Cold.
Yovan wrapped his jacket tighter and zipped it up to the top, trying to protect himself from Nostramo's chill.
In vain. The only result was that he pinched his chin.
"It's damn cold," Yovan muttered, rubbing his chin. "How much longer do we have to wait?"
His companion, a man with an impressive beer belly, shook his head:
"It's whenever the masters deign to appear."
"Are you serious?!" Yovan exclaimed. "If they don't show up at all, we'll just stand here?!"
"Shut your stinking mouth, Yovan, and keep it down! If other groups hear us complaining here, do you think they won't report it to Master Male later?"
Yovan reluctantly nodded. He squatted in the attic of a recently inhabited house and lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag.
The sharp chemical taste made him squint blissfully.
"The Old City – that's where the real quality is," he said quietly. "Except for the price, damn it, there are no drawbacks."
"The price? They raised it again?"
"Yeah," Yovan nodded.
"I went three days ago with Old Hammer. The guy selling didn't even look at us properly. Old Hammer asked for a discount, and that bastard told him – if you don't like it, get lost."
Yovan grinned, revealing his yellowish-brown teeth.
"Can you imagine anyone talking to Old Hammer like that?"
The fat man nodded and said thoughtfully, "So that's why Old Hammer's whole face is bruised... They beat him up, right?"
"Well, yeah. As soon as that bastard said that, Old Hammer punched him. I was about to intervene too, but then..."
Yovan shrugged with a malicious grin.
"Six people jumped out of that damn alley, all with guns. I decided to play it by ear. Anyway, they beat up Old Hammer. If I hadn't stopped them, he would have been taken to Doctor Pogrebov already."
"Pogrebov died six months ago, idiot," the fat man said dismissively. "He was torn to pieces. They say it was the work of some avenging spirit. I don't think so. Pogrebov crossed so many people that anyone could have killed him."
"Really?"
Yovan raised an eyebrow in surprise, but quickly regained his composure.
"He maimed so many patients, it's no wonder they killed him."
"Good riddance," the man snorted coldly. "Crazy bastard. Instead of buying meat at the shop, he ate those who came to him for stitches."
He chuckled.
"But whoever killed him, he's playing us for fools. Everyone knows that avenging spirit is just a boogeyman for children..."
"That's for sure."
Yovan also laughed hoarsely.
"However, I think Old Hammer didn't get punched in the face for nothing."
He smirked and, raising his cigarette, waved it boastfully in front of his partner's face.
The fat man winced, unwilling to continue the conversation.
He perfectly understood that Yovan's words about "stopping them" should be divided by ten, as well as the story of how he got the goods.
Yovan really wanted the drugs, but upon hearing the price, he clearly changed his mind about paying for them.
The man glanced at Yovan, and his casual demeanor suddenly became irritating.
Boom!
"Hey... Barry, why are you kicking me?!"
"Get up, idiot."
Barry cursed quietly and kicked him again.
"Do you even know who might be coming today?"
"I'm getting up, I'm getting up, stop kicking... Who's so important?" Some masters and ladies who came down here for entertainment.
Yovan irritably brushed the dust off his pants.
"Well, maybe a little more distinguished than usual, otherwise we wouldn't be stuck here all night on guard duty... But what do we care about them?"
He became more and more agitated and even started waving his arms.
"We're just guard dogs to them anyway!"
"Watch your tongue, Yovan," Barry's face darkened sharply. "Everyone knows this, but unlike you, no one shouts it from the rooftops. Want to guess why?"
"..."
"And put out that damn cigarette. The stench from the Old City shit spreads far. If you don't want all the old farts to flock here for the smell – put it out."
This time, Yovan obeyed obediently.
He respected Barry, as he was the only one he knew who had survived the Great Purge.
Besides, he perfectly understood what he had just blurted out.
"Alright, I'll tell you, Yovan..."
Barry spoke again after a short silence. He stepped forward, and his beer belly pressed against the windowsill of the attic window. He raised his hand and pointed to a spire visible in the night mist.
"See our base? Listen here. Master Male usually calls it 'Honor'. Do you know why?"
Yovan shook his head.
"Because the Scryvok house gave it to us!"
Barry turned, his eyes wide with ferocity, and continued to lecture Yovan. Because of this, he didn't notice two shadows flashing past the window.
"During the last Great Purge, we fought with our lives to win a third of the new Quintus district for the Scryvok house... And this twenty-five-story spire is their reward to us!"
"And also our guns, our vehicles... our connections, and the fact that you and Old Hammer, that idiot, went to the Old City and got the goods for free without getting shot in the head – all thanks to the Scryvok house!"
He turned, step by step approaching Yovan, pinned him against the wall, and struck him hard. Watching him slide to the floor, writhing in pain, Barry continued with a cold smirk:
"So behave quietly and seriously until the end of the night, understand? It's not just any masters coming today. It's the bloody heirs of the Scryvok house!"
Yovan nodded, breathing heavily. Barry returned to the window with satisfaction, continuing his watch. Somewhere beyond his sight, a massive black car was speeding towards them.
...
"Avenging spirit..."
A pale young man with powdered lips smirked. He was dressed in a tight-fitting shirt with lace, and his long hair fell to his shoulders, giving him the appearance of a dissolute rake.
"Don't you find that name funny?" he asked cheerfully.
The two young women sitting opposite reacted differently.
The woman on the left, with a long scar on her face, smirked coldly:
"If I were you, Jando, I'd wisely keep quiet until I saw it with my own eyes. All sorts of filth live in the Underhive."
"Oh-oh, all sorts of filth live in the Underhive!"
The young man, named Jando, squeaked and mimicked her, bursting into laughter.
"And what, even a vengeful ghost?"
The woman on the right shook her head. She was dressed severely: breeches and a dark lilac blouse with a pattern. A simple, but not lacking in aristocratic grace, outfit.
"Don't be so insolent, Jando," she said imperiously. "Father hasn't given you the black mark yet. Show respect to your sister."
"Alright, Irene Scryvok, my most honorable sister," Jando grinned. "But I still think it's very funny. Hilarious, even."
"Funny?"
The woman with the scar smirked coldly again.
"The house coroner is dead, and you find it funny? Jando Scryvok, you are a pathetic ghoul."
"Hey, I don't eat corpses, Leina Scryvok."
"You disgrace our family," Leina said coldly. "None of the direct heirs of the Scryvok house have ever had such a passion for the base as you."
"Oh, come on, Leina," Jando spread his hands helplessly. "Aren't the people from the Underhive people? They look the same as us and are built the same. If you don't believe me, come to my basement later. I'll show you for free."
"To business," Irene interrupted imperiously. "Coroner Manelli is dead, and we will seek justice. But this trip has another purpose."
"What?" Jando asked. The smile disappeared from his face.
"The death of Father Lazar Lohars of the Church of Tranquility."
Leina Scryvok frowned sharply: "A traitor from the Lohars house?"
"Yes, Leina. Coroner Manelli, in addition to collecting taxes, was supposed to investigate his death... and died immediately after him."
Irene shook her head slowly: "Something is definitely wrong here."
Jando narrowed his eyes: "When this happens on the eve of the Great Purge, it's hard not to think of the obvious..."
Irene nodded vaguely: "Perhaps other houses are behind this, but we have no proof. Everything must be seen with our own eyes, investigated on site."
"You say it like I'm already looking forward to it..."
Jando's frivolous smile reappeared on his face.
"And also, my dear sister Irene, when I receive the black mark and Father's favor... I will definitely taste you too. I think you will be very sweet."
He inhaled deeply, with pleasure. Leina frowned with disgust, and Irene Scryvok...
...remained completely unfazed.
***
Read the story months before public release — early chapters are on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Granulan