Dean hastened down the street, sweat beginning to bead his forehead from the effort of pulling the cart behind him. Why he was rushing, he couldn't say, but something spurred him forward. His eyes darted down every alley, until he heard the sound of a scuffle and gruff voices. He slowed his footsteps before he reached the alley, acting as if he were passing it by... Most folk in Zantaric would ignore this sort of thing. Everyone for themselves. He glanced idly down the alley, and there she was, the little flower giving it her all to escape two men.
Nonchalant, he surveyed the narrow alleyway... A window, above and to the left of their struggle. Just as their lookout was beginning to find him suspicious, Dean continued to walk on and out of sight. He looked unassuming, just another street merchant to them.
Rather casually, though hurried by his standards, he backed himself against the door of the building with the window. Leaning against it as if resting, he began to pick the lock of the door behind his back until it clicked. Keeping the satisfied smirk from his face, he waited until nobody was looking before pushing his cart into the building. Closing the door, he locked it behind him and surveyed his surroundings. It was a fairly disgusting abode, but seemingly empty.
He was moving quickly now, shoving his cart into a closet and securing one of his many padlocks onto it, hoping it would still be there if he had the opportunity to return. Taking a rope from his chest of "business" tools, Dean tied it as he took the steps to the third level, two at a time. He strode quickly down the upstairs hallway, thrusting open doors on the side of the building where the alley was until he found the room with the window.
Once in the room, he quickly peeked out the window... Yup, still there. He set up his work station. The rope, his blow darts, a heavy object, a dagger. Quietly, Dean wedged his fingers under the window and quietly pried it open, though it caught a bit on its rusty tracks. Peering into the alley, he quickly reassessed the situation. Looked like the men were having some nasty thoughts about the lass... "Just like your dearest mother had for you, Deanie." His heart stuttered in his chest. The voice. It was back...
For a brief moment his vision swam, his fingernails digging into the rotting wood of the window frame as he felt the need to kill, rather brutally, the men below. Shaking his head to clear it, he swallowed heavily. No, no... He was not a killer.
Taking the darts, he blew one to hit the man holding her and the man approaching her. The man holding her released one of his hands from her to rub his neck where the dart had landed, a look of confusion crossing his features as he began to sway on his feet... Now. He acted quickly, dropping the lasso rope down so it rested on the girl's shoulders. The man holding her swayed away, and before he could drop and take the girl with him, the rope slipped the rest of the way down, over her arms and to her waist.
With a quick tug he secured the rope, running it around an exposed building support in the broken out wall, praying that the support was not as rotten as the rest of the building. Using that as leverage, he quickly began hoisting her upwards, grunting... Something tugged at the rope. Tying it off where it was, Dean strode over to the window to look down where the lookout woman was holding onto the girl's legs, tightly. The woman sneered up at him, "The girls ours! We got her first!"
Almost in amusement, Dean leaned over the windowsill and looked down at the woman. Her companions were stumbling around the alley like drunkards... Hmm, he'd miscalculated the dosing on those darts. "Is that true, darlin'? Seein' as this little lady is attached to my rope, and yer thugs are quite useless, I'd say she's now rightly mine." He gave the rope a playful tug, jerking both the girl and the woman a bit. A wicked grin spread across his features as he disappeared from the window, grabbing up the heavy object- some weird, weighty ball, and placed it with some effort on the window. "Wooee, this things heavy. Might not be too good if it were to drop on that head o' yers. Might crack it open. Mightn't it?" He placed his hands on the ball, and then his chin, smiling rather cutely down at them.
The woman swore, releasing the girl's legs and dropping down to the ground below. Before she recover and run off, Dean grunted and held the ball out away from the window. Glancing around it to ensure it wouldn't hit the girl, too, he dropped it with some flourish so it landed rather prettily on the woman's head, knocking her out with a sickening crack. Impressed with himself, Dean whistled through his teeth to take in the scene, still not pulling her the rest of the way up. "Now that deserves an award, yeah?"
