Chapter 15: Blood in the Streets
27th of Month of High Cold, 1837
8:34 AM
Geoff Curnow learned as a child that if he was knocked out, his body preferred to slowly wake up rather than to jolt back to life. Whether it was from falling out of trees or wrestling with his friends, he had enough experience to know it would be at least five minutes before he had full control of his faculties again. So when he wakes up in a dark trash bin with the hazy memory of a masked assassin, he doesn't panic. Instead, he sits up, resting his back against the cool steel while his body tries to remember how to walk. His hands clumsily ensure his pockets and holsters have their weapons. The sword and pistol are where they should be, at least.
His mind is useable before his body, so he takes the chance to sort through his memories. The meeting with Corvo seems like fiction now, too impossible to be real. If it wasn't for the vividness of the memory, he'd call it a dream. But there's too many details there to discredit them. He was ambushed and told a ridiculous story of conspiracies, before being choked and left... wherever this is.
Callista. The thought flashes through his mind like lightning. The bastard said she was with him. She's a part of the group that freed him and siced him on Campbell last night. As if he didn't have enough of a reason to pursue Attano. Now he has family to motivate him.
Finally feeling confident in his body, he opens the lid of his trash bin and stands. The sun is bright and fully risen. At least mid-morning then. The Captain scans his surroundings to get an idea of where he is. The fence surrounding a clean concrete square to his left makes the answer obvious. Corvo stashed him just outside the Abbey's perimeter. He slowly climbs out of the container, shaking the loose rubbish from his clothes. He needs to reach his men. The Overseers aren't exactly friends, but they have no reason not to help.
As he approaches the fence, he spots the first masked patrol. Curnow almost waves to him, stopping only when he reads the man's body language. The guard's on edge, hand twitching nervously towards his sword while actively searching the area. Geoff slips behind the corner of a building to hide himself, still watching the courtyard while he thinks.
Another pair of Overseers, also on high alert, pass the perimeter guard. One of them is rolling a grenade in his hands, anxious to use it. These two circle the fence line before heading back towards the Abbey. The whole building must be alive with this kind of nervous buzzing.
The last doubts he had about his memories of Corvo are gone. The man obviously got in, kidnapped him, and did something with Campbell...
There's a chance he'll be taking the blame for this. If Corvo is as good as he remembers, he got away without any witnesses. The easiest suspect is then the guest who disappeared at the same time as their leader. And no matter what the assassin did, Campbell's likely in no shape to testify. The Overseers should be avoided, at least for now. He'll have to find the Watch on his own. His odds of survival are damned low until he gets some back up.
Geoff's route back to a Watch checkpoint on Clavering is long and slow, but safe. Campbell wasn't wrong when he said the Watch has little control over the side streets. Gangs like Bottle Street and the Hatters have taken advantage of the Plague's chaos to expand. They won't openly wage war with the Watch yet, not like they did when Black Sally ran things or when Slackjaw was rising through the ranks, but they wouldn't think twice about killing a lone officer on the wrong street.
The quiet side avenues give his mind time to consider the previous night, what information to discredit, what he has to do next. His obvious goal is to get ahead of Corvo and try to capture him. The man will make a mistake, and vigilante justice never ends well. He doesn't need civilians dying because they were caught in the crossfire. Besides, there's no telling what he'll do if the "conspiracy" against him isn't what he imagined it to be.
And then there's Callista. His niece won't be safe until she's home with him again. If the Loyalists' hideout isn't destroyed by gangs or weepers, it will be when the Watch finds it. He has to get her out before either of those happen. The more targets Corvo goes after, the more attention he draws to his conspiracy, and the more likely Curnow will be too late. If he was telling the truth, all he has to do is find the former Lord Protector. Bringing her home should be simple then. In theory.
That gives him a few options. He has plenty of information from last night to work with, even if he still has to sort through the lies. The two obvious ways to catch him are his allies and his targets. If he can figure out the latter, he can set an ambush and wait. A few squads' worth of pistols and blades drawn should be enough to make him surrender. According to Corvo, all he has to do is figure out which nobles, financial leaders, natural philosophers, and parliament members to focus on protecting. No small task, but still doable with enough information and manpower.
Allies are also a good choice, and he has plenty to work with there. There may not be a one-legged captain leading the Loyalists from an abandoned boat on Slaughterhouse Row, but there had to be some truth to Corvo's story. He was using the Captain to confess: he would have to say enough truth to feel better. So at least one person with ties to the Academy, one in Parliament who would benefit from his predecessor dying, one from the Empress's Navy or some other military branch, someone to handle transportation, and three nondescript servants. All working out of a base somewhere within the city... Curnow decides he will need several cups of coffee before the day is over.
As Curnow passes an old storefront, he allows a few memories to come to mind. This area used to be his to patrol, one of the last before he was promoted above the streets. The house Callista worked in as a tutor is two blocks east of here. He'd stop by every day during his lunch to ensure she didn't need anything. In the evenings, the Abbey's prayers and chants could be heard almost as far as the river. Dark and warning, but beautiful, especially if sisters from the Oracular Order were visiting. Hawkins', the tailor shop a kilometer to the west, always offered coffee to the men on patrol if old Johnny wasn't busy with a customer. He liked the company, as well as having Watch members regularly in his shop.
He allows a smile as he thinks of those simpler days. The bistro where he could get a sandwich for lunch and candy for Amelia on the way home. How he could always trust kids like William and Joel to be playing as soon as school was out. Where he could talk to the street musicians and find out what they'd seen that week. The days where the breeze and temperature was perfect and he could stand in the shade without needing his coat buttoned up to his chin...
And how quickly all that disappeared with the Plague. When he first heard about it rolling into the district, he made stops to see exactly how bad it was. It didn't take long for the customers to dry up, making the bistro and tailor close their doors indefinitely, or for them to be broken into and robbed. His favorite performers, Andi and Larissa, were found dead soon after with blood dried around their eyes. William lost a hand to the rats while trying to catch some for coin, and Joel's family took him to the other side of Dunwall for safety. That was all within two months, before he went on his cruise with Corvo. By the time he came back, all they could do was minimize the damage.
It was places like this that made him take Plague precautions so seriously at home. He refused to let that happen where his wife slept. Amelia and Jameson were never to fear about rats or sickness, not while he could do something about it. He owed Amelia that, for putting up with all of the stupid flaws her husband had. And he couldn't let Jameson lose another home to this damned Plague.
Shouting interrupts his mental pity party. He picks out the harsh commands of a Watch officer, though he's too far away to understand the words. Several someone's shouting back. Something about the tone makes the hairs on his neck stand, and he sprints down the street with renewed vigor.
As he covers the dirty blocks, the voices get louder and angrier. He can pick out at least four on each side of the argument. It sounds like the Watch ran into a gang, and neither side wants to back down. His officers are ordering them to go home, adding threats every so often. The gang is actively taunting them with how "Clavering will be ours in a month, hags!"
By the time Geoff gets to where he can see them, the fight's already started. His men are returning fire with pistols and rocks as exploding bottles crash around them. A corporal takes one to the chest and is engulfed seconds before a thug's head explodes. Bottle Street is pushing forward, trying to scare the Watch back to where they came. Five gang members against three Watch. Not good.
None of them notice the Watch Captain sprinting at them from the side. He draws his pistol and fires without breaking stride, aiming at the center of the group. One on the left falls, clutching his bloody hip and screaming. Curnow thumbs back the hammer to reload, but doesn't wait. "Aim for their bottles!" he shouts while trading his pistol for a sword.
The order ruins any surprise he had left on his side. Two of the standing goons square off against the Captain while the others look towards the squad. Curnow fakes a charge at his foes, stopping just outside of their blades and hopping left. They both swing wildly where they expected him to be, but find nothing.
He takes the chance to slash the one closest to him in the arm. His heavy sword sinks into the bone of his target. The man drops his weapon and tries to leap back. He stumbles into his companion, knocking them both off balance. Curnow cuts again, this time a backhand slash at the midsection. Again, the blade finds its mark, but gets stuck in his hip. As his target falls, so does his weapon.
The second attacker avoids her screaming friend, and instead yanks the Watch sword from his gut. "Send you to the Void myself!" she shrieks, blood lust in her eye.
Curnow remembers his own advice on her third word, and his gun on the fifth. As she steps towards him, he aims his pistol at the bandoleer of bottles on the fallen man's chest. Neither of them realize his plan before the bullet tears through glass, alcohol, and finally flesh. The Captain jumps back to avoid the flames that leap from the cooking corpse.
She's covered from the waist down in fire instantly. Her shrieks of rage quickly turn to pain as it engulfs her in seconds. Luckily for Curnow, she drops the swords to smother her burning flesh, rather than seeking vengeance. The flames outlast her.
The Captain picks up his hot blade and turns to his squad a moment too late. One of the officers takes the head off the final target, and her body falls limp. Curnow breathes easier as he reloads his pistol and approaches the group. "How are the wounded?" he asks, still panting slightly.
The senior officer of the group, a sergeant, quickly shakes off the surprise of seeing the Captain and checks her squad. "Jeffrey's gone, but the rest will live. Nothing more than cuts and burns, sir," she reports.
Curnow nods, then turns to what's left of Bottle Street's finest. Only one's still breathing, the one who took the bullet to the hip. He won't be walking on his own for some time. "Good. Check him for weapons, and we'll take him with us. I want information before he bleeds out."
One of the men rushes over to follow the orders, while the sergeant approaches Curnow. "What happened, sir? We've been looking for you all night."
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he jokes without humor. "Go on ahead and tell the checkpoint to summon a carriage. I need a lift back to the office, and fresh clothes if we have any."
The sergeant quickly salutes, then takes off in a run towards Clavering. Working together, Curnow and the private who searched the thug get him supported between them while the final member of the squad escorts them.
Within ten minutes, they all arrive at a Wall of Light checkpoint close to the river. Curnow takes the uniform covered in trash and trades it for a spare two sizes too large while writing a short letter to Amelia and Jameson. He wishes he could be home and apologize in person, but things are moving too quickly. He can't waste those hours to get there, not with Callista still in danger. But he owes them a note to say he's alright, and he'll be home after dinner tonight with an explanation. It will have to do for now, until he can hold them both and try to make up for scaring them.
Lieutenant Burnley enters the small outpost building with a relieved smile on his face. "Glad to see you in one piece, sir," he says, handing him a fresh canteen of water. "You had us worried."
Curnow drinks over half of the tin in one motion. Wine, even in small portions, always leaves him somewhat hungover. "Last night wasn't fun for me either. What's the situation with the Overseers? It looks like someone kicked a hornet's nest over there."
"Honestly, we're not sure. The one source we've heard from says the Abbey had a break-in, maybe. Campbell got literally branded as a heretic and exiled. Problem is, they don't know who took the iron to his face. They'll stand by it out of tradition, but it has them nervous." Burnley explains all of this leaned over in his chair, fingers rubbing each other and eyes lost in the distance. He's trying to piece it together, figure out where to go from here. Burnley was smart enough as a foot patrol to catch Curnow's eye. There's a reason the Captain made sure he got his shot at Lieutenant rank.
"At least they're not blaming us for it. Did my escort last night make it back?"
Burnley nods. "They were booted when they found Campbell branded and you missing. They'll be happy to know you made it out, Levine in particular. He's been ranting that Campbell had you killed and fed to the hounds."
"That would've been too simple," he laughs, leaning back in his chair. "Have we heard anything about casualties on the Overseer's side?"
"No deaths, and no witnesses: that's why they're so panicked. They don't know if one of their own branded Campbell without permission, or if some intruder did it right under their noses. Other than their High Overseer and a few guards they found unconscious, there's no evidence anything happened last night."
Curnow nods, sipping at his water again. So Corvo actually pulled it off. Got in and out clean, no bodies... It's impressive, at least. It doesn't prove anything about being framed for the Empress's assassination, but he has to give him credit for the near impossible. Attano's doing exactly what he said he would. Curnow's not sure how he feels about that.
"Alright, have our men give the Abbey some space. I don't want our measuring contest to get any worse while they're looking for someone to blame," the Captain orders. "And get them off the side streets. Bottle Street's getting brave if they're going after entire squads. Send headquarters your reports on possible targets, and we'll remind them who's in charge with a few raids tonight."
"Understood." As the lieutenant moves to shout at his men, one shows up at the door.
"The carriage is here for the Captain. It's ready to take him to the office," the messenger reports.
"I'll leave it to you, Lieutenant," Curnow says, handing back the canteen. "Keep me posted."
As the Captain follows the exiting courier, Burnley stops him with a hand.
"Is there anything I can tell the men about last night, sir? To prevent any more rumors," he says quietly, looking around to ensure no one else can hear.
Curnow can tell the information is more for Burnley than the squads. He's as confused as anyone, and would clearly like that to change.
Geoff pauses briefly. His men are already looking for Attano in full force, and will likely be killed if they find him without a plan. There's no point in giving them more of a reason to hate him. And on top of that... a part of him still isn't sure how to handle the confession last night. Was Corvo really having some weak moment, or was it a part of some spy game? Is there some conspiracy behind the Empress's death and Lady Emily's disappearance? Or does Attano just need a target for his anger?
"Only that things are getting more complicated, and the Overseers had nothing to do with me going missing," Curnow says finally. "Once I understand it myself, I'll let you know."
The lieutenant doesn't seem happy with that response, but accepts it with a silent nod. He lowers his hand, allowing Curnow to head on through. The Captain covers the street in long, practiced strides as a show for the men watching. He learned in the military that a little false bravado does morale wonders. The only time he lets his arrogant grin slip is when he hands his letter to the courier with instructions to drop everything and deliver it. Apparently his concern for his family is too much to hide.
As the Captain climbs into the carriage, he wonders if he did the right thing, giving Corvo the benefit of a doubt. If any of the choices he made last night were the right ones, really.
No, I didn't forget about the world's unluckiest Watch Captain. Poor Curnow just can't catch a break, can he?
This one ended up being more work than I expected on my end because what I thought was gray area in the lore really isn't, specifically the Curnow family tree. It took scouring the Corroded Man novel, the official Dishonored wiki, and a Reddit AMA with some of the writers, but I found out what was canon, what wasn't even thought about, and where the gray area I could play was. Turns out I was totally wrong... But all of this SHOULD be lining up in the official canon. Special thanks to Harvey Smith and the whole creative team at Arkane for being super cool about obsessive fans like me. I even got Smith himself to tweet me the answer to a lore question I had since Dishonored 2 came out, and he responded within 24 hours. So thanks guys!
Anyway, here be this chapter. I shall begin work on the next one soon enough. Right after I get some sleep. Working nights has made my body utterly confused as to when the Hell it's allowed to sleep, and it's not happy about that. Hope all you minions are doing good and still enjoying this massively weird project! ~MGA