Diana stood dead still in the darkness, holding her breath.
The guard, who had lumbered drunkenly around the sewer system for the last half hour after downing an entire bottle of wine, glanced in her direction. He was a big oaf of a man, a large belly from alcohol and meat giving him decisive budge, but his pistol and sword were loaded and sharpened respectively. Even if he was drunk and looked like the sort of man who drank lead back in the old days, he could still wound or kill her unarmed self.
He kept walking, Diana letting out a reflexive breath. He really was drunk. The sewer was lit relatively well with whale oil lanterns, and the table she was under, while not illuminated, was certainly not dark.
"To be fair, he hardly is expecting anyone," noted Diana unconsciously, a habit she had picked up from Nikon.
She had successfully dug a hole in the holding cell she had been locked in, the guard barracks having been built over earth instead of concrete, and had stumbled onto the sewer system below the city. This time of year the snow was very light, and therefore the sewers were rather low in water level. This district of town was also had a low crime rate, due to being right next to Secretary Kalin's personal barracks, and so there were little guards in remote areas such as this.
"Weird how the cell lead to this," she grunted moving low to the ground, avoiding the bits of stone and shards of glass populating the walkways.
She panicked again, having already thought of the notion that maybe this escape of hers was foreseen, and she was walking into a trap. She dismissed it just as quickly it had arrived. What was the point of that? Any escape at all had the probability of her actually escaping, regardless of the circumstances involved in it, and was a huge unnecessary risk for simple emotional damage.
The drunk guard stopped at a stone column, leaning against it and singing a small tune to himself. It had something to do with mining, which was all everyone in this damned town seemed to talk about besides the cold.
Diana overviewed her options. Walking around the guard wasn't a possibility with only one walkway. The water was a foot deep and freezing cold, so swimming was right out. That left violence or confusing the guard.
She debated the likelihood of success of ambushing him. There were plenty of improvised weapons she could use, but ambushes like that relied solely on the first attack, and she was not confident in her first hit successfully incapacitating the guard. Even if she got a second hit in, he would be startled to her presence and react accordingly, which likely would involve shooting her right in the chest.
Then the idea sprang into her head. It was simple really, a stupid plan, but it would buy her just enough time.
She grabbed the empty bottle of wine from the barrel he had set it on, twirling it in her hand. She predicted that throwing it over his head to the opposite wall would cause him to devote his attention fully to that wall, allowing her to slip by quickly and hide. She had not seen what was after him, but each scenario had to be dealt with at a time.
She chucked the bottle.
It smacked the guard right in the head, shattering into pieces.
"God, I'm fucking bad at this," she grunted.
The guard turned around, holding the back of his head. "Hey, what the f…?"
Diana shoved him into the water, throwing up freezing cold liquid and causing the guard to swear out a long stream of profanities. She kicked him harshly in the groin before sprinting down the tunnel, knowing she had maybe five seconds before he got back up and was able to shoot her.
That number turned out to be inaccurate, as a bullet slammed into the wall next to her when she rounded a corner.
"Shit!" she exclaimed, her heart skipping a beat before returning to its pounding rhythm.
She analyzed the tunnel in front of her as she ran, noting that she was moving to the south, deeper into the city. That meant a higher concentrations of other rooms she could sneak into, at least hopefully. Not a lot of buildings went directly into the sewer system, but a few did, especially those unsavory enough to dump their garbage directly into it.
She stepped on a chunk of rotten meat, sliding as the decaying grease moved under her foot. She collapsed onto her knees, scraping them terribly and causing her to swear loudly.
"Meat? Am I near a butcher's shop?"
She saw a rat, the creature eyeing her for a moment before scampering off. It was big and fat, likely living off the trash that was thrown down here. She saw it scamper to a nearby hole, before seeing the door near it.
She immediately jumped for it, throwing the door open and entering before closing it.
She turned around and nearly vomited, fighting the urge as the smell flooded her nose and mouth.
It was a butcher's shop, but this appeared to be his discard pile. Chunks of bone and fat lay in sickening chunks all around her, placed below grates on the ceiling above, likely fed from tables worked by butchers. It reeked in there, the miasma of death and decay nauseating.
She heard heavy footsteps outside the door and quickly hid behind a pile, swearing. The other guards had clearly heard his commotion, and had come running to find whoever had attacked him.
"Should've waited for the next door," she murmured. "Goddamn it, they're going to check this room first."
She took a deep breath, and did something that she would regret for years to come.
She dove into the pile of guts, sealing her mouth shut as she dredged her body through it. The smell got everywhere, chunks of fat and bone sliding against her bare arms, but she ignored it, pushing her body further in. The pile was the largest in the room but was maybe five foot across, and would probably expose a bit of herself no matter how she hid.
She got her waist in, using her hands to push herself deeper into the pile. Her legs were still jutting out, but as she moved they got more covered in the chilly meat, until she felt her feet reach it. She did her best to tuck her knees under her to hide her feet, but felt the pile begin to shift off-balance and expose her head at the top, so she ceased it. Hopefully they'd do a simple visual search and continue.
No sooner had that thought crossed her mind then the door to the room flew open, footsteps resounding in the small room. She could not actually see, but counted about four or five distinct pairs of steps entering the room.
"Nothing!" grunted one of the guards.
"Naw, there was a bloody footprint outside the door," argued a second one.
"Look around for bloody footprints!" shouted a third.
"What are we looking for again?" asked a fourth.
"A damn woman!" yelled the second.
"Oh, nice," spoke the fourth with a slimy undertone.
She shivered unconsciously. She knew that sort of tone.
The fifth man sniffed hard, his voice slurred by drink. Obviously, he had been the one she had kicked. "Find that fucking whore! My nadgers and my head are killing me!"
"Well maybe you should use the second more than the first, you useless drunk," snapped the third harshly.
"Oh fuck you! You're such a piece of shit, your own son is sick to look at ya!"
"Quiet down, the lot of ya!" roared the first guard, apparently some sort of leader. He stopped, noticing something. "…any of you see something odd here?"
The other four obviously didn't, so he continued.
"There ain't no damn rats running away from us. This much meat, they'd definitely have been chewing around here, but we haven't seen a tail. Any reason that might be?"
Diana swore under her breath. The rats! Of course! Her presence had likely startled them off, making a possibility in their minds a certainty.
It didn't take long to find her, the guards dragging her out from under the pile. She fought back with a few fevered kicks, but a quick clock across the jaw took the fight out of her. Her arms were held at out from her by two guards, the other three studying her closely.
"Huh, kinda pretty," grunted the second one, a boorish man.
"Looks more rugged to me" noted the fourth, a thinly boy maybe out of adolescence. "Lot of bruises."
"Fucking whores and their handlers," noted the first man, a captain in uniform.
The fifth man, the drunk she had kicked, twisted her arm painfully. "Who are you, bitch?"
Diana decided there was little reason to lie. "I'm a prisoner of Secretary Kalin."
Most of the guards laughed.
"Yeah right, and I'm the fucking Outsider," grunted the third man, a rat-like man.
"Probably some pickpocket or whore, trying to run away from whatever hole she lived in," snapped the first man harshly. "We'll take her in, figure out what to do then."
The fifth man glanced at his superior. "Oh, come on boss! This bitch has caused me a whole heap of trouble!"
"And what do you want me to do about it?"
The drunk smirked, twisting Diana's arm further. "Let's rough her up a bit. Nothing too serious, I'd hate to break that pretty face more than it already is."
"Yeah, let's do it!" shouted the fourth man, licking his lips. "Maybe she'll like it too."
Diana knew immediately what they had in mind and began to panic, her heart tripling in beats.
"This is illegal, captain!" snapped the former assistant.
The first man didn't pay her any mind at all, turning around and waving his hand dismissively. "Fine, have your stupid fun. You have five minutes, then we're taking her in."
The fifth man smirked, before throwing Diana on the ground. "Sweet. I go first."
Diana fought back. She put an honest effort into it, clawing and kicking and screaming like a wounded animal. She got a solid scratch onto the third man before a rain of punches and kicks flew down on her, surrounding her entire body in blinding pain. Then they tore her clothes, harsh nails scratching at her skin.
"Fine, now let's start," spoke the fifth man undoing his belt.
A metal blade stabbed straight through his neck, the man grasping at the thin metal in shock.
Then the blade withdrew, blood spewing from the hole in his neck and dousing all four of the people in front of him in a bath of gore.
The drunk collapsed, exposing four new occupants of the room. She recognized them immediately by their black and gold cloaks, the private guard of Secretary Kalin.
The man with the thin blade, Dorian Page, cleaned his rapier on a small cloth he carried with him. He looked up, a smile on his face. "Well, what do we have here? Did I interrupt a little session you were having?"
The guards said nothing, gulping consecutively in fear.
The largest of the four, Ranald Kerr, grabbed Diana and threw his cloak over her bare chest to offer her some decency. His hands were covered in metal gauntlets, stained red with blood.
"Fucking disgusting," snapped the woman among the four, Amelia Caro. She had her twin pistols at her hip, but her eyes held more than enough hatred to kill. "You all are guards employed by the Secretaries to uphold the law, not ignore it for personal gratification."
Dorian smirked, smelling his blade. "Ah, the smell of blood. God, it's enough to make a man sick. Shall I show you?"
"Wait," whispered Diana.
He paused, glancing back at her.
"Hmm? Did you say something?"
"Don't kill them."
Dorian tilted his head curiously. "Why?"
"Lady, hate to point out the obvious, but these guys aren't exactly paragons of society," noted Ranald. "They're rapists now, and we have a simple policy for that."
"I agree, but they have worth, even as simple laborers. Send them to Utyrka."
The four guards paled considerably. Utyrka, the infamous salt mine, had a history for killing those sent to it. It was the worst penal camp of all, and no one had ever left it.
Dorian laughed out loud, glancing at her with newfound glee. "You know what? I like you. You got a sense of humor. Sure, I can agree to that. Anyone else in objection?"
"Fine by me," snapped Amelia crossing her arms. "I only wish I'd be the only to watch these guys freeze to death."
Ranald rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Not my sense of justice, but you Tvyians are bloody weird."
They walked out of the room, the captain from earlier holding his bloody mouth. Judging by the nearby white and red bones, Ranald had punched almost all of his teeth out.
"Oh, and you're going too," spoke Amelia coldly. "Hope you have some winter clothes."
The fourth member of Kalin's guard, Zakhar Usov, was holding his crossbow at the captain's head. He looked up, mildly curiously. "Odd. You didn't kill all of them?"
"Her idea," snapped Ranald pointing at Diana. "Don't ask me why. If I was her, I'd want to see these guys castrated then decapitated in the city square."
Zakhar gave her a glance, but shrugged. "Very well. Let's take her back to Kalin."
Dorian sheathed his sword, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, might as well. He did send us to retrieve her, after all."
"You knew I had escaped that quickly?" asked Diana astonished.
"Yes," answered Zakhar bluntly. "I anticipated you had located the hole in your cell, so all I had to do was watch and wait. I could even tell exactly when you left, having created a simple trigger on the floor below where the hole was. As easy as hunting rabbits."
Diana's cheeks flushed with indignation. She knew her escape had been accounted for!
"To be fair, you dug through at a far faster rate than I had predicted. I did not predict you would use a piece of the bookshelf hiding the hole as a makeshift shovel, accelerating your escape by about four hours."
"Don't show off, Zakhar," grunted Amelia glaring at him. "We all don't have eyes for detail like you do."
Dorian grinned, cocking back his head to glance at his partner. "Yeah, don't be a showoff. Some of us have to put some actual brawn into our job, unlike you Mr. Hunter."
"Heh, brawn," spoke Ranald rolling his eyes. "You wouldn't know brawn if it split your skull apart."
"Okay, no need to rub that lost bet in my face," snapped the swordsman pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "Can't hardly believe even a guy as big as you were able to cave a man's skull in with your bare fucking hands. Like a fucking grape."
They reached the sewer entrance into Kalin's barracks, leading her back up the stairs into familiar territory. Diana knew it was idiotic to try and escape now, as she'd never get out of range of Zakhar's crossbow or Amelia's pistols, and they weren't the type of shoot to wound.
"Well, this has been fun," said Dorian leaning in to Diana's level, exposing the fact that his canines had clearly been sharpened. "If you excuse me, I need to return to my rounds in case any other pretty damsels need to be rescued from a rape scenario. Hopefully they'll let me kill offenders this time though; nothing gets my blood pumping like killing degenerates."
"Fine, go back to it," snapped Amelia, annoyed by his presence. "Maybe you'll satisfy that stupid blood lust of yours."
"The thing about lust, sweetie…" spoke Dorian grinning mischievously, "is it's never really satisfied. It's merely abated."
He walked off, the other three escorting her. However, they did not go back to her cell or the interrogation room, going into an unknown wing of the building. It was noticeably nicer than the rest, and the guards appeared to be of higher ranks.
They reached an office, Diana's eyes widened when she saw who was inside. There were two present, and she really didn't like either of them.
"Ah, Diana," spoke Secretary Kalin calmly. "It would appear you attempted to leave us."
"Not very nice," stated Anna Morozov, glaring at her intensely.
"We found her in the sewers," stated Amelia matter-of-factly. "Four of the guardsmen were attempting to sexually assault her while their captain stood by."
Kalin paused, before giving Diana a concerned look. "I am genuinely sorry you had to go through that."
Diana wasn't sure if he actually meant that or if it was an empty nicety, but it was comforting regardless.
Anna turned to Kalin, bowing her head. "Secretary Kalin, I must formally apologize for the actions of my men. They were hired by me, and so I bear the responsibility for this revolting breach of conduct."
"Apology accepted," stated Kalin smoothly. "I imagine whatever punishment you all came up with was sufficient."
"We sent them to Utyrka," clarified Ranald unhappily. "Well, except the instigator. Dorian killed him."
"I imagine he did. Well, that's satisfactory enough for me. Now, let us discuss Nikon's research."
Diana sighed, wrapping Ranald's cloak tighter over her frame. "Can I please rest? I did just go through a lot."
Anna made a move, likely an aggressive one, but Kalin stopped her with a hand. He looked at her evenly, neither sympathetic nor cruel.
"Ms. Diana, please understand I do not feel animosity towards you. If anything, I feel very little at all for you, around the same level as the food I eat or the clothes I wear. I see you solely as a resource I require at the moment. Once you are no longer needed, I see no reason to associate myself further with you."
"Which means you'll kill me, so what's the point?" snapped Diana, annoyed by his words.
Kalin smiled patiently, like one would with a child. "Diana, I am a politician, not a psychopath. I am more than happy to send you to some remote corner of the world to get you out of my hair, along with the doctor if you choose. You will have provided a great resource to me, and so I see no reason to have you killed for benefiting me."
Diana cracked a little. His words were so encouraging and logical, and any person would believe him. It would be so much easier to believe him, to give in.
She stopped, collecting herself.
She straightened her back, staring at him confidently. Her face was covered in bruises and welts, her shirt and skirt were in tatters and covered solely by someone else's cloak, and she was soaked in a stranger's blood, but she remained firm.
"I will not tell you," she spoke calmly.
Kalin sighed, rubbing his face in his hands. "Well, that's unfortunate."
He raised his right hand, revealing a tattoo along the back. On closer inspection, it actually looked closer to a burn mark, deliberately made like a tattoo. It was a familiar mark, one she had seen on pictures and newspaper clippings numerous times.
"A real shame I can just make you tell me, though," stated Kalin smirking, the Mark of the Outsider on his hand beginning to glow. "Now let me ask again…"