The Scarred Rat (A Dishonored Fanfiction)

Chapter Eight | The Scarred Rat

I don't know how much time has past, how many days have gone by, but when the rain finally stops, along with my tears, and the sun's light manages to break through the dark clouds outside, the only thing I can think of doing now is finding my way back to Daud. He's killed many before. Hell, he set out to kill a witch. Hopefully he has some way to help me deal with this torment. Hopefully he makes it back to the hideout safely if he hasn't already. And if he hates me even more after finding out I left against his orders, then so be it.

Next time will have a much greater percentage of me actually obeying him, now that I know what can follow.

They had found the bodies earlier; I was able to clearly hear their surprised shouts through the gentle rain and calm sky. I heard them cuss. I heard them mourn. I heard them grunt as they lifted the bodies and the creak of the door as they disappeared in their hideout again. I was sure that the heavy rainfall had washed away most of the blood staining the ground, so that's one less problem they have to clean up.

But my heart was twisted all over again and my tears threatened to return as I listened to the men's cries. Even though these people are a part of a gang and can do horrible things, they still care for other members. It's like a big, cruel, messed up family, but they still love each other, whether they show it outwardly or not.

We're all just trying to survive this plague in Dunwall, but if we turn against each other, we'll become a plague to ourselves.

After swallowing the last of the spiritual remedy and tossing the empty vial onto the rotten floor, I leave the abandoned apartment, the alleyways, and everything in them, making my way to the rooftops and traveling with a combination of running and transversing westward along the Wrenhaven River, concentrating so much that I don't allow myself to think of anything except where I will jump to next. At some point I realize I can see the three smokestacks I had always gazed at dreamily, but I make sure to take a wide route around them; ending up at the Hound Pits is one of the last things I need right now. As I pass them, I start recognizing familiar rooftops that I've gone along before, either on my way to find the best view of the smokestacks or the path I took when I first snuck out of Daud's chamber and fled from the searching whalers. Before I know it, I'm looking down at the back entrance to the master assassin's chamber, and as I take a few steps more to reach the edge of the roof, I stifle a gasp and crouch down, peering over the edge of the scene I came across.

On the wooden floor of the half-destroyed apartment that stands shakily across from Daud's chamber, among the stone rubble and forgotten rugs, kneels the very assassin in his red whaler suit. Blood is splattered beneath him, and his expression is pained as he presses his hand to his side. In front of him stands a black-cloaked figure holding a bloodied sword.

I'm shaken by the sight. How did someone manage to best Daud like this, an aged man who's been in countless fights, one who's been Marked by the Outsider? This isn't the work of Delilah, is it? Did Daud kill Delilah, or did she somehow survive? My hand reaches for my dagger and grips the hilt hard, but before I can pull it out of its sheath, I notice that Daud is talking, his familiar, rumbling voice one I thought I'd never be happy to hear again. This is what keeps the man from ending Daud's life right this moment, for now.

"...killed your Empress and took her daughter," Daud is saying, his voice surprisingly calm for being so close to death like this, "something broke inside me. Now, I see the design on the back of your hand, the Mark of the Outsider himself, and I remember all I've done. The years of waiting for the right moment to step forward from an alley and drive a knife between the ribs of some noble. All the money exchanging hands, from one rich bastard or another. Killing for one of them one year, then being paid to kill him in return the next. I remember bending at the shrines, listening as the Outsider whispered that I was going to change things, that I was somehow important." I swallow as I anticipate his next words after a short pause. "It felt good," his monologue resumes, "made me believe I was powerful. But what have I accomplished? More than you have, or much less? Now I want nothing but to leave this city. And fade from the memory of those who reside here. I've had enough killing. So my life is in your hands.... Make your choice."