Chapter 18: There's Nothing You Could've Done

The very next second, Jon made a few calls. First to Robb, to let him know what had happened. The older brother was rightfully surprised and started to freak out until Jon reassured him he was handling it.

They quickly decided to send some men to try to find the warehouse. Once they found it they'd all converge. That was the plan at least. The problem was things just seemed to turn tits up at the first possible juncture.

After he got off the phone, Grenn came bounding down the stairs. Jon held up his hands to stop him halfway down, "Grenn, take three other guys and go to the docks. Search the whole fucking place and see if there even is a red warehouse there. If there is, call me right away."

The red-haired man frowned, but nodded, "Alright, I got it," Was Grenn's only response, then he climbed back up the steps at a high speed.

Jon watched him go, then took a glance at Locke. The black and darkened skin, even looking like it may flake off soon. Jon wouldn't miss the man, that was for sure. His mind quickly wandered to what he had become. What he was willing to do. As it happened his mind just went blank, there was only red. He just hoped it wouldn't all be for nothing.

Eventually, he began slowly moving up the stairs. Realizing his recent lack of sleep was starting to catch up to him, nearly falling up the steps. The last time he slept was the night before Ramsay torched the school.

That was almost two days ago.

With all the adrenaline vacated in his system, wrapping his palm around the handle of the door hurt rather a lot. "Damn it," he cursed. Though he forced himself through it, moving out into the main area of the floor level of the house. Then he found his way to the cart with the alcohol on it. Clean tumbler in hand, he dumped some whiskey in it. The need for painkillers and a drink has happened before so in the cabinet of the cart, he found the bottle. Jon knocked back four pills and the glass of whiskey.

He wished his hands would've stopped hurting immediately. Though naturally, a few minutes later, the couch looked really comfortable to him.

So that's where he went. It didn't take long for him to pass out. Maybe he might've wanted a dreamless sleep. Of course, he wouldn't get such a wish.

A city on fire, his feet carried him through the streets as chaos exploded all around him. Unable to move as building burned around him, the shrill shrieks of women and children assaulted his eardrums. He wanted to cover his ears but his arms wouldn't move.

Fights broke out on the sidewalk nearby, hundreds of people gathered all around in a brawl. He witnessed a man's neck get snapped right before the skull got crushed by a lead pipe. Two women fought, pulling hair and scratching at the face. One of them got their eyes gouged out.

Everyone killed each other around him but paid him no mind. For they didn't care about some dumb bastard who thought himself a hero.

Ahead, his eyes widened as a visage of his father, Ned Stark appeared. Arms stretched out to him, Jon wanted to embrace him but his body stopped dead. The murders around seemed to notice Ned suddenly. All ran at him, Jon watched in horror as a pack of bloodthirsty savages ravaged his father with blades. Shanks and switchblades ran in and out of Ned's torso. But the attack didn't seem to phase him. Keeping his arms outstretched he locked eyes with Jon and said:

"There's nothing you could've done."

It was the vibrating of his phone that woke Jon. Waking with a start, he slapped his chest pocket where the phone resided. The reverberation gave quite the sensation, if he had to bet what a heart attack felt like, he'd say it resembled that. Hyperventilating a bit, he retrieved his phone. His eyes weren't working right yet, so he squinted at the caller ID. Thankfully, he only has only one contact on his phone that starts with the letter 'G'.

"Hello?" Jon answered it. "Grenn?"

"Yeah, Jon, it's me."

"Did you find anything?"

"Well, there's a red warehouse down here. We can see it from the gates, but there's a problem."

"What?"

"The fucking Greyjoys won't let us in."

Jon took the phone away from his mouth so he could yell. "Fuck! Goddamn it."

Grenn was confused, "Jon? You there?"

"Yeah," Jon replied, bringing it back to his mouth. "Grenn, tell me what's happening."

"They've got one of those toll booth looking things over here, with tall ass fences and barbed wire. There's guarding the fuck out of whatever is inside. Three Greyjoy fuckers are standing right in front of me and won't let us in," Grenn explained, the frustration clear in his voice.

"That's fucking strange," Jon frowned. It was, truly. The Greyjoys control a lot of what comes in and out of the city by boat. Normally, they're pretty loose on security. Yet the bay is rather large, and this is only one section of it. Though Greyjoys have eyes all over the docks. "But there's a red warehouse in there?"

"Yeah, I can fucking see it through the fence over there."

"Is this the only red warehouse at the docks?"

"As far as we know," Grenn replied. "But this is the weird part, this is the only part of the docks they are specifically guarding. They got dudes elsewhere but this part is fucking fenced in, with goddamn armed guards. If there's a red warehouse, that's Sansa's supposed to be in, this is gotta be the one."

"Alright, alright," Jon exhaled, pinching his brow. "Just lemme think for a second."

"I mean, I can get by these three dudes, easy, but I dunno how many more they got beyond the gate."

"Just sit there, don't move," Jon told him. "Lemme make some fucking calls. If they don't let us in we are coming in. You hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear you."

"Be ready."

"Euron? What's this I fucking hear about you not letting my boys in the docks?" Robb nearly yelled over the mouthpiece. He heard from Jon, then immediately called Euron. He had stepped onto the balcony of the hotel room for some privacy.

"I'm sorry, my King," Euron chided in a very sarcastic tone. "Could you fill me in on what exactly you're talking about?" Robb heard the man seemingly chewing on what sounded like an apple or grape.

"I'm not in the fucking mood, Euron," Robb gritted his teeth. "You know exactly I'm talking about."

"Ah!" Euron snapped his fingers. "Yes, I remember now. I heard your boys wanted into one of my secure compounds. Yeah… no, that's not happening."

"What?" Robb scoffed, aghast.

"Are you surprised?" Euron laughed. "Would you let some of my smelly seamen on your property? No. Why should I let some wolves tear up my shit?"

"Because you got my sister in there, you fuck!" Robb exclaimed.

"I don't know anything about that," Euron's response was quick.

"You're fucking lying," Robb said. "There's a red warehouse she's being kept in."

Euron half-laughed, "Are you accusing me of taking your dear sweet sister?"

"No, I'm now accusing you of harboring her for the fucking Boltons, which just as bad," Robb snarled, grip tightening around the phone. "So, if I find out you truly knew about this, and helped these fuckers, oh, there is gonna be hell to pay."

"Or not because I truly don't know a damn thing about what you're talking about," Euron sneered. "Now, I've got a couple of bitches right here that need my attention if you catch my drift. I'll be seeing you, my King."

"Yeah, really fucking soon," Robb replied, angrily.

"Alright, and do me a favor and get your damn dogs off my property, okay?"

After pushing down the desire to throw the phone against a wall as hard as he could, Robb called Jon. Staying on the balcony, he listened to the dial tone. His brother picked up on the third ring, "Robb? What'd you find out?"

"Euron is hiding something, he acted like he had no idea what I was talking about," Robb answered, trying to calm down by staring at the moon. The white light-colored his face, the cool white shades starkly different from boiling anger in his belly.

"That fucker… Robb, she's gotta be there."

"I've gathered that."

"So we gotta go get her."

"And do what? Start a war with the Greyjoys?"

"We're already fighting the Boltons and the Lannisters, what's one more family?"

"Do we even have the manpower to bust in there?" Robb asked.

"Maybe."

"I don't wanna bet on a maybe."

"I could talk to Grenn," Jon sighed. "I reckon we could get together at least 25 guys."

"That's it?"

"Robb, we employ a lot more than that but we can't bring every man we got here to do this. There's guys with you, at the house, carrying out other business," Said Jon in response.

"Well is 25 enough?"

"I don't know. We don't know how many more guys Euron's got on the other side of the fucking gate."

"We could run right into a trap."

"Exactly."

"Well what the fuck are we gonna do, Jon?" Robb asked, clearly frustrated. "We can't just let them keep Sansa in there!"

"You think I don't fucking know that?" Jon nearly exclaimed. "Can you just give a second to think? Fuck!" Thankfully, Robb did shut up for a few moments. Allowing Jon to gather his thoughts.

Jon was quiet for so long Robb finally had to say something, "Jon, you still there?"

The younger brother replied quickly, "Yeah, I got it."

"What?"

"I'm gonna get as many guys as I can," Jon said. "And I'm taking them to that fucking warehouse. If they won't let us in we're bust our fucking way in. We gotta get Sansa out of there."

"Alright," Robb said. "Do it."

Three trucks joined one already there. Jon stepped out of the blacked-out SUV. All the men he'd brought with did the same. Pulling right up to the toll box-like station the Greyjoy's had set up. He felt pairs of eyes all over him.

Grenn walked up to Jon, they shook hands. "I'd say I'm glad to you see ya, but the circumstances aren't great."

"Yeah, we'll see what we can do about that," Jon replied, grimacing. He looked over the fence. He saw the red warehouse sticking out like a sore thumb even the darkness of night.

They both turned to face the toll booth, a Greyjoy man stepped out, hand wrapped tightly around his sawed-off shotgun. Though he smiled and waved. Jon leaned over to Grenn, "I brought a lot of guys and a lot of guns."

"How many?"

"On short notice, I was able to get together twenty-seven our people. Guns of all sorts, shotguns, machine guns, pistols, and even a fucking chainsaw if we need it."

"That should be enough," Grenn said, crossing his arms. "If Sansa is here, they probably won't have that many guys stationed here. That way there's not too much attention focused here. Or, there could fifty Greyjoys behind this fucking gate. Though nobodies came in or out since we've been here."

"Good," Jon nodded, turning around he noticed everyone behind him arming up. "So no real activity around here?"

"Well," Grenn frowned a bit, stroking his ginger beard. Then he turned around and pointed to a container crane hanging over the yard. "They've sure been using that thing a lot. Moving those big metal containers all over the place. But that's it."

"Hmm… Probably nothing."

"You wanna give 'em one last chance?"

"I'm surprised they haven't already started shooting at us."

"They probably just a bunch of pussies," Grenn said, flipping his bat up to rest on his shoulder.

Jon didn't respond. His feet carried him forward toward the booth. Only did he stop when the Greyjoy turned the barrel of the blunderbuss in his direction. Though the Stark was unafraid, he did halt progress. Getting shot unnecessarily didn't seem like an excellent idea. He called out to the man, "You fucks wouldn't let my associates inside. Now I'm here. Which is rather unfortunate for you. But you've still got a chance. Let me in now, and we're all square. Refuse us again, well… It gets ugly."

The grizzled Greyjoy spat before Jon's feet, "Make yourself sparse, Stark. Before it does get ugly… for you."

"Well," Jon shrugged, "That is unfortunate." In a flash, he had a pistol out. The next moment he left a gaping hole in the goon's face. Red mist filling the air. The Stark men surged past Jon as the man fell dead. Walking up to Jon, Grenn handed him a submachine gun. He shoved the pistol in between his belt.

In the yard, right before the toll booth, lie numerous shipping containers, arranged in a maze sort of way. There was plenty of space to walk between them. They covered the ground, unable to run around them. Stretching all the way across until the edge leading into Blackwater Bay. A container crane loomed over them, hanging over the warehouse. High up in the air, Greyjoys began climbed up the ladder on the legs. It didn't take long for their to be ten or so with high ground, likely carrying high powered rifles.

A slimy voice came over a loudspeaker planted by the warehouse, with accompanying speakers all around the yard so the volume would carry. All knew the voice, "Ah… Wolves are such dumb cunts."

Jon pulled a face, gritting his teeth so hard it hurt, "Euron."

"Turns out you fucks are trespassing. I'm within my rights to fucking kill you. So be good, lay down and fucking die like the fucking dogs you are."

One of Jon's men yelled, "This is fucked! We should go."

Jon snarled loudly, "Can't. My sister is in here. We can't leave. If you desert me now you better skip town 'cause I'll catch and kill you myself."

"Let's get to that fucking warehouse!" Grenn bellowed, beating on his chest.

Taking that as a cue, the Greyjoys atop the crane began firing. Several heads exploded near Jon, crimson filling the air. The only respite seemed to be the containers ahead. "Fucking move or die!"

Even from behind a metal container, the bullets clanged off the top and sides. Jon covered his head in a futile attempt to protect himself. The shooting didn't even seem to end. Felt like they'd attained unlimited fucking ammo. Grenn got close so his voice could be heard, "Jon! What the fuck do we do?"

There's nothing you could've done.

"We're fucking pinned down!" someone yelled. There wasn't enough room for everyone to hide behind the same container. Others found another or lost their head.

"Fuck!" Jon could only say. His hair tie had been loosed and lost long ago. Oh, how he wished he still had it for just some feeling of lingering control. "Fuck! Alright… We move up. Go in between the containers if you have to. We use those as cover. We need to get under the crane so they can't shoot at us. Gotta get to that damn warehouse. Gotta find Sansa."

Thus began a small battle of attrition, maybe Stark men died. Falling to the ground with a thud, many trying to stop the bleeding, others dead before they hit the earth. They tried shooting back at the Greyjoys up top. But it was just too far in the air, sure a few stray bullets hit. Mostly ineffective to say the least.

The numerous containers were the only thing that saved them. Jon wondered why they were here in the first place if this was an ambush in the first place. When a bullet got close to ending his short life. He ducked to the ground, cowering near the end of a green container. Quickly he realized the thing was open. Unable to stop himself for peering inside despite the carnage around him. Inside was a bunch of wooden boxes stacked up. Jon fully stepped inside to inspect them. Using the butt of his SMG, he cracked open a long rectangular one.

"Jon!" Grenn's voice called out to him. "What the fuck are you doing in there? We're dying out here." Moments later he entered the container himself. "Jon, what the fuck?"

"Shut up and come here." Jon snapped. Grenn came over to see what was in the box. A sniper rifle. "Euron must have just got in a shipment. Think you can put this to use?"

"Fuck yeah I can," Grenn laughed a bit, picking the rifle up. He set it against his shoulder, peering through the scope. Jon smashed open another crate, finding himself a proper assault rifle. "We need to get the rest of the boys in here. There's no telling what other arms we can get."

"Yeah," Jon replied, pulling the side back. The rifle had a mid-range sight on it, likely useful for hitting the snipers on the crane. He slung the submachine gun around his back. In the box, he found a few extra magazines. Never before had he been more thankful for the inside pockets of suit jacket. Grenn stepped out and waved in as many nearby men as he could to get some supplies.

As five or more Starks came running into the container, Jon stepped out. They cowered in fear, furthering screaming even from the protection of the inside. Yelling even louder when the bullets dinged off the top.

Jon slid down the long side of the green container until he reached the end of it. Quickly, he peered up to the crane. It didn't appear as if they noticed him. He hefted the assault rifle up and took aim. One of them right between his crosshairs, he readied to fire. Except in the very next moment, the Greyjoy pointed somewhere nearby to Jon and yelled something incoherent. The man took off with several of his friends close behind.

The loudest noise to ever grace Jon's eardrums came right next to him. A small explosion it sounded like. A boom so loud Jon thought he'd just been blown to bits. Except he didn't, but he instinctively fell to the ground, covering his head. Half a second later, there was another explosion but farther away. This one was twice as loud as the first. The heat stretched down and brushed against Jon's back.

When all seemed safe, Jon looked up to see the crane on fire. The section from where the Greyjoys shot at them was devastated. The crane itself appeared unstable afterwards, the walkway that supported the men hung on by blackened metal. Many of the Greyjoys didn't make it off, seeing as the charred bodies now laying on the ground below the crane.

"Seven hells," Jon gasped. "The fuck was that?"

"Me, of course," a voice from behind him said. Snapping his head around, Jon saw Grenn standing there with a bazooka resting on his shoulder. He shrugged, "I simply couldn't resist. How cool was that?"

"Could've warned me first," Jon replied, getting to his feet. Before anyone else could speak, the weakened walkway gave out. Falling from high in the air to ground, probably crushing the already blown up bodies of the dead Greyjoys. The ground below everyone's feet shook like an earthquake. "This is the craziest night of my goddamn life."

Grenn set the rocket launcher aside, saying, "Well, it's not over yet." He put his hand on his bat, which had been shoved through the space between his belt and his pants.

Jon held his hand out to stop him, then passed the assault rifle over. "Nah, you're gonna need to do some more shooting first."

"Right," Grenn nodded, taking the gun.

Getting hand back on his own submachine gun, Jon said, "Come on, let's get this fucking thing done."

"'Course," Grenn smirked. He took a couple of steps backward and yelled, "Hey! Come the fuck on you dolts!" Seconds later what Starks were left joined them, about fifteen of them.

The pack rolled out towards their goal, that fucking red warehouse. They picked up the pace, breaking out into a jog. Though they were forced to halt when the path they walked became blocked another container lying laterally. They were unable to proceed straight to the warehouse. Only to the left or the right, unclear if either actually led to where they wanted to go.

"Just can't be easy, huh?" Grenn shook his head.

Jon nodded head to the left, "Imma go this way, some of you come with me. Grenn, you take the rest the other way. If you find the way out yell as loud as you can."

"Alright, come on fuckers," Grenn sighed, walking off to the right.

Saying nothing, Jon just took off. He knew they'd follow.

Progress was slow given they had no idea if they were even going in the right direction. There were other forks in the path where Jon was forced to make a decision on which way to go. Any choice he made felt wrong. They even ran back into Grenn and his group but both teams separated soon after in different directions. The difficulty of setting all this only made this all feel premeditated. Perhaps they didn't have much time though, that's why Euron was forced to use precious cargo to arrange the maze. That's probably why the container crane was so close by. This must have happened recently.

There's nothing you've could've done.

Although, given the likely hasty placement of the containers. The path out of the maze wasn't difficult to figure out. Eventually, the containers were aligned in a simple 'S' pattern. Left then right, left then right, repeat. Jon nearly started to run when he saw an opening leading to free air.

With the red warehouse in sight, he couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. He passed through the opening as fast as could. Feeling as if it might close if he didn't go through quickly. Once through the breach, he half expected to be shot down. He breathed in deep once he realized he might still live, for now at least. The rest of his men caught up as Jon pressed on.

Grenn and a few other Starks caught up to him as they neared the warehouse.

"Goddamn it," Grenn cursed. "What's with that fucking maze?"

"They must have wanted to slow us down."

"Well, they sure accomplished that. No one even came back to fight us though."

Jon smirked, "Maybe they're all dead."

"Doubt it," Grenn shook his head. Then raised his finger toward the warehouse, "They likely all in there. The rest of 'em."

"Think they got guns pointed at the doors?"

"I'd bet."

The front of the building had a massive bay door, assumably for backing in trucks and such.

Though there were a pair of smaller doors down low. Those doors flew open in front of them. Six Greyjoys ran out carrying pistols and shotguns. With nothing for either side to hide behind, a firefight broke out immediately. The Greyjoy's started shooting first, letting out numerous shots. Jon just held his machine gun at the hip, holding the trigger down hard. Bodies all around started to fall.

Having an automatic gun helped. Jon killed four of the Greyjoys quickly. The other two died as well. But in the fray, all of the Starks around him got shot down. Even Grenn took a bullet in the arm.

"Seven hells," Jon huffed. When he tried to step forward his leg wouldn't take the pressure. His face hit the pavement before he knew what was up. Once he rolled over he noticed a bullet passed through the meat of his left calf. "Fuck. Motherfucker."

There's nothing you could've done.

"Jon, you alright?" Grenn came over blood pouring down his left arm.

"I'll be fine," Jon replied, scowling. Allowing Grenn to help him to his feet. That moment, the remaining ten Stark men gathered around. "We gotta get the fuck in that goddamn warehouse."

"Hold up, brother," Grenn began, he knelt down to take a look at Jon's leg wound. "Gotta do something about this first."

"What are you gonna do?"

Grenn looked around at the Starks surrounding, at random he pointed at one of them. "Hey you, gimme your belt."

The young man was confused. "My belt?"

"Did I stutter? Gimme the goddamn thing." As quick as he could, the boy obeyed and handed the piece of leather over. Gingerly, Grenn wrapped the belt around Jon's wound. "Can't 'ave you bleeding all over the fuckin' place. This is gonna hurt."

Jon winced as Grenn tightened it up as far as it could go. "Goddamn, it gotta be that tight?"

"Fuck yeah, gotta have some pressure on it."

"Thanks, I guess."

"What are all you's standing around for? You heard him!" Grenn yelled, turning around to the men. "Get the fuck in there!" As commanded, the men ran forward bursting into the warehouse.

"She better fucking be here." Jon gritted his teeth as he reloaded his gun. Mere moments later shots began to ring out from inside the warehouse.

"It just can't be fucking easy, can it?" Grenn scowled, shaking his head.

"Come on, let's get it done."

Not allowing his leg to slow him down, Jon sprinted as fast as his body would allow. It hurt plenty, though he wouldn't let mere pain stop him.

Jon cast aside the submachine gun, having run out of ammo. Leaving himself with just a pistol. Though undeterred, he surged forward.

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