Delmechia
It's probably best to track down this person tonight; this shooting sounds like something that was planned and you've got an idea that Stellwetter's men are dealing with someone more dangerous than they might think. As for you, you have a knack for succeeding where others fail.
You come up to the corner near the rear exit of the pub and hear some voices still discussing the shooting.
"Yeah, shot 'im dead and ran out here, Harry. I was sittin' at the bar there. Saw 'im comming, I did. Had a metal mask covering his face with glass eye holes..."
That's the voice of the dwarf from the bar earlier. The "leprechaun".
You creep up to the wall behind some trash cans and then sneak past in the dark and the rain. As you walk you glance over and see a human man saying something to him; something about how it's not so surprising with this section of the city being the way it is and that such was bound to happen sooner or later.
Once you're safely beyond them, you begin a slow trot, scanning the ground for clues as you go. The brick walls and alleys flying past on either side of your vision. At one point you hear something that might be a gunshot, but it's still too far away to tell for sure. With the way this section of the city is, even if it was a gunshot there's no guarantee that it's related to your case.
You look at the ground closely, but see nothing, and after about five minutes you catch a glimpse of car light passing through on the main road. Unless the shooter turned down one of those narrow side alleys, it looks like he's done pretty well for himself.
You come out of the alley. Silent crumbs of traffic passing by. A marquee over a clothing store across the street. Neon signposts glowing onto the wet road.
The alley continues on across the street, but you briefly consider whether it would be worth it to keep going on. Then something catches your eye: a streak of blood on the brick below the marquee.
A couple people glance your way as you run past and a car horn honks from behind you. The blood is still slowly inching down the brick when you get close enough to examine it. All precise measurements aside, you know it doesn't take long for human blood to coagulate, and this streak smells fresh.
You follow the wall and re-enter the side-street, still looking at the ground, not seeing any more blood; all traces of crimson washed away in the downpour. At least now you don't expect this endeavor to be fruitless.
As if the thought summoned the action, you hear a loud scream come from up ahead, and then two gunshots in quick succession.
After running a few yards further down, two vague shapes appear ahead. By the blue light cast into the street, you can make out one large man standing at an intersection, where a narrow side street passes orthogonal to the alley. The other figure is a corpse lying on the ground next to him.
He points his gun up high toward the middle of the buildings around him and fires again, just as you quietly slip into the shadows next to a trash can and some scattered bags. What the hell he could be shooting at is beyond reckoning.
Then, in the black at the furthest plane of your vision, you see a flicker of blue as something silently winds its way across a high window and then disappears like a sorcerer's trick. The man stands, revolving in circles, and looking for the strange being.
When he fires his gun the forth time, there comes a high-pitched shriek from behind him, and you suddenly see the building-crawler appear like a demon teleported from the darkest depths of some hell. Almost the size of a small car, with tiny red beads that might be eyes. It's large metallic legs glimmer with rain-light as it swings down to the head of the gunman. He drops himself on the ground with only a portion of a second to spare and avoids the blade-like tentacle. The beast strikes the hard asphalt, leaving a small hurricane crater, and then it bounds up into the air again, giving you a clear view of eight mechanical and spidery legs, before it disappears back onto one of the buildings out of your sight.
From his back, the man looks up and fires three more times in succession, making only a click with his last shot. Empty.
You feel blood throbbing under your skin, as your hand snakes it's way, almost unconsciously, to your dagger. You have a feeling that it's too late for this guy, but there still might be something you can do.
You come up to the corner near the rear exit of the pub and hear some voices still discussing the shooting.
"Yeah, shot 'im dead and ran out here, Harry. I was sittin' at the bar there. Saw 'im comming, I did. Had a metal mask covering his face with glass eye holes..."
That's the voice of the dwarf from the bar earlier. The "leprechaun".
You creep up to the wall behind some trash cans and then sneak past in the dark and the rain. As you walk you glance over and see a human man saying something to him; something about how it's not so surprising with this section of the city being the way it is and that such was bound to happen sooner or later.
Once you're safely beyond them, you begin a slow trot, scanning the ground for clues as you go. The brick walls and alleys flying past on either side of your vision. At one point you hear something that might be a gunshot, but it's still too far away to tell for sure. With the way this section of the city is, even if it was a gunshot there's no guarantee that it's related to your case.
You look at the ground closely, but see nothing, and after about five minutes you catch a glimpse of car light passing through on the main road. Unless the shooter turned down one of those narrow side alleys, it looks like he's done pretty well for himself.
You come out of the alley. Silent crumbs of traffic passing by. A marquee over a clothing store across the street. Neon signposts glowing onto the wet road.
The alley continues on across the street, but you briefly consider whether it would be worth it to keep going on. Then something catches your eye: a streak of blood on the brick below the marquee.
A couple people glance your way as you run past and a car horn honks from behind you. The blood is still slowly inching down the brick when you get close enough to examine it. All precise measurements aside, you know it doesn't take long for human blood to coagulate, and this streak smells fresh.
You follow the wall and re-enter the side-street, still looking at the ground, not seeing any more blood; all traces of crimson washed away in the downpour. At least now you don't expect this endeavor to be fruitless.
As if the thought summoned the action, you hear a loud scream come from up ahead, and then two gunshots in quick succession.
After running a few yards further down, two vague shapes appear ahead. By the blue light cast into the street, you can make out one large man standing at an intersection, where a narrow side street passes orthogonal to the alley. The other figure is a corpse lying on the ground next to him.
He points his gun up high toward the middle of the buildings around him and fires again, just as you quietly slip into the shadows next to a trash can and some scattered bags. What the hell he could be shooting at is beyond reckoning.
Then, in the black at the furthest plane of your vision, you see a flicker of blue as something silently winds its way across a high window and then disappears like a sorcerer's trick. The man stands, revolving in circles, and looking for the strange being.
When he fires his gun the forth time, there comes a high-pitched shriek from behind him, and you suddenly see the building-crawler appear like a demon teleported from the darkest depths of some hell. Almost the size of a small car, with tiny red beads that might be eyes. It's large metallic legs glimmer with rain-light as it swings down to the head of the gunman. He drops himself on the ground with only a portion of a second to spare and avoids the blade-like tentacle. The beast strikes the hard asphalt, leaving a small hurricane crater, and then it bounds up into the air again, giving you a clear view of eight mechanical and spidery legs, before it disappears back onto one of the buildings out of your sight.
From his back, the man looks up and fires three more times in succession, making only a click with his last shot. Empty.
You feel blood throbbing under your skin, as your hand snakes it's way, almost unconsciously, to your dagger. You have a feeling that it's too late for this guy, but there still might be something you can do.