Chapter Text
Alleys are the best friend of any assassin and the enemy of everyone else. It's become such a cliche that the logic required for a person to venture into a dark alley at night is reverse psychology, as in, "haha, maybe someone is waiting on the roof with a crossbow aimed at my head, no of course not, that only happens to other people."
What people fail to realize in a situation like that is that an assassin can also take the role of the latter "anybody else" simply by being unprepared and also not on the roof. When two assassins walk through a dark alley, they think, if they think at all: "nobody will be waiting on the roof with a crossbow aimed at my head, because that's my job." A hypothetical assassin or other hireable killer that gets himself caught in such a trap is bound to feel rather stupid once the truth dawns...
Which it did the moment when Mr Pin saw a shadow fall across the cobblestones at his feet. He stopped, and sighed.
"Oh no."
Mr Tulip who was several meters further down seemed to wake from his thoughts. His eyes widened.
"Turn around, please," said a voice.
Mr Pin did, slowly, his hands hovering uncertainty at his sides. Raise them, or grab for a weapon.
The person with the crossbow was... Well, not very intimidating. He — and Mr Pin assumed it was a man because he'd never been held at bowpoint by anything else before — was about his height, held the crossbow in to his chest and looked as though he was trying to hide in a stiff grey cloak that reached to the ground. It looked vaguely occult.
Pin's gaze traveled upward to the two large men by his sides. He weighed their chances against them, and decided it was about even.
A sound behind him — among other things the sound of staggering steps, a thwack and a failed attempt at breathing — had him re-evaluating.
"Now, don't turn again," said the cloaked man. "Please." He cleared his throat nervously and raised his voice. "We would like to do business with you."
Mr Pin decided against the weapon. In situations like these it's important to know when to fold. Temporarily.
The cloaked man glanced over Pin's shoulder for a second. "Call him off, please," he said. "I wouldn't want either of you to get hurt."
"Mr Tulip, if you would be so kind."
The somewhat muffled sounds of a scuffle froze.
And then it was a kind of challenge, really. Don't turn around. Simple enough. You've got a nervous individual with a weapon in front of you and if you do turn that man will pull the trigger and the Negotiations will be, as it were, Over, but on the other hand the mental image of a gang of thugs breathing down your neck as you try to talk your way out of an arrow to the face isn't the most comforting thing in the world, and that idea was so much worse because whatever was behind him was _probably_ stronger than Mr Tulip was. That wasn't impossible, not at all, five or six armed men could overpower him the way they could any human being — and Tulip was human, despite what people tended to assume. But it really wasn't a situation Mr Pin was used to. Up until now they'd always had one advantage or another; surprise, the cover of darkness, the lay of the land, or good old brute force strength. And wherever he went he'd gotten used to people taking one look at his partner and deciding to listen. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go.
But, when things don't go your way you keep your cool and you improvise.
Pin raised his hands slightly.
"Alright," he said disarmingly, "there's no need for this, hey? If you're looking to hire our help, then you needn't have bothered with all this. We are not hard to find." Not that hard to find, anyway.
"Well, I have to know you won't try anything, don't I?" Said the man with the bow.
Oh good, Pin thought, a confident coward. But he's got a point. At least he didn't just give us the adress to his house this time. He's trying to be cunning and it's sort of working. Sort of.
He was uncomfortably aware of any small noise happening behind his back.
"Fair point," he admitted. "Now, what can we do for you?"
The figure looked around nervously, and above his hear the two thugs exchanged Glances first with each other and then with Pin, as if to apologize for the behaviour of their boss who was sadly a total imbecile.
"I... Need you to. To make someone... Go away," said the figure, leaning in to whisper the last two words. "You know... All neat and quiet."
You get employers like these in the New Firm's business sometimes. Newcomers. The respectable middle class looking to act like the nobbs do, or the so-rare-as-to-be-legendary newly rich who want to get rid of whatever enemies they have that might steal their gold. They never liked to say words like "assassinate" or "kill," opting instead for the old reliable alternatives of "taken care of" and "to go away." It helps them look at people like sacks of meat, a tactic that Mr Pin had never personally had to employ.
"Well," he said aloud, "making people go away is our job. I will however need to know who. And where, and when."
He was handed an envelope. He always liked this method. Tangible, it was easier to remember.
"It's all in there. The adress, and... Everything. She lives alone."
"Very well. Then of course there is the matter of payment," he continued. "We are not cheap men to hire, Mr..."
"Tomorrow night," said the figure, disregarding Pin's attempt to uncover his name. "Same place, same time, alright? I'll pay you in jewels. You want that, yeah? It's your Thing."
Mr Pin was surprised. Not many people actually knew that one. Nevertheless...
"Very well. But would it not be simpler if we came directly to you..?"
"No," the figure said, backing away. "No, I don't think so. I know you two."
He gave up. "It seems you do."
The guards were drawing back too. The cloaked figure raised a hand.
"Let him go," he said, gesturing once more over Mr Pin's shoulder.
"Don't move," Pin said sternly, keeping his eyes on the crossbow.
"Alright. See you here? Yes? Tomorrow."
"It's decided."
And after another second of awkward shuffling, the alley was empty. Mr Pin sighed and let his arms fall.
"What a waste of time," he muttered, correcting the sleeves on his jacket. "Come on then, Mr Tulip..?" He turned, and found himself breathing out as he found his partner to be relatively unharmed. He was glaring back towards the other end of the alley. But, as long as he was upright he could take on a troll with his bare hands and win, and that was a safety and a luxury that Mr Pin had gotten used to and would rather not give up.
"You should've let me at 'em," Tulip said, "I coulda —ing taken em."
"No doubt," Pin said smoothly, "but we have a long way to travel and I would rather we both did it unharmed. It would be so inconvenient should the coach get robbed on the way, if we weren't in top condition, yes?"
"Yeah. Well, not tonight then. We got that new —ing contract." He motioned to the envelope in Pin's hand.
"Oh, this?" Pin tossed it aside. "No no, we're not going. He didn't even try to specify how much he was willing to pay." He looked back to where the man had stood. "And I don't intend to make a habit of working for people who threaten us first. Come on. He won't spill. He wouldn't know who to spill to should he try. No reputation lost, no harm done, eh? Lets just leave."