Shadow Slave: The Four Horseman of Deviants

Chapter 13: On the Hunt (3)

The Awakened unleashed the shackles of Brawn Knuckles, his voice firm but restrained. "You got lucky this time. Other Awakeneds on the West Coast have bailed you out and accepted your payment. Don't count on it next time."

Brawn complied, "Yes, sir Stallone. Won't happen again. I know my place."

Stallone's gaze shifted to Andrew, a silent warning in his eyes. "Stay out of trouble. Don't make this a habit."

Andrew met his gaze, face calm, giving a slight nod. "Yeah, I got it."

As the two walked away side by side, Andrew leaned in, voice low. "You have connections with Awakeneds?"

Brawn smirked, glancing ahead. "Three of 'em were my adventuring mates back in the day. Owe me their lives from when they were still ordinary folk."

Andrew raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Instead, he tilted his head slightly. "We should talk somewhere less… public."

Brawn nodded, a grin creeping back onto his face. "Right. Let's head to my place."

The path stretched on for miles, their footsteps echoing along the winding road until the cityscape of Pitoa came into view. Brawn's home loomed at the river's edge, the city itself sprawling out in four vast, divided sections, each corner pulsing with a life of its own.

Andrew stopped in his tracks, eyes wide. "Man, this place is huge," he murmured, almost to himself.

Brawn chuckled, a hint of something dark behind his smile. "It's impressive, sure… if you're just visiting. Stick around, though, and you start to see the real Pitoa."

"Oh, you mean the crime and all that mess?" Andrew asked, glancing at him.

Brawn shook his head. "Crime's only a piece. It's the Night Crawlers—scaling these walls every forty days, taking lives, and leaving fresh graves. Newcomers come to settle without a clue."

Andrew frowned, glancing around as if expecting shadows in broad daylight. "Strange that word doesn't get out."

"Not so strange." Brawn's eyes were steely. "People keep their mouths shut. The Awakeneds, the Governor—they don't want outsiders to know. Anyone who learns too much…" He drew a finger across his throat in a quick, silent gesture.

Andrew's jaw tensed. "This place… it's something else."

Brawn gave a low laugh. "Welcome to Pitoa. This is where your nightmare begins."

A chill traced down Andrew's spine. He was already deep in trouble, but now he felt like he was only scraping the surface of something much darker.

They rounded the last corner, and Brawn's house came into view—a sturdy place tucked away, its rough stone walls holding firm against the world around it.

Andrew raised an eyebrow as he took it in. "So this is your place? Thought it'd be a little… busier."

Brawn shrugged, unlocking the door. "I like my space. Took a lot of coin to get a spot like this."

Andrew's gaze drifted to the second floor, its windows looking out over the quiet street. "Not bad at all. Two floors, even."

Brawn gave a half-smile. "What can I say? Adventuring pays."

They stepped inside, the faint scent of dust and wood lingering in the air. Shattered plate fragments lay scattered in a corner, though the rest of the place was surprisingly orderly.

Andrew leaned against the wall, glancing at Brawn Knuckles. "Never got to ask—how'd you end up an adventurer, anyway?"

Brawn's gaze drifted as he spoke, his voice low. "Lost my memory a long time ago. A group of adventurers found me in a cave while I was unconscious. I tagged along, and before I knew it, I was one of them."

Andrew's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "And the name—Brawn Knuckles?"

Brawn hesitated, then gave a slow nod. "Just my adventurer's name. My real one… I don't know it."

A beat of silence passed, Andrew nodding. "Tough break, man."

Brawn shrugged it off, grabbing a dusty bottle from a nearby shelf and twisting off the cap. "Happens to the best of us. Drink?"

Andrew shook his head. "Nah, I don't want a drink, I still got things to do."

Brawn leaned back, crossing his arms. "Alright, who exactly are you after, lad?"

Andrew's gaze hardened. "Gallighar Demitra and David Klaus. You mentioned them earlier."

Brawn snorted, giving a short, humorless laugh. "Klaus? Sure, you can take your shot, but Demitra?" He paused for a moment, then poured himself a drink, "Don't bother. He's an Awakened, lad. You'd be lucky to get within ten feet near him."

"Yeah, I figured," Andrew replied, his tone casual. Then he paused, glancing sideways. "You know anything about Wallace Mayers?"

The silence that followed was heavy, stretching between them until Andrew found himself glancing around the room, clearing his throat. Finally, Brawn Knuckles spoke, voice low, eyes narrowed. "That's the Governor, lad. Just mentioning anything about taking him out… well, you might as well sign your death sentence now. Even hearing this… it's risk enough."

Andrew gave a slow nod. "Got it. Thanks for the heads-up."

Andrew straightened, eyeing him. "So, what's the plan?"

"I'll start at the tavern, see if anyone there saw anything last night," Brawn Knuckles replied.

"And me?" Andrew asked, he was doing random stretches, hyping himself up for an upcoming task.

"You go down to the sewers, see if Klaus can tell you who slipped in or out of there yesterday. People looking to disappear tend to go through that route."

Andrew nodded. Just as he was about to leave, he paused. "Wait, do you even know where the sewage entrance is?"

Brawn grinned, jerking his thumb. "Near the tavern. Just follow your nose—the stench'll lead you right to it."

….

Andrew slipped into the sewers, footsteps echoing softly against the damp stone walls. His hand gripped the hunting knife he'd pulled from his pocket, its blade glinting faintly in the dim light. Shadows danced along the narrow passage, each corner sharp with tension.

The filthy water splashed around his boots with each step, the thick stench settling heavy in the air, sour and relentless. Before he'd entered, he'd wrapped a cloth around his nose and mouth, tying it tightly at the back of his head, but it barely dulled the smell. Eyes alert, muscles tense, he moved through the darkness, hunting for David Klaus.

There were small vents at the top of the sewers, lights from the city appeared. It was already night, and the market was brimming with noise, it helped Andrew see through the dark tunnel.

David Klaus had never been anyone important. No noble lineage, no powerful connections, no mysterious powers. Just an ordinary man who once worked as a merchant's assistant, blending into the crowded streets of Pitoa. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he went crazy. Each night, he took three lives on average, scattering bodies across the city with brutal efficiency. Pitoa grew to know his name, whispered in fear.

Ten years ago, Klaus vanished without a trace. The bounty on his head remained, though some claimed he'd killed himself out of guilt. Others said he'd escaped to distant lands, seeking refuge from his crimes. For years, his name faded into a rumor—until last year, when a source tipped off Brawn Knuckles. David Klaus was alive and hiding in Pitoa's shadows once again.

Andrew muttered under his breath, "Where the hell is this guy?"

The sewer tunnels twisted and wound around him like a labyrinth, the city's underground was vast and interconnected, with only a few narrow exits leading out. Each turn felt the same, every damp wall echoing the dripping water and stale air. Suddenly, a voice echoed down the corridor, it was a rugged and annoyingly squeaky.

"Who's there? I'm warning yooOUUu!"

Andrew froze, pressing himself into the shadows, his steps silent. He waited, listening.

"Ah, fuck! I know you're here somewhere! I'm not craZyyy!"

Andrew grimaced. 'Man, this is hard to listen to.'

"Come out! Screw you!" David's shout rang out, punctuated by a sudden scuffle in the darkness. Out scurried a small rat, skittering over the slimy stone.

"Oh, it's just you, Jennifer," David cooed, voice lilting. "I'm sorry, so sorry~~ David's truly sorry!"

Andrew's brow furrowed as he watched from the shadows. Is he high, or just completely unhinged?

David's face twisted as he snorted, deep lines cutting across his skin. His left eye bulged, wide and unblinking, while the other stayed shut. A jagged scar ran across his deformed skull, thinning hair barely clinging to his scalp. His one remaining tooth jutted forward from a dark cavity, a rotting remnant in a mouth that had long since lost the others. His clothes hung in shreds, grime streaking the fabric. He held something in his palm, grinning down at it.

"Ah, uh, ah~ I have a gift, just for you, Jennifer," he crooned to the empty air, his voice lilting.

Andrew tightened his grip on the knife, watching from the shadows. Man, I have to do something. He felt the power of his runes flicker to life, a quiet hum beneath his skin. Lee said he won't notice this.

…

Name: Andrew Harkon

True Name:

Soul Core: Dormant

Memories:

Echoes:

Attributes: [Man of the Hunt], [Feral Command]

Aspect: [Huntsman]

Aspect Description: You are a hired mercenary who kills their targets with a cost. A lone weapon that never wavers from their tasks. 

Attribute Descriptions:

Man of the Hunt: your movements flowed like water, soundless, your steps are silent and senses are sharpened, instincts flaring, eyes catching every detail in the dim light.

Feral Command: Power pulsed, connecting you with the creatures around you. If needed, you could command a single creature to its will, though the hold would shift if another creature took its place.

…

Andrew shifted silently, his every breath calibrated, senses heightened, his focus narrowing on the twisted figure ahead.

Andrew's eyes flicked to the rat scurrying at his feet. With a quick, silent gesture, he directed it forward, watching as it crept toward David. Still don't know how I manage this, but it works.

David cooed softly to the empty air, his cracked voice lurching into a broken melody. "My sweet Jennifer~ let me sing you a lullaby..."

Andrew smirked, stepping silently closer. "Nighty night asshole."

Just as David began to turn, Andrew's fist shot forward, landing with a dull thud against David's jaw. The man crumpled to the ground, then went unconscious.

Andrew shook his head, wiping his knuckles. "Crazy motherfucker, you give me the creeps."