range was something their assailants were taking advantage of, even. It was a pretty big shovel, in any case, and new. Except for the dried blood on the front of it, it practically had a mirror sheen. By size and design, it was clearly made for shoveling snow.

Tanner's previous reply may have not instilled the most hope in the world, but his amendment less than two seconds later would make up for it: "Let's find out."

His jacket was already dirty enough; there was no sense in worrying about a few smudges of dried blood. Tanner removed his jacket and placed his back up against the tall rubble of bricks, making sure to stand with only inches between he and Cyril. Under his jacket, he wore a pair of suspenders to hold up his slacks in place of a belt, which fit the general style he seemed to covet. Nonetheless, with his jacket in one hand and shovel in the other, the man with dark gray skin began to furiously wipe his jacket across the inner surface of the shovel, to knock off all the dried blood as humanly possible, and leave the inside of the shovel perfectly clean again.

He peered up to the perpetual storm clouds overhead, waiting for the moment that heat lightning began in quick sparks overhead, to flicker light the streets. And as soon as it did . . .

Tanner pushed the shovel out, past Cyril and the rubble they used for cover, and into the open. A flash of light above flickered a reflection within the inside of the shovel--a reflection of where their assailants stood, a reflection of numerous men with crossbows, and one specific figure with obsidian skin, long hair, and a dark red shirt. He stood out like a sore thumb, and he was already lighting another stick of dynamite. It was impossible to tell distance due to the curve of the inside of the shovel, and Tanner couldn't see it to tell, himself, but Cyril would be able to see well enough. It was all his judgment call at that point . . .

[Ramlock]

Quick on his feet. Cyril couldn't have asked for anything more in the situation. His esrtwhile ally didn't exactly have the most appropriate weaponry for the situation, but Cyril would amend that as he finally drew the handgun. To this point, he hadn't actually used it. Hopefully, that would buy him some help, as his enemies would have no reason to expect it. They probably imagined the two of them as unarmed for such a range, and merely hiding...

"Bolt if I get him."

With that, Cyril would lean out beneath the shovel with his shoulders, quickly firing off a shot at the chest of the man wielding the dynamite. He couldn't guarantee the man would go down, but the gun was certainly large enough that the man would be in no throwing condition if wounded in the chest. And fortunately, his explosive seemed to be lit, and there were presumably others around...

[Nayt]

Just before Cyril moved out beyond the cover, a crossbow bolt hit the shovel and knocked it back instantly. Tanner had to let it go, and let it bounce and roll across the street. It wasn't a huge problem, though. Actually, it kind of worked in their favor. The crossbowmen's aim wasn't low, it was high, and Cyril was crouched. It served as both a mirror and a distraction, it seemed! But this also meant that Cyril was probably going to have to take his own advice immediately after his shot, whether he hit anyone or not.

A gunshot rang throughout the city, echoed through the streets, and turned heads for miles. A gunshot wasn't like heat thunder. That was just a bit of a rolling, quiet roar. It didn't echo, nor did it carry for any length of time--but a gunshot? That sparked even the neutrals' attention.

The man in the red shirt hadn't seen it coming, nor had any of his allies. He lunged back against his will, hitting the ground back first, and writhing for a moment. He'd been shot in the chest, a mortal wound for humankind, and likely a mortal wound for these types, too. If Cyril was quick, it wouldn't matter how the man's allies reacted--if he was quick, he'd know to get back behind cover and run for it, before he became a human pincushion. A man with Cyril's mind, however, probably wouldn't have to think twice about it.

And just as Cyril suggested, Tanner broke into a run almost immediately . . .

[Ramlock]

Cyril would already be moving back behind the barrier as he saw the man fall. Even still, the men who had prepared to shoot him would certainly be quick to fire at him. However, he would manage to slip behind cover, quickly pushing himself to his knees and running after Tanner. As he did, he would pause momentarily. He hadn't taken stock of what smaller companions were around. The fox or shades were somewhere around there, as well. He would do his best to scoop up any of the creatures, able to move faster and provide some small amount of protection for them...

"Tanner! I don't know this place!"

Cyril would call out as he pushed himself up with a running start, continuing after the man. Hopefully, all the projectiles had either been fired at Tanner or were otherwise occupied. The only really protection Cyril had was statistics: shooting a moving target was difficult under the best of circumstances. Hopefully, Tanner would lead them on an irregular path, as well...

[Nayt]

"Then stay on me!" Tanner shouted back behind him.

To some extent, Cyril could expect that Tanner didn't care much for Cyril's safety in the long run. It was a mutual relationship, really. Cyril had a good gun and good aim and Tanner knew the city like the back of his hand. Neither cared if the other lived or died when if they were separated, so long as the one could survive well enough without the other. Cyril had been in the same sort of business that Tanner was in; and Tanner looked like he had, perhaps, been in this sort of business for a lot longer than Cyril. He looked like he was in his late thirties, carried himself professionally, knew the right people in the right places, and was scrappy as hell.

It wasn't a second after Cyril started to run that he plucked from the ground one particular shade child. She had been nearby, hiding behind the broken wall with Cyril and Tanner, but far too silent to be noticed. Baht, with her eyes shut tight and small hands grabbing at anything she could for comfort, would bury her face in Cyril's chest. She was terrified, clearly; confused by all that happened at once, and scared to death of being alone.

Tanner, by that point, was halfway down the street, and slowing down enough at an intersection so that Cyril could catch up--until he pressed up against the left corner of the intersection and passed a glance down it, immediately prompting him to retreat.

"--wrooooong way!" Tanner announce as he hastily jabbed his finger towards an alley on the right, just a fraction of a second before bolting for it, himself.

[Ramlock]

Cyril's philosophy had changed somewhat from his more thuggish days. These days, he actually did care about life, on principle. If by his action or inaction, someone died, he was going to try to avoid it, unless their survival directly impacted himself or his friend's ability to survive. Which wasn't to say he wouldn't do anything else to someone, he just saw death as perhaps the only event that is impossible to recover from.

"Is it you or us that has such a bad reputation?"

There was an awful lot of manpower and firepower directly at destroying them, it seemed. Cyril was a bit slow to turn, but he was fortunately somewhat behind Tanner when they changed directions, and would hopefully be a bit closer to his erstwhile guide. He wasn't sure what was down that left branch of road, but he sufficiently believed that Tanner wasn't trying to bluff him or anything. He didn't really need to know, so long as it could be avoided...

[Nayt]

Tanner didn't respond to Cyril, but not for rudeness or lack of care. He'd already shown enough of himself to suggest that he'd answer just about any question asked to him and talk about, well, anything. Hell, he had volunteered most of the information about this city that Cyril got out of him. Tanner's silence was a matter of necessity, in any case. He was running, but he was running as quietly as he could, and it was important that Cyril follow suit. Alerting the others to their whereabouts would've been a bad idea.

Once they were in the alleyway, Tanner ducked down slightly and jogged ahead. There was a dumpster in the middle of it, pressed up against the back of a tall residence, probably something along the lines of an apartment complex, but like nine tenths of the structures in this city, it was completely unoccupied. More than likely, it was locked up and impossible to get into without actually breaking in--not that anyone would contest it, probably, but that'd be far too much noise at the moment than Tanner and Cyril needed.

As soon as Tanner reached the empty dumpster, he pushed its right lit open and motioned with his head for Cyril to jump in first. Shortly after, Tanner would follow and close the lid behind him. It was imperative that this happened quickly, however, as the collection of folk looking for them, now, was a little on the astronomical side . . .

In the dark, even Tanner's scarlet eyes would be invisible. Baht's, however, still had a luminous quality in the dark. There was clearly something different between her and people like Tanner, even if there were similarities. Cyril would only get a few glimpses of this, however, as Baht generally kept her face buried in his chest and whimpered softly.

"To answer your question," Tanner whispered as quietly as he could without being outright silent, "I think it's a little of both."

[Ramlock]

Cyril would run as quietly as he could, but that necessarily meant moving slower while wearing shoes. Still, running was not his favorite option, under any circumstances. So, when Tanner offered him a dumpster in which to hide, Cyril was all too happy to take it. Almost all of the city was unoccupied, and so hopefully, the dumpster was empty. If not... Well, that would just add another priority to his to-do list.

"I'm just happy it's not all us..."

Cyril would whisper, holding Baht in one arm and climbing up somewhat awkwardly into the dumpster. Once he slipped his legs horizontally over the rim, he would jump down inside, landing as quietly as possible. Once there, he would move away from the entrance to allow Tanner to enter, before the nerve-wracking waiting would begin. It was certainly a terrible situation. Unknown people on an unknown world, and lots of people trying to kill them? Cyril missed the days of only minor threats to his existence...

[Nayt]

Baht was scared. Maladi wasn't anywhere to be found. Cyril, at least, was a familiarity to her. He wasn't Maladi, but at least he wasn't Tanner. Tanner, she didn't know. Cyril and Tanner were both crouched down in this dark dumpster. It smelled horrible, like something had died here. It was probably for the best that they couldn't see. Baht didn't want to see, so she shut her eyes and buried her face in Cyril's chest again. She whimpered softly, almost as if she realized the importance of being quiet--that Cyril was whispering, so she needed to be quiet, too; but she also couldn't contain her whimper. She had to vocalize her fear somehow.

In the distance, there was a gunshot. It was followed shortly by three more gunshots. It was all muddled by the dumpster's walls, but it was still pretty audible. This made Baht jump a little, before promptly clinging to Cyril's shirt with her small hands. Tanner opened his eyes. The red of his eyes quickly became the only light source in the dumpster, actually. He looked up, thought a moment, and came to a conclusion.

"Ah. Sounds like Yuri's giving them hell," Tanner noted.

Though, both Yuri and Tanner never appeared to have firearms. In fact, Yuri had taken off his jacket awhile earlier, revealing that he did not, in fact, possess a firearm.

"Poor bastards. He's a great shot."

[Ramlock]

Yuri "giving them hell" brought up a few very important issues. How did he become armed? Even if he could survive fighting so many people (and Cyril had his doubts about that), it was going to incite a city-wide manhunt. If they could manage to attract the large group already, there was likely an entire army that could look for them if they were deemed important. And more important than Yuri, even if he could manage for himself, he was going to get Maladi killed...

"What could he be hoping to accomplish, besides bringing down more heat on us?"

Cyril continued to whisper, listening for the sounds of anyone going past the dumpster. It was certainly better than imagining what they may be sharing their enclosed space with. Cyril wasn't sure how long it was going to take for them to move on, but he was already getting anxious to be anywhere else. Whatever was in here... He didn't really want to know about it.

"And if he gets my friend killed, I'm going to be pretty upset..."

[Nayt]

"Don't worry," Tanner replied, "Your friend and Yuri probably struck a deal. Yuri's always striking deals with people. The guy can't count to ten with his fingers, but he's sure as hell dependable."

Cyril might just have to take Tanner's word on it, at least for now. Now, when they were stuck in this godawful waiting game. No one loved the waiting game. There were still the sounds of running outside, even though the gunshots sto-- no, wait, there was another one. Following this was more running. It was becoming more and more distant with each passing second, but those sounds weren't quite distant enough.

Tanner's eyes fell on Cyril. The luminescence of his eyes was only a minor light, really. One wouldn't even be able to call it that, either. It wasn't like Cyril could see anything extra like the tip of the man's nose or anything. Tanner's were just two red eyes in the dark. Two very defined red eyes.

"Hey bud, you probably don't want to sit there," he suddenly remarked. Why? Well, he wasn't going to say unless Cyril asked. Chances were he didn't want to know, though.

[Ramlock]

Cyril hadn't sat, or touched the sides of the dumpster; given the smell, he really didn't want to touch anything. He wasn't sure how long they were going to be in there, but just as a matter of habit, he wouldn't be ready to sit for a while simply due to the danger they'd just faced, and now he wouldn't ever be ready to sit...

"Don't want to know..."

Cyril would just remain there, listening as intently as he could. The waiting was difficult; much harder than acting, even if it was the correct response. The gunshots were confusing, though... Cyril didn't really trust Tanner and Yuri, in spite of (and perhaps because of) the way he trusted their nature.

"Where did he get that gun?"

[Nayt]

"One of the other guys had one," Tanner remarked as if it were the utmost truth.

Which was easy to ascertain, really. Yuri didn't have a gun. The people chasing them had crossbows. One of those people had to be a rare one that carried a fire arm.

"That guy probably didn't see it coming," Tanner remarked. He actually sighed somewhat. This really wasn't too terrible of a thing, but . . ."Yuri's quick, efficient, and thorough. Maybe a little too thorough."

Cyril had been in this business before. Really, the only difference between this mess and some of the messes he'd gotten himself into before he was shot by royalty was the fact that these people weren't human. They looked, acted, and carried themselves like human beings, but the simply weren't. There was no denying it. The color of their skin, their eyes, the way they all had at least one horn somewhere on their body, the shadow-like abilities they all seemed to possess, even in the most minor of forms . . . it didn't lend well to the belief that they were inherently human.

That said, though--as Cyril knew how this business worked--chances were, he knew exactly what it meant to be too thorough. It didn't entail recklessness. No--actually, it was the most efficient way sometimes. What this entailed was something different: cruelty and a complete disregard for other lives.