As Flake looked back, his last words spoken, Raine picked up the pouch of coins and replied, “No, but I do have a request. Call me Misti from now on. My old name is getting old.” Flake nodded after hearing her request, then walked over to the throwing tournament area. A few men started to voice complaints as he walked up, but soon after, he picked up eleven of the knives sprawled across the table and threw all of them at the targets, each knife whistling from the speed of the throw. Nine knives landed in the targets perfectly, sticking out perpendicular to the ground. The tenth knife hit the back of the first knife and wildly ricocheted back at the table.

The rest of the somewhat-sober people in the pub stared in silence for a few seconds as Flake turned and left. “Don’t you want your prize?” one of the contestants asked, a subtle annoyed tone lacing his voice. Flake sharply turned and roared, “My prize is your promise to stop acting like such blithering idiots!” He then pulled out one last knife and, turning his entire body, threw it straight into the banner on the wall which had the rules in it. The knife sank into the wall down to the hilt, however it was a very crooked stab.

“Rule eight!” he shouted, slamming his hand down on a table, snapping the midsection in half from the impact, “if you see me, SHUT THE HELL UP!” With that said, he calmly walked out of the pub, a smirk growing over his face as the room behind him fell eerily silent. The bounty hunter walked silently through the town for the next few minutes, however, his meditation was interrupted by a crowd of people surrounding a man. The man looked to be one of the street-types, and from what Flake could make out through the crowd, he was just waking up.

“I swear, I saw this woman and accidentally bumped into her,” the man started, massaging his swollen face, “and she knocked me clean out! One hit! Boom! Out!” Flake’s ears perked up at the mention, then he picked up his pace slightly, his smirk present once more. “I wonder…” he thought, picturing a signpost in his head.

After a minute, Flake encountered another group of people, but ignored them, continuing onward. It didn’t take long before he arrived at his destination. The bounty hunter calmly entered the inn and walked up to a middle-aged woman behind the front desk. “Did you rent out any rooms to a single woman tonight?” he asked, his voice cold. The woman watched Flake with a suspicious gaze, silent for a few seconds, then responded, “why yes, just a few minutes ago.”

After hearing this, Flake grinned and turned around to leave. [i]I knew it[/i] he thought, smirking once more as he stopped in front of the door. “Hey, Milly, is it?” Flake asked, still facing the door. The lady behind the front desk looked at him in confusion once more and responded, “who, me?” The bounty hunter growled, “tell that lady to spend her money wisely. Time’s limited.” With that said, he rushed out of the door and rushed into the alleyway with surprising speed.

The bounty hunter hit the side of the building hard with his boot, then launched off and nimbly grabbed the restraint-bar of a balcony of one of the rooms of the inn on the second floor. After pulling himself up, he repeated the action to jump up another floor, going higher and higher up the building. A few people from the street gathered in the alley to watch the spectacle, some shouting curses at him under suspicion that he was trying to trespass.

After reaching the roof of the building, the bounty hunter walked over to the edge of the roof and hopped off onto the roof of the next building, around twenty feet down. He landed in a tactical roll and got up running, adjusting the sword at his side as he ran. The bounty hunter hopped around the roofs of the town for a good hour after this, running under the light of the rising moon, his face covered in a satisfied grin. [i]Sleep well, Misti[/i] Flake thought, hopping off a really high roof, falling straight towards a street-lamp.

The night was long, but eventually, Flake managed to make it to his home, a decrepit shack on the outskirts of town. Few people passed by, and the few who did didn’t find it worth noticing. All the same, Flake called it home. He carved a bit of mold off a piece of bread and cheese, then ate and slept through the night, waking every now and then account nightmares.

By morning, Flake felt more miserable than he had the last night. Despite the weight of his armor, he felt as if he could fly while transversing the rooftops of the city. Of course, after waking up in a full suit of armor, he started to feel as if it was a bit heavier than he remembered. [i]You know you slept well if you wake up feeling worse than you did falling asleep[/i] he thought, gritting his teeth as he worked through the pain of getting up. There were still plenty of mending bruises and other such injuries all over his body, but one gets used to the pain after a lifetime of injury.

For a few minutes, Flake massaged his limbs and stretched, trying to warm up his muscles and ready himself for the day ahead. He pulled out another piece of moldy bread and cheese, scraped off what filth he could, and ate gingerly, quickly thinking over the day ahead. Without wasting a second, Flake barged out of his shack with the last bite in his mouth and sprinted through town, desperate to get to the sweeper’s hall before sunrise. 
---
Meanwhile, At the shopping district, a bulky man in unnecessarily heavy armor sat at a puny tax-collection stand, his bloody, unpolished armor covering every part of his entire body. The man looked ready for a five-year battle in his get-up, and the massive longsword on his back didn’t change that. The man’s name was Drake, captain of the city guard, and he wasn’t the least bit sober.

A few people passed by to drop off their taxes, leaving Drake with something to do, but he was in an outright fowl mood. [i]Why the hell do I need to sit here?[/i] he thought, grimacing beneath his visor, [i]I’m the captain. Might as well be corporal of an army.[/i] Time passed slowly as he sat there, waiting for the sun to rise, mortally pissed at the nobility for assigning him to his place. [i]Teach me to be patient, eh?[/i] he thought, gritting his teeth, barely restraining himself from smashing the stand with his gauntlet-covered fist.

After awhile, Drake noticed a lady walk around the back of the stand. [i]Suspicious[/i] he thought, beginning to turn around. He was stopped as he noticed a piece of foreign metal placed against his backplate. “Don’t say anything and I won’t stab you,” a feminine voice whispered behind him. The man nearly erupted into laughter, but he decided to go along with it for fun. “Just slowly back up into this alley here so I can get this over with,” the voice continued.

Despite the situation, Drake managed to restrain himself and remain silent, going along with the lady’s plan. She ‘shoved’ him against a wall and pointed the puny dagger at his neck, declaring, “tell me what you know about Rinjuko.” Drake finally lost it and started chuckling, leaning forward towards the assassin. “Or what, you gonna poke me with your needle? I hate to [i]break[/i] it to you, but only one weapon has pierced this armor before.” The guard then laughed as he started walking back towards his information stand, ignoring the lady.

As he walked, he said, “I’ll let you off with a warning this time. Do it again and you’ll be staring at iron bars for the next year.” With that said, he gradually calmed down, listening to see if the lady would heed his warning.