Tim and Bert heaved a sigh of relief as the doors of the Blinder’s hideout finally came into view, barely distinguishable from any of the other ramshackle buildings nearby. They were exhausted after their desperate run through the maze of the slums and Bert's shoe was wet, cold, and clammy - he must have stepped in one of the many stagnant puddles while he was running, and just didn't notice. Bert pounded on the door, and shortly after they were let in, with welcoming voices being directed to Bert, and more fearful acknowledgements being sent towards Tim. The door banged shut with finality, and someone offered them beer.

“Hey boss,” Bert asked, beer in hand, as he began to look around for something, “you think we really managed to lose the hero? With the way I saw that guy shooting towards us, it’s a bit hard to believe…”

“Yeah. Kevin was wicked fast, and I suspect he was holding back. My guess is that he didn’t want to get in trouble with the other heroes over collateral damage. That, and the random-ass demon that seemed interested in trying his luck against a hero probably did enough to cover our tracks," Tim said. Bert nodded and took a swig.

He brightened as the orphan walked into the room. He dropped the conversation immediately and rushed over to the kid. “Hey there, have these ruffians been treatin’ you well?” he asked, then Bert laughed at the child's vigorous nodding. From the side, one of his more heavily scarred peers leaned in with a chuckle. “Yeah, she hasn’t said squat since you brough her here, but good ol’ Bertha next door was able to clean her up and get some grub going.”

Tim surreptitiously began eavesdropping on Bert. “Forten, did Bertha manage to get a name or something out of the girlie?” Bert asked, heart racing with the hope that they could learn more about their newest charge. However, the dwarf was doomed to disappointment, and he was met with a shake of a head and a bitter sigh. “I wish, Bert. The poor kid’s been silent as a grave. Lucky enough some of the lads have young’uns themselves so we could figure out something to do, but neither us nor Bertha could get a peep out. Ever since she got back from Bertha’s, she’s just been watching the door for you two. Dunno why she wants that though, with you and that madman comin’ as a package deal,” Forten softly said to Bert, punctuating the statement by hawking a disgusting ball of spit and grime at the door.

Bert’s muscled arms tensed, only relaxing when he realized his new boss didn’t catch that last part, instead being busy with his strange hobby of whispering towards his chest pocket. “Yeah, sometimes I don’t get it either,” he replied, silently thanking the stars for Tim's poor attention span. "But the boss and I did fish her out of a bad place. Maybe that just changes a person’s way of thinkin’ or something.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Tim had sat himself down on one of the few empty chairs around the table in the commons area, gradually relaxing as the adrenaline from the chase began to wear off and was replaced by the burning undercurrent of an experiment gone surprisingly well.

“Did you see what those explosions did to Kevin?” Tim excitedly whispered towards his pocket. “He didn’t look too worse for wear, but he did look a little bit scorched around the edges. And, well I do have to admit I don’t know a whole lot about magic, didn’t he seem a little bit slow in casting that lightning spell of his during the chase? If two barrels was enough to do that, on top of the damage to his lungs, just imagine if we got into the double digits!” Tim could already see the scene in his mind’s eye. One of the false heroes, lungs damaged from the mustard gas, blasted to pieces with his gunpowder, and thoroughly doused with the sarin gas he planned to make. The ‘Great Hero Kevin’, Tim thought with a mocking smile, dead at the feet of an ordinary scholar.

Tim's pocket rustled quietly. “Yes, yes we saw it, Tim. Best of all, the little ones, scampering and hiding under the floors and in the walls, have news. You were right, right that your first attack with the gas hurt the strong one. The ones who witnessed the fight between the demon and the hero could just barely see it. He was wheezing, slightly out of breath.”

Tim looked intently at his pocket and offered a few cookie bits to the questing snout that had poked out. “Now that really is interesting,” he grinned, “it really is too bad that the stuff isn’t more lethal in the short term.” Well, Tim thought, it was an experiment with interesting results anyways. Now… just what to do about that demon we saw. The simple act of thinking about the grey shape that had blocked Kevin’s strike made Tim shake with a mixture of confusion and rage. And perhaps a little bit of fear, at the raw, unpredictable power displayed, though he would never admit that even to himself. “Philbert, this doesn’t make much sense. Demons attacked my village, with monsters! But one of them even saved my life today, and according to Demu’s book, we might not even be getting the full story."

A second of silence followed, and then Philbert’s voice drifted up to his ears. “It is unknown as of now, now. But, do not worry, my friend. The lesser ones and the… volunteers I mentioned earlier are working, working to find the demon of grey. You shall have answers then.”

Tim raised his eyebrow but nodded in understanding despite his annoyance over not getting any straight answers from his ratty friend. Like always. “Well, it seems all we can do now is make some preparations. In about a week, when the white phosphorus and sarin gas are ready, all we need to do is to find a place where we can set them up without interruptions, lure Kevin to it, and then see if that does the trick.” Tim laced his fingers together and chuckled softly, barely even glancing at the group of only slightly soft-hearted thugs who were busy braiding the orphan’s hair.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Waves of irritation washed over the members of Elena’s squad of soldiers, the emotion almost visible as it emanated from the great hero herself. The dozen soldiers could only sweat and rationalize the situation, all the while praying that Kevin eventually let them into the door of his battered mansion, or at least sent someone to answer the increasingly violent knocks Elena was rapping out onto the door. They had seen parts of the fight from across the city, or at least the magic that they assumed Kevin had been letting off. By the time they had arrived, it was all over, with whoever Kevin had been fighting gone and the hero in question locking himself up in his mansion.

“Kevin!” Elena yelled, “You shit for brains! Come down here right now or I swear by everything that is holy that I will turn this piece of shit door into a cutting board!” Certainly, the threats were backed up with an impressive amount of volume, but Elena was only left even more enraged as not even a single voice answered her.

“THAT FUCKING BASTARD!” Elena raged. The soldiers behind her cringed, and not even the pleadings of the poor Clarkson next to her could stop the cleric hero from punching the door so hard that parts of it immediately were vaporized. The poor innocent door fell off its hinges, tipping inside the mansion. Elena scoffed in irritation and strode into the building, with the soldiers having no choice but to follow her in. Clarkson followed, swallowing a fistful of pills for the headache he was rapidly developing.

Elena burst through door after door, and after a few minutes of causing nearly irreparable property damage to the house of her fellow hero, she found Kevin sitting alone in his study.

“Kevin!” She yelled, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around to make sure she had his attention. “What the hell is going on! Why were you fighting in the city? What’s with the hole in the wall to your bedroom!”

Kevin faced her and sighed with a mixture of exhaustion and irritation. It had taken him an annoying amount of time to find his way out of the slums to his mansion, even though he was traveling by rooftop. “Quiet down woman,” he muttered, cutting off Elena’s frustrated shout with a wave of his hand. “Someone threw a fucking bomb through my window while I was napping, and then a demon got ballsy enough to challenge me to a fight. He jumped in as I was chasing the two that threw the bomb, so they’re probably working together. And,” he raised his hand again to cut off Elena’s questioning gaze, “before you ask, yes, one of them seemed to be a half-elf. No, I couldn’t get a good view of his face, and for some reason there was a dwarf with him.”

Elena’s mail-covered fist slammed into the nearby desk with splintering results. “There! Now do you agree we need to do something about this? And before you say anything else, if you cut me off one more fucking time, I’m going to put my longsword through your spleen.” She growled.

Kevin stood up to face her and replied with an equal amount of anger. “Well, if you could finish what you fucking started and find that motherfucker, we could actually ‘do something about this’. They ran towards the slums, fucking maze. I don’t know if they’re affiliated with a group in there, or if it’s a hiding place, or if they just ran in there to lose me. All I know is that I got more info on your little half-elf in the past hour than you did ever since you came to this place.”

Elena’s soldiers, standing at the ready near the back of the room, began to back away and look for cover as Clarkson made his way towards the two with a weary sigh to start the always difficult de-escalation process.