Late Evening, 35th Yaris, 2719
He ran a tumble house in the back streets of Old Rose Harbour, a mostly clean place that did alright. Though not that night, as the reason he was angry was.
"Damn it Benny, where are all the clockin' whores!?"
They all vanished, all of them an hour ago, without so much as a by your leave. Harry's normal florid face was now turning a shade towards beetroot as he smashed a chubby fist into his desk top.
Benny Connors was the head his second and ran the small gang of thugs Harry employed as security.
…...
Two days before.
"An' 'e beats on us somethin' foul, an' 'is thoughs are a right tsuter crew an' he gives um free reign."
The witch sat across the table in a small back room at the Black Dove tavern, besider a pretty young man with blonde wavy hair sat. The third figure at the table, who sat across from them was shrouded in shadow. Broad and quiet, listening.
The young man put an arm around the witch as he took speaking.
"He takes more than his fair share from us, and threatens us with harsher dealings if we try to refuse."
A big hand with scarred knuckles came from the shadows holding a handkerchief, extended in offering. The witch took it gratefully.
"Will you help us, we can't afford to pay you much. Here's all we could scrape together."
The man put a pouch the clink with coin onto the table and pushed it across, the big hand pushed it back and a deep rough voice growled from the dark.
"Nay, you've greater need. I was thinkin' of payin' a visit to Harry Thatcher any road."
It was true, Thatcher had been underpaying his tithe to Hawke and saying his bawdy house was under performing. This far as Breaker could tell, was now reviled as a pack of lies.
"Two nights from now, before the house is due to open you get leave, take everyone with you. But subtle like, I'll be by, then 'arry an' me shall 'ave words."
On the last word Breaker lent from the shadows, it was clear from the look on his face and his cold black eyes that Harry Thatcher would not enjoy these 'words'.
…....
The Present
Harry was about to launch into another triad regarding how he was cursed with the most mung fools, when a booming knock was heard on the front door. Impressive as Harry's office was on the third floor.
"Who the bloody clockin' hells is that?"
Benny and the other thug with him looked towards the office door in confusion then back at Harry. Harry, face turning a darker shade of red shouted.
"Well, send someone mung bloody bastard, Vrunta! But why do I even pay you?"
Benny shoved the other tough towards the office door.
"You heard the boss you mung kenser shit!"
The thug scuttled out, they could hear him yelling down the stairs as he went, calling the other toughs Harry employed.
The man himself settled back into his chair and took a drink from the glass of brandy on his desk and reached for the fine dark wood cigar box on his desk, when the knocking came again. Loud enough to rattle the windows on the front of the house.
It was followed by a muffled shout, and then silence.
Harry and Benny strained their ears, nothing but the noise of the house settling.
"Maybe whoever it was 'as gone?"
As the last word left Benny's lips there was a booming crash and the sound of tearing wood. Shouts of alarm followed on its heels, then noise of a desperate fight.
"Bloody clockin' hell what's going on? Benny go check!"
With a worried look Benny went out, when the door opened the sound of fighting grew louder briefly.
When Benny reached the landing that overlooked the entrance hall his mouth fell open. A big bald man was busy smashing Wilk's head to mush with a sledgehammer while Tomas was on his knees clutching himself screaming and Rod was pulling himself from the wreckage of what had been the front door. Wilk's fell the carpet dead, the last thing Benny saw before he fled of the bald man turn his blood stained face up and fix and black eyes on him and gave him the maddest grin he had ever seen. As Benny fled back to the office Tomas' screams end in a bloody gurgle.
Harry was cowering behind his desk, scrabbling to try and loud the pistol he kept in a draw. When Benny burst in Harry let out a high pitched squeal of alarm and poured gunpowder of his desk.
"Well, how many are there?!"
Benny rested his back against the door after locking it.
"There's only one man boss, but…"
"One bloody kov?! Well get out there and bloody deal with 'im. Take that clockin' sword you insist your so good with and bloody end 'im!"
Reluctantly Benny drew steel, unlocked the office door and went outside closing it after him.
Once more Harry went back to frantically loading the pistol. For a long moment there was no sound from behind the door and then the sound of steel on steel and the sound of combat. Then a cry of pain, and silence once more…
The office door creaked open and Benny came in, Harry was about to congratulate him, but the words died on his lips. Something was wrong deeply deadly wrong, Benny's boots weren't touching the floor and his head was at a strange angle to his neck. Then the body of his second was hurled across the room to smash into the desk and hit the floor, then the door smash wide and a big man walked in. He was shirtless, bald and covered in blood, he wore heavy looking boots and breeches and a heavy belt, on his shoulder a blood encrusted sledgehammer rested.
Harry raised the pistol and pulled the trigger, the hammer fell and…
Nothing happened.
Harry looked down face a mask of terror and surprise on his face, he'd not primed the firing pan.
The big man grinned, white and gold flashing in that mask of blood.
"You would be Harry Thatcher."
It wasn't a question, the big man stood in the middle of the room brought the hammer from his shoulder and rested the head on the carpet, Harry could see the lumps of flesh and hair stuck on it.
"I am Breaker Cooper, I work for Silas Hawke. Perhaps you've 'eard of me?"
Harry let out a whimper of terror, he had.
Breaker grinned his terrible bear trap grin.
"Tell you what. I'll be sportin' if you make it to the street, before I catch you. You can live."
Harry nodded shaking and started to stand.
Breaker picked up his hammer and thudded the bloody head into his bloody hand and said in a low growl.
"Run."
…
Harry did not make it to the street. He barely made it from the office. He did not die well and he did not die quickly. Later a few Bad Brothers came and took the broken bloody bodies away and a more trusted man was placed in charge of the tumble house.
Job well done Breaker cleaned the blood from his body and hammer and walked home through the dry Yaris night whistling a merry tune around one of Harry's fine cigars, the box tucked under one arm.
Aye he thought, it had been a fine nights work.
