Roiling fog and the distant murmuring river were his only company. Not that there was much company to be had in the port district passed midnight. Not of any savory kind at least.

  Oh, you could try mingling with the Bronze trash huddling in the shadowed alleys between the warehouses, but they were as likely to try and put a knife through your gut for whatever you had on your person, as they were to beg you for any scraps, singing tear-jerking story’s about maiming themselves at the factory, having sick relatives or being stuck forever with a useless skill.

  Drovix had heard them all, and he was sick of it.

  He could still feel the woman from last week clinging to his calf, begging him not to take away her babe. Her shrill cries had merged with her son’s in Drovix’s ears as he walked off the dilapidated hut.

  “Is them fault,” he muttered through clenched teeth, “They should know better than to owe the Accountant…”

  He knew he was being a hypocrite. Of the three Erasers in town, the Accountant’s was the only one who offered his services at half affordable prices, and that was why Drovix worked for him.

  Everybody needed a fresh start at one point or another in their lives; from the ruin farmer and the idiot child that picked the wrong skill, to the runaway soldier looking to get by. That their only real options where loan sharks like the Accountant was a testament to the gods’ cruelty.

  Drovix sighed.

  Tonight’s quarry was right ahead.

  The warehouse was easy to spot, since it was the only one with two bouncers at the door and a lit lamp hanging over the threshold. The ex-soldier turned mob enforcer smirked at the bouncers big, muscular frames. They were sure to look imposing for any passing Bronze with no battle experience, but Drovix just strode up to them, an easy grin on his lips.

  “Evening folks,” he greeted, “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know where to find one Tharon Fierik? About this tall, bolding, glasses… Am I ringing any bells?”

  The big men looked at each other before the left most answered.

  “Professor Fierik owns the place. What do you need him for?”

  “The good professor has dealings with a mutual acquaintance. I am just here to mediate. You folks don’t care if I look for him inside, don’t you?”

  The two thoughts faces harden, clenching a fist over the weapons at their belts. Drovix noted with some amusement that one had both a baton and a dagger, while the other, a more sensible man, carried a short goedendag; a cheap weapon somewhere between a spear and a club.

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  “Trust me gents, we don’t want to go there.” the ex-soldier stepped back, showing his empty hands.

  “Then how about you leave?” said the dual wielding idiot.

  Drovix shrugged, lowering his hands to the back of his trench coat. The sensible thug did the sensible thing and, without waiting for him to do anything, thrusted with the pointy end of his goedendag.

  Aid by the power of his Silver skill, Drovix arm moved like liquid lightning, catching the enemy weapon a finger’s width from his chest. He sidestepped, pushing the weapon’s shaft at the other thug’s legs with a flick of the wrist.

  His momentum broken, goedendag-guy needed a moment to regain his footing, too bad Drovix wasn’t about to give him that. The thug only saw the enforcer’s fist blurring for his face before his eyes rolled back into his sockets.

  Dual-wielding guy was still recovering for tripping on his companion’s weapon when a lightning-fast reverse kick flew around the falling shape of his comrade to grace his shoulder. Glancing though it was, the blow carried enough force to send the big bouncer sprawling to the floor with his friend.

  The full scuffle took less than ten seconds.

  Drovix stepped over the downed thugs, adjusting his overcoat, but stopped to wince at the dual-wielding guy, who was still trying to stand up, a task greatly complicated by his limp left arm.

  “Sorry pal, I might just have broken that… I warned you though.” He shrugged, then kicked the doors open with a slam and the shriek of rusting hinges.

  At his loud entrance the cages piling both walls exploded in a cacophony of growls and bestial cries.

  “I told you fools to be careful with the doors…! Oh…” Professor Fierik shouted furiously from behind a dissection table, though his tone changed in a heartbeat when he saw who actually came in.

  The inside of the warehouse was dimly lit by a strange green light that played eerily with the fog drifting through the door.

  “Nice little place you have here, professor.” Drovix said conversationally, strolling in while taking a look at the caged beasts. Something between a cat and a monkey hissed from where it huddled at the bottom of its prison, “Don’t care much for the decor though…”

  “What are you doing here?! I-I told your boss I’ll have the money for tomorrow.”

  “You might wanna install a clock here, Fierik. Tomorrow started hours ago. You owe us interests now.”

  “That’s preposterous!”

  “Oh? More than an illegal lab full of dangerous monsters right in the middle of Harpsburg? Come on, professor! You are of the intelligent sort! You should have seen this one coming a mile away! Now you either pay up whatever my boss says, or I beat you up and take it anyways, and if you try to call the constables, well…” the ex-soldier made an expansive gesture towards the warehouse.

  “You…! You filthy commoner, how dare you threaten me!? I am a scion of the most ancient house of Fierik…”

  “Ah! Shut your trap! You’re not even a Gold. Your family won’t lift a finger if you are caught red handed here. We both know they’ll cut you off before having their precious name soiled.”

  “B-but my research…”

  “Nobody cares!”

  “P-please don’t step there…”

  “My boss owns your ass, so I’ll step wherever I damn please… What is this anyway?” Drovix tilted his head at a crystal ball the size of a carriage.

  “No-no-no… Don’t touch that!” The professor ran to stop him, but it was too late.

  The enforcer poked the glass, a silvery chime reverberating through the room, all the beasts quieting at once.

  Both men froze. A primal fear gripping their guts; There was a tiny crack were Drovix had touched the smoking glove, and it was expanding.

  The enforcer turn to the professor, question half formed between his lips, only to see the other man bolting for the door.

  With his head turned Drovix didn’t saw the two glowing yellow eyes materializing admix the smoke before the sphere exploded.