Part IV
"The Choices we make…"
Clive cursed softly, as he stared in amazement at his would be assassins. What luck. He could feel every raspy breath burn his throat, every drop of sweat slowly spreading across his back. Through the murmurs of their conversation, Clive decided that they wouldn't hear him escape. One foot lifted and landed quietly on the street, and the gunner slowly exhaled. Only a few more steps…The other foot fell against the pavement to join its mate and a piece of gravel crunched underneath its boot.
The noise caused Clive to freeze in his tracks, but the two men continued to converse, seemingly oblivious of the sound. His shoulders relaxed and he resumed backed up to the corner and freedom.
"Why Clive…" one of the men suddenly drawled in a smooth tone, which the Guildmaster recognized as a guild elder named Nigel. "So good of you to come…"
"Oh yes, It makes our job so much easier you know." The other black cloaked assassin whispered raspy; Clive quickly recalled that his name was Hewitt.
Praying for some kind of miracle, Clive fumbled through his cloak frantically searching for one of his guns. "I, as your Guildmaster, demand that you stop this immediately." He demanded, desperately.
They turned around, with synchronized motion, each mirroring his partners movements. Then, the black cloaked men advanced towards their prey, each brandishing a pistol. "Pulling rank on us, Guildmaster?" Hewitt mocked. "Well, hate to break it to you, but no one wants you around anymore. You cause way too many problems."
"I didn't know there was any problems." Clive trailed off lamely, finally finding Storm and slowly lowered it to his side.
Nigel laughed harshly. "Oh come on. You used to be so obedient to the ideals of the Guild, until that woman messed with your mind."
"That woman" Clive gritted his teeth as the mention of Eliza. "has nothing to do with this. Every decision I have made has been in the best interest of the guild."
"Keep telling yourself that, Clive my boy." One of them mocked. Clive was having a difficult time in the darkness telling which gunner said what anymore. The slight differences in their voices meshed into one monotonous sound, beating into his head, foretelling his doom. "Now, just hand over Storm and we might let you live."
"Storm is the gun of the Guildmaster. It won't accept anyone else as its master." Clive retorted, placing some more space between them. "And I'm sure if I hand it over, you'll just let me dance off into the countryside huh?"
Now, he was only mere feet away from the corner. All he had to do was fire a few shots as a quick distraction, leap around the corner, and then run like hell into well the countryside. Clive braced himself, tightening his grip around the barrel of Storm. Only seconds mattered now…
However, before Clive could pull off his plan, a large object dropped off the side market roof and landed directly on top of Clive's would be killers. Narrowing his eyes in the darkness, the gunner saw the two black cloaked men sprawled across the alley, smothered by an authentic seasoned knight. He could have swore he saw Georg Prime grin, as the older man pulled himself to his feet. "You've got to be kidding me." Clive moaned in disbelief. "That's no way to handle that."
Georg walked up to him, still grinning. "What? Not professional enough for you?" he replied, amused.
"I…Georg look out!" Clive pointed quickly behind him.
One of the men had slowly raised himself off the pavement and started reaching for his pistol, resting a few inches away. However, the knight simply pulled the gunner off the ground with one gloved hand, banged his head against a nearby barrel and the black cloaked man slid back onto the gravel. Georg turned back towards Clive, smirking. "How about now? That might have been a bit more professional. Is there a guidebook or something that's supposed to tell you that sort of thing?" he asked, impishly.
"I HAD everything under control! I didn't need your help!" the gunner snarled, placing Storm back in its holder.
"Well, it appears to me that if he hadn't dropped in on your little party, you might have turned into a fine dummy for target practice." A female voice commented at the end of the alley.
"I don't need your opinion either, Lena. I thought I told you guys to go away!." Clive retorted, folding his arms over his chest.
Lena nonchalantly started to play with a piece of her hair. "Well, when you said, go away, we thought you meant go away with you. I mean Clive, seriously, you need to stop being so vague." She replied, cocking an eyebrow in amusement.
"Nice to see that someone find this situation amusing." The gunner replied, sardonically. "It looks like the party's over though, so I'm out of here."
He stormed out of the alley and headed towards the south, the outskirts of the city. However, Lena stood in his path, pointing her finger in the opposite direction. "Um, I think you've forgotten where the bishop lives." She smirked, pointing north towards the hill in the distance where Crystal Palace sat on.
Clive's nostrils started to flare in irritation. "Look I don't know what it's going to take for you guys to leave me alone." He shouted. "I'm a murderer, no good scum. Stop wasting your time trying to save my life."
"Look, Clive." Georg began, following his two companions out into the narrow street. "If this is about what happened in the past, then don't worry about it. It's all over now. Everybody's sinned and guess what? They've been forgiven, absolved of it, and they don't have to try and redeem themselves anymore."
"And by who?" Clive asked, thickly, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
"Fate, their loved ones, some overlying force that ties this world, whatever you want to call it." The knight continued, frowning slightly. "Or you can forgive yourself. Like I told you before, I killed a woman too. I mourned her loss, became repulsed by what I did, but then I accepted it. Moved on. I know you can too."
"Yeah the old man's right." Lena chimed in. "You think that you're too good for help, always doing crazy things. Just like my nephew Nash. However, I do have to say from the little I've seen, you seem more suicidal than anything."
"Now look…" Clive started to reply, his lip curling in anger.
However, he never managed to complete his sentence, for Georg had pushed him and Lena to the ground. Glass from a nearby window rained down on the trio, making Clive's cuts smart even more. "Oh, not again…" Clive moaned. "RUN!"
Georg, Lena, and Clive darted deeper into the heart of Crystal Valley. Through their panting, they could hear the beating of two pairs of boots trailing them and the occasional shot of a gun. As they rounded a corner, Lena stopped for a moment, looking behind her at the approaching enemies. She grinned strangely and raised one white gloved hand in the air. "What are you doing?" Georg shouted, confused.
"Well…" she smirked, raising her arm higher in the air. "Do you think they can handle the heat?"
Before her companions could respond, Lena thrust her hand forward and a stream of crimson fire emerged, blazing around the corner. Almost immediately, the trio could hear screams from their pursuers. "Nice!" Georg exclaimed, as they continued to run further into the city.
Clive merely shook his head. "Unprofessional." He muttered, jumping over a fallen wheelbarrow. He thought though out of the corner of his eye; he saw a young man frantically run in the direction of Crystal Palace…
They continued to run until the trio reached a dead end of one of the streets. Stone walls surrounded them, extending almost up to the stars it seemed. Frantically, Georg scanned everywhere until he spotted a small alcove in the far corner, partially blocked off by several small barrels. "Quick in there!" he yelled, practically dragging Clive and Lena behind him.
Once there, the knight turned towards the Temple Guard. "Hurry! Make a fire wall!" Georg urged.
Instantly, flames licked across the stone walls, completely enveloping the entranceway to the dead end. Georg crouched behind one of the barrels. "Alright, we need a plan." He said, absently picking one of the cuts on his lined face.
"It better be good." Lena muttered. "Considering we're surrounded by some gun carrying freaks."
"Well the way I see it.." Georg started to say, as Clive drifted away, towards the far end of the alcove.
It would only take a minute, yes only a minute he thought. It made perfect sense. One shot and he would be free. His death wouldn't matter too much anymore. Everybody hated him, wasn't it so obvious from everything that had transpired in the past hour. Georg and Lena wouldn't have to die, in order to save his lousy life. Could he do it? Did he have the strength? Slowly, Clive raised the pistol to his temple, feeling the cold muzzle against his clammy skin. Only a minute…. His finger found the trigger and Clive started to pull…
However, before the bullet could exit the gun, Clive felt himself slam up against the rough edges of the rock wall. "What are you doing?" Georg asked quietly, effectively pinning the gunner, with only one hand, holding the pistol in the other.
Few things could really scare Clive; however, a seemingly deranged knight , who had managed to disarm him, now ranked high on the list. "Uh, well.." Clive tried to force out, unable to tear his gaze from Georg's eyes, which had managed to frost over into an icy emerald.
"Well, it's no time to be suicidal boy!" the knight whispered harshly. "Stop being a coward and come over here and help us out."
He unceremoniously dropped the gunner in the dirt, shoved the pistol back in his hand and strolled back over to Lena, who had watched the entire exchange warily. "Alright, I'm going in." Georg said, taking a deep breath.
Then the knight proceeded to march directly in the middle of the dead end, shielded from the hostile gunners by only the rapidly disintegrating wall of fire.
"And the old man called me suicidal." Clive muttered, rubbing his sore neck still in a daze about what had just happened.
"Only a fool would go up against two Howling Voice gunners." Lena said in awe.
"Only this fool." Clive answered, glaring at Georg's hazy figure.
They could faintly hear Georg's voice, trying to engage the gunners in conversation. "You know, Clive." Lena said, with surprising gentleness. "Georg's just trying to help you out. You could be more grateful."
Clive coughed, attempting to ignore the increasing amount of smoke, filtering into the alcove. "And what about you?" he asked, curiously.
For a moment, Lena looked flustered. "The Bishop did order me to assist you…"
She paused and then continued. "But sometimes I like to help those hopeless cases, or at least the ones who think they're hopeless. It brings some interest to my line of work you know. Plus, you get some really hilarious looks on your face. The one you had when Georg jumped off the roof was priceless."
The gunner pursed his lips together, not exactly sure how to respond. "Uh, thanks." he said.
Lena smirked, adjusting her beret. "Don't mention it."
"And you have to help me." They heard Georg say a few feet away. "You see, that gunner is holding my wife hostage…"
In a flash, the smirking expression on Lena's face melted into a mask of rage. "His WHAT?" she seethed. "How can that salty old man even THINK…"
"…that he could ever live without you." Clive finished, finding her reaction extremely hilarious, despite the severity of the situation.
"AHHHHHH!" Lena screamed, attempting to place her hands around Clive's throat.
Georg continued the charade, a surprisingly good actor for a solider like himself. "Oh, listen to her scream! He's torturing her as we speak! You've got to help me!" he pleaded.
"Oh I'll show you what torture is, Georg Prime..." Lena continued to rage behind the barrel, finding the buckle to Clive's hood, and tightening it.
The gunner tried his hardest to fight back, but this woman had a surprising amount of strength for her height. "Hey, hey!" he whispered, hysterically. "We're supposed to be on the same side!"
With a gust of wind, the fire wall vanished, sending even more billows of smoke into the alcove. Coughing, Clive pushed Lena off him and through the haze, he saw Georg suddenly lunge forward and thrush one of the gunners aside with his sword. The force of the blow was so great that Georg knocked his opponent against the wall. However, it barely fazed the gunner and he quickly raised a rifle in response. The knight took his sword and started hitting the rifle with it, beginning a strange duel of gun vs. sword. Georg only had a slight upper hand though, because the gunner managed to keep himself guarded, using only the gun as a dual weapon/shield.
Through the smoke, Clive saw Lena quickly withdraw her rapier. Using her right hand, she heaved herself onto the barrel and jumped down to the pavement. Quickly, she disarmed the other gunner, who had started to aim at Georg. This action started another fight, where Lena's speed helped her parry the other gunner's rifle each time, he tried to aim at her. Clive stood up and could only watch the battle in shock for a few seconds. They both were fighting so hard…for him.
So there she stood in front of him, the hunt almost complete. He had forgotten how silky her blond hair was, the glaring black scar running from eye to eye on her face… her passionate dark blue eyes, the annoying smirk on her face…. "Tsk…laws mean nothing. Do you really believe in anything besides the weight of your own guns?" she said, her rough, yet pleasant voice so alluring but deadly to his ears.
How dare she…when she killed his friend, his closest brother, without a thought or care about the consequences….She took everything away from me…
"Maybe I can believe again…Once I kill you, that is…" he replied, forcing himself to restraint his hatred and rage.
That sudden flash of memory forced him to ask himself: was he really a coward? Is this what he really wanted for himself to just give up so easily? But how could he live with himself with his sin, the murder of Eliza? Did he really want to go through with his miserable life anymore? The choice was his and only he could write his fate.
The larger gunner managed to push Lena up against the wall and quickly whipped out a pistol. She struggled fiercely but he had her pinned in such a way that her rapier could only extend out a few inches into the air, leaving little room for her to maneuver the blade. "Well little lady." Nigel hissed through the darkness of the hood. "It's time we said good bye."
Before he could utter another word, he found himself kissing the pavement for the second time that night. Clive stood up from the heap of black cloak on the ground, with Storm in his hand. The blunt end of the gun served as an excellent weapon also, Clive mused to himself. Lena stared at him in disbelief. "Why the hell did you do that?" she asked, kicking the heap with her boot for good measure.
"I hate long good byes." Clive replied simply. "Come on, let's go help Georg."
In the meantime, Georg had managed to overpower the other gunner and grabbed his gun with a sudden motion. Raising his left fist to punch his opponent, he suddenly collapsed to the ground, dropping his sword in the process. Lena rapidly ran over to him, kneeling beside him on the ground. "Georg, what's wrong?" she asked, urgently, a concerned look on her face.
He moaned softly in response, clutching his left shoulder. Even through the smoke, Clive saw that blood covered Georg's hand. He looked down and saw a different color smoke than the type emitted by the fire. Clive whirled around to see that the supposedly fallen gunner had managed to grab his gun and shoot Georg. He aimed Storm at him, but then he heard a familiar raspy voice behind him say: "Don't even try it, Guildmaster."
A clicking sound from behind indicated to the said Guildmaster that his other would be assassin had managed to retrieve his gun also. Through the smoke, Clive could hear Lena start to breathe rapidly and Georg still continued to moan, his pain too much for him to even speak. The two gunners surrounded the trio, leaving little chance for them to run. "Leave them alone!" Clive yelled. "They have nothing to do with this! You were sent to assassinate me on Guild orders, not them."
"Oh yeah that's right." The standing gunner said, mockingly. "Since you're the Guildmaster, we're supposed to do what you say."
A slight pause ensued. Clive could still hear his companions gasping in pain. Slowly, he tried to move in front of Georg and Lena, acting as a human shield. "Look.." Clive swallowed hard. "I resign as Guildmaster of the Howling Voice Guild. I will give you Storm, I will even give up my life….if you will let my friends go."
Another pause. Clive could tell that his statement had even shocked the hardened gunners. "Well, Clive." Hewitt finally managed to respond. "You've had such a good track record in the past, helping your friends haven't you? You just want to keep it up don't ya?" he mocked. "You really helped out Kelley, back in the day, your dear friend, your brother. He ended up dead thanks to your other friend Eliza. Then as I recall, for several years, you hunted down your dear dear Eliza, your friend, your lover. She died too, but oh wait…it really wasn't her fault that Kelley died."
"Yeah because you, the guild elders framed her!" Clive shouted, attempting to force his emotional pain down, trying to keep a level head in this life or death situation.
"But you still killed you didn't you?" the other gunner said smoothly. "Even though deep down, you knew that Eliza was innocent. Your friend needed protection and you killed her. How are you going to protect these so called friends now, considering your past experience with friends?"
"I didn't kill her!" Clive screamed, tears running down his face, making all his cuts sting even more. "Even though I shot her, you, the elders, pulled the trigger long ago! With your deceit and all your lies, you killed her! I renounce the Guild! I give up my birth place, my home, all the lies, the pain! Even if it's for a few more seconds, I'm going to not be a coward and be a man! I know even Eliza forgave me for shooting her, so at least I can die in peace knowing that."
He realized that he was still clutching Storm in his gun hand. So, Clive threw it in front of the gunner closest to him. The dead end became silent once again for another moment, save Lena's ragged breaths and Georg's moans. The gunners started to laugh harshly, cutting through the former Guildmaster. "You were always fond of making speeches." One of them finally said through his laughter. "A nice parting touch."
Then suddenly one of the gunners fired his pistol, which was directly aimed at Clive's head.