Chapter Eighteen

Vito was a realist.

He knew where his immense frustration stemmed from. Though being born into the Crimson Tides had its challenges and responsibilities, he was accustomed to getting his way. Growing up, the reign of Vito's father had been as peaceful as one could hope, with no major conflicts souring his time.

Despite the apparent weaknesses of nonexistent external relations, it did mean that there was no chance of eroding friendships leading to vacuous discord.

This peaceful period had pampered Vito and the Crimson Tides as a whole. Vito wasn't as sharp as he needed to be to crush the ever persistent threat that was Lafon. Yet, acknowledging the fact didn't grant him peace of mind - quite the opposite.

Something needed to be done to change that if the future of District 35 was to be what he intended. What his father had intended. This time, he didn't go seeking out Hades for his opinion.

How could he ever grow from his pampered shell if that was the first option he fell back on?

Instead, he made a decision himself - one that required him to swallow his pride with a bitter gulp. A decision that carried him to perhaps the most dangerous part of the district - the southeast. His siblings and Hades hadn't been fans of his decision, but the clock was ticking, and they had no respectable alternatives.

Zliksay estimated it would take an army of that size four days to arrive at the district's borders from the village they had been in. It had taken Vito and the others two days themselves, but Vito felt like he knew Lafon better now, and he would push his army to arrive before that estimation.

The clock was indeed ticking.

Vito winced as he walked. His shoulder hurt even from just completing his walking stride. The wound had not been deep, mercifully, and with Bekah's Ails ointment, it was dried up within ten hours. Still, the pain was present and tenacious. Hades called it phantom pain, a sign of great stress and mental fatigue, but he didn't dare diagnose Vito with rest.

There was no time for such a thing.

So here he was, alone, walking streets that one didn't dare walk alone. He had parked his Porsche farther up the road and had decided to take a stroll. It had been a while since he had done such a thing. Recently, he had been rushing everywhere.

The squat buildings that bordered the road he walked on were closely knit together, as was characteristic of the district, but there were more marks of dilapidation. Instead of the usual muted tones of paint that houses had in the district, most had none at all, bearing gray walls as their bland design. The ones fortunate enough to have paint looked like they had been due for a fresh coat a couple of centuries ago.

The smell that outsiders found nauseating was also worse here. There were no factories in the area - a great rarity - which meant that there was no mechanical tint in the fetor. As if that were not enough, officers avoided the territory like the plague. It was not foolish thinking to sum this up to fear of the inhabitants.

This absence of patrolling officers led to bodies, which were plentiful in the area, going undiscovered for weeks at a time. As a result, the stench of decay mixed with the unruly scent of unwashed bodies and poorly kept surroundings.

The sights and scents could be taken as a forewarning for the type of individuals that resided here. Truly, no sane man could choose here as his home.

Vito sighed, his thoughts of his failure to land even one hit of significance against Lafon weighing on his mind. If an army was truly as strong as its leader, District 35 was sure to fail if his physical ability didn't improve drastically.

Rats scurried away as he turned down the road of his target. This road was much more populated than the others. Before, he had seen only occasional hordes of people who looked at him with predatory gazes, then shock when they recognized him. Their predaceous looks didn't dissolve, though; they were men far past fear of Vito's reputation.

He almost wished they acted on their impulse, if only to give him something to take out his frustrations on.

The men on the sidewalk were gathered around one building in particular, which happened to be Vito's target. It looked just as dreary as the others visually, except for its two storey height, but this building held great significance for this territory.

The people outside the house noticed his approach and Vito could tell they recognized him because they didn't draw their weapons, yet there was still a firm hostility in their gazes. He walked right up to them regardless, unperturbed by their menacing stares.

Each person had atleast two scars somewhere on their face, and Vito imagined they had alot more on their body. They were all lean and had the alert demeanor of someone who was ready, or rather looking, for a fight. This was the kind of atmosphere their boss had created with his maniac love for battle; an area where one could be challenged to a duel over any petty matter and fights were as common as the sunrise.

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Vito intended to walk right past the group and into the building, but they closed in so that they blocked the open door and Vito reluctantly paused.

"The boss doesn't allow people to just waltz in his abode," a man with scars criscossing down the length of his nose and a gruff voice said. "Someone has already gone up to call the boss down."

Vito wondered idly if the man's repetition of the title boss was meant to rile him up, but it didn't bother him. He shot a curt nod at the man and waited without complaint.

He could feel their eyes travelling up and down his body as they sized him up. One or two seemed like they were physically fighting the urge to test his blade. However, they knew it would displease their boss and so they held back. It was why Vito was comfortable leaving his Porsche and Hades up the street.

They had been in the forest during Vito and Lafon's battle - if it could be referred to as such - so Vito wasn't surprised at their lack of caution since, as fate would have it, that was the only time they had witnessed a battle of his.

Their boss came out sporting a vest and missing his usual hat. "Well, well, if it isn't Sir runs-alot. If I knew you were coming, I would've had a feast waiting, where we could discuss a few retreat strategies, yes?"

Vito eyed Draven. The last time he'd seen him, he had been uncharacteristically serious as he walked past Vito, and Vito had wondered if he had completely lost the man's respect and by extension, his assistance. Now, despite his taunting words, Vito didn't sense any malice in his expression or tone.

The crowd around them chuckled at their boss' quip, the sound grating on unfamiliar lips.

"That situation is what I've come to discuss, actually," Vito said evenly. "Making sure we won't be required to do so again."

"We?" Draven asked, his voice alight with disbelief. "We," he repeated as if it would make sense the second time. "That blonde sweet-talking mutt wouldn't have stood a chance, pal."

"I," Vito corrected, if only to please the boy. "Can we talk away from prying ears?" Vito pointedly indicated the scowling men surrounding them.

Draven gave his followers a shrug before responding. "I guess. I'll lead you to my office, then. I hope you haven't been stepping in the shit on the sidewalk, legend knows I just got the floor of my office sparkling." The crowd seemed to find this especially funny.

Vito soon discovered why. Draven led him away from the laughing group and took a sharp left into an alleyway. Considering they hadn't gone into the building as Vito had expected, he doubted there was an actual office.

He couldn't help but tense, doing a mental check that his sword was within reach. Where he came from, alleyways were only used to escape from pursuers, murder someone discreetly or to dispose of bodies. Draven had his swords by his side as usual and Vito began wondering if he planned to use them, deciding that Vito was an unfit leader.

He was certainly impulsive enough to do it.

Draven sniffed. "I can practically smell your unease, boss. You have no need to worry, I don't fight people who are likely to run away; it doesn't seem like much fun. A man's gotta have fun, you know - life would be dire without it."

Vito raised an eyebrow as the man halted. "So this is actually your office then?" The alleyway was so narrow that if Vito didn't walk at an angle, his shoulders would brush the sides. The smell also confirmed that the alleyway was used for District 35's regular means.

"Of sorts," Draven said with a wry smile. "Of course, it doesn't get much use. The folk here, as stalwart as they are, aren't much fond of the moving of lips. They talk with weapons, the little psychopaths. It's pretty cool, don't get me wrong, just doesn't leave much use for a boring office, yeah?"

"Right..."

Draven's odd leadership style had made his gang quite fearsome indeed. Vito couldn't help but notice the man didn't have the same visual scars, though he was sure he fought as much as they did.

"I'd have my secretary offer you some coffee but-"

"That's quite fine," Vito said, cutting him off before he went on another tirade. "As you know, Lafon's army is well on its way."

Draven nodded excitedly. "So it is. I'm sorry to break it to you, but if you ask us to retreat from here, none of the men will listen to that order. Hell, I won't. We listened 'cuz we were outside our territory, but here? We run these parts, not run from it."

Vito's eyebrow twitched. "Retreating is not a hobby of mine. Quite the opposite. As I said before, I don't plan to have to give that order...ever again."

"If you say so," Draven said with a lazy shrug. "Your shoulder," he added, nodding at it, "you're moving it stiffly. Don't tell me with all those fancy medicines and remedies you have up in that big ol' castle, you're letting that wound fester?'

"It's minor," Vito replied in a dismissive tone. "Let's focus. You saw my fight with Lafon."

Draven snicked. "That was a fight?"

"My point exactly." Luckily, no words could hurt him more than his own disappointment, else he might've taken offense at the boy's brazenness. "I was obliterated and it can't happen again. I want you to train me."

A look passed on Draven's face that Vito had never personally seen on it before. Shock. It took a moment for him to gather his thoughts and work his lips again. "Do I strike you as a trainer?" he asked finally.

"Not in the least," Vito answered honestly. "Yet there is no better option. You wield a set of legendary weapons and have the most experience wielding them than anyone I know personally. And you wield them the..." Vito trailed off. He was about to say the best, but thoughts of his father wielding his legendary warhammer came to mind and he didn't dare sully his memory with a bold-faced lie. "You wield them well," he said instead.

Draven's cheeks were practically splitting with his smile. "Please continue, don't be shy with the praise."

"Draven, this is serious."

"As am I...when I tell you this is a ridiculous idea." Vito had no reply to that, so he instead waited for the boy to continue. "Is this an order?" he asked.

Vito shook his head. "A request."

Draven muttered to himself, and Vito decided some encouragement was in order. "Are you not capable?" he asked.

"Far too capable to do it for free," was Draven's immediate response.

"Then it's good that it will be for the cause of keeping us alive."

Draven shook a finger. "Ah, ah. Keeping you alive. This Lafon couldn't kill me if I were in death's grubby arms already." He laughed then, as if he had told some grand joke.

"However you spin it, I am the boss of this district, Draven. If I fall, the district won't be far behind. Whether immediately or soon after."

Draven actually stopped talking and took a moment to consider his words. Vito could practically see the crews turning in the man's heads from the way his eyes erratically looked about until he closed them. Atleast, he was hoping there were still screws in that head.

"I'll consider a little boss-of-the-district discount, pal. Take it or leave it. Or should I say, take it or retreat."