The Dolvs were marked as the Unpredictables. The Unpredictables were those considered a threat by the Red Scorpion.
Asher walked in the dark of night. He awaited for all the lights to go out. He could still see the orange glow from the lamps and windows. Tonight, he had a meeting. He was waiting for the perfect moment.
He rested on the rooftop of a cottage watching the moon. When the moon moved much above the sky, overhead, he got to his feet.
He crouched and balanced himself, his left leg bent at a sharp angle, while his right leg extended back. His gaze was fixed on the unleveled rooftops ahead of him. He took a deep breath before his leap.
The Dolvian technology made the Dolvs unpredictable.
The fingers of one hand dug deep on the crevice of the roof while the other reached for the screw in the ankle region of his left boot.
His fingers skillfully turned the knurled brass screw thrice, each sharp turn building up pressure in the internal mainspring. The pressure with each turn filled the air with a muffled mechanical whim in protest to uncoil. He leaned the body a little to his right side, matching the landing and then released the screw. The stored energy released at once, pushing back a spring pressure to push his body forward into a leap in a flash.
Once gaining speed, there was no stopping. He became a blur momentum, leaping and dashing through the rooftops in an unnatural speed to finally reach the construction site in the southern part of the Floritown.
The ground, he checked, was dry enough to keep his boots clean. He walked into the building, climbing up the stairs to the third floor in the silence of the night – the only sound was of the rhythemic thud of his boots.
He liked to make his presence felt than sneak in.
The man, he was about to meet, was someone who had been always waiting. He went through the doors, the rooms extending one after another continuously. The final third room.
He entered, making a loud tap of his heels, the moonlight passing through the window and hitting him like a spotlight. A long shadow spread beside him on the concrete floor.
There was the man he had caught yesterday night. The lazy construction workers made it easier for him to hide his victim temporarily. The man looked at him with tired eyes.
"Have you heard they will come to continue working from tomorrow? Poor you, got to live here only two nights for free." He patted the man.
"So Jerry," He pushed the gag deeper, "Where is my brother?"
There were muffled, struggling sounds. He listened for sometime intently, nodding every few moments.
"Sorry, didn't catch the words. Can you repeat again?" He pushed the gag further down making the man's eyes widen as he choked. As his eyes rolled up, Asher pulled out the gag instantly.
The man started coughing up like crazy while Asher patted his back with a sympathetic face. "There, there."
The man kept coughing for a minute while Asher handed him his water bottle. "You will need this. I know your throat is too dry to cough."
He snatched the bottle with his shaky hands and drank. He took his time, while taking quick glances at his kidnapper with mixed feelings.
"Asher..."
"Yes?"
"I'm Jeremy."
"I don't care, Jerry. Stop changing the subject," He snatched the bottle and threw it out of the window.
"Your brother. He worked under me."
"I know. He was a journalist. I know. Then what did you do to him, huh? He fucking disappeared."
"He didn't. He didn't disappear. I sold him. To the Maroon-clothed."
"Why did you sell him? I never knew you were that greedy."
"I am a honest man. Never have I grown the greed for money. They said they needed him, by the orders of the king. They...they told me keeping him would put us all in danger." His lower lips kept trembling with guilt.
"Us?"
"The whole press."
"And the money? How much did they give you?"
"200 silver coins."
He pulled out his whip that gleamed in silver paint. "200 it is."
He pushed the gag back in then mercilessly kept whipping him.
***********************************
Time went slow for him. His hands ached of restless swooping while his heart ached for more. His tears mixed with the Jeremy's blood. His gaze fell on the moon.
He controlled himself. He looked at the lifeless body and stopped himself from kicking him. He wanted to keep his boots clean.
The same night, two Red Scorpion agents had come to this town for their usual patrol. Check for criminals' hideouts.
They had come from a long way, crossing the river by the stone bridge and entering the town. Anyone would see them as some travellers. They knew their usual maroon uniforms would made them stand out.
The high ranker, Agent Judy, had brought the low ranker, Flinn to his first mission. They kept out of sights of the civilians and checked every abandoned or suspicious places. They reached the construction site pretty fast, considering the direction they entered from.
"Now this one." Judy mumbled and sighed. She would have to check many floors.
Flinns ran off to a hut on the side of the ground, where he saw a construction worker's uniform hung. He wore it. He knew the rule. He had to stay on guard as a disguise, so that there's some proof to the passersby that nothing ever happened. He had practiced 300 different excuses, even though Judy didn't appreciate him.
Judy nodded as he got to his position. She skipped the first floor for the end. She went to the second floor. Listened carefully. Dead silence of the night gave away everything. And she heard a heavy beathing sound.
Not here. She told herself.
She went to the third floor. Found one door open. She chose that one. The first room was empty. Just some utensils and tapes and random things the workers used. At the end of the room, the next door was left ajar. She went forward.
The second room had nothing but gave her the view of the third room ahead. She took out her sharp needle-like stiletto that were fitted and hidden under her long tight sleeves. She pressed the top that contained poison which realeased into the vessel of the needle point. It pretty much, in simple words, worked like ink in a pen.
Asher, now in his controlled state, put his hands up without looking back at whoever had stepped inside his room.
"Show your face." She hissed.
Woman? He turned his head a bit and took a quick glance at her height and the weapon aimed.
"We can talk, young lady." He spoke casually but his body, still on guard, crouched in an instant. The aimed stiletto flew over him and fell out of the window.
Fast. Very fast.
His fingers gave three quick turns of his springboots screw and released to dash to the door in a second. He didn't want to pick a fight. His arms were already hurting.
She turned in shock as he ran like a mouse. As he was about to exit through the second door, she threw her second stiletto in full force, making his jacket stuck to the wooden doorway.
He gritted his teeth and took his hands out of the jacket. "A fight is what you want?"
"A fight is what you deserve." She said, pulling out another narrow blade. But she stopped the moment she saw him coming to a fighting pose with his hands shielding his face and chest. She saw how even though he had his whip, he did not use it.
So that's how it is then.
She smirked and threw away her weapons.