Chapter 11: The Bite of Reality

Sorry about the major delay, life got in the way...Anyway, enjoy the new chapter!

Beka paced in her room, aching to stretch her legs. Antsy from her talk with Gerald, she needed to run away from her own mind. But, because Viktor was on guard-duty and he'd just run off to gods-know-where, she was unable to leave the safety of the Dove. Gerald had work to do for Rosto, Rosto had Rouge work to do, Aniki and Kora were helping Rosto with his super-secret Rouge work. With no escort, she was trapped in the winding rooms of the Dove. Finally, hours later, Viktor returned, sweat dripping down his face and pooling under his arms, cheeks red from exertion.

"Where have you been?" Beka accused, ill tempered from lack of movement. Placing her hands about shoulder width apart on the floor, Beka lowered her body down to the floor then surged up, over and over.

"I think we all know what time of the month it is..."

Beka leaped off the ground, arms visibly trembling. She stalked up to his face, till she could feel his breath tickling her cheek. "Please, keep talking. I'm itching for a fight and your face is looking particularly ugly today."

"Why don't you just go for your run and shut up, yes?" Beka pushed him out of the way as she stormed out the door.

Her braid flew out behind her head like a horse's tail, bobbing and weaving in time with her stride. Her stride at full speed, Beka kicked her heels high as she powered through each step. The sun beat down from above, casting long shadows. Viktor panted beside her. To avoid mid-day traffic, Beka kept off the main roads; instead she jogged along less used back allies. Going to take a right turn back onto a more central roadway, a voice stopped her.

"The crowd is very thick there today," Viktor commented.

"At this time of the day there's usually more than enough room to get through," Beka responded, continuing on her path.

"No!" Viktor exclaims. Beka comes to a stop, and the Scanran runs into her back.

"Why ever not?" Beka probes, suspicious though she couldn't find a reasonable justification.

"There's been a brawl, the guards are shutting down the street," he deftly replies back, looking around at the stalls around them.

"Why would they block down a street?" Beka further inquires. "If we closed down a street for every brawl, the entire Cesspool would be closed."

"Apparently, they fear it will turn into a riot."

"Why are they rioting?"

"Since when have I been concerned with your pathetic city's issues? I'm only here for you, and when we've cleaned your mess up, I'm never coming back."

Beka scowled, but turned where he wanted her too. The talking was taking too long. All she wanted to do was keep running. She could ask Rosto about the riot later. And so she ran, deeper into the city she knew by heart. Slowly moving closer to the pile of crates where she was first attacked.

And she was not happy about it.

"Stop being so jumpy," Viktor chastised. Beka leaned into her stretch a little further.

"People keep moving in and out of my peripheral," Beka shot back.

Viktor scoffed, "Please, that five year old was definitely hiding a shiv in his back pocket." Beka grunted noncommittally.

"If you're so paranoid, why didn't you bring your Pack along? I'm sure they'd jump at the chance to guard their precious leader," the Scanran accused sardonically.

"For your information, they're off doing what they've been trained to do: guard the name and stability of the Rouge."

"I didn't know Rosto had any honor left to protect," Viktor muttered, and Beka, for the first time, saw the true depth of enmity between the two brothers.

"Rosto is a very honorable man," Beka defended.

"He's an honorable man when it suits him. When he's done trying to impress you, you'll see his true colors."

"The only definition of who you are is what you do- and Rosto's actions are good."

Viktor dismissively shrugged. Beka turned away, about to head back home. However, the shortest path home was a small back ally she remembered all too well.

"We'll take the long way home, I think" she decided.

Viktor coldly grinned, "Afraid to face your ghosts, Cooper? Maybe you do deserve the man you've captured with your feminine charms. You're both cowards."

Beka's fist slammed into his face. As he lay on the ground, trying to stem the blood pouring from his nose, she ground her teeth together violently.

"Don't you dare insult his honor or my courage," She spat out. "You have no idea what I've been through."

"Please, I hear you can talk to ghosts, and yet you're afraid of some alleyway? That's the most pathetic thing I've ever heard. You make everyone believe you're a hero, a leader for the impoverished masses, but in reality you're just a stupid chit who relies on everyone else to carry her though life.

"In fact, the only reason you're not getting high while laying in the muck of the Cesspool is that you happened to catch the eye of the Lord Provost. Ever since then, you've had it easy. The best Dogs in the city are your mentors, then the new Rouge takes you under his protection. I haven't seen any of your skills at all: only seen you captured, over and over. By the Coll brothers, by this Seth character, and finally by my father. Gods Above, if that old fuddy duddy could catch you, you must be pretty useless. It must be that no one else has the guts to tell you to your face. "

Beka froze, anger silencing all the thoughts over her mind. Already shaken by recounting her kidnapping experience, her mental barriers stood no chance against this verbal attack from a coworker she'd respected. He now stood before her, and she would have to get around him to continue on down the long road home. Instead, she quickly turned down the alley she never thought she would enter again.

Though the sun rested high in the sky, Beka shivered as though a brisk fall breeze was brushing by her. She closed her eyes and lengthened her stride, and heard Viktor plodding along behind her. She pistoned her legs back and forth, accelerating to full speed, trying to get through the alley as quickly as possible.

She ran straight into the ambush.

Swears poured out of her mouth as she spun, sending a flying kick into her first attacker. She quickly reversed direction, trying to retreat, only to see that she's surrounded. She finds a wall to set her back against, sinks into a crouch, and fights.

And it was a good fight, till the mage came. Otherwise she might have won it. Though the men fought well, she fought better, using a strange mix of trained combinations, freestyle knife work, and street gusto. Then the wave of orange light and false exhaustion overcame her, and she fell to the ground, unconscious.

Instead of waking groggy and lost from a drug induced stupor, Beka opened her eyes and immediately regained full perception and memory. She felt the battle fire begin pumping through her veins. There was no light in this room, not a single ray of sun. The darkness was palpable.

Yet the grim surroundings did not affect her mental attitude as she braced herself for the assault to come. She didn't count on anyone finding her; Viktor was probably dead if she was captured. She had to do this one alone. Grinding her teeth, she simply waited for something to happen.

But nothing happened. Beka just remained bound to the wall for what seemed like hours, her arms high above her head. No one came for her. Her back pressed up against a damp, spongy wall; the entire room smelled stale. She had to be in a basement, maybe even outside the walls of the city. Her shoulders burned from the stress of holding up her body weight; her feet just barely touched the ground. Beka could feel the muscles strain and pop as gravity continued its merciless pull. Regardless of the pain, she bounced her body up and down, trying to pull the chain out of the wall. However, her shoulders already ached from her merciless exercises earlier, and her yanks and tugs weren't as strong as Beka would have liked. The pin slowly jolted further and further out, loosening at an indeterminate pace.

Finally, she heard the creaking of a door. She quickly closed her eyes, lolled her head to the side, and released all muscle tension. Light shined brightly behind her lids, and she slowly began to crack open her eyes, letting them adjust to the brilliance. She needed all the advantages she could get.

"Looks like she's still asleep," she heard a familiar voice say. "Fix that."

A hand landed on her shoulder and sent a bolt of pain through her muscles. With a short scream, Beka jerked back to "consciousness" and glared at a very frumpy little mage. She had been right though, they were in dirt walled basement.

"Thank you, sir. You're services are no longer needed." Beka glanced over at her personal nightmare, that mousy man who'd hunted her for months now. The mage straightened out his threadbare robes and huffed out of the room without a word, insulted at his abrupt dismissal. Seth paced around the room, taking small sips from a goat-skin water bottle.

"I need to piss," Beka demanded, trying to sooth her nerves by aggravating her captor.

"I'm not stupid," Seth said irritated. He swirled his drink, tapped his foot. He was antsy too.

Silence. Seth pulled out a knife, sharpened it slowly. When his back was turned, Beka pulled down on the chain viciously, but to no avail. The pin wasn't loose enough, and Seth watched her too closely.

"I don't like finishing it this fast," Seth said, and Beka frowned. That was the last thing she needed to hear. She gently tried to encourage this idea, tried to get him to give her time to make an escape, "Yah, this pace is making me uncomfortable too."

Seth frowned, "I'm sorry, my dear, but you have to understand that you're just too smart for your own good. I just can't afford the risk of treating you like I want to."

Thanks? Beka couldn't help but think.

"Yes, too smart by far. You've moved too far from your place," Seth continued. "Women need to know their place, the poor need to know their place. You've stepped too far out of the role the Gods gave you. You must be punished."

"How do you know that this isn't my path? How do you know that this isn't what the Gods wanted me to be," Beka countered.

"Now you just sound crazy," Seth calmly stated. Beka shook her head. Cracknobs, there was no arguing with them.

"Now my dear, usually I'd try to get you to understand all this, then repent physically and mentally, but unfortunately your precious lover has thrown the city into an uproar trying to find you. It is your turn to face eternal judgment." Seth approached her, the knife slowly rising up above his head. "Give my humble regards to the Gods."

Beka trembled, waiting for him to get close enough. Wait, wait, NOW! She wrapped her leg around him, pulling him in closer while angling her body to the side. His dagger hit the wall instead of her chest. She then manipulated the situation to her advantage, using his body weight as leverage and pulling downwards with every muscle she had. As the chain finally pulled loose and fell, her left shoulder let out an eerie pop and flared with pain. The bolt attaching the chain to the wall landed right on Seth head, and he backed up quickly, swearing as he went.

Beka grabbed the chain in her right hand, twirling the loose end until it whistled with speed. She'd never fought with ropes or chains before, but she'd seen it done in the Cesspool by those unable to afford or to steal proper weapons. She didn't give Seth another moment to recover, losing the chain at high speed and rocketing the end towards his temple. He ducked, hands failing in the air to grasp at her makeshift weapon, but Beka jerked it out of his grasp. She couldn't afford to stop and undo the clasps around her wrists and so her fate lay in this length of metal wrapped around her fingers.

"Too smart by far," Seth muttered, clutching at his side. He pulled something out, threw it across the room, and Beka reacted too slowly. She jumped out of the way, but it landed close behind her. She was left stunned by a huge flash and bang, then left blinded by the smoke and dust which began swirling in the air around her.

"Mages," Beka snarled out while coughing vehemently. She couldn't see more than two feet in front of her face. A dagger cut through the air next to her, and Beka lashed out, trying to locate her attacker. Though her punch missed his face, she grabbed a clump of Seth's hair, and she spun around behind him, avoiding a second swing of the dagger. Her limp left arm brushed against a crate, and a powder attached itself to her skin, burning and corroding the skin beneath it. Grimacing in pain, Beka tried to get the powder off while listening carefully, trying to avoid her invisible attacker. An ominous crack echoed from above, followed quickly by loud, continuous creaks and groans. The ceiling was coming down. Beka braced herself for the next attack, which never came.

The slam of wood on wood told her Seth had already taken the high road out. She followed the sound, slamming into many corners and walls along the way. Finally she found the doorframe, located the knob, and tried to turn it.

Locked. Luckily, she'd had a lot of time to practice the picking of locks. She yanked her boot off her right foot, pulling the picks out from the sole. Maneuvering the chain around her wrist out of the way, she turned back to the door, even as the ceiling cried out above her, the wood screaming at her to get out.

"What would mother think if she saw me now?" Beka said as she deftly manipulated the tumblers, slipping out into a straight, narrow hallway.

A crossbow bolt embedded itself in the wall next to her head. Thank the Gods, her attacker was a bad shooter. "Probably that you spend too much time with thieves," Seth replied. "I was hoping you'd be stuck in the hole, dead like the rat you are. But, once again, you've avoided Death's grasp." He loomed above her on a landing, a dim backlight telling her the ground floor was mere feet away.

"We're on talking terms, Death and I," Beka snidely responded. "We meet for lunch sometimes, catch a few drinks after work." Beka kept her eyes focused on Seth's hand, waiting for the millisecond of delay between the pull of the trigger and the launching of the bolt.

Seth's eyes narrowed, "How dare you mock the Gods. I hope for you sake that the Lord of Death has a sense of humor, or at least a fondness for your sorry soul. Otherwise," a sick grin filled his face, "you'll be repenting for all of your eternal life." The crossbow focused unwaveringly at her chest. He knew he was a bad shot, and was going to try and hit the largest part of her body. In response, Beka angled her chest to the side, trying to minimize the area he could hit.

Beka saw the finger begin to clench, and she dropped down to the floor, tucking her head down as far as it could go. Seth adjusted his shot, but not enough. A second bolt slammed into the wall even as Beka sprinted up the stairs. Seth tried to reload the bow, but he wasn't faster than a Dog with a grudge. Beka dropped her bad shoulder and drove her body right through Seth, powering through the tackle with her legs. Beka, bum shoulder on fire, landed right on top of him and used her right hand to yank the crossbow out of his grasp.

Seth might be a killer, but he wasn't a fighter. Beka swung the crossbow like a club, and it was over. His head slowly rolled to the side as Seth Maurer lay unconscious on the ground, completely at his victim's mercy. Beka picked the lock on her chains and hogtied her attacker, wishing he'd waited a little longer to pass out.

Beka looked around, and realized her way out was collapsed. The floor of the shanty had collapsed into the basement at some point, the only pieces of floor still intact lay at random angles. She looked down at the piece of limp man collapsed at her feet.

He could stay there.

Unfortunately, on second thought, he couldn't stay there. He had at least one known accomplice on the loose and unaccounted for, and Beka wouldn't let her attacker escape again. So she was left to drag his unconscious body through the rubble. It took an hour. In the wet, oppressing heat.

Finally, Beka dropped the body in the dirt and leaned over, exhausted. She looked around, now outside. The sun indicated she had two hours till sunset; the trees proved she was outside the city walls. Seth began to murmur, showing signs of life. She kicked him in the head, slung him over her shoulders.

It would be a long trudge home.

Along the way, she ran into a few travelers, most going towards the city, a few going back to farms only a few miles away from the walls of the city. None stopped to question the small, dirty girl carrying an unconscious man. Well, sometimes she dragged him, but only when she couldn't hold her right arm above her head any longer. With the adrenaline wearing off, her left shoulder began to burn with even the slightest bump. From the look and feel of the joint, Beka thought it was severely dislocated. She'd stopped to try and pop it back into the joint, but for no benefit. The appendage still hung limply by her side.

She heard the pounding of hooves from ahead, and moved to the side of the road. When the equestrian turned the corner, he quickly pulled his steed from a full gallop to a quick stop.

Rosto. He jumped off his horse and sprinted towards her, wrapping her up in his arms.

"Thank Mirthos, you're alive," he whispered out, before kissing her soundly.

"How…sweet," a voice echoed out from behind. Seth, the bastard. Before Beka could say anything, Rosto had let her go and leaned down to Seth's level, looking him dead in the eye. Then his fist launched out, and Seth was unconscious once more.

"I've done that a couple times too," Beka commented wearily, "hopefully there won't be any permanent damage. I'd hate for him to be in the asylum instead of jail."

Rosto shrugged, "With all the people clamoring he be delivered to their jails, he'll be lucky to live another month before being executed."

With Rosto fluttering around Beka to ensure she was ok, they slung Seth over the horse's rear. Beka awkwardly hopped into the saddle, uncomfortable on horses even when whole and hale. Rosto grasped the reins and walked the horse slowly down the road. Holding on with one hand, Beka leaned awkwardly over the horse's neck, keeping an eye on her lover and trying to ignore the man behind her.

Suddenly, Beka remembered, "I'm sorry about your brother."

"What do you mean you're sorry? How did you find out?" Rosto responded, uncharacteristically cold.

"Well, I suspected what had happened to him," Beka responded, confused.

"Then why didn't you tell anyone! Why didn't you tell me!" Rosto yelled, stopping the horse. "There was no reason for any of this to have happened!"

Beka, confused and exhausted, yelled right back, "What did you expect me to do! I was knocked out and carted away! How was I supposed to tell anyone we were attacked and he was dying in the streets!"

Rosto paused, and let out a dark chuckle. "Of course you'd think that's what happened," he whispered out, defeated.

"What are you talking about?" Beka asked.

"My brother didn't tell us you were captured. By the time anyone realized what had happened, the trail was hours cold. If I hadn't overheard some mercenaries talking about their latest catch, we would have never even known you were missing."

"He's alive?" Beka inquired.

"Oh yes, the traitor's alive. Not for lack of trying though. It's a good thing Goodwin responded to the brawl in front of the Dove today, because otherwise I'd be in jail and he'd be dead. He's been arrested as an accomplice to attempted rape and conspiracy to murder. "

He kneeled in the kennel, tussled up and bound. Beka had a moment of déjà vu, remembering the first time they'd had a conversation, in a back alley with him tied up and her team around her. One arm in a sling, she wrapped the other around a cold, corroded iron bar. The murk of the pen seemed to dye Viktor's flaxen locks a dull brown, turning him into nothing more than the man he worked for. She thought back a couple months, when this man had once chastised his brother for not writing home.

"What happened to you?" Beka asked, unheard in the hustle and bustle. Viktor stared at the ground, blank faced and unyielding.

Beka turned, recognizing a lost cause when she saw one.

"He doesn't deserve you," a sad whisper echoes into the hallway, barely audible over the cat calls and drunken roars from other cells.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Beka shot back, eyes narrowed.

Viktor's head jerked up in alarm, and she realized she wasn't supposed to have heard the last comment.

For a moment, Viktor paused, the slowly he responded, "You were the best guard in the city. The very best. Do you know what I would do to catch some of the Rats you have? Instead, I'm stuck on desk duty as the Provost's son. I would cut off my own hand to do what you did, and you walked away from it all for him."

He paused, but Beka had nothing to say. He continued when he realized she wasn't going to storm out. "This job, this reconnaissance, was my one shot, my only chance to earn myself a spot to the street rotations. If I couldn't get a major lead before mom made it south, I'd be running errands for the rest of my life. When I realized he could still be following you, I thought for sure we'd catch him. But…we didn't have enough resources. We were all so busy guarding you that we couldn't watch for him. I tried to get Rosto to put his men on guard duty, but he didn't know who to trust. He's so new to the throne; he thought people might use you to get to him."

Beka nodded, Rosto had once mentioned the same thing to her when she once asked him to give the Scanran guards a break from duty. "Why did you betray us?" Beka couldn't stop her voice from cracking.

Tears began running down his face, slowly and inexorably. "I…I'm…" Suddenly his hand flailed out, and he pulled his sleeve back. Small cuts ran up and down his arm.

"You're a drug addict," Beka murmured out, and suddenly it all made sense. Viktor's mood swings, his bloodshot eyes, they weren't from exhaustion. She thought of the mannerism she'd had to memorize in training.

"He found out, laced my supply with a poison," Viktor said, anger underlying his voice. "And I end up on the floor of my room, seizing up, flickering in and out of consciousness, when Seth came before me." His voice rose up and up, barking out sentences and growling over, "He had the antidote and I knew that without it I was going to die. I had no idea who he was, he told me the Gods had sent him and that I needed to help him in order to remain in this life and pay penance for my sin of visceral indulgence.

"So I swore to it and received the antidote. Turns out that whatever he mixed my drugs with will never leave my system. I have to take that potion of his everyday I want to live. Otherwise…

"Well, all of that led to this. But…."

Beka couldn't hold her opinions in any longer, "There is no 'but' at the end of this story. You could have stopped this at any moment. Great Mother Goddess, is your dirty little secret really worth my life? You could have told Rosto anytime- the Gods only know how many times you were alone with him during these last few months. Seth never would have known you had leaked information until it was too late."

Somehow, the self-loathing in Viktor's face only increased. "You d- d- don't think I know that?" he stuttered out. "You don't think I realized I could have told my brother?"

Beka felt contaminated watching these emotions pour out of a once proud man. She turned to leave, not even saying goodbye. The pathetic visage of a man which lay in front of her didn't even deserve that much attention.

"I couldn't tell him because then he would have fixed everything!"

Beka kept walking up the stairs, away from the derelict behind her.

Viktor began yelling, as though his plaintive wails would draw her back.

"If he fixed everything, you were lost to him forever! If I saved you, maybe you would have looked me in the eyes for once! Maybe, you'd blush and giggle at my jokes, maybe you'd wait up for me when I was running late! Why does my brother have to win everything I want! What have I done for the Gods to curse me like this! Maybe…"

The door to the cells slammed shut behind Beka and cut off the confession.

She sunk to her knees and wept, till familiar arms wrapped themselves around her.