This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! Remember, italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events.
Enjoy...
: The Past Concluded :
This is the sort of thing a person ought to experience at least once in their life: livin' in the streets. It's a humblin' time. Makes you think a lot.
But bloody fuck, I've already done my term out here!
If it weren't for that uptight bastard I'd still have a home. But no, he wants a fuckin' superhuman army at his beck and culls out anyone who ain't fit to his definition. God, I thought that we didn't have to deal with that kind of bullshit anymore since we cut our losses. I guess even guys like him ain't used to how things are. Still, he's got hopes for us, which is more than I can say we got on our own. But. Dammit, but it's gonna end up just like it was then! We're gonna hunt down the others an' drag them by their heels into this or cart them over to the cops. He doesn't even know what the hell else to do once we deal with that!
God damn it.
It's better than livin' in the streets, but only a hair's bit better, an' that's the rub, wonderin' if it's worth the difference.
-Lari
---Delikatessen
Reeve stepped inside the shop and immediately shook off the water from his coat and hat, then walked down the length of the deli to the booth that he and the others normally reserved for their meetings. He saw Atma with her back to a wall, facing the door so she could keep an eye on the people inside. When he was about to take a seat, he noticed another person sitting in his usual spot. Said person looked up with a grin, but his eyes were ringed with darkness that subdued the humor.
"Yo."
"R-Reno?"
The redhead chuckled. "Jeez, it's like everyone's surprised I'm still alive."
"Erm...well, I just didn't expect you here from what Elena said."
"Girl doesn't know what to say."
"Well, it's good that you're here." Reeve sat down on the opposite bench, hanging his coat and hat on a hook in the aisle. "Might I ask why you changed your mind?"
"'Cause 'Lena and Rude'd both bug me until I did. Figured I might as well give in and lend a hand."
"I though it was-" Elena spat.
"You thought, girlie. It doesn't meant it's what I think."
"Don't be an ass, Reno."
"Just bein' honest."
"It doesn't mean you have to be rude, you know."
"What, you'd rather I lie about it?"
"No! But-"
"Well, which is it?"
"Ahem!" Reeve interjected. "I can see you're doing okay, Reno. Can we get started?"
The redhead rolled his eyes, slouching.
"Right. Elena, did you tell him what's happened?"
"Just what we're up against. I doubt he remembers since he was wasted last night."
"Alright, I'll start from the beginning. Right now, Reno, we are on our own. The Mayor is completely against having the Turks involved in the investigation, and the police chief is more interested in hunting down any Soldier he can find instead of going after the killer. That means we can't rely on any of them for help. Right now I want to find others to help us, you being the first. I visited with Domino this morning, and he is completely lost in getting revenge on Shin-Ra. I..."
"I what?" Elena asked.
Reeve shook his head. "I think that Domino is...he's accused me of being a traitor. I think he's losing it."
"You think he had it in the first place?" Reno jested.
"He was a good man, but the pressure is getting to him. His secretary, even the deputy mayor agree that we need to cooperate to get through this. Domino just wants to carry on his crusade against Shin-Ra until there's nothing left of them."
"There's hardly much, anyway." Elena commented.
"But he thinks it's enough that they pose a threat."
Reno snorted in humor. "So he's a nutcase. We write him off, same with the sector police. What's left, then?"
"Us. Whomever else we can find and enlist."
"Yeah, about that. I'm plannin' on breakin' into city hall to sneak a look at the records. You work there, know where they are?"
Reeve shook his head. "No."
"Why not, man? I thought you were still a big-wig with the mayor."
"I am, but...I'm working on civil projects. Public records is out of my department."
"Could you get in, then?"
"I don't know."
"Know anyone who could?"
"No..."
"Shit. So much for an easy job. Still, at least it'll be something to do instead of talk."
"Another thing." Reeve continued. "The deputy mayor, his name is Hart. He and I talked before I left to come here. He said that not many people are happy with how Domino runs things. He said that he wants to change that."
"How?" Elena asked.
"I don't know. He said he couldn't talk about it there. I think he was afraid someone would overhear and tell Domino."
"The old fart paranoid, too?" The redhead suggested.
"It wouldn't surprise me."
"An honest statement, finally." Reno sat up and leaned forward on his elbows, rubbing his temples. "Right. So, what we're gonna have to do is get into the city records an' try to find out where our buddies are shacked up. If we can do that, then we start searchin' the sector for the psycho 'till we hit paydirt and drag his ass to prison or a pit in the dirt. If not, we do it on our own. Simple enough. We got any hints? 'Lena?"
"Actually," Reeve brought up his briefcase, "I have reports from the sector police about the murderer."
"Let's see 'em."
Reeve opened the case and pulled out the full reports of the five victims, handing them over to the Turk. The redhead began scanning them quickly, eyes darting back and forth, brows narrowing at certain passages. He briefly looked at the pictures, referring to the text as needed. Nearly a minute passed before he grunted, lips curled, and set the paperwork down with a serious expression.
"The guy's got Jenova in him."
"We suspected that much."
"But he ain't a success."
"I think he might be. Why else would he have a number?"
"Dunno. But I know that there weren't lots of 'em. Sixty, maybe seventy, but not up to a hundred."
"When did you learn that?"
A shrug. "Rumors, whispers. People said that Hojo got fed up when he couldn't make another success like Sephiroth, so he quit the project. 'Sides, the President had him slavin' over the Neo-Midgar project and that ancient."
"So why would he had a number if he wasn't a success...?" Reeve wondered aloud.
"Beats me."
"Well, his identity and position aren't as important for now. We need to think about how to search the sector and how to get others to help us. Elena, Rude, did you have any luck aside from finding Reno?"
Elena shook her head. "No. None of the reserve members answered our calls. Most of them weren't in service, so I don't think we can count on more Turks for help. Even Rude is at a loss."
"Uh-huh. I've tried my end with no luck, but I did get the controls for Cait. I can get him out of the building tonight, remote or otherwise. Reno, you run into anyone who would help?"
"Nope. Hey, you said you left the cat there? Leave 'em. When we break in, you can control it and give us an extra set of eyes. We'll get the thing out of there for you when we leave."
"That would work."
"'Course it would. So at least that'll sort us out tonight. What can we do 'till then?"
"Try contacting more people, or search the sector. At the least we can tell people in the area to keep an eye out for strange occurances and to report them. If the sector police won't do their job, then we need to pick up the slack."
"So the same as yesterday." Elena muttered.
"Yes...uh, excuse me." Reeve reached to his belt and removed the vibrating phone and brought it to his ear. "Yes?" He listened as the other end spoke quickly to him in rushed terms. He nodded absently as the conversation carried on one-sided. "He did? Why? They planned it last week? So what now? Of course. They're all with me. Sure. Sure, we're at Delikatessen by sector police headquarters. That's fine. See you soon. Goodbye."
"What's up?" Reno asked.
Reeve slid his phone back onto his beltloop, smiling. "That was the mayor's office. It turns out we don't have to break in, the deputy-mayor just relieved Domino of his position and took over, and he wants to meet with us and get this investigation on track. We've just got our authority back on our side."
"Hold on, now. Hart? Wasn't he Domino's flunky? Rude?" Reno looked towards the older man, and was replied to with a nod. "He was? Damn, that guy's the new mayor? I thought he was just some paper pusher."
"He might be, but he's our best ally now." Reeve said. "He's sending a car to pick us up in fifteen minutes."
"Well, no sense in talkin' about work, then. Let's get somethin' to eat." Reno insisted.
---Conference Room #3, City Government Office
The interior of the room was warm from the presense of so many bodies; the irony was not lost to them that the air conditioner was running instead of the heater on a rainy winter day. The newly sworn mayor was sitting at the head of a large wood table, hands spread across a volume of documents and paperwork in front of him that needed his oversight. Several pens were by his side for signatures and notes. To his left was Judge Fenris and the members of the executive office, the people just below the mayor who handled the different departments of the government and the city. To his right, almost in complete contrast, were Reeve and his people just out of the weather and unaware as to the extent of the change that was occurring. Having arrived a minute ago, Hart had to break from his fervor of lawmaking to explain what his goals were for them, and what his own plans entailed for the future of Midgar.
"It's simple in concept." Hart commented lightly. "Right now we're just streamlining the efforts of reconstruction for the city. Individuals and companies from outside of Midgar have all the experience and leadership they need to get the job done without our interference; we're just ensuring that certain standards are upheld in the process. Other than that, we have the whole legal system to overhaul in the meanwhile. Shinra wasn't exactly fair-minded about lawmaking. But, those are concerns for us. Right now I understand that you have just as pressing a need to capture this serial killer and bring him to justice."
Reeve nodded. "Yes, sir. As it stands we need all the help we can get to flush the killer out of sector three. We simply don't have the manpower or leadership to do that."
"What of the sector police? Aren't they just as determined as you?"
"Determined, yes, but completely useless on account of the police chief. He puts his personal vendetta against all Soldiers ahead of finding the killer, and the police in turn follow his lead. Their efforts have given us results, but so slow that it might be weeks more until the killer is caught. Weeks more that the populace can't tolerate."
"Just how many people has this killer claimed?"
"We think twelve so far. An officer was recently kidnapped by the killer, and we think that he has less than twelve hours to live until the murderer kills him."
Hart arched an eyebrow. "So soon?"
"The killings seem to differ, but fall into a thirty six hour average. Officer Piper was taken almost a day ago, so I must anticipate the worst."
"Have the police made any progress?"
"They caught a Soldier shortly after Piper radioed in a distress call, but I know he isn't the guilty party. Varik, though, is more than prepared to torture the man for any information he has. He hasn't spoken to me since then. Could I be frank, sir?"
Hart smiled lightly at the meek request. "I'm not an overlord, Reeve. Speak your mind."
"Thank you. Domino originally came to me and requested that I create an elite unit of people to work alongside the sector police. I think he did so because he didn't think they were good enough to stop the killer, and because I worked with Avalanche for a time." Reeve motioned to the others sitting alongside him. "As you can see, only Atma was officially assigned to work with me. The Turks, I assume you remember them, I brought on with my own money because of their talents. Domino would not stand to work with them, hence my choice. Even then Varik was not willing to work with them, and neither would the sector police itself. I've done the best I can, but this petty bias against Shin-Ra employees has hampered the investigation greatly."
"So, what would you ask of me?"
"Well...to start, to have the Turks be added officially into the unit, along with anyone I deem fit to the job. I don't want to say this, but unless you could convince Varik to accept us equally, I don't know what to do except override his authority."
"Allowing the Turks on is simple enough; I'm sure your finances would appreciate it." A dull chuckle filtered through the room. "As to additional members to your unit, I can bring as much information from the emergency relief teams as you need. If there are people you want in Midgar, we'll do all we can to locate them for you."
"Thank you, sir."
"As to the problem with Chief Varik, that will be tougher to solve. Sector police is badly understaffed because of the crisis, and we need leadership. Despite your words, I've heard much praise about the new chief from the police themselves. They get along well with his brand of authority and command, even if it is misdirected. I will see to it that he is reminded sternly about his goals, and that I won't tolerate this killer's mark on this city any longer."
"Thank you."
"You are welcome." Hart looked to a person at the end of the table. "Wikker, you will send the message as you see fit."
"Of course, Mayor."
"Conerad, ensure that any records we have of people are available to mister Reeve. Shelters, hospitals, those sent to other towns, anything."
"I will do my best, sir." Another suit replied.
"Excellent." Hart crossed his arms lightly, an idle gesture. "I'll anticipate good results because of this, Reeve. I want you to know that everyone is behind you, so there won't be any lacking of authority to hinder your search. If you need anything else, tell me now so it won't delay this more than necessary."
"If I may." Rude spoke.
The occupants of the table looked at the once-silent man, curious, Elena and Reno especially. The Turk leaned forward slightly to get a better eye to eye contact with the mayor before continuing. "Do you have communications to Junon?"
"At the moment, only by small aircraft. PHS services are still being repaired for outer-city calls."
"Would it be possible to charter an airship or helicopter to go there?"
"Certainly. Junon's engineering teams send regular flights for manpower and material. Sending you wouldn't pose a problem. May I ask why?"
Reno snorted in humor. "So we can get some people to help us out. Duh." The redhead smirked at his comrade. "Good thinkin', dude."
"Whom do you mean?" Hart asked.
"Other Turks, man! Jeez, you think we're all in Midgar? Ol' Rufus stationed some guys there when he took over an' never recalled them during the crisis. If they haven't ditched us, then maybe we can find 'em."
"Is this true?"
"Why'd I wanna lie about somethin' like that? God, you- ooph!" He winced when Elena jabbed him with her elbow. "Hey!"
"Don't be rude!" She whispered harshly.
"What he means is," Reeve began loudly to get them to stop arguing, "that they stand a better chance finding allies in a city that isn't broken down. It would be faster than to hunt for persons in Midgar who might not be alive, albeit I still believe we need help from those who live here."
Hart nodded in understanding. He had been considering asking more of Junon to speed the rebuilding of Midgar along, but hadn't thought of the military value the port-city could offer. It was the second most defended position that Shin-Ra owned, and was home to their airship and naval batallions. If there was anywhere else to get power from, it must be from there. But what allies there would the Turk want to bring? More of their ilk, or unknowns? Little fears shifted in his head, but he pushed them below and reiterated his belief that they weren't going to betray them or bring them harm. There was enough trouble getting everyone to work together already.
"I'll see to it that he goes with the next flight. I assume your man will go?"
"Rude can see to it." Reeve answered. He looked back at the man. "How long would you need?"
"Only a day. If whom I seek isn't at station, they each have apartments in the upper district; I know their addresses."
"Very well. Is that all, then?"
Reeve smiled while standing. "This should be good enough to start with."
Hart followed his action. "Agreed. I wish you and your colleagues the best of luck."
"Thank you, sir."
The group stood up and filed out of the conference room, leaving Hart along again with the endless beurocratic war to continue. He took the documents concerning the serial killer and turned them face down at the corner of the table, then slid the next agenda item to the forefront: numbers on the population living in the tent city outside Midgar, and materials lists and recommendations that needed approval. He frowned at them, gathering them into their folder.
"Cort, take these. I don't have the time to waste on authorizing aid. I know you'll handle them fine."
The members passed the file down until it reached Cort, and the man tapped them on the surface to even the papers inside. "Thank you, sir."
Hart stood then, feeling agitated and tired from the meeting. "Gentleman, ladies, I've had enough. Domino was happy to be an overlord over your jobs, but I have faith that you all can perform excellently without me looming over your shoulder. Take these papers back and use your own discretion as how to act. Cort, Conerad, Mary, if anything is needed to maintain the shelters and keep basic services moving, get them with my blessings. I don't want to see you here with requests like these again."
The three sounded their understanding.
"Wikker, I don't need to remind you to keep the police running strong. Illea, Oberon, I want the both of you to take a heavy look at sector one and be creative. Since most of it has been flattened, I want it to be the starting point for a new Midgar. Don't limit yourselves, but make it quick. We all know that the sooner we have permanent homes in clean streets, the better moral will be."
Those three also agreed to Hart's orders.
"Trent, I want you to double your talks with other city leaders. Midgar needs outside support desperately, and I'm thinking that people are hesitant because they are afraid. Remind them of the human suffering, even if it means playing on emotions; I won't feel bad if we have to guilt others into helping if it means saving lives." Hart looked at each of the persons in the room, seeing pride and determination in their features. These people would be famous in the years to come, known as the ones who pulled this city from the ashes and into prosperity once more. He smiled widely in that pleasure. "That's it, people, let's go."
---Somewhere in Sector Three
His senses all felt dulled, like they had been hacked at by rusty tools and worn away to miserable semblances of what they once were. His nerves felt like they were on fire, which they had been several times in the last series of hours. Eyesight was muddled by unwanted tears and exhaustion, his nose was broken out of alignment and was stuffed with blood and mucus, his limbs felt like they were tied down with weights. It was entirely unlike any sort of weariness he could ever recall. The worst of beatings, even all nighters on surveillance seemed so minor compared to here and now. No matter how he tried to lay on the floor, his body ached and his bruises radiated pain into an overwhelmed mind that wouldn't submit to unconsciousness. The artificial drone of magic, curative spells and ability boosting mantras, sung though his veins and tried their hardest to keep moving a body rapidly falling into coma. He couldn't imagine anything worse, couldn't think outside his own body's hurts and how each little twinge meant something else was dying inside. In less than a day, or however long it had been, his world had become this room and the immediate six blocks surrounding it, and the God who ruled stood leaning in that doorway with his chesire cat grin and burning mad eyes.
"Time to play, Piper..." The killer said tauntingly, as if teasing a pet animal.
Piper couldn't even find the motivation to argue with the killer, or even vocalize an argument. He took a deep breath and winced, the gasp sounding like an old gate closing. He tried to get up, to continue this game, but his arms and legs only barely scooted across the floor. Unable to sit up, he rolled onto his side and gritted his teeth at the several bruises and badly healed cuts on his arm, then succeeded on getting to all fours. With care, he slowly crawled forward until he reached a wall, then placed his hands on it to support himself. It took effort, actual effort, to put some of his weight on the wall and stand up without falling over and hurting himself further. Turning his eyes, he saw the killer watching him with his inhuman patience.
"Is it painful?" The killer suddenly asked.
Piper took a breath, tried to speak. All that came out was air that sounded like a curse.
"So...that's it? You're at your limit?"
No response.
The killer shook his head. "Tsk tsk tsk. Below average, and for a policeman! How disappointing."
"F-fuck you..." Piper managed.
"But still angry! That's good. It means a good last show."
The killer reached into one of the many small pockets on his person, and he pulled out one of the many materia that he had used. Piper understood now the whole ordeal that the victims experienced. The killer would catch them, heal them of their injuries from the beginning, and set them loose only to be caught again. As the process repeated, more spells were needed to keep the victim strong and able to perform. However, magic had it's limits. Soon wounds appeared that couldn't be healed properly, or not at all. Exhaustion, fatigue poisoning, began eating at the mind, and spells for haste and spells for ridding those toxins were applied. Delusions set in, violent tantrums or outright emotional breakdowns occurred that no spell could stop. Piper knew his ribs were healed unevenly, constricting his lungs and prodding at muscles. His leg was healed askew, forcing him to move pigeon-footed. Even as doped on magic as he was, he still felt ready to collapse into a heap.
The killer snapped an orb into the slot bracelet on his wrist, then lifted that arm and began humming the mantra to a spell. He smiled widely and looked directly at Piper. "No more playtime, Piper. It's the end. Let your rage do all the work, it's all you have left. Go berserk."
A fantastic array of sparkling lights and ribbons spun across his arm, then bolted over to Piper and wove themselves across his eyes and his head. It felt like a sudden heat washed over his body, the sort of dry heat you only get in a desert like Corel. But it got hotter in his body, and his muscles felt like jumping out of his skin. Even with the pain, he felt a terrible impulse to get the heat out overcome his mind, and then the thought came like a crack of thunder. 'Kill them.' It boomed in his mind, emptied out all other concerns and worries, became the axis of his world. 'Kill them.' Piper looked at the killer, and anger so intense it felt like pain drove him to take action. The man had to die this instant! There was no other alternative.
"Killer!" He screamed raw.
Limbs acted, and he whirled away from the wall with his fist raised up to give the Soldier a right hook square in the jaw. He succeeded, and the killer actually stumbled back into the other room with amazement in his eyes. Vision was sharp red, the blood pulsed in his ears. The thought roared for action, and Piper smiled as wide as he could knowing he could perform to appease it. He whipped back with a left jab just beneath the ribcage, struck with the right on the nose, then the left. He laughed when possible, elated that at last he could give the killer the beating he deserved. The Soldier just took it all without fighting back! It was every possible dream come true, and nothing to deny him. Fists stained with his blood pounded on his face and into his gut, and the killer acted like it was nothing. Piper cackled madly. He was going to kill this man and anyone else who ever denied him anything. Today was going to be a day of vengeance.
But, impossible as it was, the killer caught his left hand in air and pinned it still. Piper snarled and tried to snake in a rigid fingered jab into the throat, but that hand too was captured and held. Fury overwhelmed him, and he thrashed around and yelled to get free and continue the beating. He savagely leapt forward, head angled just right so that it further mashed the bones in the killer's nose and left speckles of blood along his face. With one leg he kicked downwards onto the killer's kneecap, three times before the Soldier stumbled. He wrenched his hands loose, stood still a moment in indescribable rage, then laid into the killer's face with a punch so severe he felt his own knuckles crack as they bore into skullbone. Again and again he struck, but the killer merely sat half kneeling and took the abuse in stride. Piper tried to wind up a great haymaker, but the muscles were cramping and getting numb; the punch was no more brutal than those before. He tried again and again, but every try seemed to eat up more of the precious energy left in his body. The thought bellowed for action, spun his mind faster than lightning, but a tiny grain of consciousness knew that his body was literally shutting down by the second.
As if waiting for that very thought, the killer suddenly leapt up from his position on the floor and grabbed Piper's throat tightly. He actually lifted the man up, then heaved him backwards into a wall with a terrific crash of moldy plaster and wood. The berserkers trance that held onto Piper disappeared as quickly as it came, and complete exhaustion left him spent and empty like a broken bottle. He slumped onto the floor, wide eyed and horribly aware.
The killer licked his lips, smearing the blood across his skin. "Oh...! That was so good, Piper, so very good."
He stepped forward and crouched in front of Piper, took a hand and lifted it for them both to see. "Come on. Fight."
Piper tried to, the ghost of his anger still present. All he managed was to curl his fingers around the killer's like a child. The killer suddenly used his thumb to pin his little finger back, and slowly applied pressure until he bent the digit back with a meaty snap. Piper whimpered, unable to cry any louder.
"Fight, Piper."
The killer moved his thumb and broke the officer's ring finger.
"Fight."
The middle finger went next. Piper picked up his free hand and balled it into a fist, then tried to punch his tormentor; it was barely a tap on the face. The killer smiled, then broke the index finger. Piper tried again, but was so weak he grabbed onto the killer's matted hair and tugged it pathetically.
"Don't give up. Fight back!" The killer demanded, grabbing the thumb violently and breaking it and discarding the hand away. "Fight! Fight dammit!" He snatched away the other hand and methodically broke each finger on that limb, then threw it away like a petulant child. He grabbed Piper by his hair and slammed the man's skull against the wall. "Don't stop now!"
Piper looked at the killer with blurry vision, feeling his mind lose it's concentration. Pain, from so many sources, induced shock in his nerves. He felt numb, so cold after the adrenaline fury of the rage-trance. Little random thoughts crossed his mind, about how he was expecting to be demoted to desk work for his poor performance in the street, how that vacation nine years ago to the Gold Saucer cemented his marriage with Elaine, how much he hated the taste of the cheap beer from the pub on eightieth street. One thought insisted he was seeing his life passing before his eyes, and that it wasn't as dramatic as he wished. Not enough musical flair, his high school drama teacher reiterated, would mean that the audience was less likely to recall it in the future. Piper settled for father's piano music with that C that was too sharp for it's grouping. It would have to do.
He knew that the killer was screaming at him, and the vertigo he felt meant that he was still being pounded into the wall like a door knocker. The pain had lost it's edge, though, and left behind a numb sensation like having a dead arm from sleeping on it funny. His vision was graying out, becoming fuzzy like the old photos from his grandparent's albums in the attic. Movements were becoming jagged, uneven like a bad movie film. Piper closed his eyes and felt the numbing sensation take a firm hold, and the efforts of living were scattered away. He thought he smiled when he realized how much effort it took merely to live, and how comforting it was to ignore it for the firs time. It was wonderful.
-----
"Piper!" The killer screamed, shoving the head into the wall once more.
The man didn't respond.
The killer stood and walked away, arms gesticulating to the empty room as anger flooded through his mind. Why? Why was it that no one could ever last long enough to satisfy him? Why did these people have to be so weak, so pathetic? He knew they had the potential, gleaned from so many insane rages he overcame and so many fights he partook of, but what else was missing? Was it something as basic as strength, or was it the spirit? Did they merely lack the will to continue on even after being completely broken? Piper missed it; all of the people he took did. What was it?
He paused in his silent monologue and looked back at the man, and he saw so much wasted potential in that flesh. Given the chance and the time, that person could have taken that anger and molded it into power. But instead his society told him to be satisfied with such weakness, his culture undemanding of better performance. The killer ground his teeth. This was going to be long and unbearable task, but someone had to prune the weakness out of these people. Only the strong had the right to live, the weak left to be killed by the strong. It was the ultimate law. But, it didn't mean that the weak were deserving of their fate. If only there was enough time...
A shake of the head, and the killer released a held in breath; there was no more time left. In the wake of meteor, in the anarchy that would permit these changes to become permanent, he had to act quickly to ensure the law was to be upheld by everyone. No more ripe a time for social revolution would come in his lifetime, and he had to do what he could.
Putting aside his mercy, he strode over to Piper and began to strip the man of his things. Today would be a day of rest, and tomorrow would mean another put to the test.
