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Description

[Cold Eyes]

Clyde, after searching for a few minutes, eventually slid the point of his blade into a seam in the fake tooth and popped it open. Inside was a lilliputian slip of paper with even smaller writing on it. He used a lamp and a magnifying glass to enhance the images and copied them down in larger print on a spare sheet of paper.

“So, what is it?” Belix wondered, looking over his shoulder.

“A code,” Clyde mentioned, copying down the last letter and then folding them both in together before pocketing them, “She was double encrypting.”

“Could you crack it?” she asked.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, moving away from the desk and laying down on the bed, “If I had a week or two.”

“And, for the sake of expediency?”

“There’s a guy in the city I can go see, he knew her, he’ll probably… he might help.”

“So, what now?” Belix asked sitting next to him.

“I guess,” Clyde shrugged, “I guess we go and get some sleep, head out in the morning.”

“Yeah? And you’re just gonna sleep in all that mud and muck and filth?”

Looking down at his clothes, caked in dirt from his knees to his feet and splattered with mud across his chest. When he stood up, he looked back and saw the muck had smeared itself across his bedspread. With a grumbling sigh, he started taking off his clothes searching through his things for a change. It took Belix staring daggers into the side of his head before he finally noticed that she hadn’t left.

“Do you mind?” he demanded.

“Not particularly,” she replied coyly, “Do you want me to start dropping coins or…”

“Can you just get out?”

She reached out a hand and touched his wrist, drawing his attention again and giving him an intense look.

“It’s alright,” she told him.

“I know,” he muttered, “Because tomorrow’s another day and… and it’ll be fine when it’s…”

“No,” she insisted, squeezing his hand, “It’s okay now, what you’re feeling, right now… it’s not…”

“I got my girlfriend pregnant with a mutant fetus that didn’t even live long enough to breathe clean air,” he didn’t look her in the eye when he said it, “And my mother’s either been killed or faked her own death because of the clandestine organization that trained her, there are no words for what I am feeling.”

“Fucked-up, upset, confused?” Belix pressed on, “Maybe you’re just not trying hard enough.”

“Ha! Yeah,” Clyde shook his head, “I’ll… keep that in mind.”

“...try,” she gave his hand a final squeeze and turned away, leaving the room, “I’m gonna take a shower before I hit the sack, want me to save you some hot water?”

“No…” he pulled a clean shirt from his suitcase and tossed it onto the bed, “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be here.”

She walked away and he stared at the mud he had left on his mattress for a long time before he finally threw his suitcase in the floor and climbed into bed.

Maggie had refilled the stables with a small herd of horse, three in total and a young fowl, so Clyde felt less guilty about taking out the old Iron Horse, Charlotte’s motorized carriage. Belix rode upfront on the driver’s bench with him the whole way and seemed to genuinely enjoy the ride as they entered into town.

“So… where’re we headed?” she asked.

“Down here,” he pointed, “To the south-east side of town, well, if it’s still open anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll know when you see it.”

Minutes later, the sign for the book shop, barely held up by a pair of rusted bolts, loomed at the end of the street, and beneath it the unpainted, weathered, clearly rotting wood of the shop nearly blended in with the filth covered brick of its surrounding buildings. Belix hopped down from the carriage and took a few seconds to watch the poorly secured sign as it swayed in the gentle cross-breeze.

“Gotcha,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“Yeah,” he looked to the door and saw that the sign in the window had been switched to ‘open’, “Now, let’s see if the important part still works.”

Through the creaking door, down a flight of rickety stairs, and past a curtain of cobwebs, they entered into a valley of shelves laden with books and a small counter-top set off to the left, near the back of the structure. On the counter-top lay an old man with a large bald patch and a long wight beard, dryly snoring, his face literally buried in a book. Clyde examined the situation, considered the bell next to the old man’s ear, and then slammed the book closed on the old man’s head. He reacted, grunting in pain and then languidly reached up to pull his face out of the pages.

“Was that really necessary?” the old man demanded.

“You could pretend to sleep through the bell, I figured the book could get you moving,” Clyde shrugged, then turned to his companion, “Belix, this is Maudly, Maudly, this is my partner.”

“Oh?” the old man cocked an eyebrow, “Traded up for a new model?”

“I will cut your ears off if you say that again,” Clyde growled, “But I need your help with something.”

Pulling the notes from his pocket, Clyde tossed them onto the counter, but Maudly just pushed them back at him.

“What makes you think I care?”

“Someone killed Charlotte,” Clyde replied simply.

“Yes, and you have no idea how much of a relief that is,” Maudly yawned, “Bitch was nothing but a pain in my ass.”

“Who said she was dead?”

“You just…”

“Yes, Charlotte MondeArane is gone, but we both know that’s not who she was,” Clyde leaned close, “Do you really want her to find you how rude you’re being?”

“That is one Hell of a reach little boy.”

“Is it a risk you’re willing to take?”

“Hrrmmm,” Maudly grumbled, leaning back in his chair, “Pay me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You want this done, I’m charging a processing fee.”

“How much?” Clyde demanded, but Maudly only shrugged, “Okay then, Five Silver.”

“Five Gold,” Maudly snapped.

“Two!” Clyde snapped.

“Urgh… fine,” Maudly rolled his eyes.

Letting out his own frustrated grunt, Clyde searched his pockets, but his hands came away empty.

“I’m waiting,” Maudly demanded.

“Dammit…” Clyde grumbled, “I left it at the…” he turned and headed towards the door, make sure he doesn’t run away!”

“Sure,” Belix shrugged, then grabbed a stool from her side of the reception counter and sat down, glaring at the old man.

“Wanna fuck?” Maudly demanded, glaring back at her.

“That depends,” Belix smiled back.

“On what?”

“You still got lead in your bullets or are you just shooting gunpowder at this point?”

They scoffed and broke out laughing, warmly smiling as they enjoyed the joke.

“Not bad kid, not bad,” Maudly shook his head.

“Eh, I’m not much younger than you,” Belix shrugged, “I just carry it better.”

“Too true, too true…” Maudly nodded, stroking his beard, “So, what got you wrapped up with that Asshole?”

“Clyde?” Belix glanced at the door, “Good a place to be as any.”

“You’re into him, aren’t you?”

“Well, I mean, he does have a nice ass.”

“Meh,” Maudly leaned his own stool back and rested his back against the back wall, “Trust me kid, it ain’t worth it.”

“You’ll excuse me if I’m not about to jump all over the advice coming from a committed recluse.”

“How do you think I got this way?” Maudly laughed, “Trust me, I know the type, oh, it’ll be fun for a while, the sex’ll blow your mind, but, one day, you’ll wake up and realize that you’re not his priority, Hells, you’re not even a consideration, at best, you’re a support, one he can live without.”

“We’re not having sex,” Belix muttered defensively.

“Oh? And you think that’s a positive sign?” Maudly raised an eyebrow, “Probably means he’s already started to move on.”

“I mean…” Belix sighed, shaking her head, “Translate the note.”

“Why? I aint been paid yet.”

“You will be, we both know you will be, and I wan to be out of here as soon as possible when he gets back.”

“Touch a nerve there kid?”

“Break your nose old man?”

“Huh?” Maudly asked, then Belix back-handed him across the face and sent him sprawling on the floor.

“Translate the note!” she huffed, folding her arms and staring impatiently at the floor.

Off in the streets, Clyde was piloting the iron horse back to the mansion when he heard the sirens and saw the smoke rising from the buildings in the distance. He knew his mission, and his responsibility, but he turned towards the smoke in the end, wanting to know how he could help. Once arriving he saw the building burning to the ground and a group of people already huddled on the street while the fire-fighters did what they could to subdue the blaze.

“Is everyone alright?” Clyde asked, jumping down from the carriage and approaching the huddled masses, “I can take you to the hospital if you need.”

“No,” one of them shook his soot stained head and coughed loudly, “We’re… we’ll be fine.”

“My son!” a woman shouted, grabbing Clyde by the shirt, “Please, you have to help my son!”

“...right…” he pulled her hands off of him, and ran off without asking any further questions.

Kicking down the front door, he was met by a wall of flame, but, Clyde simply covered his face and charged through, coming out on the other side to a, thankfully, bare spot that wasn’t currently ablaze. Pulling out his spiders, he had them knit him a mask to block out the smoke enough for him to continue on.

“Hey!” he shouted, “HEY! IS ANYONE IN HERE!?”

“...kaff...kaff...help…” a tiny voice called out to him weakly from a higher floor.

Clyde charged towards the stairs, avoiding some falling debris, and finding the child at the end of a hall, he had been saved from the flames by the fire hoses but then found himself trapped by the smoke they had created. What was worse, the floor near him was charred and brittle. The boy might be able to make it if he wasn’t huddled in the corner, sputtering and crying. Gritting his teeth, Clyde jumped the distance, but cut his leg when his foot crashed through the weakened floorboards. He pushed through the pain and climbed up just as the floor gave way underneath him.

Rushing over to the child, he pulled the muffler from off his own face and wrapped it around the boy who was still sputtering and weeping.

“Take it slow,” Clyde advised him, already tucking the boy under his arm, “It won’t clear your lungs, but it’ll keep more from getting in, now…” he looked the place over and found himself surrounded by flames and charred wood, “How the Hell do we get out of here?”

The only option that presented itself was a nearby window the firemen had shattered with a blast from their hoses. Clyde had the Spiders wrap his arm in a cloth as he ran towards it and used the coverage to knock away the last few chunks of glass as he set the boy on the windowsill.

“Alright, deep breaths, deep breaths,” Clyde advised him, placing the Spiders on the backs of his hand and letting them wrap their legs over his fingers to act as climbing claws, “I’m going to need you to wrap your arms around my neck and hold on, Don’t Let…”

Clyde paused when he heard a loud Thunk and saw an arrowhead protruding from the wall beside the child. They both looked at it curiously, and then an audible Thump right behind the arrow and a black gloved hand reached out. It plucked the boy from the windowsill and pulled him into the open air even as Clyde reached out to prevent the abduction. Yet, as he looked through the window, Clyde could see a large man in a black and gold costume lowering himself to the ground on a cable he had attached to the arrow. Glaring down at them, he watched the boy be set down safely and his eyes narrowed.

Using the arrow and rope to swiftly rappel down, Clyde gave the cable a yank and pulled the arrow from its spot in the wall, deftly catching it as it fell.

“That was very brave what you did,” the large man in black admitted, turning about to face him, “But you should leave heroics to the professionals.”

Clyd said nothing, untying the arrow from the rope and tucking it into his belt.

“Taking a souvenir are we?” the large man in black smirked beneath his full face mask and wound the rope back into the pouch on his arm, “That’s fine, I’ve got plenty more.”

Looking over his suit, Clyde noticed the many pouches and holstered weapons this man had been carrying with him. A testament to his strength if nothing else, that he could still move around while so encumbered.

“I don’t believe I caught your name,” Clyde finally spoke, a welling hatred barely contained in his chest, in his mind he was begging, pleading, Don’t you dare say it, he thought.

“A newcomer then,” the large man in black chuckled, “And here I thought all had heard of me.”

He was cut off by a loud Crack and the splintering of wood as the building behind Clyde started to collapse in on itself.

“Perhaps we’d best discuss this in a different…” he reached out, touching Clyde’s shoulder, “A Safer location…”

Clyde slapped his hand around the larger man’s wrist and held it in a vice-like grip that cracked the larger man’s metal bracelets.

“Your name?!” Clyde demanded, a faint growl audible in his throat.

The large man in black was taken aback by the assault, but merely pulled his hand from Clyde’s grasp and stepped away.

“Good sir, you find yourself before the Silk Merchant.”

A vein burst in Clyde’s forehead, the sudden pain was the only thing keeping his anger in check, allowing him to prioritize the situation, and move him towards the exit. Clutching his head, he pushed past the man in black and through the crowd towards his carriage.

“Sir… If I’ve done something to offend…”

“That’s not your name,” Clyde couldn’t stop himself from snarling back, activating the old Iron Horse and turning to leave the area.

He couldn’t prove it, but he could feel the large man in black smiling under his mask, laughing at him.

Clyde was barely in his own mind on the ride back to the mansion, still fuming, barely able to think. He didn’t bother knocking on the door, shoving it open and leaving it there as he marched through the house. Grabbing Belix’s suitcase and his own, he came to his senses just long enough to notice Alto blocking his path.

“Just what the Hell do you think you’re…”

“Shut up and get the fuck out of my way,” Clyde snapped at him, trying to shove his way past, but with both of his hands occupied, Alto was able to successfully hold him at bay.

“I don’t know what kind of agreement you had with Maggie, but I’m not about to let out…”

“WHAT?!!” Clyde demanded, “Come and Go as I Please?!! In My Own Fucking Home No Less?!!”

“You broke the fucking Door!” Alto shouted and Clyde could see the truth to his statement, though the door wasn’t actually broken, its handle had cracked open the stone wall beside it and the violent way he had opened it had also knocked over a stand and shattered a vase.

“I didn’t notice that… I… I’ll fix it…” Clyde shook his head, “No, Fuck That, Get Out Of My Way!”

“Better idea,” Alto folded his arms, “How ‘bout you try and move me!”

Clyde glared back at him with an unmistakable hatred and then kicked the other man in the gut, folding him in half and sending him flying across the room. As Alto lay on the ground, holding his gut, trying not to vomit, Clyde stepped over to him and stood there for a long time, considering all the ways he could end the mans pathetic life. Then let out a sigh, his emotions reined in once more, Clyde stomped through the door.

“With any luck,” he muttered just before stepping off the porch, “This will be the last time we see each other.”

Throwing the suitcases into the carriage, he drove the iron horse back to the city at breakneck speed, very nearly capsizing it a dozen times over before sliding it into a parking spot beside the old book shop. He dropped the coins on the desk in front of him finally noticed Maudly and Belix staring at him aghast.

“What?” Clyde demanded.

“Your hand is bleeding,” Belix commented.

She pointed to his left side, where his death grip had split the flesh of his palm and left his lifeblood slowly draining out onto the floor.

“Sorry,” he muttered, peeling the money pouch out of his compressed flesh and tying it onto his belt as he examined the damage, “Didn’t mean to foul your…”

“What the Hells happened to you?” Belix whispered, seeming genuinely concerned.

“I…” Clyde let out a sigh and shook his head, “Later, alright, Let’s just translate the note.”

“Been and done,” Maudly commented, pushing a slip of paper across the desk, “Your girl was insisting on it.”

“Good,” he grabbed the page and scanned it over, seeing only one phrase which read, ‘where the shadows lie’, “What’s it mean.”

“It an excerpt from a poem,” Maudly explained, “It’s about the man who loved the Morning Star, it’s an old pagan God who…”

“I know who it is,” Clyde snapped, dropping the page, “What does it Mean?!”

“...ugh...the poem is about a man who loves the Morning Star,” Maudly repeated, “The Pagan Goddess who lights the sun every morning and carries it to the horizon.”

“The man begs and pleads,” Belix added, showing him the poem in an open book, “Says he’ll follow her wherever, but every night, she returns to the underworld, the one place he can’t follow.”

Clyde shut his eyes and took a deep breath, not wanting to hear this anymore.

“She’s telling you to fuck-off son,” Maudly told him bluntly, “That if she aint dead already, she’s gone to die, so don’t follow.”

“Right…” Clyde reached into his vest and pulled the stolen arrow from an interior pocket, slapping it down on the desk, “What about this?”

“Where have you been?” Belix whispered, but he ignored her.

“Not my area,” Maudly insisted, folding his arms, “I got books, I got history, I got lore and myth, weapons aren’t…” he paused as Clyde wordlessly flipped a silver coin onto the desk and then let out a sigh, “That said, I do know somebody.”

“Where?” Clyde demanded.

“Best if I send him to you,” Maudly commented, absentmindedly picking up the arrow and looking it over, “He gets a bit skittish where it comes to his base.”

“Set up the meeting,” Clyde ordered, snatching the arrow out of his hands and pocketing it again, “We’ll be at the pub two blocks over.”

“We’re not staying at the mansion?” Belix asked.

“No,” Clyde breathed, then to Maudly, “Can you have your friend meet us before sundown?”

“I believe so,” Maudly nodded.

“Thank you,” Clyde turned away and marched out of the shop.

Description

[Cold Eyes]

Clyde, after searching for a few minutes, eventually slid the point of his blade into a seam in the fake tooth and popped it open. Inside was a lilliputian slip of paper with even smaller writing on it. He used a lamp and a magnifying glass to enhance the images and copied them down in larger print on a spare sheet of paper.

“So, what is it?” Belix wondered, looking over his shoulder.

“A code,” Clyde mentioned, copying down the last letter and then folding them both in together before pocketing them, “She was double encrypting.”

“Could you crack it?” she asked.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, moving away from the desk and laying down on the bed, “If I had a week or two.”

“And, for the sake of expediency?”

“There’s a guy in the city I can go see, he knew her, he’ll probably… he might help.”

“So, what now?” Belix asked sitting next to him.

“I guess,” Clyde shrugged, “I guess we go and get some sleep, head out in the morning.”

“Yeah? And you’re just gonna sleep in all that mud and muck and filth?”

Looking down at his clothes, caked in dirt from his knees to his feet and splattered with mud across his chest. When he stood up, he looked back and saw the muck had smeared itself across his bedspread. With a grumbling sigh, he started taking off his clothes searching through his things for a change. It took Belix staring daggers into the side of his head before he finally noticed that she hadn’t left.

“Do you mind?” he demanded.

“Not particularly,” she replied coyly, “Do you want me to start dropping coins or…”

“Can you just get out?”

She reached out a hand and touched his wrist, drawing his attention again and giving him an intense look.

“It’s alright,” she told him.

“I know,” he muttered, “Because tomorrow’s another day and… and it’ll be fine when it’s…”

“No,” she insisted, squeezing his hand, “It’s okay now, what you’re feeling, right now… it’s not…”

“I got my girlfriend pregnant with a mutant fetus that didn’t even live long enough to breathe clean air,” he didn’t look her in the eye when he said it, “And my mother’s either been killed or faked her own death because of the clandestine organization that trained her, there are no words for what I am feeling.”

“Fucked-up, upset, confused?” Belix pressed on, “Maybe you’re just not trying hard enough.”

“Ha! Yeah,” Clyde shook his head, “I’ll… keep that in mind.”

“...try,” she gave his hand a final squeeze and turned away, leaving the room, “I’m gonna take a shower before I hit the sack, want me to save you some hot water?”

“No…” he pulled a clean shirt from his suitcase and tossed it onto the bed, “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be here.”

She walked away and he stared at the mud he had left on his mattress for a long time before he finally threw his suitcase in the floor and climbed into bed.

Maggie had refilled the stables with a small herd of horse, three in total and a young fowl, so Clyde felt less guilty about taking out the old Iron Horse, Charlotte’s motorized carriage. Belix rode upfront on the driver’s bench with him the whole way and seemed to genuinely enjoy the ride as they entered into town.

“So… where’re we headed?” she asked.

“Down here,” he pointed, “To the south-east side of town, well, if it’s still open anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll know when you see it.”

Minutes later, the sign for the book shop, barely held up by a pair of rusted bolts, loomed at the end of the street, and beneath it the unpainted, weathered, clearly rotting wood of the shop nearly blended in with the filth covered brick of its surrounding buildings. Belix hopped down from the carriage and took a few seconds to watch the poorly secured sign as it swayed in the gentle cross-breeze.

“Gotcha,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“Yeah,” he looked to the door and saw that the sign in the window had been switched to ‘open’, “Now, let’s see if the important part still works.”

Through the creaking door, down a flight of rickety stairs, and past a curtain of cobwebs, they entered into a valley of shelves laden with books and a small counter-top set off to the left, near the back of the structure. On the counter-top lay an old man with a large bald patch and a long wight beard, dryly snoring, his face literally buried in a book. Clyde examined the situation, considered the bell next to the old man’s ear, and then slammed the book closed on the old man’s head. He reacted, grunting in pain and then languidly reached up to pull his face out of the pages.

“Was that really necessary?” the old man demanded.

“You could pretend to sleep through the bell, I figured the book could get you moving,” Clyde shrugged, then turned to his companion, “Belix, this is Maudly, Maudly, this is my partner.”

“Oh?” the old man cocked an eyebrow, “Traded up for a new model?”

“I will cut your ears off if you say that again,” Clyde growled, “But I need your help with something.”

Pulling the notes from his pocket, Clyde tossed them onto the counter, but Maudly just pushed them back at him.

“What makes you think I care?”

“Someone killed Charlotte,” Clyde replied simply.

“Yes, and you have no idea how much of a relief that is,” Maudly yawned, “Bitch was nothing but a pain in my ass.”

“Who said she was dead?”

“You just…”

“Yes, Charlotte MondeArane is gone, but we both know that’s not who she was,” Clyde leaned close, “Do you really want her to find you how rude you’re being?”

“That is one Hell of a reach little boy.”

“Is it a risk you’re willing to take?”

“Hrrmmm,” Maudly grumbled, leaning back in his chair, “Pay me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You want this done, I’m charging a processing fee.”

“How much?” Clyde demanded, but Maudly only shrugged, “Okay then, Five Silver.”

“Five Gold,” Maudly snapped.

“Two!” Clyde snapped.

“Urgh… fine,” Maudly rolled his eyes.

Letting out his own frustrated grunt, Clyde searched his pockets, but his hands came away empty.

“I’m waiting,” Maudly demanded.

“Dammit…” Clyde grumbled, “I left it at the…” he turned and headed towards the door, make sure he doesn’t run away!”

“Sure,” Belix shrugged, then grabbed a stool from her side of the reception counter and sat down, glaring at the old man.

“Wanna fuck?” Maudly demanded, glaring back at her.

“That depends,” Belix smiled back.

“On what?”

“You still got lead in your bullets or are you just shooting gunpowder at this point?”

They scoffed and broke out laughing, warmly smiling as they enjoyed the joke.

“Not bad kid, not bad,” Maudly shook his head.

“Eh, I’m not much younger than you,” Belix shrugged, “I just carry it better.”

“Too true, too true…” Maudly nodded, stroking his beard, “So, what got you wrapped up with that Asshole?”

“Clyde?” Belix glanced at the door, “Good a place to be as any.”

“You’re into him, aren’t you?”

“Well, I mean, he does have a nice ass.”

“Meh,” Maudly leaned his own stool back and rested his back against the back wall, “Trust me kid, it ain’t worth it.”

“You’ll excuse me if I’m not about to jump all over the advice coming from a committed recluse.”

“How do you think I got this way?” Maudly laughed, “Trust me, I know the type, oh, it’ll be fun for a while, the sex’ll blow your mind, but, one day, you’ll wake up and realize that you’re not his priority, Hells, you’re not even a consideration, at best, you’re a support, one he can live without.”

“We’re not having sex,” Belix muttered defensively.

“Oh? And you think that’s a positive sign?” Maudly raised an eyebrow, “Probably means he’s already started to move on.”

“I mean…” Belix sighed, shaking her head, “Translate the note.”

“Why? I aint been paid yet.”

“You will be, we both know you will be, and I wan to be out of here as soon as possible when he gets back.”

“Touch a nerve there kid?”

“Break your nose old man?”

“Huh?” Maudly asked, then Belix back-handed him across the face and sent him sprawling on the floor.

“Translate the note!” she huffed, folding her arms and staring impatiently at the floor.

Off in the streets, Clyde was piloting the iron horse back to the mansion when he heard the sirens and saw the smoke rising from the buildings in the distance. He knew his mission, and his responsibility, but he turned towards the smoke in the end, wanting to know how he could help. Once arriving he saw the building burning to the ground and a group of people already huddled on the street while the fire-fighters did what they could to subdue the blaze.

“Is everyone alright?” Clyde asked, jumping down from the carriage and approaching the huddled masses, “I can take you to the hospital if you need.”

“No,” one of them shook his soot stained head and coughed loudly, “We’re… we’ll be fine.”

“My son!” a woman shouted, grabbing Clyde by the shirt, “Please, you have to help my son!”

“...right…” he pulled her hands off of him, and ran off without asking any further questions.

Kicking down the front door, he was met by a wall of flame, but, Clyde simply covered his face and charged through, coming out on the other side to a, thankfully, bare spot that wasn’t currently ablaze. Pulling out his spiders, he had them knit him a mask to block out the smoke enough for him to continue on.

“Hey!” he shouted, “HEY! IS ANYONE IN HERE!?”

“...kaff...kaff...help…” a tiny voice called out to him weakly from a higher floor.

Clyde charged towards the stairs, avoiding some falling debris, and finding the child at the end of a hall, he had been saved from the flames by the fire hoses but then found himself trapped by the smoke they had created. What was worse, the floor near him was charred and brittle. The boy might be able to make it if he wasn’t huddled in the corner, sputtering and crying. Gritting his teeth, Clyde jumped the distance, but cut his leg when his foot crashed through the weakened floorboards. He pushed through the pain and climbed up just as the floor gave way underneath him.

Rushing over to the child, he pulled the muffler from off his own face and wrapped it around the boy who was still sputtering and weeping.

“Take it slow,” Clyde advised him, already tucking the boy under his arm, “It won’t clear your lungs, but it’ll keep more from getting in, now…” he looked the place over and found himself surrounded by flames and charred wood, “How the Hell do we get out of here?”

The only option that presented itself was a nearby window the firemen had shattered with a blast from their hoses. Clyde had the Spiders wrap his arm in a cloth as he ran towards it and used the coverage to knock away the last few chunks of glass as he set the boy on the windowsill.

“Alright, deep breaths, deep breaths,” Clyde advised him, placing the Spiders on the backs of his hand and letting them wrap their legs over his fingers to act as climbing claws, “I’m going to need you to wrap your arms around my neck and hold on, Don’t Let…”

Clyde paused when he heard a loud Thunk and saw an arrowhead protruding from the wall beside the child. They both looked at it curiously, and then an audible Thump right behind the arrow and a black gloved hand reached out. It plucked the boy from the windowsill and pulled him into the open air even as Clyde reached out to prevent the abduction. Yet, as he looked through the window, Clyde could see a large man in a black and gold costume lowering himself to the ground on a cable he had attached to the arrow. Glaring down at them, he watched the boy be set down safely and his eyes narrowed.

Using the arrow and rope to swiftly rappel down, Clyde gave the cable a yank and pulled the arrow from its spot in the wall, deftly catching it as it fell.

“That was very brave what you did,” the large man in black admitted, turning about to face him, “But you should leave heroics to the professionals.”

Clyd said nothing, untying the arrow from the rope and tucking it into his belt.

“Taking a souvenir are we?” the large man in black smirked beneath his full face mask and wound the rope back into the pouch on his arm, “That’s fine, I’ve got plenty more.”

Looking over his suit, Clyde noticed the many pouches and holstered weapons this man had been carrying with him. A testament to his strength if nothing else, that he could still move around while so encumbered.

“I don’t believe I caught your name,” Clyde finally spoke, a welling hatred barely contained in his chest, in his mind he was begging, pleading, Don’t you dare say it, he thought.

“A newcomer then,” the large man in black chuckled, “And here I thought all had heard of me.”

He was cut off by a loud Crack and the splintering of wood as the building behind Clyde started to collapse in on itself.

“Perhaps we’d best discuss this in a different…” he reached out, touching Clyde’s shoulder, “A Safer location…”

Clyde slapped his hand around the larger man’s wrist and held it in a vice-like grip that cracked the larger man’s metal bracelets.

“Your name?!” Clyde demanded, a faint growl audible in his throat.

The large man in black was taken aback by the assault, but merely pulled his hand from Clyde’s grasp and stepped away.

“Good sir, you find yourself before the Silk Merchant.”

A vein burst in Clyde’s forehead, the sudden pain was the only thing keeping his anger in check, allowing him to prioritize the situation, and move him towards the exit. Clutching his head, he pushed past the man in black and through the crowd towards his carriage.

“Sir… If I’ve done something to offend…”

“That’s not your name,” Clyde couldn’t stop himself from snarling back, activating the old Iron Horse and turning to leave the area.

He couldn’t prove it, but he could feel the large man in black smiling under his mask, laughing at him.

Clyde was barely in his own mind on the ride back to the mansion, still fuming, barely able to think. He didn’t bother knocking on the door, shoving it open and leaving it there as he marched through the house. Grabbing Belix’s suitcase and his own, he came to his senses just long enough to notice Alto blocking his path.

“Just what the Hell do you think you’re…”

“Shut up and get the fuck out of my way,” Clyde snapped at him, trying to shove his way past, but with both of his hands occupied, Alto was able to successfully hold him at bay.

“I don’t know what kind of agreement you had with Maggie, but I’m not about to let out…”

“WHAT?!!” Clyde demanded, “Come and Go as I Please?!! In My Own Fucking Home No Less?!!”

“You broke the fucking Door!” Alto shouted and Clyde could see the truth to his statement, though the door wasn’t actually broken, its handle had cracked open the stone wall beside it and the violent way he had opened it had also knocked over a stand and shattered a vase.

“I didn’t notice that… I… I’ll fix it…” Clyde shook his head, “No, Fuck That, Get Out Of My Way!”

“Better idea,” Alto folded his arms, “How ‘bout you try and move me!”

Clyde glared back at him with an unmistakable hatred and then kicked the other man in the gut, folding him in half and sending him flying across the room. As Alto lay on the ground, holding his gut, trying not to vomit, Clyde stepped over to him and stood there for a long time, considering all the ways he could end the mans pathetic life. Then let out a sigh, his emotions reined in once more, Clyde stomped through the door.

“With any luck,” he muttered just before stepping off the porch, “This will be the last time we see each other.”

Throwing the suitcases into the carriage, he drove the iron horse back to the city at breakneck speed, very nearly capsizing it a dozen times over before sliding it into a parking spot beside the old book shop. He dropped the coins on the desk in front of him finally noticed Maudly and Belix staring at him aghast.

“What?” Clyde demanded.

“Your hand is bleeding,” Belix commented.

She pointed to his left side, where his death grip had split the flesh of his palm and left his lifeblood slowly draining out onto the floor.

“Sorry,” he muttered, peeling the money pouch out of his compressed flesh and tying it onto his belt as he examined the damage, “Didn’t mean to foul your…”

“What the Hells happened to you?” Belix whispered, seeming genuinely concerned.

“I…” Clyde let out a sigh and shook his head, “Later, alright, Let’s just translate the note.”

“Been and done,” Maudly commented, pushing a slip of paper across the desk, “Your girl was insisting on it.”

“Good,” he grabbed the page and scanned it over, seeing only one phrase which read, ‘where the shadows lie’, “What’s it mean.”

“It an excerpt from a poem,” Maudly explained, “It’s about the man who loved the Morning Star, it’s an old pagan God who…”

“I know who it is,” Clyde snapped, dropping the page, “What does it Mean?!”

“...ugh...the poem is about a man who loves the Morning Star,” Maudly repeated, “The Pagan Goddess who lights the sun every morning and carries it to the horizon.”

“The man begs and pleads,” Belix added, showing him the poem in an open book, “Says he’ll follow her wherever, but every night, she returns to the underworld, the one place he can’t follow.”

Clyde shut his eyes and took a deep breath, not wanting to hear this anymore.

“She’s telling you to fuck-off son,” Maudly told him bluntly, “That if she aint dead already, she’s gone to die, so don’t follow.”

“Right…” Clyde reached into his vest and pulled the stolen arrow from an interior pocket, slapping it down on the desk, “What about this?”

“Where have you been?” Belix whispered, but he ignored her.

“Not my area,” Maudly insisted, folding his arms, “I got books, I got history, I got lore and myth, weapons aren’t…” he paused as Clyde wordlessly flipped a silver coin onto the desk and then let out a sigh, “That said, I do know somebody.”

“Where?” Clyde demanded.

“Best if I send him to you,” Maudly commented, absentmindedly picking up the arrow and looking it over, “He gets a bit skittish where it comes to his base.”

“Set up the meeting,” Clyde ordered, snatching the arrow out of his hands and pocketing it again, “We’ll be at the pub two blocks over.”

“We’re not staying at the mansion?” Belix asked.

“No,” Clyde breathed, then to Maudly, “Can you have your friend meet us before sundown?”

“I believe so,” Maudly nodded.

“Thank you,” Clyde turned away and marched out of the shop.