Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'canton of combat'.
Found 1 result
The safehouse wasn't in the sewer system. The man who had used the safe house was, not the house itself. Rather, the safe house, in question, was an abandoned sewer treatment plant, with full access to the sewers in the Alleycity. There was another man. Frob. Or, rather, that was what he called himself. Names should be nice and simple, they should. That's what he told himself as he straightened things up in the safehouse. To him, it was nothing more than his home. Vesuvius had said there might be people looking for him. That was why he was leaving. Frob was silly. Silly Frob. But Frob was never a man to ignore his superiors. And Vesuvius was surely his superior. Frob looked down at his stump arm. All he had done was question why the man Vesuvius had brought, Benson, was missing an arm. The wound had been bleeding. Frob had been forced- No. Frob had been given the nice opportunity to help heal Benson. Frob didn't know Benson's whereabouts now, but he had seemed nice. Like Frob. Surely, Frob was nice, for letting Vesuvius use his safe house? For holding in his scream while Vesuvius punished him for his curiosity? Frob could still remember the pain, the sudden loss. He needed to massage his left hand, he did. The fingers were too cramped. The thing was, his left hand no longer existed. Well, it didn't exist outside of the little grave he had dug for it. He could remember the screams. He couldn't remember what Vesuvius had done to Benson, because they had gone off into a side room while Frob patched himself. But Benson hadn't returned. Vesuvius did, but only to leave a minute later, telling Frob, in mock kindness, emphasized by his decking Frob in the face with that metal arm of his, to leave. Well, Frob wasn't going to ignore such a thing as that. so, Frob left. He didn't have much possessions. He had friends. They were loyal. They all chose small names for themselves as Frob had. Frob was lucky to have friends that understood. It was raining. Frob didn't care. He liked rain. He liked the excuse to leave his little house and splish-splash in the puddles. That's what Frob did now. He had time to tally-wagon. The people Vesuvius had promised would get him would never find him. He promised Vesuvius that. He wouldn't break his promise.