Wrong Side of Heaven, Righteous Side of Hell

Rich folks and their damn pride.

Rich folks and their damn pride.

It would be their downfall. Whether by chance.. Or design.

Garrett would make sure of it.

All things considered, this hadn’t been the worst day of Garrett’s life. He may count it among the top ten however. As he stared down at the shattered remains of Senior’s bow in his hands his chest ached and he tried to figure out where everything had gone so wrong.

He figured if he knew of a way to kick his own ass and still keep moving he would do it in a heartbeat.

That snobbish, borrish, serpent of a human being had turned on Garrett the moment he had the bracelet in his view.

It had all happened so fast, one moment he had slipped into the window of the lord’s office, quiet as he needed to. The lord had been pretty preoccupied with the letters before him to be much of a threat. Garrett smirked as he crept up behind the man, who was honestly oblivious to Garrett’s devices. No wonder the guy didn’t want to mess with the assassin. His head likely could have fetched a pretty penny.

He rested himself on the window cill and drew his dagger. Intimidation always worked on the fine folks, it made them much more open to suggestion. Which was exactly where Garrett wanted him to be.

The lord grumbled under his breath as he snapped the papers to attention a couple of times as they drooped in his grip. Garrett began to toss the blade in the air silently and catch it while the other male was preoccupied.

He’d been cocky, his heist going off without a single hitch putting him absolutely on cloud nine.

He was ready for his payment.

“I have what you asked for.” he smirked as the lord jumped and clenched at his chest while he flopped around in his chair. “Do you have my payment?”

The lord heaved a sigh of relief and lifted his brandy glass to his lips with a shaky hand. “Oh. Garrett.” He took a loud sip and hissed, “it’s only you.”

“Uh-huh. My fee. Do you have it.” Garrett was never one for beating around the bush and the lord’s nervousness was setting him on edge. It was never smart to hang around when you are a wanted man, even if the authorities here hadn’t caught a glimpse of him yet. He prefered to remain a shadow.

“Yes, yes, of course. It’s here.” he opened the desk drawer beside his leg.

There it was, a large bag stuffed so full the latch looked like it was having a time holding the mouth together.

“And the bracelet?” the lord prompted, eyeing the knife Garrett was still tossing quietly.

Garrett shook his head slowly, not taking his eyes off the lord. “Uh-uh. Open it.”

The lord swallowed and straightened in his chair, “You don’t trust me?”

“Not as far as I can throw you. The bag, Pendleton.”

He huffed and released the clasp. The diamonds, gold, rubies, emeralds and countless other gems flashing in the low light of the office. That’s what he liked to see.

The bracelet was in his hand and draped over one finger quick as a flash. “Well, Lord Pendleton, looks like we have ourselves a deal.”

“N-n-ot so fast!” the bag was fastened again and the drawer shut. “I need a jeweler to verify that you haven’t swapped it for a fake.”

Garrett’s slow smile grew larger, “You don’t trust me?”

“Not on your life.”

“Smart man.”

Agreeing to that damn jeweler had been the final nail in his casket.

Damn it!

Damn it!

Damn it!

He knocked the back of his head against the side of the building he was leaning on in time with his beratement. The repetitive pain blooming at the base of his skull a brand, a scar to remind him why trusting people was a huge crock of crap. He knew better.

But he’d gone lax.

He’d almost forgotten the sting of betrayal.

He shouldn’t have trusted the lord. He should have trusted his instincts, those warning bells that had been driving him insane since the moment he entered the grounds of the lord’s manor. He should have insisted on a dead drop. He should have had a fake made. He should have… not been so damn sure of himself.

Yeah well, could’a, would’a, should’a. He was well and royally screwed now, wasn’t he?

He shook his head, irritation settling in his bones like and old friend come home. He wished he hadn’t allowed the lord’s “trusted jeweler” to appraise it. The moment he had handed it over, the jeweler started mewling that it was a fake. The guards had barroled in then with crossbows and guns and swords at the ready. The only thing that saved Garrett? His speed and his instinct to stick by exits, the window he had climbed through he had left open on purpose and due to a long running habit. The second the guards had been called for, Garrett was already halfway out the window.

Obviously he hadn't been quick enough. All it took was one guard, with one simple bullet. The flintlock missed Garrett, thankfully. But his luck had meant the bow’s misfortune. The guard must not have been a very good shot otherwise Garrett was sure he wouldn’t still be breathing.

Senior’s voice thrummed through his mind, a thief who runs away lives to steal another day. As a wide eyed child he had learned how true that was, and as an adult it still saved his life on a daily basis. Knowing when to cut your losses and run was the reason he had lasted as long as he had.

But this loss hurt. Tearing his body away from the situation, while it was the smart thing to do, was like leaving one of his arms behind. Excruciating and damn near impossible. Especially since he damn well knew that bracelet was the real deal!

Senior had spent years training him on the difference between real stones and glass imitations. He knew an imitation when he saw one. He knew who he could sell fakes to and who was paranoid enough to check before buying. He’d assumed that was why when the lord had asked if someone could examine it, Garrett hadn’t thought twice about handing it over to that sniveling jeweler.

The fact that he had planned to infiltrate the lord’s vault once the job was complete and rob the bastard blind was an entirely different matter.

Garrett ripped a strap off his armor and tied the thing around Senior’s bow. The logical part of him told him to scrap the thing but… he couldn’t leave it behind. He justified shoving it into his quiver by thinking that leaving something behind would be leaving a trail right to him.

He needed to keep moving, he had had his doubts that the lord would send his bodyguards this far after him. That was, however, before he’d caught sight of them tracking him a few streets back. That lord wanted him dead. It looked like he was going to great lengths to achieve that goal.

“Release the dogs!” a voice bellowed from below. Soon after the hounds barking and howling carried up to him.

Well that just made things more complicated.

Garrett couldn’t risk staying to catch his breath. He was exerting himself which meant his scent was that much stronger and that would lead those dogs right to him. He suffered no illusions, he wouldn’t survive if they caught up to him. He resolved to double back later, get his things and catch a boat home but he’d have to lay low for a bit, let the chaos die down before he attempted that.

He grunted as he pushed off the chimney he was resting on. His feet were quick and sure as always as he padded over to a ledge and gaged the distance between buildings. He could make it with a running start. He jogged over to the opposite end of the rooftop and tore a path over the short expanse, with a practiced leap he was quickly on the other rooftop and rolling to his feet.

He made an excellent gap between him and the bodyguards, in a short period of time, though he noticed the buildings had begun a steady decline in majesty. Where there had once obviously been sprawling courtyards and lush gardens, overgrowth and flood waters had taken its place. Windows were smashed both into buildings and out, and most if not all had fallen into disrepair. Perhaps the most telling decline, was the rank stench of bodies permeating the air.

He’d stumbled into Dunwall’s common grave. The place where people where left to die.

He scrunched his nose as the smell seeped into his mask but he didn’t remove it. If it smelled that bad with a filter, he didn’t want to know what the scent was like full force.

Garrett wished he was more surprised. But the truth was, when plague threatens the rich folks, the poor are suddenly less than useless. And they were more often than not cut off from the fine upstanding citizens with fat purses. Kindling for the fire as it were.

“The wheel keeps turning, never anything new.” he muttered to himself.

He’d seen it before. When he was young Senior had told him stories of the jobs he’d gone on where the sick were locked up and left to die. The people he’d put to rest to ease their suffering.

Garrett grinned at the thought, after death the loved ones of the deceased tend to make them into heroes. Perch them on a pedestal and cast a golden glow on all their actions.

Garrett was no exception, it seemed. His mentor had only gone into to those places for one thing. The gold everyone else left behind. And he’d killed those people to save his own hide. Given the same upbringing and circumstances Garrett likely would follow the same coarse. They were no better than the people who put them in those places.

He decided the quarantine would make a suitable hiding place, for the time being. With any luck the bodyguards would track him to this place, cut their own loses and drop the search. After all, a quarantine is made to keep each side from entering the other under normal circumstances, they may as well count him as a dead body right then and there. He was quick and quiet enough to be counted among the ghosts that lurked there. And the danger from dead ones was minimal. Ideal for hiding.

The pride of the rich.

Making them so deliciously predictable.

Before he left he was going to stir the pot. That asshole wouldn’t remain in power for long. Garrett believed in giving people there proper due. Since it seemed the universe liked to skip over some folks.

He didn't mind being the tool Karma used.

He was snapped from his plans when a gust of wind intensified the dead’s rank odor. He held his gag back and attempted to find a home, or apartment, or hovel, with unbroken windows and doors he could stake a brief claim on. He wanted to remain close to the rooftops, he had a feeling the smell was worse the farther down he travelled. Besides, having a birds eye view of things was always a good plan.

He had little in the way of options from what he could tell. Everything looked pretty well condemned. Garrett chose a building at random and was soon confronted with collapsed floors.

He pursed his lips and felt his head shake slightly as he toed a piece of what looked like it used to be wall over the gap. As it plummeted down the hole Garrett muttered to himself, “if only I had wings...no not even then.”

The next building had a floor at least and some windows that weren’t totally demolished but the door had been smashed off the hinges and propped on it side blocking the entrance. There was a bloodstained mattress leaning limply in the corner of the room like a dead man and a curio cabinet pitched into the other wall of the hallway. Someone sure made it out of this place in a hurry. Which was good. It meant no one would be coming back for a while if at all.

Garrett didn’t even entertain the idea of the mattress, not with the plague. Plague likely could be spread through the air but fluids seemed like the greater possibility. Instead he set up camp beside one of the windows that had somehow remained intact. He didn’t plan on staying long. But even a day off those private guard’s map would do enough that he could make a break for it.

He was so fucking done with Dunwall.

XXX

Lord Pendleton paced back and forth in his office muttering obscenities until finally he pinned a hot glare on Pierre from across the room.

“You’re absolutely certain this bracelet is an imitation?”

“On my honor, my lord.” Pierre lied as he bowed to hide his smile.

“That cheat! I want to see his entrails!”

“The guards will see to that, my lord.” Pierre assured. “I’ve sent instructions that they not return until the boy is found. I even took the liberty of having some of your prized wolfhounds join the hunt. He won't be able to hide out for long.”

Lord Pendleton stopped by the window behind his desk and picked up a small silver dagger that the thief had dropped in the confusion. “Thank you, Pierre. You are and always have been a lasting friend.” he sighed heavily and placed the dagger neatly on his desk along with all his perfectly place knicknacks and books and papers. He flopped into his chair and fingered the glass stones of the imitation bracelet.

“I just don’t understand. He was offered a King’s ransom.”

“Greed knows no bounds, my lord.”

Pendleton let out a sad hum. “I suppose.” then he waved Pierre away, “I need some time alone, my friend.”

“As you command, my lord. Do try to get some rest.” Pierre pivoted and closed the door quietly behind him.

As an avid chess player, Pierre often enjoyed screwing with people as though they were a part of his personal board. Pendleton and the thief played their parts as pawns perfectly. He had been manipulating people long enough to know how they will react. The thief was so certain the bracelet was real because, well, it had been. But Pendleton wouldn’t be able to tell the difference if his life had depended on it.

Pierre had been slowly building trust with Pendleton for years, so obviously he would have believed any lie that crossed Pierre’s lips.

When the guards had arrived, it had been a simple matter to swap the real one out for a fake he had made just a week ago.

The thief had fled to save his own life, Pendleton would have his men track him down and kill him, silencing the only person who could know about this. And Pierre would get away with the jeweled bracelet.

He smiled at himself as he placed his hand over the pocket with the bracelet weighing it down. So clean. So perfect.

He almost felt bad for having told Pendleton about the bracelet in the first place. About making Pendleton think he needed it so badly he would hire a shady thief, known for his reliability. About fabricating a sad letter on Pendleton’s behalf, and luring the thief in with it. About tricking them both.

He chuckled as he left the mansion.

Almost.