Firestarter

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/52864633.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Categories: F/M, M/M
Fandom: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Relationships: Matthias Helvar/Nina Zenik, Kaz Brekker/Original Female Character(s),
The Crows Ensemble (Six of Crows) & Original Character(s), Jesper
Fahey/Wylan Van Eck
Characters: Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck, Nina Zenik,
Matthias Helvar, Tante Heleen (Six of Crows), Original Grisha
Character(s)
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2024-01-07 Words: 4,731 Chapters: 1/1
 Firestarter
by Kittycat3009

Summary

"I was never afraid of the dark"

Nereza Montalo wasn't a monster, just an arsonist. She was quite good at it too. So when she
met Kaz Brekker, she proved herself useful quickly, and before she could even blink, she was
a dreg. They called her the Firestarter, one of the most notorious criminals and most feared
Inferni in all of Ketterdam. The Bastard of the Barrel's right hand woman. Death followed her
wherever she went, the bodies piling up behind her. She and Kaz Brekker had sworn to
protect and stay together until the day they died, so when Kaz takes a job to break into the Ice
Court, she can't let him do it alone.

"You'll be the ruin of me, won't you?"

"Yes. Does that scare you?"

Chapter One: The Exchange

Nereza

Kaz Brekker didn't need a reason. Those were the words whispered on the streets of
Ketterdam, in the taverns and coffeehouses, in the dark and bleeding alleys of the pleasure
district known as the Barrel. The boy they called Dirtyhands didn't need a reason any more
than he needed permission– to break a leg, sever an alliance, or change a man's fortunes with
the turn of a card.

Of course they were wrong, Nereza considered as she stood in the deserted main square that
fronted the Exchange with the others. Every act of violence was deliberate, and every favour
came with enough strings attached to stage a puppet show. Kaz always had his reasons.

She glanced at the crew Kaz had brought with him: Dirix, Rotty, Muzzen and Keeg, Anika
and Pim, and his chosen seconds for tonight's parley, Jesper and Big Bolliger, Nereza would
be there also. Kaz had her by his side at all times.

They jostled and bumped each other, laughing, stamping their feet against the cold snap that
had surprised the city this week, the last gasp of winter before spring began in earnest. They
were all bruisers and brawlers, culled from the younger members of the Dregs, the people
Kaz trusted most.

Nereza noted the glint of knives tucked into their belts, lead pipes, weighted chains, axe
handles studded with rusty nails, and here and there, the oily gleam of a gun barrel.

"Three ships!" Jesper was saying. "The Shu sent them. They were just sitting in First
Harbour, cannons out, red flags flying, stuffed to the sails with gold."

Big Bolliger gave a low whistle. "Would have liked to see that."
"Would have liked to steal that," replied Nereza.

"Half the Merchant Council was down there flapping and squawking, trying to figure out
what to do." Jesper said.

"Don't they want the Shu paying their debts?" Big Bolliger asked.

Kaz shook his head, dark hair glinting in the lamplight. He was a collection of hard lines and
tailored edges – sharp jaw, lean build, wool coat snug across his shoulders - all of which
Nereza thought made him look very attractive. "Yes and no," he said in his rocksalt rasp. "It's
always good to have a country in debt to you. Makes for friendlier negotiations."

"Maybe the Shu are done being friendly," said Jesper. "They didn't have to send all that
treasure at once. You think they stuck that trade ambassador?" Nereza shook her head. "Nah.
The Shu are messy when it comes to assassinations. The last one they were behind, the
assassin got caught on the way out, and that was 20 years ago!"

"Give the history lessons later, Montalto." Kaz said.

She saw him signal to Jesper, Big Bolliger and her to divest themselves of weapons. Street
law dictated that for a parley of this kind each lieutenant be seconded by two of his foot
soldiers and that they all be unarmed. Parley. The word felt like a deception – strangely prim,
an antique. No matter what street law decreed, this night smelled like violence.

"Go on, give those guns over," Dirix said to Jesper.

With a great sigh, Jesper removed the gunbelts at his hips. The Zemeni sharpshooter was
long- limbed, brown-skinned, constantly in motion. He pressed his lips to the pearl handles of
his prized revolvers, bestowing each with a mournful kiss. Nereza rolled her eyes at him as
she handed her daggers. She felt the flint that hung on her neck. Kaz said she could keep it,
but she couldn't set anything on fire.
"Take good care of my babies," Jesper said as he handed them over to Dirix. "If I see a single
scratch or nick on those, I'll spell forgive me on your chest in bullet holes."

"You wouldn't waste the ammo."

"And he'd be dead halfway through forgive," Nereza said as Big Bolliger dropped a hatchet, a
switchblade, and his preferred weapon – a thick chain weighted with a heavy padlock –
which Nereza always thought lacked finesse-into Rotty's expectant hands.

Jesper rolled his eyes. "It's about sending a message. What's the point of a dead guy with forg
written on his chest?"

"Compromise," Kaz said. "I'm sorry does the trick and uses fewer bullets." Dirix laughed, but
Nereza noted that he cradled Jesper 's revolvers very gently.

"What about that?" Jesper asked, gesturing to Kaz's walking stick.

Kaz's laugh was low and humourless. "Who'd deny a poor cripple his cane?"

"If the cripple is you, then any man with sense."

"Then it's a good thing we're meeting Geels." Kaz drew a watch from his vest pocket. "It's
almost midnight."

Nereza turned her gaze to the Exchange. It was little more than a large rectangular courtyard
surrounded by warehouses and shipping offices. But during the day, it was the heart of
Ketterdam, bustling with wealthy merchers buying and selling shares in the trade voyages
that passed through the city's ports.
Now it was nearly twelve bells, and the Exchange was deserted but for the guards who
patrolled the perimeter and the rooftop. They'd been bribed to look the other way during
tonight's parley.

The Exchange was one of the few remaining parts of the city that hadn't been divvied up and
claimed in the ceaseless skirmishes between Ketterdam's rival gangs. It was supposed to be
neutral territory.

"This is a mistake," said Inej, appearing from thin air, as she usually did. Big Bolliger started;
he hadn't known she was standing there. "Geels is up to something."

"Of course he is," said Kaz.

"Then why are we even here?" Inej asked.

"To listen to you ask stupid questions, Inej. Why else?" Nereza snarked, her voice mocking.
She and Inej didn't get along very well.

Kaz gave Nereza a "shut up" look and turned his attention towards Inej.

"Because this is the way Per Haskell wants it."

"He's going to get us all killed," Inej said.

Jesper stretched his long arms overhead and grinned, his teeth white against his dark skin. He
had yet to give up his rifle, and the silhouette of it across his back made him resemble a
gawky, long-limbed bird.

"Statistically, he'll probably only get some of us killed."

"It's not something to joke about," she replied. The look Kaz cast her was amused.
"Jesper isn't making a joke, Inej," said Kaz. "He's figuring the odds."

Big Bolliger cracked his huge knuckles. "Well, I've got lager and a skillet of eggs waiting for
me at the Kooperom, so I can't be the one to die tonight."

"Care to place a wager?" Jesper asked. "I'm not going to bet on my own death."

Kaz flipped his hat onto his head and ran his gloved fingers along the brim in a quick salute.
"Why not, Bolliger? We do it every day."

He was right.

Kaz struck his walking stick against the cobblestones as the bells from the Church of Barter
began to chime. The group fell silent. The time for talk was done. "Geels isn't smart, but he's
just bright enough to be trouble," said Kaz. "No matter what you hear, you don't join the fray
unless I give the command. Stay sharp."

Then he gave Inej a brief nod. "And stay hidden."

"No mourners," Jesper said as he tossed his rifle to Rotty.

"No funerals," the rest of the Dregs murmured in reply. Among them, it passed for 'good
luck'.

Before Inej could melt into the shadows, Kaz tapped her arm with his crow's head cane.
"Keep a watch on the rooftop guards. Geels may have them in his pocket."

"Then—" Inej began, but Kaz was already gone, motioning Nereza to follow him.

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰 ➿〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰
The thump of Kaz's cane sounded on the stones as he and his seconds made their way across
the square. On the opposite side, she glimpsed another set of lanterns heading towards them.

The Black Tips had arrived.

Nereza raised her hood. His dark coat rippled in the salt breeze, his limp more pronounced
tonight, as it always was when the weather turned cold.

Geels had chosen to bring Elzinger and Oomen – exactly as she, along with Inej had
predicted.Both of them knew the strengths and weaknesses of every member of the Black
Tips, not to mention Harley's Pointers, the Liddies, the Razorgulls, the Dime Lions, and every
other gang working the streets of Ketterdam.

Elzinger was built like a stack of boulders – nearly seven feet tall, dense with muscle, his
wide, mashed-in face jammed low on a neck thick as a pylon.

That Kaz had chosen Jesper to be one of his seconds was no surprise. Twitchy as Jesper was,
with or without his revolvers, he was at his best in a fight, and she knew he'd do anything for
Kaz.

She'd been less sure when Kaz had insisted on Big Bolliger as well. Big Bol was a bouncer at
the Crow Club, perfectly suited to tossing out drunks and wasters, but too heavy on his feet to
be much use when it came to a real tussle. Still, at least he was tall enough to look Elzinger in
the eye.

"Naughty," Jesper said as he removed a tiny knife from Elzinger 's sleeve and tossed it across
the square.

"Clear," declared Big Bolliger as he finished patting down Geels and moved on to Oomen.
Kaz and Geels discussed the weather, the suspicion that the Kooperom was serving watered-
down drinks now that the rent had been raised – dancing around the real reason they'd come
here tonight.

In theory, they would chat, make their apologies, agree to respect the boundaries of Fifth
Harbour, then all head out to find a drink together – at least that's what Per Haskell had
insisted.

Thing's never went exactly to plan with Kaz.

Kaz stood with both gloved hands resting on the carved crow's head of his cane. He looked
totally at ease, his narrow face obscured by the brim of his hat.

Most gang members in the Barrel loved flash: gaudy waistcoats, watch fobs studded with
false gems, trousers in every print and pattern imaginable. Kaz was the exception – the
picture of restraint, his dark vests and trousers simply cut and tailored along severe lines.

At first, she'd thought it was a matter of taste, but she'd come to understand that it was a joke
he played on the upstanding merchers. He enjoyed looking like one of them.

"I'm a business man," he'd told her. "No more, no less."

"You're a thief, Kaz."

"Isn't that what I just said?"

Now he looked like some kind of priest come to preach to a group of circus performers. A
young priest, she thought with another pang of unease. Kaz had called Geels old and washed
up, but he certainly didn't seem that way tonight.
The Black Tips' lieutenant might have wrinkles creasing the corners of his eyes and
burgeoning jowls beneath his sideburns, but he looked confident, experienced. Next to him
Kaz looked ... well, seventeen.

"Let's be fair, ja? All we want is a bit more scrub," Geels said, tapping the mirrored buttons
of his lime-green waistcoat. Terrible color on him Nereza thought.

"It's not fair for you to cull every spend-happy tourist stepping off a pleasure boat at Fifth
Harbour."

"Fifth Harbour is ours, Geels," Kaz replied.

"The Dregs get first crack at the pigeons who come looking for a little fun."

Geels shook his head.

"You're a young one, Brekker," he said with an indulgent laugh.

"Maybe you don't understand how these things work. The harbours belong to the city, and we
have as much right to them as anyone. We've all got a living to make."

Technically, that was true. But Fifth Harbour had been useless and all but abandoned by the
city when Kaz had taken it over. He'd had it dredged, and then built out the docks and the
quay, and he'd had to mortgage the Crow Club to do it.

Per Haskell had railed at him and called him a fool for the expense, but eventually he'd
relented. According to Kaz, the old man's exact words had been, "Take all that rope and hang
yourself." But the endeavour had paid for itself in less than a year, just like Kaz said it
would.
Now Fifth Harbour offered berths to mercher ships, as well as boats from all over the world
carrying tourists and soldiers eager to see the sights and sample the pleasures of Ketterdam.

The Dregs got first try at all of them, steering them – and their wallets – into brothels,
taverns, and gambling dens owned by the gang.

Fifth Harbour had made the old man very rich, and cemented the Dregs as real players in the
Barrel in a way that not even the success of the Crow Club had. But with profit came
unwanted attention.

Geels and the Black Tips had been making trouble for the Dregs all year, encroaching on
Fifth Harbour, picking off pigeons that weren't rightfully theirs.

"Fifth Harbour is ours," Kaz repeated. "It isn't up for negotiation. You're cutting into our
traffic from the docks, and you intercepted a shipment of jurda that should have docked two
nights ago."

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"I know it comes easy, Geels, but try not to play dumb with me." Geels took a step forwards.
Jesper and Big Bolliger tensed, but

"Quit flexing, boy," Geels said. "We all know the old man doesn't have the stomach for a real
brawl."

Kaz's laugh was dry as the rustle of dead leaves. "But I'm the one at your table, Geels, and
I'm not here for a taste. You want a war, I'll make sure you eat your fill."

"And what if you're not around, Brekker? Everyone knows you're the spine of Haskell's
operation– snap it and the Dregs collapse."
Jesper snorted. "Stomach, spine. What's next, spleen?"

"Shut it," Oomen snarled, and Nereza backhanded Jesper. The rules of parley dictated that
only the lieutenants could speak once negotiations had begun. Jesper mouthed "sorry" and
elaborately pantomimed locking his lips shut.

"I'm fairly sure you're threatening me, Geels," Kaz said. "But I want to be certain before I
decide what to do about it."

"Sure of yourself, aren't you, Brekker?"

"Myself and nothing else."

Geels burst out laughing and elbowed Oomen. "Listen to this cocky little piece of crap.
Brekker, you don't own these streets. Kids like you are fleas.

"A new crop of you turns up every few years to annoy your betters until a big dog decides to
scratch. And let me tell you, I'm about tired of the itch."

He crossed his arms, pleasure rolling off him in smug waves. "What if I told you there are
two guards with city-issue rifles pointed at you, your boys and," He looked at Nereza, and
quickly looked back at Kaz. "Your girl right now?"

Nereza almost laughed. Why the barrel though she and Kaz were together, she would never
know, but both of them loved to play along when it was mentioned.

Kaz put his free hand on her waist, bringing her slightly closer to him, enough for them to be
touching. She was the only person Kaz could bear to touch. She shot the Black Tips a smirk,
and they tensed.
Kaz glanced up at the roof. "Hiring city guards to do your killing? I'd say that's an expensive
proposition for a gang like the Black Tips. I'm not sure I believe your coffers could support
it."

"Took some doing," Geels admitted. "We're a small operation right now, and city guards don't
come cheap. But it'll be worth it for the prize."

"That being me?"

"That being you." Oomen butted in, " And that little Firestarter is pretty fun down on her
knees."

"Watch your mouth." Kaz growled.

"The Dregs won't last a week without you."

"I'd give them a month on sheer momentum."

"Smug little slum rat." Geels laughed. "I can't wait to wipe that look off your face."

"So do it," Kaz said.

"Should I have them put a bullet in your good leg, Brekker? Or maybe your girls head?"

"Stop talking, Geels. Tell them to shoot."

"Kaz—" said Jesper nervously.

"Go on. Find your balls and give the order."

Geels radiated anticipation. He took a deep breath, puffing out his chest.

"Fire!" Geels shouted.

A gunshot split the air. Big Bolliger let loose a cry and crumpled to the ground.

"Damn it!" shouted Jesper, dropping to one knee beside Bolliger and pressing his hand to the
bullet wound as the big man moaned. "You worthless podge!" he yelled at Geels. "You just
violated neutral territory."

"Nothing to say you didn't shoot first," Geels replied. "And who's going to know? None of
you are walking out of here."

Geels' voice sounded too high. He was trying to maintain his composure, but Nereza could
hear panic pulsing against his words, the startled wingbeat of a frightened bird.

Moments before he'd been all bluster.

Kaz still hadn't moved. "You don't look well, Geels." Nereza said, feigning concern.

"I'm just fine," he said. But he wasn't. He looked pale and shaky. His eyes were darting right
and left as if searching the shadowed walkway of the roof.

"Are you?" Kaz asked conversationally. "Things aren't going quite as planned, are they?"

"Kaz," Jesper said. "Bolliger 's bleeding bad—"

"Good," Kaz said ignoring him.

"Kaz, he needs a medik!"

Kaz spared the wounded man the barest glance. "What he needs to do is stop his bellyaching
and be glad I didn't have Holst take him down with a headshot."

"That's the guard's name, isn't it?" Kaz asked. "Willem Holst and Bert Van Daal – the two
city guards on duty tonight. The ones you emptied the Black Tips' coffers to bribe?"

Geels said nothing.

"Willem Holst," Kaz said loudly, his voice floating up to the roof, "likes to gamble almost as
much as Jesper does, so your money held a lot of appeal.

But Holst has much bigger problems – let's call them urges. I won't go into detail. A secret's
not like coin. It doesn't keep its value in the spending. You'll just have to trust me when I say
this one would turn even your stomach. Isn't that right, Holst?"

The response was another gunshot. It struck the cobblestones near Geels' feet. Geels released
a shocked bleat and sprang back.

"Just shoot him, Holst!" Geels bellowed, desperation sawing at his voice. "Shoot him in the
head!"

Kaz snorted in disgust. "Do you really think that secret would die with me? Go on, Holst," he
called. "Put a bullet in my skull. There will be messengers sprinting to your wife and your
watch captain's door before I hit the ground."

No shot came.
"How?" Geels said bitterly. "How did you even know who would be on duty tonight? I had to
pay through the gills to get that roster. You couldn't have outbid me."

"Let's say my currency carries more sway."

"Money is money."

"Kaz trades in information, Geels, the things men do when they think no one is looking.
Shame holds more value than coin ever can." Nereza said, her voice earnest.

"Are you worrying about the second guard? Good old Bert Van Daal?" Kaz asked. "Maybe
he's up there right now, wondering what he should do. Shoot me? Shoot Holst? Or maybe I
got to him, too, and he's getting ready to blow a hole in your chest, Geels."

He leaned in as if he and Geels were sharing a great secret. "Why not give Van Daal the order
and find out?"

Geels opened and closed his mouth like a carp, then bellowed, "Van Daal!"

Nereza could see Geels' chest rising and falling with panicked breaths. "Van Daal!" he
shouted again. There was rage on his face when he turned back to Kaz. "Always one step
ahead, aren't you?"

"Geels, when it comes to you, I'd say I have a running start."

But Geels just smiled – a tiny smile, tight and satisfied. A victor's smile.

"The race isn't over yet." Geels reached into his jacket and pulled out a heavy black pistol.
"Finally," Kaz said. "The big reveal. Now Jesper can stop keening over Bolliger like a wet-
eyed woman."

Jesper stared at the gun with stunned, furious eyes. "Bolliger searched him. He ... Oh, Big
Bol, you idiot," he groaned.

Big Bolliger had been the one to pat down Geels.

There was no way he could have missed the pistol. He'd betrayed them, not that Nereza didn't
already know. Kaz had told her weeks ago.

Geels smirked. "Kaz Brekker, the great escape artist. How are you going to wriggle your way
out of this one?"

"Going out the same way I came in." Kaz ignored the pistol, turning his attention to the big
man lying on the ground.

"Do you know what your problem is, Bolliger?" He jabbed at the wound in Big Bol's
stomach with the tip of his cane.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question. Do you know what your biggest problem is?"

Bolliger mewled. "Noooo ..."

"Give my man a guess," Nereza hissed.

Big Bol said nothing, just released another trembling whimper. Kaz sighed.

"All right, I'll tell you. You're lazy. I know it. Everyone knows it. So I had to ask myself why
my laziest bouncer was getting up early twice a week to walk two extra miles to Cilla's Fry
for breakfast, especially when the eggs are so much better at the Kooperom.
"Big Bol becomes an early riser, the Black Tips start throwing their weight around Fifth
Harbour and then intercept our biggest shipment of jurda. It wasn't a tough connection to
make."

He sighed and said to Geels, "This is what happens when stupid people start making big
plans, ja? "

"Doesn't matter much now, does it?" replied Geels.

"This gets ugly, I'm shooting from close range. Maybe your guards get me or my guys, but no
way you're going to dodge this bullet."

Kaz separated himself from Nereza and stepped into the barrel of the gun so that it was
pressed directly against his chest. "No way at all, Geels."

"You think I won't do it?"

"Oh, I think you'd do it gladly, with a song in your black heart. But you won't. Not tonight."

Geels' finger twitched on the trigger.

"Kaz," Jesper said. "This whole 'shoot me' thing is starting to concern me."

Oomen didn't bother to object to Jesper mouthing off this time. One man was down. Neutral
territory had been violated. The sharp tang of gunpowder already hung in the air – and along
with it a question, unspoken in the quiet, as if the Reaper himself awaited the answer: How
much blood will be shed tonight?

In the distance a siren wailed.

"Nineteen Burstraat," Kaz said.

Geels had been shifting slightly from foot to foot; now he went very still. "That's your girl's
address, isn't it, Geels?"

Geels swallowed. "Don't have a girl."

"Oh yes, you do," crooned Kaz. "She's pretty, too. Well, pretty enough for a fink like you.
Seems sweet. You love her, don't you?

"Of course you do. No one that fine should ever have looked twice at Barrel scum like you,
but she's different. She finds you charming.

"Sure sign of madness if you ask me, but love is strange that way. Does she like to rest her
pretty head on your shoulder? Listen to you talk about your day?"

Geels looked at Kaz as if he was finally seeing him for the first time. The boy he'd been
talking to had been cocky, reckless, easily amused, but not frightening – not really. Now the
monster was here, dead-eyed and unafraid.

Kaz Brekker was gone, and Dirtyhands had come to see the rough work done.

"She lives at Nineteen Burstraat," Kaz said in his gravelly rasp.

"Three floors up, geraniums in the window boxes. There are two Dregs waiting outside her
door right now, and if I don't walk out of here whole and feeling righteous, they will set that
place alight from floor to rooftop. It will go up in seconds, burning from both ends with poor
Elise trapped in the middle. Her blonde hair will catch first. Like the wick of a candle."

"You're bluffing," said Geels, but his pistol hand was trembling.
Kaz lifted his head and inhaled deeply.

"Getting late now. You heard the siren. I smell the harbour on the wind, sea and salt, and
maybe – is that smoke I smell, too?" There was pleasure in his voice.

Again, Geels' finger twitched on the trigger.

"I know, Geels. I know," Kaz said sympathetically. "All that planning and scheming and
bribing for nothing. That's what you're thinking right now. How bad it will feel to walk home
knowing what you've lost. How angry your boss is going to be when you show up empty-
handed and that much poorer for it. How satisfying it would be to put a bullet in my heart.

"You can do it. Pull the trigger. We can all go down together. They can take our bodies out to
the Reaper 's Barge for burning, like all paupers go. Or you can take the blow to your pride,
go back to Burstraat, lay your head in your girl's lap, fall asleep still breathing, and dream of
revenge. It's up to you, Geels. Do we get to go home tonight?"

Geels searched Kaz's gaze, and whatever he saw there made his shoulders sag.

"You'll get what's coming to you some day, Brekker."

"I will," said Kaz, "if there's any justice in the world. And we all know how likely that is."

Geels let his arm drop. The pistol hung uselessly by his side.

Kaz stepped back, brushing the front of his shirt where the gun barrel had rested.

"Go and tell your general to keep the Black Tips out of Fifth Harbour and that we expect him
to make amends for the shipment of jurda we lost, plus five per cent for drawing steel on
neutral ground and five per cent more for being such a spectacular bunch of asses."
Then Kaz's cane swung in a sudden sharp arc. Geels screamed as his wrist bones shattered.
The gun clattered to the paving stones.

"I stood down!" cried Geels, cradling his hand. "I stood down!"

"You draw on me again, I'll break both your wrists, and you'll have to hire someone to help
you take a piss."

Kaz tipped the brim of his hat up with the head of his cane. "Or maybe you can get the lovely
Elise to do it for you."

Kaz crouched down beside Bolliger.

The big man whimpered.

"Look at me, Bolliger. Assuming you don't bleed to death tonight, you have until sunset
tomorrow to get out of Ketterdam. I hear you're anywhere near the city limits, and they'll find
you stuffed in a keg at Cilla's Fry."

Then he looked at Geels.

"You help Bolliger, or I find out he's running with the Black Tips, don't think I won't come
after you."

"Please, Kaz," moaned Bolliger.

"You had a home, and you put a wrecking ball through the front door, Bolliger. Don't look for
sympathy from me."
He rose and checked his pocket watch. "I didn't expect this to go on so long. I'd best be on
my way or poor Elise will be getting a trifle warm."

Geels shook his head. "There's something wrong with you, Brekker. I don't know what you
are, but you're not made right."

Kaz cocked his head to one side. "You're from the suburbs, aren't you, Geels? Came to the
city to try your luck?" He smoothed his lapel with one gloved hand. "Well, I'm the kind of
bastard they only manufacture in the Barrel."

Despite the loaded gun at the Black Tips' feet, Kaz turned his back on them and limped
across the cobblestones towards the eastern arch, Nereza on his arm.

She looked over her shoulder at the Black Tips, gave them a little wave and threw her head
back and laughed. Throughout the Barrel, her sanity was questioned on a daily basis.

Jesper squatted down next to Bolliger and gave him a gentle pat on the cheek. "Idiot," he said
sadly, and followed Kaz and her out of the Exchange, Nereza's laughter still echoing in the
distance.
Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!