Dishonored: A Ruined and Drowning World

by Kleptoshark

Chapter 6: Boldest Measures

City Guardsman Burke patrolled the defences bordering Wrenhaven River. He never liked getting patrol duty, not because of the fact that he didn’t like walking, but he hated the way the hair on the back of his neck stood up whenever he passed the arc pylons.

The arc pylons were a terrifying security measure devised by Anton Sokolov back when the plague was at its apex. With a tank of whale oil attached, the super-conductive electrical masts would electrocute anything within a few yards, leaving behind only a pile of ashes. The Watchmen managed to avoid being fried by touching the pylon’s charger unit at the start of their shifts.

Another thing Burke hated about the nightshift was Lower Watchman Motsfield, who never seemed to bathe, sit still, or stop asking him stupid questions.

“You wouldn’t be willing to share some of your food ration with me?”

“Blow off, choffer.” Burke grumbled, and strode onwards.

Burke muttured under his breath. He started becoming anxious when he saw the arc pylon at the end of the harbour. Just this last one, and he’d be able to hand his shift over to the next guy on duty. Like always, he prayed that the arc pylon wouldn’t spark and crackle at him when he approached. Something worse happened.

Burke heard a deep, bone shaking thump, and the arc pylon suddenly shut down, as if the power source had been removed. In fact, all of the arc pylons on his patrol route suddenly shut off, leaving the frugal assortment of emergency lights and steel-plated bunker checkpoints as the only illumination for the riverside street. An Officer called out in the darkness.

“What the Void just happened? Somebody get a Tech Officer down here, we need those arc pylons back on before the insurgents get any ideas!”

Burke’s eyes strained to see any detail in the darkness, he could hear men scrambling about in the darkness, trying to figure out what went wrong with the arc pylons, but he could almost have sworn he saw something moving on the water.

“Can I get a flare over here?” Burke called, his hoarse voice adding to the din. The City Watchman got fed up. He saw Motsfield try to slip past him, no doubt trying to shirk his duties. Burke stopped Motsfield, ripped the flaregun from his belt, and fired it over the river. The flare sailed into the air, bursting at the peak of its flight to leave a slow-burning red light, lazily drifting downward.

Burke’s eyes widened. In the blood-red light, several dozen rowboats and light craft were illuminated against the black waters of Wrenhaven River. They were lined with Overseers: The religious militants of the Abbey of the Everyman. One of the gold-masked fanatics stood up from where he had sat crouched aboard a longboat, tugging a pistol from his belt.

“Death to the heretics!”

Burke saw the flash of the pistol, and a bullet zipped past his ear, screaming like an angry bee. The watchman dropped below the low wall bordering the harbour, desperately attempting to free his sword from its sheath.

“To arms!” Burke yelled. The cry was taken up by nearby watchmen. The battle for Kaldwin’s Bridge had begun.

***

“Right.”
….
“Of course, I’ll relay it immediately. Hold fast.”
…
“Yes, yes. Right away”

The orderly placed the audio telegraph back on its receiver, and turned to his commanding officer.

“What’s the news, soldier?” Geoff Curnow was getting agitated, the last news he had of the front was that the Overseers were trying to ford across Kaldwin’s bridge. The echoes of gunfire and the explosions could be heard from Dunwall Tower.

“They’ve crossed the river, sir. Chapman’s division is at half strength, and men are deserting to the secondary defence.” The auxiliary retained his sombre expression.

“Fine, give an order to fall back to the defences on Barwell Street, and tell them to fire up the watchtowers.”

“Yes sir.” The orderly returned to the communication booth, busily relaying Curnow’s orders to the soldiers in the field.

Geoff slumped in his chair at the tactician’s table, cradling his forehead in his hands. The Royal Marines had finally found a suitable harbour to land at, and Captain Calhoun had gone off to take personal command of them. This left Geoff alone in charge of the crumbling defences of the Imperial cause. Deep in his gut, Curnow knew that his demoralised City Watch wouldn’t be able to stave off the fanaticism of the Overseers.

He could imagine it now: The golden-masked Overseers in their navy-blue uniforms, charging up the streets, their war hounds running down and mauling the guardsmen as they ran. At this rate, they’d be battering down the front gate of the tower within the hour. Then it struck Geoff; what he would have to do. He rose from his seat, addressing the communication officer.

“Allow the divisions to fall back at their own discretion.” He ordered. The Watch Captain turned to an auxiliary standing at attention next to the exit, his face taking on a grim expression.

“Prepare a rail car. Find the Empress, Callista, and Piero. We need to get them to safety.” He almost turned back, but then looked back at the auxiliary, “and get the Lord Protector up here, I need to speak with him.”

“Already here.” Corvo entered the room, his steel assassin’s mask hanging at his side.

“Good.” Curnow threw himself into his chair, leaning back exhaustedly.

“So,” Corvo could already guess what the Captain was going to ask of him, “I take it you’re not planning on making it out of this one?”

Geoff gave a sad smile, and shook his head.

“-And I also take it you want me to keep your niece safe?”

Curnow nodded. Corvo gave a small chuckle, taking his own seat at the table.

“You know, she asked me to do the same for you, once.”

Geoff remembered. His ‘visit’ to the High Overseer seemed like such a long time ago. There had been a brawl between the City Watch and the Overseers in Treaver’s Alley. The High Overseer, Thaddeus Campbell, had invited him to the Abbey to apparently ‘get this business behind us’. Back then, the Lord Regent was still in office, and by rights both the City Watch and the Overseers were both state property. Campbell had tried to poison Curnow, but Corvo managed to save him. It was only later that Geoff found out that the masked assassin who had mysteriously taken great care to spare him from the Overseers had been asked to do so by Geoff’s own niece.

“I wonder how she’ll take this.” Corvo mused.

“She’ll probably beg me to save myself, to go with her.” Geoff responded with a forlorn tone in his voice, “Callista’s resourceful though, she’ll survive without me.”

The guard captain took a shaky breath, his sad gaze lowering to the map on the table.

“Which brings me to why I wanted to speak with you. The Royal Marines have chosen to land at the Hound Pits Pub, and that’s where I’ve chosen to send you. I assume you’re familiar with the place.”

“Yes.” The place where it all started. Poetic.

Geoff raised his head until he was making eye contact with Corvo, his sombre blue eyes boring into the bodyguard.

“That’s why I need you to go with them.” He informed the ex-assassin, “Callista, Emily, maybe even those things that came through Piero’s device. It’ll fall to you to keep them safe.”

“It doesn’t feel fair.” Corvo said with dark humor, “You get to go out in a blaze of glory, and I have to pick up the pieces.”

“Indeed. I’m a selfish bastard, aren’t I?” Geoff joked, allowing himself a small chuckle.

A minute passed. The cracks of pistol fire and the rumbling of explosions sounded like they were getting closer. Corvo stood up.

“Well, if this is really it, then…” The bodyguard held out his hand. Geoff grasped it, and gave his hand a firm shake.

“Kill a few Overseers for me, will you?” Corvo said.

“Not a doubt. Now get going,” Curnow urged, “I hate long goodbyes, and I don’t think the Overseers are going to take their time.”

Corvo nodded. He turned and left the room at a jog, running outdoors and vaulting off the ramparts of the tower, and vanishing from sight.

***

In Emily’s bedroom, everyone was wide awake. The distant sounds of combat had started over an hour ago, and Emily had been tossing and turning since. Twilight had asked why she was so worried about the noises. Emily had explained to the purple unicorn and her assistant that the noises meant a few miles away, somewhere in the city, people were murdering one another, and they hadn’t been able to sleep either. So they didn’t have to rouse themselves from slumber when the sharp knocking was heard at the door.
“Come in.” Emily said.

The door opened to reveal a watch officer, out of breath.

“My empress, you are to be escorted to a rail car waiting outside.” He panted, “Dunwall Tower is about to come under siege, it won’t be safe here.”

Emily’s eyes went wide with shock. She was smart enough to know what that meant. The forces defending Wrenhaven River had been broken; the Imperial cause was coming apart at the seams. The guard called to her again, and she complied, her stunned brain working on automatic. Twilight and Spike followed her down the winding halls and staircases of the tower, out to a squat, angular steel-plated vehicle set on pair of rails outside. Callista and Piero were also there. Callista’s eyes were red and puffy as if she had been crying, and Piero was arguing with a watchman about being forced to leave his workshop behind. Emily suddenly stopped.

“Where’s Corvo?”

***

Near the bottom of the tower, a Lower Watch Guard helping make preparations of the defences felt a sudden flash of dizziness, and felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright, friend? You look ill.” Corvo informed him.

The guardsman could have sworn that nobody was anywhere near him a few seconds ago, but he merely shook off the nausea, and got back to work.

***

As if on cue, the Corvo came forth from the gloom of the night. He ushered Emily and the others toward the rail car, and a Watch Officer with his helmet tucked under his arm and a well-kept white moustache held the door open as the small group of refugees piled in. He then got into the driver’s seat, with Corvo grabbing the shotgun seat. The rear seating was arranged with two upholstered benches facing each other. Another officer leaned in the front window to speak with the two men in the front seat. They both nodded, and the man ducked out.

As the rail car pulled away, Emily leaned peered out the window to catch one last glimpse of Dunwall Tower, watching her old life fade into the gloom.

The first few minutes were spent in silence. Everyone had lost something dear to them. Callista hadn’t even had been able to say goodbye to her uncle. Emily had once again lost the throne- her birthright. Piero had to look on hopelessly as months of his research were left behind in that doomed bastion. Twilight and Spike had lost their way home. The silence was deafening. Eventually Spike caved in under the pressure.

“Someone say something, I can’t take it anymore!”

Another moment passed in silence, and then Emily seized the situation.

“Twilight, you’ve asked about Dunwall a lot, but you’ve never told me where you come from. It seems nice.”

The purple unicorn was glad to have something to take her mind off the grim outset. Twilight gladly recalled her happier days in Equestria, she told Emily about her friends, about the day she got her cutie mark, all the fond memories she had of her peaceful home. The atmosphere in the cabin became lighter, Twilight’s stories seeming to help the time pass more easily.

***

Further up the rails, a squad of Overseers had paddled across the river in a rowboat, using the distraction a few miles away to set up a blockade on the rail tracks- a thick, waist-height, reinforced steel wall that would prevent anything from moving past it. One of the initiate Overseers in the squad shuffled nervously, they could still hear the distant sounds of combat.

“Restrict my errant mind, brother,” the initiate said generally, “but why are we waiting here, our hands idle? I yearn to join our brethren in combat.”

The squad sergeant was standing with his legs planted at shoulder width, staring down the track, with his arms crossed. He turned his head only slightly, his golden mask glinting in the moonlight.

“Our brothers are shedding heretic blood in the hopes of reclaiming Dunwall Tower.” He said in a raspy growl, “Much like the way rats will escape the sewers during a flood, the heretics will no doubt flee their bastion when they realise their doom is at hand.”

The initiate reached a hand under the bottom of his snarling golden mask, stroking his chin.

“Yes, I see now.” The initiate concluded, “Not one heretic shall escape this night.”

“Indeed, it is no simple task we have been appointed. Not even the Apostate Empress will escape the fires of the righteous.”

The sergeant’s gaze snapped back to the rails, eyeing a distant pair of headlights coming down the steel tracks.

“Now restrict your Wandering Gaze, gentlemen, for I believe our quarry is in sight.”

***

Laughter was coming from the passenger cabin of the rail car.

“So, Pinkie- and this is the best part- picks up the cake-” Twilight said, giggling.

“Pardon me.” The greying watch officer’s voice came from the driver’s compartment, “I think we’ve come across a bit of a problem.”

Twilight and Spike peered out of the small oval-shaped window giving a view of the street. A large steel barricade was mounted over the track. A strangely dressed human was standing next to it. He was wearing a dull bluish-grey uniform secured at his chest with a belt harness. The shirt of his uniform went to his wrists and knees, ending with a fine gold trim. His legs and hands were obscured with black gloves and knee-high black boots. His face was obscured with a golden mask, in the motif of a frightening snarl, with an odd crescent symbol emblazoned on the forehead. The rest of his head was covered with a black balaclava, leaving not one inch of his skin showing. As the rail car drew closer to the barricade, the headlights illuminated several more identically dressed humans, the light reflecting off their grimacing gold masks.

“Overseers?” The Watch Officer said in shock, “How in the Void..?”

“They were waiting for us.” Corvo said grimly. He turned to the small window of the passenger compartment.

“Stay hidden. When we distract them, run.” The bodyguard said sternly.

“Corvo-” Emily tried to object.

“Emily. Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine, I promise.” Corvo said in an obvious lie. With this he closed the shutter to the driver’s compartment, blocking out her retort.

Corvo took a deep breath, trying to steel himself. He turned to the aging Watch Officer next to him, his eyes asking an unsaid question.

“I always thought that if one thing ended me, it would happen in service to the city.” The officer said acceptingly, “I’ve made my peace.”

“The boldest measures are the safest.” Corvo said, quoting the City Watch’s old slogan. Corvo secured his assassin’s mask over his face, his sad eyes being obscured by the dull blue glass circles of his mask.

“We can only hope.” The officer said eloquently, “Do you have a plan? Sure as the Void, I don’t.”

The Watch Officer slid his helmet over his white, receded hairline, and stepped out of the rail car, his wrinkled features assuming a studied blank expression. The ex-assassin remained near the vehicle while the Officer proceeded towards the Overseer sergeant.

“I don’t believe that the Overseers have state jurisdiction anymore.” The officer said casually.

“No.” The Overseer sergeant rasped, “We have never bent our knees before a heretic, and we never will.” Another gold-masked militant drew up beside the first.

“In any case, state law still allows us to purge heresy, wherever it is found. And I do believe that you are holding audience with one bearing the Outsider’s corruption.” At this he pointed towards Corvo, who was still standing close to the rail car, his silhouette outlined by the car’s headlights.

The Overseer sergeant turned to the Watch Officer.

“Stand aside, guardsman,” he snarled, spitting it like an insult, “and you may be granted mercy.”

The sergeant tried to brush past him, but the Officer shouldered him in a sharp movement, staggering the Overseer back a few paces. The Watchman placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, a defiant glint in his old eyes. The Overseer gave a small chuckle. In a blur of motion, the religious militant withdrew his pistol from its holster, and fired it into the aging guard’s leg, the shot ringing into the night with a loud crack. The old watchman gave a grunt of pain, and toppled over, clutching at his bleeding leg. He tried to free his own pistol from his holster, and succeeded only to have it kicked away by the Overseer, the malevolent gold mask still sneering down at him. The Overseer stomped on the old man’s hand for good measure, giving his boot a sharp twist on the broken bones before walking onwards, followed by the rest of his squad. One of the other Overseers dealt the injured officer a sharp kick in the stomach as he stepped over him, causing him to give another grunt and curl up in pain.

It was Corvo’s turn. The sergeant stopped in front of the bodyguard, leisurely touching his ears to his shoulders in a neck stretch, making a series of audible pops and cracks. In a slow, graceful gesture, the sergeant unsheathed a finely engraved golden-brass sabre, and leveled it at the bodyguard. Corvo looked around, seeing as more Overseers were illuminated in the headlights. It seemed like there were well over a dozen, along with an Overseer leading a trained wolfhound. The Overseer sergeant spoke.

“The same demand is given to you.” The Overseer growled, his hoarse voice echoing from his gold mask, “Surrender, and perhaps you will be granted a traitor’s death, instead of burning along with your Apostate Empress.”

A coal of rage had been building in Corvo’s chest as he saw the Overseers needlessly brutalize the aged officer, but the Overseer’s words caused his anger to flare into a scorching inferno: Nobody threatened Emily. A moment passed; the cool, condescending Overseer gazing out from his grimacing gold motif, and the livid bodyguard glaring out from the emotionless gray steel mask. Corvo remained motionless, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

The sigil on the back of Corvo’s hand started glowing, focusing with arcane energy. The Overseer noticed this too late, and the supernatural assassin lunged forward, releasing the arcane burst in a swatting gesture with his arm. The Overseer was flicked into the air in a sudden, concentrated hurricane-force gust of wind.

The other Overseers craned their necks to see their sergeant get sent flailing over their heads.

“AAAaaaauaah-”

The Overseer’s flight ended when his splayed form collided violently with a lamp post. The sound of his gold mask, still attached to his face, ramming into the steel post with enough force to bend the lamppost, rang out in a beautiful, lingering note in g-minor. The Overseers were still gawking at their sergeant in shock, as he fell to the hard cobbles with a dull thump, his foot twitching slightly.

Inside the cabin of the vehicle, Peiro saw this as their cue, and quickly threw open the door, the hinges complying in blissful silence. The refugees did their best to leave quietly, but Twilight’s hooves made a small thud as she hopped down onto the street. In the silence of the night, this small sound was enough to resume the Overseer’s attention, and suddenly the unicorn found herself being stared at by eighteen gold masks, and one growling dog.

The tension snapped like a cable. Corvo reached into his coat, and produced his folding blade, the intricate handle snapping the sixteen-inch razor edge into place as he rushed the nearest overseer. Despite the Lord Protector’s best efforts, the group of Overseers seemed to match his brilliant swordsmanship. A handful of the masked zealots broke off and ran towards the occupants of the rail car.

Piero darted into a small alleyway between the abandoned flat-fronted buildings, and the others followed him. He eventually settled on a door seemingly at random, and wrenched it open, the others spilling into the apartment after him. The raised voices of the Overseers could be heard just behind the last corner. The philosopher quickly rammed the door shut after everyone was inside, sliding a tumbler lock into place, and bracing a chair against the door handle for good measure. Seeking to gain more distance from their pursuers, they ascended a flight of stairs to the second floor. The humans and the Equestrians lingered in the cramped, gloomy landing, catching their breath.

***

“Take out his legs!”

Back on the main street, Corvo was still holding off the group of Overseers who had stayed to fight him. He parried a sabre, stepping inward and countering the attacker with a fist to the gut. Swerving out of the path of other strikes, Corvo transferred his momentum into his elbow, ramming it into the neck of another zealot standing behind him. The spectral assassin followed through with a sword strike, the razor edge of his blade carving through the Overseer’s uniform with ease, spattering the faded blue with scarlet red. The assassin turned to face the other fanatics, only to find the wolfhound leap onto him- the attack dog’s teeth digging into Corvo’s sword arm. One of the Overseers seized the opening in the assassin’s defense, and Corvo’s teeth gritted as he felt the cold edge of a blade slicing along his ribs.

The supernatural assassin knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. Corvo finally dislodged the wolfhound from his arm, and kicked it away, the hound’s jaws still snapping at the air. The Overseers were between him and the alley that Emily had escaped through. The masked assassin forced his bleeding arm to react, fencing off the attackers while his free hand reached into his overcoat, finding the familiar shape of his crossbow. He pulled out the compact crossbow, and fired it at one of the zealots blocking his path. The bolt bounced off the Overseer’s gold mask harmlessly, but it distracted him enough for Corvo to rush him, body checking the religious fanatic and ripping his sword through the Overseer’s thigh for good measure. The spectral assassin made straight for the alleyway, sprinting at full speed.

As soon as he gained a few yards into the alley, Corvo turned, the mark on his hand glowing as he mustered his remaining magic into it. He saw a few of the Overseers reach the mouth of the backstreet, their silhouettes outlined by the streetlights as the starting running towards him. Corvo made an arcane gesture, focusing on the stretch of alleyway between him and his pursuers. Despite the gloom of the night, the ground became noticeably darker as a cluster of large inky-black splotches bled onto the cobblestones. A swarm of carnivorous plague rats emerged from the murk, the claustrophobic alleyway disappearing under a sea of muddy fur and teeth. The Overseers who had sprinted partway down the alley checked their advance, trying to retreat back into the street. One of the zealots had stumbled and fell when he tried to make the sudden about-face, and screamed as the fist-sized vermin leaped onto his prostrate body, their sharp teeth tearing away at his uniform.

Corvo knew that the rats would provide a distraction, but not for long. He ran further into the alley, using his injured arm to try and stem the blood from his chest wound. Ignoring the lancing pain from his injuries, he grimaced under his mask as he clambered over a stack of crates, lurching through the second-floor window of an adjacent building, and gracelessly tumbling onto the floor in a heap. He could already hear the thumping of boots as his pursuers passed by the street below him, having already overcome the rats.

***

The group of refugees camped in an abandoned apartment a few backstreets away heard the din of combat draw closer. Twilight poked her head out the window, curiosity succeeding over caution. In the dead-end alley, the rest of the Overseers caught up to the group originally pursuing them.
“What are you doing here?” One of the Overseers growled to the newcomers, “Have you dealt with the heretic yet?”

“We were just chasing him down this way. The treacherous rat is elusive as the Outsider himself.” The Overseer leading the second group wheezed, “But we’ve wounded him deeply. I don’t think he could have gone far.”

Emily’s breath caught in her throat. Twilight felt a sympathetic wince for the Empress.

“Not that he would.” The first Overseer said, crossing his arms and turning to survey the alley again, “Did you see the refugees escaping the rail car? Restrict my Lying Tongue, it was the Empress herself. Mark my words, he will come back.”

“If he does, I’ll earn another promotion.” The second Overseer said offhandedly, “But what of your quarry? I see no Empress here.”

“She seems to have eluded us, too. Do you suppose Orthrus can find them?” The Overseer mused, motioning to the shaved wolfhound prowling up and down the alley.

The Overseer’s wolfhounds were trained more for their ability to maintain a scent, rather than pick up a smell, but while the Overseers talked, the hound had been vigilantly doing his best to separate the scent of the creatures that had left the car from the other lingering odours of the nearby gutter. His ears perked up- he had found a fresh trail. His head snapped upwards looking straight at the small purple unicorn staring down at him from the second floor window. Orthrus began barking, drawing the Overseers’ attention to the upper window.

Twilight tried to duck her head back, but it was too late- the zealots had seen her. Piero gave an aggravated groan as a loud thumping sounded downstairs, the gold-masked fanatics attempting to force the barricaded door. A shout could be heard from below.

“Stand clear. This’ll flush them out!”

A small, fist-sized, smooth metal sphere flew in through the window, landing on the flooring with a loud metallic clang. Callista’s pupils shrank in shock. Piero pulled Emily towards him, and started herding them up the stairs. Twilight and Spike, who were across from the strange, whirring object, looked to Piero for explanation.

“Get back-!” was all the explanation the inventor was able to provide.

The clockwork device exploded in a blinding flash and a deafening blast, and for a moment Twilight felt herself being thrown through the air, through the mouldy, aged wooden walls, and blacked out.

***

Corvo sat in the corner of a grimy bathroom, completing the last sutures on his chest wound. His head rolled back, the inside of Corvo’s jacket was sticky with blood, and he felt dizzy. With the bones in his body feeling like they were turning leaden, he fumbled inside of his jacket, and produced a vial of Sokolov’s Elixir. During the early days of the plague, Anton Sokolov, the Royal Physician, created the miraculous concoction to help stave off plague. It wasn’t very effective- the liquid needed to be imbibed regularly to stave off the plague, and it was expensive as well. Corvo, however, found that it was amazingly useful as a fast-acting medicinal agent. The spectral assassin pried the steel mask off his face, the interior soaked with sweat, and chugged the vial. Almost immediately, Corvo’s vision began focusing again, and the feeling started returning to his fingers.

“What now?” Corvo thought to himself.

The Lord Protector secured his mask back onto his face, the custom-fit velvet interior sliding into place over his weary features. He stood up, and walked out towards the window he had entered from, withdrawing the Heart from his jacket.

The Heart, a ghastly object granted to Corvo when he was first visited by the Outsider. ‘The heart of a living thing’ the Outsider had told him, cryptically. As it was, the Heart was capable of revealing secrets about places and people- an eye that could reveal any corruption. Later Corvo realised that the Heart contained the soul of Empress Jessamine- the woman he failed to protect. The bodyguard felt a twinge of guilt at using it, but he provided himself this reasoning: If the roles were reversed, and if he had died, but could remain to advise Jessamine and help keep Emily safe, then he’d be more than happy to serve that existence.

He held the beating heart tenderly, clasping it in front of him with both hands. One of his thumbs rubbed the glass porthole on the front, giving view to the intricate clockwork gears and pistons keeping the heart beating indefinitely, and listened as the heart whispered to him.

“…They hide in the abandoned apartments, the zealots close behind…”
“…Their blood races in their veins, the thrill of the hunt renewing them…”
“…Move quickly, after the collapse. Lest the Overseers find what they seek…”

Punctuating the whisper, an explosion sounded a few streets down. Corvo stored the heart back in its pocket, and sped off towards the echoes.

***

Out in the street, the aged City Watchman clutched his leg, merely trying to stem the bleeding. The officer’s name was Hutchins, and he cursed his old age. If he were a decade younger, maybe a half decade, even, he would’ve been able to crawl back to the car, to do something other than sprawl uselessly on the hard, uncomfortable cobble road, holding a bleeding leg with a broken hand.

Hutchins’ gaze lifted as he heard footsteps from the alleyway. He knew better than to hope that it was Emily and her entourage, and the officer sighed as he saw a group of Overseers emerge from the side street.
“Secure the vehicle, if the apostates slip through our brethren, they will not escape this way.” One of the zealots declared.

Another Overseer noticed Hutchins, and approached until he was standing over the fallen watchman. A sadistic cackle echoed from the golden mask as the Overseer nudged Hutchins onto his back using a hobnailed boot. A shrill whistle caused his attention to shift from the wounded Officer.

A man in commoner’s clothing lounged against a street light, leisurely puffing a cigar. His thick neck, broad shoulders, and barrel chest gave him a silently intimidating look. A bowler hat shaded most of his face from the puddle of illumination cast by the lamppost, but the strong cut of his crudely chiselled features could still be seen. A brutal whaling machete and a bottle of liquor hung at his waist. The Overseer pointed a declarative finger at him.

“You are out after curfew. Return to your home.” The zealot demanded.

“Oh really?” The heavy-set brute replied in a thick distillery worker’s accent, walking towards the Overseer, “D’you own this street?”

Hutchins knew who this man was. He was a member of Slackjaw’s Bottle Street gang. The Watch Officer sighed, knowing that one way or another, the gutters of the street would run red with blood.

“You are disobeying martial law.” The Overseer snapped back, “Turn around, and walk away. Now.”

By now the other Overseers had drawn up next to the first. The thug kept on walking towards them with a slow confidence. As he passed a sewer grate, it shifted, and two similarly built gangsters emerged from the manhole. Another shrill whistle sounded from behind them, and the Overseers found themselves surrounded as more and more heavily-built service workers emerged from the night. The thug with the cigar walked straight up to the zealot with his boot planted on Hutchins’ chest, and the gold-masked fanatic started backing away. The thug kept on walking, glowering down at the zealot as he tried to get enough distance to draw his sabre.

“This is Bottle Street territory, and you’ll play by our rules.” The thug growled, taking the whiskey bottle from his belt. The Bottle Street gangster took a swig from the bottle, but he didn’t swallow.

The Overseer grabbed a pistol, and tried to bring it to bear. The thug’s spade-like hand slapped the pistol barrel to the side, causing it to fire uselessly into the street.

“Bad move, jackass.” The thug snarled.

The thug grabbed plucked his cigar from his mouth, held it in front of his lips, and spewed the mouthful of whiskey over the ember of the cigar. The zealot was enveloped in a wall of fire, and the other Bottle Street gangsters surged forward, crossing their heavy machetes with the Overseer’s sabres.

***

The purple mare began regaining consciousness, Twilight had no idea how long she was out for. Her nose was overpowered with the scent of mould, plaster, and something else she couldn’t describe. She opened her eyes, and felt a moment of hysteria to see only darkness. Marshaling herself, she focused a light spell on her horn, and was relieved to see the benevolent purple light manifest itself at the tip of her horn, illuminating her surroundings. The panic returned when she saw Spike- sprawled over the ground. Fearing the worst, Twilight turned her assistant on to his back, and was relieved to see that he was still breathing, at least- his small tummy rising and falling steadily. Gently, she picked up his unconscious form, and placed him on her back. She then turned to make a more thorough assessment of her surroundings.

The unicorn assumed that she was still in the abandoned apartment. Looking behind her, she saw a mass of crumbled wood planks and cotton insulation from where the building had no doubt collapsed from the explosion. Twilight gulped, hoping that Emily and the others were safe. Turning in front of her, she noticed she was in a claustrophobically narrow hallway, made worse by the fact that her horn’s light seemed to be swallowed up in the oppressive darkness. On both sides, the hallway was lined with uniform brown-red wood doors. The light from her horn didn’t illuminate much, but it was enough for to make a positive and spirit-lifting message, scrawled down the length of the hallway:

BLOOD FROM THE EYES

The purple unicorn very nearly had a mental breakdown right then and there. Who in their right mind would write something like that? Twilight shook her head, and closed her eyes, trying to calm her heart pounding anxiously in her chest. Gathering her courage, she continued onward, the light of her horn fighting to keep away the darkness.

By counting the numbers on the doors, Twilight hadn’t gone very far, but she felt like the hallway extended forever. Eventually she came across a smashed door, giving way to a sharply angled staircase. Her fear threatened to overwhelm her, and Twilight’s shivering legs felt like they were about to freeze, but she forced herself to approach the top of the staircase. She heard voices, and saw a pair of figures outlined by a deep yellow light at the bottom of the stairwell. Twilight snuffed the light of her horn, being cautious. Her suspicions were gratified.

“It was a good throw, I’ll give him that.” One of the voices said.

“It was brash and foolish,” a second voice grated, “what if the grenade missed, and fell back into the alley? What if the building had collapsed into the street? Now we don’t even know if we’re supposed to be searching for escaped refugees or mangled corpses.” Twilight’s heart sank. It was those humans in the gold masks.

“Indeed.” The first voice fell silent for a moment, before continuing on a different note, “Do you think the sergeant was speaking the truth?”

“Truth about what, brother?” Replied the other voice.

“When he said the Empress would be burned.” The first voice replied, “Would the Abbey really put the Kaldwin girl to the stake?”

“You are tempting the Lying Tongue, brother.” The second voice rasped, the light drawing closer to the stairwell, “Such matters are for the High Overseer to decide, not myself.”

“Still.” The first voice insisted, “My parents sent me to the Overseers to purge heretics, not kill young girls.”

“Personally? I don’t think she even rules the imperialists.”

“Humour me, brother. What do you mean by that?”

“I think that Corvo has corrupted her with his black magic- there are accounts of dabblers in the black arts being able to manipulate those who do not pay enough heed to the Strictures. At her age, he would be able to control her with ease.”

“That sounds more probable than some speculations I’ve heard.” The first voice mused.

“In any case, we should restrict our Errant Minds.” The second voice concluded, “What we do know is this- we’ll subdue Emily and her collaborators, kill Corvo, and the High Overseer will deal with the trivial details.”

Twilight was so concentrated with eavesdropping that she didn’t think to hide herself until she saw one of the humans mount the first steps of the staircase. She scrabbled back, drawing the attention of the human coming up the stairs.

“If anyone is there, show yourself!” The voice snarled. Twilight continued running back down the hallway. She chose one of the apartment rooms at random and quickly opened the door with her magic, making even more noise. She ran inside, and slammed the door behind her.

Her pulse pounded in her ears like a kettle drum, she was sure that the Overseers would find her. A growing sense of dread overwhelmed her as she saw the yellow light of the Overseer’s lantern creep under the door, accompanied by the sound of hobnailed boots.

“Let my hands not be restless. Reveal yourself!” the Overseer demanded to the dusty air.

To Twilight’s immense relief, the light passed the doorway, and continued onward. The unicorn turned, and what greeted her sent her adrenaline racing again.

Along the side of a room, a human was curled up on a dirty mattress. Part of the purple mare’s conscience was horrified at the idea of him being dead- a handful of flies lazily circling the body. Yet another part of her was relieved that this disheveled-looking body posed no threat to her. A trio of dark maroon smears of dried blood tracked from his eyes and mouth down his contorted face. His tattered, stitched shirt was discolored with blood and other bodily fluids- a grim concoction of death and disease. On the wall above the corpse were scrawled the words ‘THE OUTSIDER WALKS AMONG US’.

The words were bathed in an eerie purple glow, not coming from Twilight’s horn. Her gaze tracked the light to its source in the far corner of the room. A small ensemble of electric lights giving off a purple glow was assembled near a makeshift shrine. A stool stood as a pedestal, with a series of wooden planks driven into it, and adorned with fishing line and drapes. Placed on the middle of the pedestal, centred like some sort of treasured relic, an Outsider’s Rune sat upright, gurgling at her. The massive pedestal, the purple lights, and the body combined to give the entire room a repellently eldritch effect. Yet there was something about the rune, its soothing gurgle seemed to call out to Twilight, compelling her to draw near the shrine. Just as she came in front of it, the Outsider materialized, hovering in human form above the engraved bone, regarding her with the black abyss of his eyes.

“To every light there is the shadow it casts, and cities, like all living things, have their dark and forgotten secrets.” He said, “It is in such places, like this one, that my influence remains. The people of this world openly worshiped me, centuries ago. Now they turn themselves to hating me. However much they try to eradicate me, I will remain, in such dark places. Everything casts a shadow, including them, and it is in such places that I will always exist.”

“What do you want from me?” Twilight said fearfully, backing up.

“I should ask the same to you. After all, it was you who came before this shrine- this lonely vestige made in my name.” The Outsider said, spreading his arms in gesture to the room around him. “You are welcome to this lonely shadow, but know that nothing can hide forever. I’d prefer if you didn’t learn this the hard way.” The Outsider crossed his arms again, and nodded to the corpse with a small tilt of his head.

Twilight had wanted to ask him about the body.

“What did you do to him?” she asked, dreading the answer.

“By now, I’m sure you know exactly what my runes are- conduits of magical energies, siphoned directly from the void- raw power, given shape and form. Power, it’s fascinating how such a simple thing can change people. I watched as this man was driven insane from the simple, unyielding rune, as he locked himself indoors, and forwent food and water as his thirst for power drove away his mortal needs. Even as the plague spread and this building was abandoned, even as the disease spread to him in turn, even as blood trickled from his eyes and his tortured mind was laid to waste.”

The Outsider shook his head, crossing his arms behind his back.

“What they never seem to understand is that no amount of prayers or horrific rituals can oblige me to divulge my secrets to them. Not all mysteries are meant to be solved.” His black gaze turned back to Twilight.

“That’s… terrible.” Twilight whispered, “You created the runes just to drive people crazy?”

The Outsider surprised her by giving a faint smile.

“There are a unique few who can unlock the power stored within the runes.” He assured her, “Those who I have chosen to bear my mark, and who I have deemed to be interesting enough to watch.”

“Yes.” The Outsider said, finding the spark of realization in Twilight’s eyes, “Corvo is one bearing such a mark. From the moment the black sigil was imprinted on his hand, he has constantly been the centre of my attention. You have only seen him acting quiet and reserved, but his hands have been stained with the blood of countless men.”

With this, the Outsider fell silent, his answer given. Twilight sat back on her haunches, gently laying Spike out onto the ground. Mulling over the information she had been given before asking another question.

“Who are they?” She asked, motioning towards the door of the room, and the gold-masked zealot beyond it, “What do they want with Emily?”

“The Overseers.” The Outsider said, musingly, “A mighty and zealous cult devoted to hating me, and any they suspect of opposing them. Like many, they believe that I am directly responsible for this.” He pointed at the hollow corpse on the mattress, before continuing.

“The Overseers act as if they were superior to common men. As if their Seven Strictures- their closely followed disciplines of the mind and body- will make them immune to my influence, and make them pure.” He paused for a moment, then continued.

“I won’t lie, Twilight, I thoroughly enjoy having a hand in the more interesting affairs of this world. But I will tell you that I am not the cruelty dwelling in the hearts of the Overseers.” The Outsider’s face showed no sign of sarcasm or humor.

Spike began stirring in the corner, groaning loudly from his headache.

“Aha! I thought I heard something!” Declared the Overseer in the hallway.

Twilight looked at the door of the grimy room, panic welling up in her throat.

“Help us.” She pleaded to the Outsider. She heard the human trying at the door handle, straining against the lock. “Please.”

“We will see.” The Outsider said.

Twilight’s concentration was broken when she heard a loud crash as the Overseer threw his weight against the door, the wood frame of the door groaning as the rotted timber gave away from his force. She looked back to the shrine, and found the Outsider had disappeared. With no time to be frustrated, Twilight glanced about- trying to find a hiding spot, but it was too late. The Overseer rammed the door again with his shoulder, and the rust-covered hinges snapped away from the moulded door frame. Twilight found herself staring into the grimacing mask of the zealot.

The Overseer’s gaze swept the room, taking in the decayed corpse, the shrine of the Outsider, and the odd animal cowering before him. Twilight readied her magic, not knowing what she could do to the towering human. The Overseer was confused about the odd dog-sized animal in front of him, but he recognized witchcraft when he saw it. Without speaking, he stepped forward, poising his sabre over his head. Twilight fired a burst of magic, and it struck the zealot in the shoulder, knocking him back and sending the sabre away to lodge itself in the wall. The purple unicorn took a defensive stance, trying to anticipate his next move. Before she could react, she was staring down the barrel of a pistol, and saw the burst of light as the cartridge detonated, sending the bullet straight at her head.

Comments

[myhe01]

Good show I must say! Also, I am the number before 2.

[ClockALock]

Oh, Come On! No Cliffhangers!

[Diokno44]

NO! Don't kill Twilight you fiend! Corvo,save her! (Keep it up )

[Rosewell8]

1683877 Hhhmmm... The number before 2, so -7?

[YorkBrony]

WAT

[Genis94]

Most interesting. I can't wait to see how Twilight will escape this mess. Perhaps Corvo will stop or slow time, giving them the chance to evade the attack. This story is truly amazing. You've captured the universe of Dishonored perfectly. I'll be sure to keep reading this as it updates.

[Verbose Soubriquet]

Brilliant.
The way you write the Outsider really blows me away. His lines feel like something that could have actually been used in the game.

[myhe01]

1684506 Hmmm... I can't count, so maybe... bacon?

[ClosetBrony9000]

Shit's 'bout to go down, bois.

[quill and ink]

Damn you cliff HANGERSSS!!!!!!! 2 WEEKS LATER As the bullet flew at twilight head corco appered and did some stuff.

[Rosewell8]

1687348 Mmmmmm.... Bacon.

[VelvetHeart]

1683877
Zero?

[Nightroad]

I've been meaning to read this forever and only got around to doing it now and I have to say, I'm sad that it took me so long to do so. The way you weave the game's lore into the story, the way the Outsider plays into the story....pretty much everything about this story is fantastical. Can't wait for more =^~^=