Ready for some gritty Witcher action? Geralt has met up with an old friend, however, an innocent stay at an inn goes horribly wrong.
**Content Warning:** This chapter contains canon-typical graphic violence.
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Chapter Text CHAPTER SIX Novigrad Reunion - Part 2Ciri faced him expecting an answer. "Well? What did you mean by 'Wendy's client'?"
"Get down from there and never you mind what I meant." Geralt plucked her from the stall door again and then opened it.
"Geralt! Ah, it's good to see you, my friend!" Dandelion reached for his arm and grasped it in an exuberant shake. The familiar scent of apple and cinnamon teased his nostrils. Dandelion's signature cologne. "To think, you here… In a stable." He chuckled and the bard's eyes slid to Ciri. "With a young… ah, very young lady."
Geralt, glad to see his good friend, rested his hand on Ciri's shoulder. Dandelion knew him well. He would not judge him like the others.
Ciri stood tall and straightened her shoulders. With a lift of her chin and hands on hips, her lips pursed in a regal expression. "I'm Ciri! I'm with Geralt. He's looking out for me."
Dandelion beamed in his usual charming way. "Well… you couldn't find a better protector." Snatching his beret complete with white feather from the floor, he moved smoothly into a low, dramatic, and formal bow. "It is my pleasure to meet you, fair maiden. One whose beauty is unmatched." With a show of chivalry, he reached for her delicate hand. Hovering over it, he pressed his lips in a butterfly kiss along her tiny grubby knuckles.
Cheeks glowed pink, Ciri stood even taller, grinning from ear to ear. Geralt could not help but do the same. Her smile lit up the stable.
"I, my fair lady, am Master Dandelion. Renowned poet, minstrel, and troubadour. And Geralt's best friend."
Ciri curtsied with the learned grace of a queen in return even though she wore a lambskin jacket and breeches instead of a fancy gown fit for a princess. But it clearly made no difference to her.
"The pleasure is all mine, Master Poet," she intoned with as much regal grace. Then she giggled.
Wendy cleared her throat quietly.
"Oh, right." Dandelion grasped Wendy's arm and pulled her aside. "My sweet peach, meet me in my room. I'll join you momentarily."
Her smudged lips pouted and she shook her mane of ringlet curls. "Oh, pooh, don't make me wait too long. I might fall asleep."
Dandelion pecked her on the tip of her nose with his lips. "Don't you dare. May the Goddess Melitele slay me shall I be too long."
Wendy shot both Geralt and Ciri a non-consequential glare and turned, her skirts twirled about shapely legs as she did so, and left.
"Geralt, what brings you to Novigrad? And how are you in possession of this lovely lady?"
The orange tiger-striped kitten, scared off before, had returned. Purring, she rubbed against Ciri's ankles. A well-timed distraction, Geralt took advantage and scooped her up. He placed the purring kitten in Ciri's arms. "Why don't you give this little one some attention since she likes you so much. Go lay down while I speak with the master poet."
"I'll stay here, thank you very much." The tilt of her chin displayed her seriousness. She meant to stay.
Dandelion chuckled softly.
"Ciri…" Although he did not want to, he resorted to the you-had-better-listen-to-me tone of voice.
She huffed. Facing Dandelion, she curtsied again. The bard bowed likewise with the same chivalric flavor as before. Stroking the kitten's fuzzy head, she made one last pleading look at Geralt and disappeared into the stall.
"You won't go far, will you, Geralt?"
"No. We'll be up front by the doors." He closed the door with a click and peered down at her over the half-door of the stall. She looked up at him with wide worried eyes, but settled down on the hay and snuggled with the kitten.
"Let's go up front." He motioned Dandelion to follow.
The two men stood quiet, listening to the thrumming of rain in the square. Neither wanted to speak first.
"Clearly much has happened. Fill me in, old friend."
Geralt breathed in deep. "Ciri…" He cleared his throat. "Your dramatic greeting was strangely appropriate. She... is the princess of Cintra. Actually, she's queen now. Calanthe perished in the massacre. Ciri's the sole living heir to a non-existent country now, thanks to Nilfgaard."
Dandelion let out a low whistle. "Whoa, she's royalty." He scratched his head then rubbed the back of his neck. "Everyone's heard about Nilfgaard overtaking Cintra. What a tragedy about Calanthe, though. She was a great queen." "
Yes," Geralt nodded. "And an equally great woman."
His friend eyed him. "Is that admiration in your voice? It was! I'll be… You liked her."
"She was good to me, Dandelion. I am saddened by her loss."
"So how did you end up with her granddaughter, then?"
"Stumbled upon her in Transriver, in Sodden. A merchant's wife had taken her in thinking she was a peasant girl, an orphan of war. The merchant had me follow him home after saving his life. He meant to reward me with his second-born son as payment. Then… You could imagine my surprise when I saw Ciri with his boys-"
"Hold on a minute," Dandelion held up his hand. "Is this… is she the child you claimed with the Law of Surprise before she was born all those years ago?" Geralt nodded. "Yeah. Eleven years ago."
"You renounced your claim didn't you?"
Geralt nodded. p"Yet you ended up with her anyway by some twist of fate." The bard chuckled, but there was a note of amazement in it. "So what are you going to do now?"
Geralt stared out into the dark square. Only a couple braziers managed to stay lit in the storm illuminating a few canopied vendor stalls. A daring individual stumbled his way across the square. The man pitched to the ground. A drunkard, gotta be.
"Taking her back to Kaer Morhen."
Dandelion stared at him. "Whoa, what? Geralt, have you thought this through?"
"Keep your voice down, will ya?" He pressed a thumb and forefinger to the corner of his eyes. "Where am I supposed to take her, Dandelion? Her home, her family... all gone. She has no one, nowhere to go."
Dandelion stayed quiet, but his blue eyes glittered.
"Spill it, Dandelion. Can see it in your eyes."
Looking a bit sheepish, he said smoothly, in a gentle voice, "Could've left her with the merchant."
Geralt shook his head. "The thought had crossed my mind, but no, I couldn't do that." He glanced back outside at how the raindrops splattered when they hit the street. "You didn't see the way she… threw herself at me... clung to me like I was the only thing in her world she could hold on to. I felt her pain, Dandelion. And her fear. Promised I'd never leave her. I did once, a year ago. No. I couldn't have left her there. Just couldn't."
Dandelion glanced out into the courtyard. Geralt's gaze followed. A guard had caught up with the drunk and tried to help him to his feet. Unsuccessfully.
"Ah, Geralt. You're a good man. She's very lucky to have you as a benefactor."
Luck? Was it as random as that? Or destiny, as Ciri claimed quite often? A destiny he created. One he put in motion by invoking the Law. Whatever it was, fate or not, she was his responsibility now. And he had to make decisions and figure out what was best for her.
"What are you going to do when you get her to Kaer Morhen?"
Geralt lifted a shoulder and sighed a deep heavy sigh. He had been asking himself the same question. More than once. "Train her. What else would we do?"
His friend's eyes opened wide. "You're going to make her a Witcher? A little girl? A queen... a royal Witcher? Why, that's absur-"
Geralt glared at him and he fell silent.
"No. Not a Witcher." He rubbed his eyes then smoothed a hand over his hair pulled back into a half-ponytail. "Couldn't subject her to the trials. And it's not like we've been doing them lately. But at least we can teach her basic self defense skills. And why not some sword work? She needs to defend herself. She'll learn survival skills, basic combat, improve her strength, develop stamina, and gain confidence. She'll learn how to track, and fend for herself. She'll become self-sufficient, Dandelion. That's the gift I can give her."
He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. "Since I've found her, she's been terribly frightened. Enough so she has nightmares nightly. She wakes screaming for dear life. It's… To hear what she has gone through, Dandelion. It'll tear you up."
The bard held his gaze with sympathetic blue eyes. "All right, Geralt. You make great points there. Those are important skills to learn. But have you thought about the fact you're bringing a young girl home to an isolated castle? Only you guys live there. There are no women at Kaer Morhen. What about her need for female companionship? Are you guys equipped to handle the needs of a budding young lady? What about her continued education?"
Geralt was about to say his friend was overreacting, but knew better. Dandelion's arguments were just ones. Dammit, he had thought about those things, but what the hell was he supposed to do? Drop her off at Yennefer's home in Vengerberg? Oh, the sorceress would appreciate that. It wasn't like he could enlist her in the Redanian army.
"Geralt." Dandelion gripped his shoulder. "You're in a position that has no easy and obvious answers. If you feel taking her home is the best thing for her, then by all means, do it. If there's anything I can help with, I will-"
"She'll be safe there."
"You're right. That's important."
"There's more."
"What? What do you mean?" Dandelion raked his fingers through his brown hair.
Geralt dropped his voice even more to barely above a whisper. "Someone is following us."
"What? Are you sure?" Dandelion turned and took a step toward the door then halted. "Look who I'm asking… Of course you are. Do you know who?"
"Haven't seen him yet, but, I bet it's the-"
A piercing high-pitched scream rattled the stable and their ears. Dandelion jumped, his fingers plugged his ears.
"Dammit! Not here, not now!"
Geralt flew to the stall and crashed it open. The kitten hissed and ran out between his legs. Ciri thrashed about on the hay screeching at the top of her lungs, tears streaming down her cheeks. Roach whinnied, anxious, dancing in place. He cast the Axii Sign and calmed the horse. He dropped to his knees next to Ciri and gripped her shoulders.
"Ciri! Wake up. Sssshhh. Wake up. You're dreaming." He shook her gently.
Dandelion entered the stall, his face white as bed sheets. "By the Gods! Quiet her Geralt, or she'll have the whole city upon us!"
"I know, Dandelion!" he hissed through clenched teeth.
"Gerrrrraaaaalt!" she screeched.
He cradled her against his chest and brushed back her ashen hair from wet cheeks. "Ssshhh. I'm here, Ciri. It's okay. Just another bad dream."
She turned her face into his shirt and sobbed. Dandelion squatted down next to them. "She gonna be okay?"
At the realization the master poet was there, she choked back her sobs and buried her face deeper in his chest.
"Was it the Black Knight again?" Geralt whispered.
She shook her head and sniffled. Her tears wet his shirt.
"Black Knight?" Dandelion inquired.
"I'll explain later."
He rocked her back and forth. "Then what was it this time?"
A fist scrunched his tunic. She lifted her gaze to his, her eyes red and swollen. "It's not safe here, Geralt. They'll take you away! Please don't leave me. Please don't go!"
"Ssshhh. Calm down, Witcher-girl. I'm not going anywhere."
"They'll take you!" she sobbed.
He looked at Dandelion and shrugged. This was something new. Usually it was the Nilfgaardian knight that appeared in her dreams.
"Ssshhh. Everything will be all right. Try to calm down."
A ring of steel sent shivers down Geralt's back. Dammit, it was too late! Why didn't he hear them coming? Both men turned toward the stall door. An uncomfortably close tip of a long sword pointed at them glinted in the lamplight.
"Don't either of you make a move."
The man pointing the sword was a burly scruffy man in his forties, and dressed in the uniform armor and colors of the city guard.
"You." The sword's tip indicated Geralt. "Move away from the girl. Now!" The guard's voice was deep and commanding.
Geralt gently pushed Ciri away from him. She clutched his arms. "No! Geralt! Don't go!"
"Quiet, Ciri. It's okay," he whispered for her ears alone.
With his eyes fixed on the guard, he held up his hands and slowly rose, stepping back. His swords were propped in the corner by the stall door. No way he could get to them and avoid confrontation.
"This is all a simple misunderstanding-"
"Did I say you could talk? Shut up, mutant! You." The sword point slid to Dandelion. "You, Poet. Up against the wall and don't move. Do as I say! Now!"
Hands raised, Dandelion did as instructed.
Ciri, with hair disheveled and tear-streaked cheeks, looked helpless at both him and his friend. Oh, this wasn't good. Shit! Geralt swore under his breath. Why was this all going wrong?
The guard called out. "Innkeep! Get the girl out of here."
The balding innkeeper scuttled between the guards and into the stall. His gaze landed on him and hardened. Then he turned to Ciri. "Come, child." He held out a hand to her. "Come with me. You'll be all right."
"NO!" she yelled shrinking back away from him. "I was fine before you all showed up!"
"Listen to the man," the guard advised. "If you want these men to live, you will go with the innkeeper. Now."
With wide eyes full of fear, Ciri looked to him. Her eyes pleaded for guidance. He had to think about her safety first. He nodded. "Go with the innkeeper, Ciri. You'll be safe. I'll come for you once this gets straightened out. I promise."
Shaking her head, her chin quivered. Biting her lips, she rose. Refusing the innkeeper's hand, she walked out of the stall on her own.
Good girl.
He gave the innkeeper a stony glare, a hard one, full of promise. The man blanched ever so slightly and left the stall behind Ciri.
Dandelion spoke, breaking the tense silence. "This really is not what you think, my good Sir. The girl belongs to this man."
"I don't think you understand me, Poet. When I say you can talk, talk. But not until then!"
The guard nodded to two other guards behind him and they entered the stall. Bearing shackles, a mountain of a man snapped them over Geralt's wrists. The fellow was not tall. Geralt stood a few inches taller than him, but with his barrel chest and thick arms and legs, he was not one to underestimate. The thick man took another set of shackles, hooked it around the set on Geralt, and then snapped one closed around his own wrist. Just great. Geralt grimaced. He was shackled to the fucking guard.
Both Dandelion's wrists were cuffed, but not bound to a guard. The captain snatched Geralt's swords.
"You two are under arrest for endangering the well-being of a child."
Geralt curled his lip, shaking his head.
"Move it, dog!" The heavy set guard shoved him proving the man's size was not all fat. He stumbled forward, but regained his footing.
Escorted out of the stable and into the storm, the dampness chilled and he shivered. The rain pelted him gluing his shirt to his torso. Dandelion's colorful fluffy attire withered before his eyes.
Hair plastered against his neck, Geralt's gaze caught a glimpse of ashen hair, inside the door of the Kingfisher Inn. Some guests then blocked his view and he fixed his gaze willing them to move aside. As people moved, the firelight glowed a halo on top of her fair head. She made eye-contact, stared wide-eyed, her eyes glazed over with worry and fear. Her mouth formed a word, though uttered no sound. Someone stepped in front of her again.
Her fear was palpable. Overwhelming fear. It wrenched his gut and clamped his heart so it became difficult to breathe. The guard shoved him again from behind. He almost face-planted on the cobblestones were it not for the shackles.
The person moved and Ciri was gone.
His stomach twisted in uncomfortable knots. He had promised never to leave her. What would she do without him? She'd be terrified beyond measure. Though the situation was out of his control, it did not matter. He was leaving her. And it killed him to do it.
I promise, Ciri. I'll come back for you.
He could not let them take him to the authorities. Ciri needed him and he must get back to her. Patient, Geralt bided his time, observed the guards on patrol and at posts. The farther away from the inn, the better and safer for her.
The captain, behind him and to the right, carried his sword belt. Dandelion was also behind him. The beast of the guard would not be easy to bring down quick. Especially shackled to him. They turned down a dark and narrow side street. No one was around.
Now was the time.
With a twist of his hips, Geralt jammed his knee in the giant's groin. When he grunted and bent over, Geralt clasped both hands together and with an upswing, slammed his fists into the guard's nose. Blood spurted everywhere. The guard dropped to one knee, crying out.
"Dandelion!" Geralt encouraged.
Spurred into action, the bard turned and jacked his knee into his guard's groin, but the man was ready for it and jumped backwards. No contact made. Surprised, Dandelion stumbled, then stood there, jaw slack, not sure what to do.
"Run!" Geralt bellowed.
Without a second thought, Dandelion took off passed him down the street. When his guard sprinted after him, Geralt stuck out his leg at the right moment. He clipped the guard's ankle, pitching him to the ground face first. He slammed his booted foot on the back of the guard's neck. Satisfied at the crunching of bones, he turned and hammered his knee into the face of his oversized guard. Blood showered all over him. The beast spit out a few teeth and collapsed on the ground. He didn't move after that.
Forced to bend over him, Geralt swore. If only he could get out of these cursed shackles!
"You think you're so smart, dog." The captain sauntered up to him. A sickening smile crept along his drenched face. "You're still shackled and I have your weapons. Sure, you let your friend get away. But you're still mine."
Bending over, hands on knees, Geralt glowered up at the captain. His hair hung in a dripping curtain over his shoulders. Rain pelted him, running into his nose and eyes. The captain's arrogant confidence disgusted him. "Have something to say to you," he hissed.
"Oh, the mutant has something to say." He spat at the ground. The spittle landed at his feet in the swirl of rainwater.
Although shackled, Geralt could still move his fingers. He drew the Axii Sign in the air and cast the persuasion spell. "Unbind me. I've done nothing wrong. Give me my swords and go home."
Groggy, the captain shook his head as if waking from a deep sleep. Fumbling for the keys, he found the right one, and unlocked the cuffs. The shackles fell off his wrists.
He retrieved his sword belt and buckled them on his back. He swiped water from his eyes and added, "You don't remember what happened here. Leave now."
The captain nodded. "Right… What was I doing? I need to go home…" He headed down the street.
Turning, Geralt stepped over the comatose guard and headed back for the inn. Dandelion would have done the same. He'd protect Ciri until he returned.
Keeping to the shadows, he slinked between buildings and dark alleys like an agile acrobat, climbing and jumping over all obstacles in his path. He prowled through the dark streets not making a sound, staying out of sight.
Approaching near the Kingfisher Inn, he plastered his back against the wall of an adjacent building. The firelight shone from the windows of the Inn. He halted, and cursed inwardly. The inn swarmed with Witch-Hunters. Shit! He ducked back behind a wooden post.
Dandelion probably did not make his presence known. At any rate, he couldn't count on him. Ciri was a prisoner and must be scared out of her mind. His chest armor, elixirs, and healing potions were in the stable, however, the entrance was guarded also. But he had his swords and they were all he needed.
Scanning the Witch-Hunters, two of the five carried crossbows. Breathing in through his nose, he focused, calmed himself, slowing his heart rate. He'd have to fight without his potions. Not the first time, and wouldn't be the last. He just had to be extra careful. Dammit it though, a crossbow would come in handy right now. He could pick them off one by one from here.
A faint and familiar high-pitched cry reached his ears. Ciri!
Teeth clenched, he crouched down and scurried silently across the cobblestones, the rain battered his eyes.
Sneaking up behind the hunter posted at the stable door, he reached around and grasped his chin. With one swift jerk of his wrist, he snapped the man's neck. The body slumped to the ground and the crossbow clattered next to him. He snatched it up, aimed, and fired at the other hunter that carried a crossbow. He went down gurgling, his hand grasped his neck. The bolt protruded from his throat.
The remaining three hunters sprang into action, swords raised. Geralt fumbled fitting another bolt into place. The rain made it too slick. He lost precious time and the hunters closed in on him. They spread out in a semi-circle around him.
He chucked the crossbow to the cobblestones with a ringing clank. It skidded towards the stable. He slid his steel blade from its sheath with a ringing hiss and raised it before him diagonally in a fighting stance. The raindrops tapped on the blade in high pitched tinkling sounds, spraying water in all directions. His gaze flitted between the three hunters, waiting, anticipating the first attack. Crouching to the ground, he sank the fingertips of his free hand into the frigid standing water on the street.
The three hunters lunged at him at once. Anticipating this, his hand wet with water, shot the Aard Sign toward them. The magical force field mushroomed from his hand and cracked and thundered about him, ricocheted off the buildings. The added moisture charged the shock wave giving it an extra punch. The explosion, as loud as the thunder was earlier, picked up the three Witch-Hunters and pitched them backwards several yards. One hunter crashed through a vendor stall, sending wood shards flying in all directions. Another slammed against the brick wall of the inn, his breath knocked out of him. The last hunter plummeted, and landed hard in a puddle on the cobblestones. All three staggered to their feet like drunkards. However, they proved resilient. They regrouped in less time than he expected.
They attempted to surround him again. The one to the far left lunged at him. Geralt slammed his sword down on top of the hunter's blade, knocking it off balance with the strength of his blow. Before the hunter could regain balance, he turned with his hips and sliced his steel down in an arc that severed the hunter's head from his shoulders in one clean swipe. The body crumbled to the ground. Blood spewed and ran a swirling trail on the cobblestones mixed with the rainwater. The head rolled and stopped in a mud puddle a few feet away.
Whirling around, Geralt parried the blow from the middle hunter with a loud metallic clang. Batting the hunter's sword arm away from him, he took advantage of the opening and stuck the hunter in the gut. His blade slid through leather, clothing, and flesh with ease. The man's eyes bulged. A stream of blood gushed from pale lips. Sensing life departed, he yanked out his sword before it went down with the body.
Blade dripping red, he turned and fixed his attention on the last Witch-Hunter. The foe assumed a fighting stance. Geralt bared his teeth. "Come on!" he growled. "Let's get this over with!"
The hunter lunged for him and he side-stepped him easily. He whacked him on the back of the head with his blade like a club as he passed by. The hunter grunted and stumbled forward clutching the back of his scalp with his free hand. When he pulled his hand away, it was covered with blood. Blanching, the hunter clamped his mouth shut and found his balance again. He whirled, and swung at him, arcing the sword from the side.
With a flick of his wrist, Geralt deflected the blow like child's play. The sharp ring of metal against metal echoed loud in the empty square. In a flurry of movement, their blades clanged and hissed in a rapid succession of blows and parries. The rain pommeled them, water sprayed from their weapons, barraging them in their eyes. Neither opponent took the precious time to swipe away the water. A piercing white flash lit up the square and hurt the eyes. A ground-shaking crack of thunder followed.
Their swords met in the middle with an angry metallic whine. His hair, although tied back into a half ponytail, loose hair clung to his face and lips. His clothing stuck to him like a second skin, hampering his movements.
With blades-crossed, Geralt fought the sense of urgency building within him. If he did not tamper that now, it would get the better of him. He would get sloppy, make mistakes. He must stay clear headed.
Another brilliant flash of lightning startled the Witch-Hunter and Geralt took advantage of the distraction. With a quick, but powerful thrust of his sword, he clocked the hunter's sword arm away giving him the opening he needed. With a blindingly fast downswing, Geralt filleted the hunter from collarbone to hipbone. The hunter dropped his sword with a rattling clank. Eyes wide, he glanced down at his torso and his innards spilling into the street. He croaked something, then crumbled to the slick cobblestones.
Geralt dashed through the inn's door. It was late and most of the guests had retired for the night. The remaining few were too drunk or too lazy to leave so they slumped over tables or in corners snoring loudly. The conscious ones just peered at him bleary-eyed without a care.
No one was behind the bar. Perhaps the innkeeper went home. Geralt headed for the stairs. Where would he have taken Ciri? All the rooms were taken. He halted. Maybe back in the kitchen? Storage area, or basement? To his home? Where the hell did the innkeeper live?
Ciri, where are you?" he cried inside though he did not make a sound.
Closing his eyes, he focused his thoughts, his ears, his sense of smell. Breathing in deeply through his nose, he took it all in. So many scents, pleasant and unpleasant. Beer mostly, strong body odor, varied colognes and perfumes. Vomit, urine... he grimaced. Took a step toward the back of the inn. Apple, and... cinnamon.
"Dandelion?" he whispered.
He opened the door to a pantry. Dandelion, at first startled, practically collapsed with relief.
"Geralt! Thank Melitele you're back! I snuck in here through the back door when I noticed the place was covered with Witch-Hunters." He gave him a glance-over. "You look like hell."
Sighing irritably, Geralt grabbed his friend and yanked him out of the closet. "Have you seen Ciri?"
"Yeah, she's with the innkeeper. He took her back out that way."
"You mean, she's not here?"
An angry rumble of thunder rolled about overhead.
"Calm down now, Geralt. He probably took her home. The man's not a rogue. I mean, I think he was just looking out for her."
He sheathed his sword and wiped his eyes. "Yeah, I get it," he growled. "Why the fuck would an innocent young girl be with a morally deprived Witcher? Like it was the worst thing in the world to be with me?"
Dandelion blanched and his gaze softened. "Hey, I didn't mean... I know you, Geralt. I know the kind of man you are. But not everyone does. You're a dangerous man, everyone knows that-"
"Shut it, okay? I've heard enough. I just want Ciri back. It's time to find out where this innkeeper lives."
"Right. I'm going with you, friend. Geralt, what is it?" Dandelion gazed at him, concern laced his eyes.
"It's not safe here. They'll take you away." She had said that... No, dreamed it, mere moments before it all happened.
He glanced at Dandelion.
Was she a seer too? Just what kind of magic did she possess?
He stepped out the back door. Something told him she was no ordinary girl. Even more so, how could an innocent stay at an inn go so terribly wrong? He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. He's a wanted man again now. Refused arrest and killed a couple guards. Even worse, he killed five Witch-Hunters on top of it. The Church of Eternal Fire would never let that go.
He had to find Ciri and get out of this city before dawn.