Wrong Side of Heaven, Righteous Side of Hell

The boat, ship, whatever, made his stomach lurch. He never liked ships but he knew he could handle this. After all, it was only two days.

Two days.

Two days.

Two days.

He chanted it over and over in his head like a mantra.

Basso snapped Garrett from his thoughts. “When you get there go find a man named Edmond. If you run into any problems he’s got a few pigeons who can get messages to me. He runs one of the black market shops there. You’ll be able to find the shops by the markings. Just look for two black hands okay? Any shopkeep can tell you where he is. They have a pretty tight network.”

“Sure…” Garrett murmured.

“One more thing I forgot to mention.” Basso said handing him a envelope with a fake identity and papers allowing safe passage into Dunwall. “People are raving about a plague over there, so stay clear of the rats and don't die okay?”

Garrett shifted his glare from the boat to Basso, “You're a real comfort, you know that?” he shoved the papers into his small rucksack and clenched it to his side.

“I do my best. Now go on.” He clapped Garrett on the back and added under his breath, “happy stealing!”

Garrett ground down on his molars as his friend gestured to the ramp. He didn’t want to go, not that the price was too low he just… he was uncertain about leaving his… home. He hated this City, but he also loved it. Knew every nook, cranny, and hiding place. He knew everyone in the City from the stuffed shirts all the way down to the gangs he avoided, for obvious reasons. He even knew shopping patterns of most of the refined ladies. Perhaps stepping out of his routine would be a good thing, but still….. He didn’t relish in change.

“What’s the hold up?”

Garrett eyed Basso, “You sure this is a good idea?” the ship let out two loud blasts of its horn and Basso pushed Garrett onto the ramp before they took it off the dock, “No time for second guesses. Go!”

Garrett stumbled up the ramp and dropped into the ship, he ignored the grumblings of the sailors as he whipped back around and clung to the railing. Basso waved him off but didn’t stick around. And Garrett found he couldn’t move. It was as though he was adhered to the deck. The ramp scrapped his arm as the sailors pulled it in and the wind bit into his skin but his fingers dug into the railing, grounding him there. The nausea crept into his conscience mind about the same time a gruff voice broke though his self loathing.

“Oy kid. Cap wants you off the deck!”

Garrett lifted his head from the City that was quickly being swallowed by a shroud of clouds and rain. His eyes met those of a nearly toothless older sailor stacked twice his size. He blinked a few times and nodded. Best not to cause trouble on a boat. With nowhere else to go. So far from the City already.

He picked up his nearly forgotten bag and slung it over his shoulder, “Where does he want me?”

“Below, boy! Someone as skinny as you’ll catch your death before the water in your clothes got time to dry. Now off with ya!” He snagged the collar of Garrett’s borrowed tunic and slung him toward and ajar door leading below deck.

Garrett turned on his heel to glare at the man then followed his order. He couldn’t blame the man but he never much cared for sailors either. They were idiots. The lot of them. And most of them were a nuisance while sober and downright violent when they were drunk.

He ducked into the darkened cabin, his stomach lurched harder at being confined and he had to freeze to convince his gut it was not a good time to see his breakfast again. He swallowed a few times, feeling sweat creep down his temples and neck. Just breathe. Breathe. You’re stronger than your body. Slowly the overwhelming feeling to vomit abated, though it didn’t entirely go away. He was able to finish his descent into the ship and that was key.

“First time?” someone asked as he stumbled over to a table and dropped his bag down while sinking into a seat.

“No.” Garrett breathed, “Just remembering why I hate boats.”

A wooden cup with a small amount of water in the bottom, appeared under Garrett’s nose. He blinked at it then glared up at the back of the boney, older male hobbling away. His glower softened as he took in the male’s missing leg and the wooden cane he used to compensate. “Thanks, old-timer.” though the gods know I’m not going to drink it or I won't be able to fight the urge to vomit this time.

“Ye should, ye know.” he said, seeming to read Garrett’s thoughts or maybe it was just etched all over his face. “It’ll settle yer stomach and if ye do get sick it will keep ye from getting much worse.”

His nose scrunched at the thought of drinking anything and his stomach did a couple of flips. “I think I’ll chance it.”

The male shrugged and clomped back into the small galley kitchen. “Suit yeself. But ye hurl in my kitchen, ye clean it up.”

“Threats, old man?” Garrett would have smiled if he hadn’t been so green.

“Ye do what ye must when ye deal wit’ the dogs I deal wit’.”

“Sailors get seasick?” Garrett asked to distract himself.

The old man nodded, “At times. Most are stubborn passengers though.” He added the last bit with a pointed look at Garrett.

“Yeah? And this works?”

The geezer smiled at him and waved his hand dismissively, “Threats always work. But if ye mean the drink? Yeah, ther’re those it don’t work on. If I had my way I’d give ye ginger. We ain't got none, so ye’ll have to make do.”

Garrett sniffed the drink cautiously, when the sharp citrus scent hit his nose his stomach riled. It wasn’t water. Definitely not water.

“It’s lime juice.” The old man chuckled at the look Garrett shot at him, “yer lucky we have it. I found a few of these at port. It’s sour but it won’t kill ye.”

Garrett resolved to try it, though his mind was wrapped around the premise his stomach wasn’t getting the memo. The overpowering scent was too much for him, he did however recall how Senior got him to swallow that god-awful medicine that he used to give him to combat soreness. He took a couple gulps of breath, pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, then kicked the drink down like a shot.

He fought the full body shiver that threatened to overtake him, not that he was altogether successful but he was able to clamp down on his muscles, minimising it a little. His stomach heaved at first but slowly it calmed giving him at least a brief reprieve.

“Better?” The old sailor asked as Garrett panted and shoved the cup away.

Garrett didn’t spare the old man his glare this time, “That… was… awful…” which… only seemed to amuse the oldtimer.

He gave a wheezing laugh and propped his hip against the counter while he pointed his crutch at Garrett, “Beggars can’t be choosers, boy. Be grateful for what ye have, ye’ll have a happy life then.”

Garrett gave the old timer a pointed look but didn’t give a response to the advice. Instead he turned in his seat so that his legs were stretched out in the small isle that the benches and tables left available. He laid himself on the hard bench and tried to breathe normally. If he wasn’t so nauseated he would have been amused. Had he known Garrett’s profession he probably would have gotten a serious tongue lashing.

The tell-tale clunk-and-drag of the old man walking across the floor started up and Garrett honed in on the sound. Using it to keep his mind off the rolling of the ship.

This was going to be a long two days.

XXX

As journeys by boat go, that one had been a fairly uneventful hellish nightmare.

As a brief explanation, a storm. A constant storm rocked the damn boat for two days! But they hadn’t been sieged by pirates so that was a plus, as well as an ever present fear in the back of Garrett’s mind.

If Garrett hadn’t been so queazed out he’d have stabbed Basso in the heart. In his current mood, not all the gold in the world could appease him.

The captain's baritone thundered all the way into the galley as he spouted orders at the crew. It had been that way the whole trip and Garrett had to wonder how that man kept his voice with all the shouting he did. It did nothing for Garrett’s nerves either. If he was one of those bastards following orders he’d have jumped ship by now.

He cradled his head and clamped his jaw shut while he focused on his breathing and keeping the bile down. Soon.. very soon… land. You’ll be on solid land soon…

“Ye should just go outside and throw up.” the old bastard grumbled, “Ye’ll feel better.”

Garrett had long since begun to hate the man and his useless advice. He hadn’t stopped yammering on either, it was a wonder Garrett hadn’t knocked him out yet. He didn’t bother to answer the man and in all honesty, couldn’t if he wanted to. His stomach churned with the ship and his bones had started to ache with the force he used to keep himself in check.

Garrett moaned when a particularly large wave lurched the boat to the side and the sailors aboard began to scramble around the deck. The squeaks of their booted feet sliding over the saturated deck carried into the cabin. “Goddamn! Are we there yet?”

“Soon.”

Garrett swallowed a couple of times. “You’ve said that for hours!”

“And it’s even truer now than it was then.”

“I loathe you.”

He let out a howl and cackle and dropped a bowl, half filled with broth, under Garrett’s nose. It didn’t do him any favors, considering he gagged a few times before pushing it away.

“Ye should have something in ye belly. Ye haven’t eaten almost this whole trip.”

Garrett glared up, “I can’t. I just want land.”

“Soon.”

Garrett growled his frustration and curled up in the corner, bundling a scratchy blanket over his sweat soaked skin.

As if he wasn’t miserable enough, the sound of boots culumphing down into the galley pounded around in Garrett’s scull. Then there was quiet fast whispers and the shuffling of a paper. Garrett’s instincts flared. He clutched his rucksack closer to his side and cracked his eyes to slits, his nausea forgotten suspicion took its place.

Sure enough, there were two sailors staring at Garrett, one pointed to the paper shared between them and the other nodded. A wanted poster… they had his wanted poster.

Damn!

He had hoped that no one would have recognised him but he supposed it was inevitable.

“Hey!”

It was obvious they were going to turn him in for the reward. But Dunwall didn’t care about him, he’s never bothered that city. That meant he wouldn’t be getting off this godforsaken boat for at least another two days. Not only would that put him behind but he’d have to endure this endless nausea indefinitely. And that simply wouldn’t do.

A familiar form of anger began to take hold of his gut, banishing the nausea and draping a deadly calm over his bones. He palmed his blackjack that was buried in his rucksack, the familiar weight feeling good in his palm. After two days of behaving, of keeping his head down, eyes shut, and deadening all his desires he was ready to let a little anger out.

“You deaf?” One of the beefed up sailors pounded over.

Garrett kept his grin to himself. Good dog… come here…

A meaty hand latched onto the blanket around Garrett’s body and hauled him up, the wanted poster was shoved in Garrett’s face, “This looks like you, don’t it boy?”

Garrett didn’t bother to look, it was him. He had no doubt.

“How’s about we get us that reward money? Could live on an island for a while on that gold.”

The other guy, a wirely little bastard, crackled and swung the coil of rope he had off his shoulder. As he approached he pulled the end free, a tangible threat.

Morons.

“Hey!” The geezer joined the party as he seemed to realise what the two men were planning. His bleeding heart looked like it had given Garrett the distraction he was waiting for. “You leave that boy alone!”

The alpha pivoted to spit, “back off!” and the little one rocked onto the balls of his feet, falling into a crouch that told Garrett this one knew how to brawl. But the little one twisted toward the geezer too, Garrett took his opportunity in stride. He aimed at the lovely little vain in the big guy’s temple and thrust the blackjack on point there.

The guy crumpled like a sack. As Garrett knew he would. The little guy turned on Garrett, the fact that he didn’t bum rush the door didn’t surprise him. This one was the fighter. And fighters were easy to manipulate. Garrett couldn’t be bothered to get into any kind of brawling position as he knew this wouldn’t last long. He flipped the blackjack in the air and caught it while he crooked a finger at the guy twice, taunting him. It had the desired effect, he let out a growl while he sunk into his haunches and bolted at Garrett at a dead run.

Moron.

Garrett sidestepped the guy at the last second, twisting his torso so that it stayed pivoted toward him the whole time. His neck snapped back as he met the wall face first but he wasn’t down yet. He bounced off the wall and fell to his knees. Dazed and panting he snapped his eyes to Garrett’s torso.

Garrett grinned at him, “You want me? Come get me.”

A thought raced through Garrett’s mind that turned his grin into a full blown smile: Aren't people just so amusing when they do as they are told?

He pulled the bull-routine again and attempted to rush Garrett. A swift and well timed swing upward with the blackjack had the desired effect. Much like when he had met the wall earlier, his head kicked back only this time he did a little spinout which Garrett used to his advantage. He snatched one of the flailing man’s wrists and jerked the guy into his arms. As his back met Garrett’s chest his arms circled the man’s neck.

He flexed hard and held one of his wrists with his other hand, fingernails bit into his forearm but he sure as hell wasn’t letting the guy go. He chuckled as the guy struggled in his grip, “Next time.” He whispered in his captive’s ear. “Pick on someone your own size.”

The male went limp in Garrett’s arms and he tossed the worthless bastard with no interest in where or how he landed to the ground. He snagged his bag and smirked at the old man who was staring at the downed duo with horror.

“I don’t have to do that to you, do I?” Garrett asked even though he knew the answer.

The man shook his head slowly, his eyes not deviating from the men on the floor.

“Good. I’m going to walk out of here now. And you will not stop me.”

A shaky stare met Garrett’s even one and he swallowed hard. “Y-y-yes…. Wha--whatever ye s-s-s-say….”

Garrett dipped his chin in a quick nod. As he bounded up the steps he glanced over his shoulder and smiled again, “It goes without saying but you never saw me, right?”

He heard another gulp and then a squeak that was an answer, “S-s-s-s-aw wh-o-o? I saw n-n-n-no one. T-t-t-t-them? t-t-they slipped! Knocked ‘umself-s--s-s-s out, they d-d-d-did!”

“Smart man.” He didn’t wait for a response and he definitely wasn’t going to wait for more sailors to show. It was time to get good and invisible.

It was time to lose the traveler facade and get back to Garrett: The Master Thief.