Viktor's Wrath

"Joren. Gavril. Your turn"

"Bring one of them alive, we need more information on the puppet master"

Then a familiar, gruff thought from Gavril:

"Fuc…, I will never get used to you talking' inside my skull..."

Joren. "Orders, sir?"

"You know what to do, Joren. And Gavril stay alert, I can sense more people gathering. We still don't know if they are associated or not, so proceed with caution"

"Yeah, yeah don't worry old man, I can fight as well. Don't worry"

 AT THE TANNERY

The two moved through the dark alleys, approaching the tannery from opposite sides.

Their mark stood outside a shuttered tavern, lighting a pipe. Unassuming. Face scarred. Boots military.

Joren raised two fingers. Gavril nodded.

They moved.

Joren approached from the front, feigning a drunken stumble. The man turned, annoyed.

Gavril struck from behind.

His blade sank between ribs, quick and clean. The man gasped. Joren caught him as he fell, easing him to the ground.

"Didn't even blink," he whispered.

Their next target lingered near an old well.

Joren moved like smoke; Gavril behind.

As the target leaned to peer into the depths, Gavril nudged him forward.

A short scream…cut by impact.

THUD!!!

No body. No noise.

Joren exhaled. "You could have just stabbed him in the neck."

"This is much more efficient," Gavril replied.

"There are more people inside"

"Alright, let's move." Said Joren.

"Joren, you create a distraction. I will strike from the blind side."

"Ok."

The plan unfolded smoothly.

Joren kicked a loose barrel, sending it clattering across the stones. The figure inside tensed, looking the wrong way…and Gavril was already there, a shadow moving with terrifying speed.

A short, brutal struggle.

Gavril pinned the man, twisting his arm until bone cracked.

Joren was there a heartbeat later, blade at the throat.

"Who else?" Gavril snarled.

The man's mouth worked uselessly… then foam bubbled at his lips.

Poison capsule.

Dead in seconds.

"Fuck," Gavril muttered under his breath, wiping his hand on his cloak.

Kaavi felt a ripple across the bond.

"We need one of them alive, Gavril."

"I know!!" Gavril turning, feeling frustrated. "How would I know he'd be suicidal."

"Do not worry, I will bring one of them alive."

After hearing the noises outside two of them were hiding inside the storage unit.

"There are two more hiding inside" Kaavi whispered in their minds.

Inside, the space was cloaked in shadow. Dust swirled in the dim light slicing through fractured windows, and the stench of mildew hung heavy. Scattered crates bore the marks of hurried packing, their disarray betraying the occupants' desperation.

Gavril's frustration was palpable. His hands tightened around the twin axes, the sting of previous failures burning in his gut.

"We should've closed in by now," he muttered, venom dripping from his words.

Joren, by contrast, moved with the quiet precision of a blade sliding into its sheath. His steps were measured, his breathing even, every sense honed

He cast Gavril a brief glance, his tone calm but edged. "Anger clouds judgment. Focus."

Before Gavril could reply, the faint sound of movement broke through the oppressive silence. Both men froze, their gazes snapping toward the source. In the corner of the unit, two shadowy figures lurked.

Joren's sharp eyes narrowed, his fingers twitching toward his concealed dagger. Gavril's grip on his axes tightened, his body coiling like a spring ready to snap.

The enemy, sensing their discovery, erupted into motion. One bolted to the left, the other to the right, their movements frantic and wild.

Gavril and Joren exchanged a brief glance…no words, just instinct and split off to pursue their prey.

Joren stalked his target like a shadow. The enemy darted between stacks of crates, overturning barrels to create obstacles, but Joren was unrelenting. His movements were fluid, his steps barely audible, his sharp gaze tracking every panicked turn.

Finally, he cornered the enemy in a narrow passage. Their chest heaved with exertion, fear flashing in their eyes.

Joren advanced, his blade gleaming under the sparse light.

"It's over," he said, his voice low and cutting.

But before he could act, the enemy let out a guttural scream and, in a horrifying act of defiance, bit down hardon his tongue… ending his life in a grotesque spurt of blood. Joren's expression remained impassive, though his eyes darkened with the weight of the failure.

Gavril's chase was far less calculated.

The enemy fled like a desperate animal, weaving through the unit as Gavril pursued with the fury of a storm. Crates splintered under his path, and the enemy's frantic attempts to slow him down only served to fuel Gavril's rage.

With a bellow, Gavril hurled one of his axes. The blunt side struck the enemy's leg, shattering bone with a sickening crack. Their scream echoed as they collapsed, clawing helplessly at the ground.

Gavril closed the distance in moments, his heavy boots striking the concrete like thunder.

The enemy tried to cry out, but Gavril forced the handle of his second axe into their mouth, silencing them before they could attempt suicide. His face was a mask of cold fury as he methodically shattered the enemy's remaining arm and leg.

"You're not running anywhere now. You'll tell us everything," he growled, his voice deadly calm.

Joren appeared in the doorway, his dagger still in hand, his face unreadable as he surveyed the scene. "The other didn't make it," he said flatly.

Gavril hoisted the broken enemy onto his shoulder, his gaze locking with Joren's. "This one will talk. Do not worry."

 On Top of The Clock-Tower

The final ripple... gone.

Kaavi waited.

Nothing else stirred in the lake.

Silence.

Peace.

Viktor sat beside him. "Is it over?"

Kaavi didn't answer at first. Then:

"For now."

He looked toward the stars, then back at the town.

"Let's return. There's much to prepare."

Behind them, the bells of Branwyke chimed 3:00.

The tower's hands had moved.

Something was shifting.

And this was only the beginning.