City of Sinister Angles

Perverse Incentives

Bryce had been in the Zerzurabic brothel for three fourths of an hour, making a valiant but ultimately doomed attempt to have his way with a local whore.

There was a rotten brown apple core sitting on a table just beside the bed. The room was filthy and strewn with garbage, the core was certainly not out of place, but it was all Bryce could focus on. He couldn't see it with his eyes closed but he knew it was there. He just needed to put it out of his mind and focus on the task at hand. He had to finish with the whore then-

Applecore.

He would maintain, persevere. Overcome.

Applecore.

This evening's debauchery had cost 8 pfennings. There was no way he was going to be defeated by an-

Applecore. Apple. Core. Then white hot pain.

Bryce had no idea what happened. At first he thought something bit him on on his ass. Then it turned out something bit him on his ass.

Bryce leapt to his feet, screaming with unflattering shrillness. The prostitute looked around dreamily, as though someone just woke her.

"What was that?" demanded Bryce.

"You finished?" asked the whore.

Bryce looked around frantically, trying to find either the thing that bit him or the sniper that shot him. Nothing around him but rubbish. Brown applecore on the table. No! Focus!

Bryce heard a sound like an old man painfully clearing his throat. His head snapped to the source.

In the corner of the room, surrounded by discarded rags and disintegrating newspapers, was a bloated little rat-thing with the face of a man. It was sneering indignantly.

Bryce stumbled backwards, nearly falling twice. He groped around for his sword, which he found atop the pile of his clothes. He never took his eyes off the creature.

The prostitute watched from her bed with vague disinterest.

Bryce drew the weapon and, still naked, raised it high above his head. Charging the man-rat with a battlecry, Bryce tripped over his own feet. He fell, impaling himself on the sword.

* * *

"They're vile little beasts, Governess," said Major Eyre "They're becoming quite a problem. There have already been fatalities."

"Those sound like monsters to me," said Governess Perkins "That's a religious matter. Talk to High Priestess Primeveire."

The Governess was sat at her dining table spread with an elaborate breakfast she was barely picking at. The Major stood. She hadn't offered him a seat and didn't plan to.

"With all respect, Governess, I did that first," said the Major "The High Priestess told me that they were prosaic beasts and fell within the jurisdiction of the city. She was quite insistent that I should talk to you."

Damn that Primeveire, thought Perkins, she's always a step ahead of me.

Governess Perkins removed a piece of sweetened rabbit bacon from the plate in front of her and bit into it thoughtfully.

"I don't know what you expect me to do about it," she said finally.

"What if we were to offer a few pfennings bounty for dead rat-things?" suggested Major Eyre "The people in the city are desperate for coin. This could get them to do something useful for once."

"Yes, I like the symmetry of that," said the Governess "We'll have one infestation deal with the other. I'll leave that to you, then. You can take the bounty out of you operational budget."