Bilgewater: Burning Tides

Act One - Part Three: Wild Cards, Alarm, Sleight of Hand

Things get ugly. Fast.

The whole damned warehouse is crawling with Jagged Hooks, but Malcolm couldn't care less. I'm all he's interested in.

I sense Graves's next shot coming and turn away. The boom of his gun is deafening. A box explodes where I'd been a fraction of a second earlier.

I do believe my old partner is trying to kill me.

Somersaulting over a stack of mammoth ivory, I whip a trio of cards in his direction. Before they hit home, I'm already ducking into cover, looking for an out. I only need a few seconds.

He curses loudly, but the cards won't do more than slow him down. He's always been a tough bastard. Stubborn, too. Never knows when to let things go.

"You ain't gettin' away, T.F," he growls. "Not this time."

Yep, that trait's still riding him hard.

He's wrong, though — as usual. I'll be taking my leave as soon as possible. There's no use talking to him when he's out for blood.

Another blast, and shrapnel ricochets off a priceless suit of Demacian armor, embedding into the walls and floor. I dart left and right, weaving and feinting, sprinting from cover to cover. He sticks with me, roaring his threats and accusations, his shotgun barking in his hands. Graves moves fast for a big man. I'd almost forgotten that.

He's not my only problem. The damned fool's stirred up a hornet's nest with all his shooting and hollering. The Jagged Hooks are all over us, but they're smart enough to leave some men barring the main doors.

I have to get gone — but I'm not leaving without what I came for.

I've led Graves on a merry dance around the warehouse, and I arrive back where we started a moment before he does. There are Hooks between me and my prize, and more coming, but there's no time to wait. The card in my hand glows red, and I hurl it dead center of the warehouse doors. The detonation blows them off their hinges and scatters the Hooks. I move in.

One of them recovers faster than I expect, and he swings at me with a hatchet. I sway around the blow and kick out his knee, hurling another spread of cards at his friends to keep them honest.

My path clear, I swipe the ornate dagger I've been hired to steal, hooking it onto my belt. After all this trouble, might as well get paid.

The gaping loading doors beckon, but there are too many damned Hooks piling in. There's no way out there, so I make for the only quiet corner left in this madhouse.

A card is dancing in my hand as I prepare to shift, but as I start to drift away, Graves appears, stalking me like a rabid bear. Destiny bucks in his grip, and a Jagged Hook is shot to tatters.

Graves's glare is drawn to the card glowing in my hand. He knows what it means, and swings the smoking barrels of his gun at me. I'm forced to move, interrupting my concentration.

"Can't run forever," he bellows after me.

For once, he's not stupid. He's not giving me the time I need.

He's keeping me off my game, and the thought of being taken down by these Hooks is starting to weigh on me. Their boss is not known for his mercy.

Among the dozen other thoughts rattling around my head is the nagging feeling that I've been set up. I'm thrown an easy job out of nowhere, a big score just when I need it most - and surprise, there's my old partner standing there waiting for me. Someone a lot smarter than Graves is playing me for a fool.

I'm better than this. I'd kick myself for being sloppy, but there's a dock full of goons waiting to save me the trouble.

Right now, all that matters is getting the hell away from here. Two blasts from that damned gun of Malcolm's send me scurrying. My back slams against a dusty wooden crate. A crossbow bolt lodges in the rotted wood behind me, just inches from my head.

"No way out, sunshine," Graves yells.

I look around and see fire from the explosion starting to spread to the roof. He may have a point.

"We've been sold out, Graves," I shout.

"You'd know all about that," he replies.

I try reasoning with him.

"We work together, we can get out of this."

I must be desperate.

"I'd see us both dead before I trust you again," he snarls.

I didn't expect anything else. Talking sense to him just makes him angrier, which is exactly what I need. The distraction buys me just enough time to shift outside the warehouse.

I can hear Graves roaring inside. No doubt he just rounded on my spot only to find me gone, a single card on the ground, taunting him.

I launch a barrage of cards through the loading doors behind me. It's long past time for subtlety.

I feel bad for a moment about leaving Graves in a burning building - but I know it won't kill him. He's too stubborn for that. Besides, a fire on the docks is a serious deal in a port town. It might buy me some time.

As I search for the quickest way off the slaughter docks, the sound of an explosion makes me look over my shoulder.

Graves appears, stepping through the hole he's just blown out the side of the warehouse. He's got murder in his eyes.

I tip my hat to him and run. He comes after me, shotgun booming.

I have to admire the man's determination.

Hopefully it won't kill me tonight.