Gunblade - The Rebellion of Cain

Chapter 13 - The Stray

Esai rounded the corner much more swiftly than he was used to moving. His acute hearing was easily able to detect the unusually laborious stride that Cain used to enter the cavernous safehouse. Years of experience in arts that not even Cain had learned allowed him to realize that he must have been carrying a body.

The surprising sight of Cain delicately laying what appeared to be a young, partially clothed and bleeding girl on his own mattress was something that he hadn't expected to see this evening. Inhaling deeply, Esai widened his stance, allowing his body language to communicate that he expected an explanation.

Cain dropped the satchels of money by his bed and bent low while pulling the Mask of Indemion from his skull. He instinctively breathed deep, feeling the sweat begin to evaporate from his face and hair. While the mask only covered part of his face, leaving his wild shock of blond hair visible, the work of carrying the bags and the girl back to the safe house used more energy than even his well-trained physique was prepared for.

Shedding his overcoat, Cain rushed past Esai who remained impatiently silent. He quickly set about stripping the girl's clothes that obstructed his access to her wounds. He feverishly began cleaning the deep wound, making sure that a bullet wasn't lodged in her side while making sure to staunch any remaining bleeding.

Esai was a man of wisdom and careful observation. His mannerisms and philosophies, born of years of life experience, taught him that pride and hubris in the name of seeking respect from others was a fatal flaw often held by the powerful and ambitious. In this moment, Cain obviously wasn't in the state of mind to give him the answers he needed. So, he resorted to using careful observation to gather information about this new series of unexpected events. Admittedly, he was a bit unnerved watching Cain's seemingly frantic machinations which reeked of a quiet desperation to save the girl's life. Although impassioned, Cain was still reasonably proficient at the task of repairing battlefield wounds. Esai noted the concern and concentration in his eyes belied an intensity that was usually only visible when Cain was taking lives.

Every Sword of the Triumvirate was trained in combat first aid. The meager skills they possessed allowed the assassins to quickly assess and temporarily mitigate life-threatening injuries so that they could at a minimum complete their assignment. However, that was the extent of their training. They never looked beyond the completion of their goal to other concerns, such as returning alive from their missions. Because of this, their ability to successfully patch an injury to save a life was woefully inadequate. Facing this frustration, he watched Cain squeeze his eyes shut in frustration, imagining that Cain was frantically motivated not just by a puerile instinct to save this wayward stray's life, but because he'd been unable to do the same for his wife. It was a simple and plain emotional projection that drove him.

Esai was also a man of guarded emotions and limited empathy. He never allowed conditions or situations to threaten his carefully orchestrated plans. Despite this stalwart cognitive makeup, and contrary to his deeply protected core beliefs and behaviors, he found himself moving into the spot Cain was standing seconds before. With aged, yet steady dexterity and expertise, Esai cleaned the girl's wounds with anatomical proficiency and speed. He glanced at Cain from the girl's bedside, realizing just how compelled by his wife's death he really was.

Cain's gaze was fixed on the girl, his eyes unusually wide and curiously void of anger, deadened fear, or anguish. Appearing at least to be nineteen or twenty years of age, the girl lay motionless, save for a quick and almost imperceptible rise and fall of her chest to indicate that she was breathing shallowly. Noticing Esai watching him, Cain swiftly turned on his heel and retreated to the depths of the warehouse, leaving Esai next to the limp form of the girl. Sighing and glancing at her seemingly lifeless form, he did not welcome the task of finding out who she was and why Cain had brought a child into the midst of whatever name he could put to what he and Cain were doing here.

Rising, he noticed how the girl still maintained a peculiar grasp of Cain's outsized, large pistol. As an afterthought, he reached out to the girl's wrist, marveling at the strength of her grip. A swift pinch at the correct nerve cluster at the base of her palm forced her muscles to act on themselves and loosen her clutch on Cain's Desert Eagle. Gently, Esai brushed her raven-colored hair from her youthful face which led him to notice the spent gunpowder on her knuckles and singe marks on her bare thighs. Pulling a sheet up over the girl's mostly unclothed form, he gathered at least enough information to yield the conclusion that this girl was somehow deeply involved in Cain's activities tonight.