Chapter 2: Lucya
As the sun had set the fog had rolled in, covering the dock district in a white, ghostly blanket. Shadows moved through the murk even at this hour, impossible beyond a dozen feet to tell an honest citizen from a footpad. Although this
was Mulmaster, and the line between the two could be narrow.
Lucya's hands novered near the two sharp dirks at her side. Her steps were light and her eyes moved constantly. After all, they said these streets were dangerous at night. She smiled at that thought. She smiled quite a bit.
Soon Semyon's warehouse loomed above her, the torches held by the two men at the big double doors were visible before the men themselves.
"Whatever ye want, we're not buying." the first one snapped, the scars on his face barely covered by a wiry beard. Contempt shone in his eyes. The other, a lanky youth, grinned. Lucya would wipe those looks off their faces with a
word.
"Lucya." She breathed, pulling down her mask, suppressing a smirk as both their faces fell. Her face was forgettable, a good thing in her line of work. Her name, though, not so much.
"I'm here to see Seymon. I'm expected."
"Right." The bearded one said, pushing open the entry left hand door wide enough so someone could slip through
"Go on through."
The warehouse was a working warehouse, for appearences sake, and Lucya weaved through the lines of crates towards the back, where Semyon's offices were. The warehouse was his palace, and his offices were where he sat enthroned. The open space in front of the door was his audience chamber, and, right now, an audience was being held.
A dozen of Vess' thugs were gathered, some leaning on crates, others sat on stools. Vess was there too, and she tapped two fingers to her temple in greeting as she spotted Lucya. Otherwise there was silence as they watched the show. The door to Semyon' offces was wide open, and his two fighting dogs lounged nearby. The blood in the air had them drooling.
What really stood out, though, was the man strapped to a chair, head bowed and sobbing, and Semyon stood before a table upon which lay a body, a powerful arm holding a cleaver high before bringing it down with a meaty thud. And another, and another. One of the hounds barked. Lucya couldn't see what was going on though, both the seated man and Semyon had their backs to her. She knew better than to interfere.
"Ha. More than one blow. Sloppy." Said Semyon lightly, tossing away the clever as he chuckled to himself and turned. His apron was covered with blood and his eyes were bright.
"Vanya, Vanya. What will we do with you?" He sighed.
"Please...." Vanya burbled.
"Please..."
"None of that, Vanya. You made your bed." Semyon admonished the seated figure.
"And its only fair. I care about my profits like you cared about your Nan. I trusted you, but you skimmed a little off the top." The brute seemed calm, but still, his eyes shone. One reason to stay on his right side.
"How else could I make that right?" Semyon said as the captive mumbled confused denials.
"But take a little something off the top of what you care for?" A slab-like hand disappeared backwards, reappearing with an old woman's head hanging from it, dripping blood on the floor. The dogs growled hungrily as Semyon held it before the wailing Vanya. The light in Semyon's eyes managed to make it to his face, his lips curling into an amused smirk.
"Noooo!" The bound man wriggled, turning his head away, tears flowing freely as Semyon finally saw his guest.
"Lucya. You are early." Semyon nonchalantly set the old woman's head down on the table, like it was any other tool of trade.
"I got to see the show." She smiled, as Semyon effortlessly tossed the old woman's body onto the floor. The slavering hounds leapt forward and set to work, to some laughter from Vess' thugs.
Semyon wiped his hands on his apron, mirthless and matter of fact.
"Vess told you who the targets are?"
Lucya nodded.
"You want Ewan Zugowi snatched, and his wife and the kid dead."
"And seen to be dead, so long as the trail does not lead to me. People need reminders that there is a cleaver in the fog..." Semyon glanced back at the sobbing Vanya.
"...or bad things happen." He shrugged his powerful shoulders, a glint appearing in his eyes once more.
Lucya smiled again. Best to keep him happy.
"I'll make a mess."
"Good." He said, and turned, his hand grabbing Vanya's hair and twisting his head to look towards the growling, the tearing. Not even Lucya felt like looking that way.
"Pay attention, Vanya!" Semyon boomed cheerily over the captive's keening lamentations. Vess and her men laughed. Lucya obliged. He paid well.
Semyon moved around before Vanya and let out a short, sharp whistle. Vess gestured a man forward.
"I am surprised you do not ask more for killing a child." Semyon smiled, politely, like this was any ordinary meeting, back to business once more.
"If I was the type to ask for more cash for killing a child, I wouldn't have the job." They were easier, after all.
"Definitely." Semyon acceded as his helper took over holding Vanya's head still. The huge man settled his gaze on Lucya, hanging his thumbs in his belt as he gave her a once over. There was no friendliness in his gaze, now. The way his jaw tightened carried an air of threat.
"He gets a tenday to come to his senses. Do it at a minute past midnight." Then he smiled.
"Now off you go."He waved her away and took some shears from his belt, his gaze back on Vanya. He rolled his shoulders,
in clear view of his coming victim, the knotted muscles evident under his attire.
"I have a point to make."
"Have the money ready." Lucya said as she turned, as confident as she sounded. Vanya's screams followed her out the doors, but the neighbours never dared ask questions of what happened in Semyon's warehouse.
