The Conviction

Chapter 8 - Advances

Diyana was the city that never slept. That night, all of the craziest of people were out and about. A man, completely clad in black with only a white bandanna around his head was polishing his swords in blood, grinning sadistically as they gleamed in the moonlight, his eyes ablaze with joy. Alex's eyes widened in horror, and he inched closer to Ashley, a shiver going down his spine.

His gaze wandered from that particular sight to perhaps something even more out of the ordinary. A woman, who apparently did not handle rage very well, was roaring in fury as she pummeled a wooden post. Splinters went flying as she spun and twisted the abnormally large mace with no coordination at all, he noted, though when she struck it so hard that it cracked in two, toppling over, he bit his lower lip, feeling even more unsettled.

He had just barely fixed his gaze on another group of boisterous men, but one fell to the ground, gagging and puking. Alex felt bile rise up his throat, burning and searing it, but he choked it down again, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as he coughed. To his relief, they stopped in their trek, and he leaned against a barrel uncomfortably. "What are we even doing here?"

Alex demanded, looking at the somehow nicely standing building in surprise. Ashley scowled at him, and gestured to the sign as if it would suddenly bring about reason to him. "Sorry, but I don't know what that means!" He insisted.

Terrance snorted disbelievingly, as if to insult the apprentice. "The worst kinds of scoundrels can always be found in saloons and bars alike." Terry replied casually, looking at him with eyes glimmering in a way that was... off somehow. Upon close observation, Alex noted that Ashley didn't seem to notice it, but if she did, his master didn't acknowledge it.

The trio walked up the steps. Each one of them creaked and whined in protest, and each sound nearly gave the weary apprentice a heart attack. He would never admit it, but that constant fear, settling in the pit of his stomach was gripping his insides and twisting, churning his acidic insides painfully. Something about his surroundings gave off the eeriest of feelings; unfortunately, Ashley was paying it no mind, and that only made him feel worse as a dreadful realization dawned upon him.

If she was truly as unbothered as she appeared, then it was for one of two reasons, he concluded. Either she was tough as nails, and was internally as sick as he was, or she was simply used to such disgusting mannerism from her job, and she'd lost a desire to curl up and cry weakly from her many experiences. Something in him told him it was the latter of the two options.

Terrance pushed open the door, his hood left down and not even lifting a hand to spare his eyes from the shockingly bright light pouring into the street. It was truly a sight to behold. There were many men and women, some of them armed to the teeth, quite literally speaking. They were laughing, gambling, talking in low voices, calling for toast after toast, celebrating, or mourning. Whatever the occasion, each group of people was vastly different from the rest, and Alex found himself in awe.

While he had indeed been to bars in Paris, this was so much more different and exciting to him, if not for the countless mercenaries. His eyes widened when he saw Deathstroke and Ravager, talking quickly and glaring at anyone who dared to come too close to them. Alexandre quickly looked away, internally cringing. The infamous pair had a reputation in their world, but rumors across the underworld had it that they were planning a siege on Starling, and a crusade against The Hood, a masked vigilante on his own justice seeking fight.

It wasn't exactly his place to say it, but he had not heard of a more stupid idea in all of his years as an Assassin, even if he was a mere fledgling. He decided it would be best to avoid them, and followed his mentor and their guide further into the perplexing establishment. Ashley and Terrance were taking seats at the bar itself, feet hanging off the stools in a relaxed manner, talking quickly.