The peal of the tenth hour bell rang over the rooftops of the dark city as Alain, done with work early, retired to his room. He normally went to sleep shortly after sunrise, not a peculiar habit when one's work was done in the dark of night. This day, however, had been long and hard, with more than a few close scrapes with the local thug populace. One lamp in the investigator's dimly lit room cast illumination over his desk and an old dog-eared tome. He leaned over it and studied the page he had left it open to. Alain could only read a few lines before exhaustion swept over him like a wave. He groaned and began undressing, and his shirt was first to go. He unfastened his shoulder holster and laid his revolver gently on the desk, then reached for his belt. Outside, a hidden figure watched the man undress through a single dirty window. This was no peeper, however, but an assassin. Gresnick knew Alain was a night owl and thus didn't expect him to be home so early. The orc had decided that a pre-dawn strike would be best, but he saw no reason to wait that long. He would be in and out of the apartment in ten minutes, and be back in the sewers before the quarter-hour arrived. With a pang that reminded him of old wounds, Gresnick remembered his punishment for the Bastian "incident' and resolved to play this one safe and sure. The orc usually loved to play with his prey, but this one needed to die hard and die fast once he had what he came for. When Gresnick saw the single lamp flicker off, he knew his time had come. He nodded to the grunt at his side, and both men ran to the inn's back door. Gresnick's accomplice dropped down and skillfully forced the lock, then stepped back to allow the orc entry. The greenskin nodded to him in thanks and stalked into the darkness of the inn. The man nodded back and scampered back to the underground; his job was done. The orc stepped lightly into the shadowy rear hall of the Red Dragon Inn and leveled his shotgun. He had adorned it with various nasty looking spikes, as well as a broad bayonet seated under the dual barrels, and he stroked his thick fingers along the primer-black pump lovingly as he swept his preferred weapon across the darkness, waiting for an enemy to present itself. Satisfied that he was alone, Gresnick moved down the hallway to the back stairs. He was surprisingly quiet for an orc, though he would never pass the keen ears of an alert sentry. Thankfully for him, the Red Dragon wasted no money on such frivolities. Upstairs there was dead silence. It sounded like no one was awake in the inn's rooms, and even the legendary rowdiness of the common room below was missing tonight. The stairs loomed before Gresnick, taunting him with the knowledge that his every movement on them would cause a shrieking groan. Cursing his bulk, the orc mounted the stairs and climbed as slowly as he could, stepping on the far edges of each step to minimize the noise. Once at the top, Gresnick swept the hall twice before proceeding down to the door he knew to be Alain's. A toothy smile cracked Gresnick's black lips as he put an ear to the door. Inside the room he could hear the soft snore of a deep sleeper. He turned the handle gently, trusting in Muunokhoi's agent on the Red Dragon staff to have unlocked the door for him. His trust was rewarded with a soft click as the door came open slightly. The silence remained complete, except for the target's soft snore. As the orc entered the room, he laid his eyes on the form in the bed. Alain was surely asleep, making this job quite easy. Gresnick was left only with the choice of how to start the fun. It was never a hard choice for him, and he always used the same general method. Making his quietly way to the side of the bed, Gresnick stared down at the man. Bloodlust pushed caution out of his mind as, grinning broadly, he reached down and grabbed Alain by the neck. In a sudden burst of orcish inspiration, the private eye went flying towards his own wall. It was not the detective, however, that hit the wall, but a stuffed firing dummy. Just as the orc discovered the subterfuge, two shots rang out. Alain was pleased to see one shot hit home and divest his foe of the nasty-looking shotgun. Though the investigator had a feeling that the remaining .38's would avail him little against the massive orc, he squeezed off two more shots. Gresnick was caught in the shoulder and the thick flak vest on his chest as he spun to face the shooter. The greenskin, however, just roared in rage and charged. Gresnick was surprised at the trap, but he recovered fast. He had been warned that Alain was smart, but where intelligence ended, brutality reigned. Gresnick grabbed a hold of Alain as the man ejected the spent cartridges from his gun and scurried to load more. Alain's efforts were in vain as one thick green hand crushed his gun hand and the other rocketed into his stomach like a cannonball. A vise tightened around Alain's throat and he felt his airflow cease. The orc slammed the human into the thin wood wall and dragged him up until his head slammed into the ceiling. Alain winced as splinters pierced his skin, but he had bigger, more immediate problems. "Where is the baker boy, Alain?" Gresnick hissed, parting his lips in a show of orcish ferocity. He leaned in close to Alain and let his breath out in hot gasps. This usually scared his opponents, but Gresnick's current target was just annoyed. To loosen his tongue, the orc threw a punch to the man's ribs. Alain coughed and curled in the orc's steel grip, then forced his eyes open and growled. He uncurled and aimed a vicious kick at the orc, catching the feral assailant right in the genitals. Alain's steel-toed boots left Gresnick howling in pain and had caused the orc to drop him. But the orc recovered far faster than any human could, and just as Alain gained his feet, he felt a missile of pure orcish hate explode in his gut. Alain was thrown backwards over his desk and crumpled on his neck on the other side of the room. His vision swam with pinpricks of light, and blood filled his mouth. He blinked away the pain and focused on Trixie's lessons, knowing that speed and skill were more than enough to overcome brute power. Then the detective noticed the boomstick near him, its handle bloody and cracked from the shot that had penetrated the orc's hand. Alain smiled and decided that, just once, brute force would be fun to try. His hand snapped out and seized at the stock of the gun. He grabbed the heavy weapon and began t swing its immense weight towards the orc. Gresnick had seen the malicious gleam in the eyes of the detective, and had desperately dived across the room to grab Alain's .38. Desperate dives were a very un-orcish thing to do, and Gresnick planned to make Alain pay for making him take one. He grabbed the pistol and rolled to bring the barrel sweeping over Alain. The man, however, was nowhere to be found. Alain saw the orc level his own revolver on him and was forced to dive for cover. Rolling behind a dresser he hoped it would provide him a few seconds of cover. Quickly he made sure the shotgun had a round chambered and brought it into position against his shoulder. While not his weapon of choice he hoped it would make quick work of the orcs armor. An explosion of wood chips and a gleeful bark alerted Alain to the orcs intention of shooting him through the dresser. He angrily got ready to attempt a somewhat insane counter attack. Alain decided to act before the orc could ruin more of his cheap furniture. I'm gonna have to pay for this shit anyway, he griped internally. Bracing himself, Alain dove into the open air of his room, the shotgun trained on the source of the loud bark. The orc, stupidly, had not moved, but instead was cocking the pistol with a dumb grin on his face. That dumb grinned vanished as Gresnick looked into the steel blue eyes of his target and realized that this was no ordinary target. Gresnick had never been in truly mortal danger in Muunokhoi's service, for his size and ferocity had kept him in control of most situations. This man, however, was something else. This man was also flying through the air with a 12 gauge shotgun aimed squarely at the greenskin's thick skull. Two shots rang out in rapid order as a deafening blast ripped out of the barrel of the shotgun. The slug passed the .38 in mid-air and homed in on the orc's skull. Gresnick spun to avoid the shot, but the slug grazed his green skull, leaving a red furrow above his ear. The .38 struck Alain in the rib a sickening wet sound, and the man ended his flying leap in an ignoble heap on the other side of the room. His hand flew to his side, but luckily the bullet had grazed him, and had cut a half-moon of flesh out of his side rather than a hole through his chest. Alain's head lolled as the pain of his multiple wounds caught up with him. But before he could shake off the pain, Gresnick appeared above him. The berserk orc had discarded his .38 after deciding to finish this the primal way. Bare hands had been good enough for his forefathers, and they'd be good enough for him. He reached down and hoisted the prone human onto his left shoulder, then spun and rammed his target into the wall. Alain grunted explosively as his back met the wall again and a knobby orc shoulder drove into his gut. Operating beyond normal human limits, Alain still managed to notice the letter opener sitting on his desk. As Gresnick again questioned him about Nathan, the detective grabbed the sharp implement and jabbed it deep into the orc's neck. Blood spurted from powerful veins as the orc reeled and again dropped the human. This time, however, Alain's recovery was instant. Alain rose to his feet with a fire in his eyes that few have lived to describe. Alain spat out blood and spun away as the orc swung at his head. He crossed the room in two strides and tore open his dresser, which had remained thankfully unharmed during the encounter. Gresnick growled and lumbered after his target, but froze when he found himself staring down the shining barrel of a Beretta. The two fiery eyes hovering just above the barrel told the orc that his next move had better end it, or else the detective would. Gresnick recovered his composure and laughed at the sight of the gun. It was a loud and proud laugh, a suitably orcish laugh. "Stupid little human, you really have no idea what?s about to happen to this place. I hope the baker boy is worth this to you!" As he spoke he backpedaled slowly. "What's gonna happen to the Red Dragon, you green fuck?" Alain questioned fiercely, his voice showing no sign of his pain, or that he had been choking mere minutes ago. Gresnick was surprised at the steel in the human's voice. The orc had been surprised too many times tonight, and he hated surprises. It was time to leave. "This shitty inn?" Gresnick scoffed. "Screw this place. They are coming for all of RhyDin. Nothing like Them has ever come to this world, that's for damn sure," the orc boasted. "And you're on the wrong damn side, asshole." "Who is coming?" Alain asked. He shouted his words again as the orc spun and bore down on the window. "You're a dead man, Alain! You should have left Nathan to his fate!" Gresnick called back just before his shoulder hit the window. The green mass flew out the window and hit the street below, unharmed. "Tell Cassie I'll see her real soon," the orc shouted back up to Alain as the detective prepared to throw himself out the window after his assailant. The pain in his ribs, his head, his back, and his arm stopped him, however, and his adrenaline began to ebb. He raised the Beretta again, but the orc had already rushed into a shadowy alleyway. There was no clean shot, but Alain lacked the strength to even pull the trigger. He collapsed under the broken window, clutching his arm. The last words he struggled out before darkness overtook him were "Cassie"fuck??