Shit floated downstream, as the saying went.
And it was only a matter of time before it came floating Cadmus's way.
He had accepted that inevitability a long time ago, when he first got into the business of selling his sword for services, regardless of morality, and this particular job had turned into a clusterfuck he probably shouldn't have gotten involved in. He was hired by one man to take care of business with another--but, as it turned out, that man was more than willing to pay twice the amount his first employer paid, and only for information about said employer. Information Cadmus had. Information Cadmus happily gave, and thus made out with both fools' money. Let them bicker amongst themselves! He'd always sold to the highest bidder.
He'd felt pretty good about that, too, until said employer's henchmen tracked him down. Apparently people didn't like double dealers or something.
Which was why he was now here. Tied to a chair. Getting the stuffing beat out of him, which was perhaps a very poor way to think of it, considering he was part bird.
"Fuckin' can't keep your mouth shut, huh?" his tormenter growled--right before he punched him in the jaw, snapping his head to the side. Pain exploded in his head and neck and Cadmus slouched forward and spat out blood--not from that blow, but from earlier, the blow that had his nose still leaking blood into his mouth. He hardly had time to draw in another breath when a second blow got him right in the gut, and he doubled over as much as his bonds would let him, wheezing and choking.
They were going to kill him. He knew that. Once they caught him, there was only one way for this to go down, because there was just no room for mistakes in this business. Fortunately, right then he was in far too much pain and delirium to even be afraid, his head buzzing from being hit there too many times, his one good eye swollen nearly shut, his breathing labored and everything spinning from blood loss.
Man. He always kind of hoped his last moments would be a little more epic than being tied to a chair and tortured in a dark room--
A gurgling scream that wasn't his own jerked him back to awareness, and he groggily lifted his head and cracked his eye open as much as he could. There was a flurry of activity, the swirl of a cape--and that was all he got to see before one of the men sank a knife into his thigh and everything whited out with agony. Cadmus screamed, muscles going taut, hardly aware of all the commotion and the sudden eerie silence that followed.
He was, however, aware of when the knife got abruptly yanked back out.
He cried out, his vision blurring and spinning and thought for a moment he might finally pass out. But then he felt a hand pressing to the wound, and the sudden freedom of his own hands, and he stared blearily down at the hooded figure kneeling before him and startled at the feminine voice.
She...wasn't one of them?
Obviously not, since a slow glance around revealed a lot of lifeless bodies on the ground.
...Well. Shit.
"Uh..." His words escaped him; his head hurt too much to think. He reached up slowly and felt at the spot where it ached the most, and found his hair was wet. "How many are...um..." He tried to count the bodies, but simple arithmetic was really hard right then. "No...no, I think we're good, uh...probably. Who...?"
He wanted to say "who are you?" but forgot how to finish the sentence.
