He pulled on a fresh shirt carefully, winching once or twice as the bandages around his chest rubbed against the burns beneath. The Doctor assured him that the burns would heal completely, but just to be sure he made a mental note of calling on the college of surgeons, just to be certain the treatment was appropriate. He didn’t exactly trust the doctor.
A perfectly reasonable afternoon had turned very bad very quickly. All he had needed to do was go to the Sad Cuck and get a few men together for a lynching mob. He’d thought that bringing the doctor along would be a good idea, give him an idea of how to handle deals with the underworld of the city. He had not expected the doctor to be so obviously hostile to the contacts. The deal had nearly fallen apart then and there, but when it rains it pours, particularly in this city.
He had begun to repair the damage to the deal, negotiate a price and the men available when out of the blue a man claiming to be some form of friend, murdered the contact. Vincent sighed and ran his fingers through his hair as he remembered the chaos that followed .The demon possessed corpse, the fire, the crowd, wielding a sword and cutting the corpse in half. It had been a very eventful afternoon, one he would have liked to avoid.
To make matters worse, the crowning turd in the water pipe, he was being called in by the King of Broken Glass to answer for the fire and the destruction of the pub. Fortunately that situation was not hopeless. If the king of Broken Glass wanted him dead he’d be dead already, he still had some wiggle room to come out of this on top. Unfortunately he’d be watched over the coming weeks, making sure he wasn’t up to something. That was a disaster. If there was one thing Vincent Stranglethorn hated it was being delayed and being watched would put back the weapons stockpiling by weeks.
All this, this fucking cock-up all because of one man who claimed to be his friend. A man who would suffer for meddling in his affairs.
The only useful piece of information he had received was that these demon things could indeed be killed, if not by powder and shot then by sword. He’d have to send word to the factory and tell them to diversify. Alchemical weapon’s would do little against such creatures.
Tonight they’d have a good old fashioned murderer hunt and then he could start putting things back on track. He’d just have to adjust the time scales slightly. Still, nothing he couldn’t handle.