Author note: Shchenok is Russian for pup.

Chapter 8

I'm in a long hallway, with several doors on either side. The space is far too narrow for effective use of anything save daggers and fist so I keep my katana strapped to my back as I proceed slowly down the hall in a crouch. My leather boots are completely silent on the hardwood, as I carefully open each door, all senses alert for traps in search of my objective.

Finally coming to the last door at the end of the hallway I quickly scan the lock for traps but find none… odd. Carefully opening the door expecting an attack at any moment, I've found it! In a bare room barely large enough to hold the table in the center of it a small unadorned box, my objective.

Then I make a potentially fatal mistake, thinking my mission as good as done, I allow my thoughts to wonder to dinner at the Rozenweig's tonight. There's no way n hell this plan will work, will it; and what about Jenna? Is she really trying to help me, or could this be a trap?

The thought of a trap brings me back to reality, where the sound of a straining rope alerts me to an attack from behind. My assailant is coming at me with an ax in hand and a shield in the other, there's no time to turn around and face my opponent so instead I leap into the air tucking into a ball and the axe passes harmlessly beneath me. My attacker's momentum has carried him forward so when I land it's me standing behind him now. Before the axe can come around for another attack, I reach out and grab the haft of the axe at a speed no human could comprehend, then raising my free hand above my head bring it down with all my might on the arm of my attacker, ripping right through it!

I toss the axe and the piece of arm still attached to it to the side of the room while I kick my former assailant away. This is very bad. Any second now another trap is gonna go off and even if I survive it, will I survive the next, or the next? And it's a pretty safe bet that as soon as I grab the objective then the really nasty traps will start.

I need to get out of here now. Then I get an idea, the traps can't hurt me if I'm too fast for them to touch. I've only got seconds before my chance is gone and I'm good as dead. Crouching low, I dive over the table snatching the box and clutching it to my chest. Sure enough I can hear the tell tale click that signals a trap inside the table.

The world goes to that odd place where time seems to slow and I only notice what I absolutely must to ensure my survival. As I seem to hover over the table I smell something, a sort of sulfuric smell like a… like a…like a fuse!

"Oh, shit! He put a fucking bomb in the fucking table!" I need to move! I twist my body mid-dive so my feet are facing the wall opposite the door I came in. When my feet come in contact with wall I push off with every ounce of muscle in my body. I'm out the door a half second before the bomb goes off with a deafening blast that sends a long spout of flame after me. But my plan worked, my launch carried me halfway down the hall and I instantly rolled onto my feet and I sprinted full force towards the exit.

I can see daylight through the cracks of the door. I don't slow down, I sprint right though the door and throw myself on the ground. For the second time in as many seconds I barely beat the explosion out the door.

Panting, I lay down on the deck of the ship, or Hell's Cruise Liner as Boris likes to call it. It's actually a training ground disguised as a washed up ship, Boris built it from the ground up and it's designed so that every corridor, every room, every door can be moved to a new location or completely removed, whatever Boris feels like doing to me. And it's booby-trapped, heavily. Tripwires, knives, guns, pitfalls and that just the easy stuff, Boris has built an army of mannequins with rope attached at the joints and with a little enchanting they can move on prerecorded paths. They can even fight, barely. Even if I was drunk, shot and stabbed they wouldn't be able to take me down, there mainly used to simulate guard patrols.

"Cutting it kind of close, eh shchenok?" a deep, Russian accented voice says. Sitting up I see Boris leaning against the banister of the ship with a smug smirk on his face.

"What can I say Boris, just going for style."

"Riiight" he says unbelieving.

"And whats up with you?" I say "putting every trap in one room there's challenging me then there's just fucking with me." I say as I get up and start to walk away. Then Boris calls out.

"Speaking of fucking shouldn't you be getting ready for dinner with Jenna tonight, shchenok?"

I freeze mid-step "How… how did you know?"

I didn't think it was possible but his smirk gets even bigger "I didn't."

"Bastard."

"But I guessed, you've been distracted all day since the race this morning and I heard about your little run-in with Weatherly," and son-of-a bitch his smirk gets even bigger. "And couple that with the fact that you've been checking your reflection in anything with a shine and I was pretty sure Jenna had something to do with it, so I took a shot."

Crossing his arms over his chest he looks at me, all serious now. "But all joking side shchenok, you do realize this is probably a trap right?"

Walking over to the banister I lean up against it next to Boris facing the sea, "I'm aware of that." I say to him.

"Good, just being sure," he replies with a nod.

"Jenna seems to think we can sway the town's people opinion of me if we convince Mathias I'm not some demon from hell, but what do you think, Boris?" He stares out into space for a long time, thinking. Then finally he speaks.

"Honestly shchenok, I don't think it will work, but Mathias would be the logical place to start he's trusted and well like, if you can convince him then just might be a chance."

"So you approve of me going tonight?" I ask.

"It's not my place to approve, Balto," he says with a sigh "I won't always be here, you have to make decisions on your own, and you've judged the situation and decided that it's worth the risk, I trust your judgment Balto." I consider this for a long time staring out at the sea; the sun is just now begging its slow descent over the horizon so I need to make a decision.

"Well then, guess there's only one question left." Boris looks at me expectantly. I smile behind my scarf as I say "What should I wear?"