[u][color=000000][h2]Repercussions[/h2][/color][/u]

Dagmar looked back at his bloodied face with irritation, his unblinking eyes reflected in his sword as he cleaned it. He now had all of his sharp weapons on his person, his four throwing knives, two duel wields, his two handed Glaive Blade and crossbow. Dagmar finished cleaning his Glaive Blade and pushed the silk rag into his back pocket, blowing away the dust, he gripped the handles and reached back to slide it into its sheath.

Lifting himself from his unwelcoming bed, he stood silently in front of the grubby mirror and adjusted his collar, craning his neck left and right to check for any cuts. Content with the lack of injury to his visage, Dagmar cupped his hands and brought tepid water up to his face, wincing faintly as a veiled cut in his brow stung.

Dagmar leant forward, his jacket tightening around his wide shoulders, to rub the specks of black and crimson away. Unexpectedly a muffled moan came from beside him, accompanied with agitated shuffling among further awkward noise. Turning on his left foot, Dagmar’s leg whipped straight and his firm boot connected with the right side of Agmar’s face, the slum-lord cried out from behind his gag in pain.

“Shut it. I told you when I bought the room, don’t touch the blades! What did you go and do?” 

Agmar didn’t respond. The thieving bastard had taken them from his room and was in the act of hiding them away when Dagmar caught him, he wasn't even going to clean them before he sold them, animal.

“What did you do!?”

A desperate look came over the weasel’s face, confusion sprouting at the rims. Looking up at Dagmar he raised his eyebrows and his eyes widened, Dagmar glared back at him as he waited for a reply.

“Ah-e  tehurshed dah bwages...?” Agmar hoped this was the right response; his muffled speech dried his mouth and lips.

“That’s right. You touched the blades.” 

Dagmar said with a smile, lifting Agmar to his unsteady feet and turning him towards the open window. Pulling the gag from his vile mouth, Dagmar let it hang around his neck; Agmar spat and worked his tongue around his lips to get rid of the metallic taste the wire had left behind.
 
“What will you – “Agmar started but was interrupted.

“Did I tell you to speak, maggot?” Dagmar shouted into his ear, Agmar could have sworn he heard a crowd cheer below him.

Dagmar slowly coiled the wire around his arm like a snake, careful not to let a single loop go amiss, when finally it was all there  he let it slide down his forearm and into his hands. He pushed the metal bolt it was attached to into his crossbow and aimed the bolt at Agmar’s head.

“No! Please no! I beg of you – “Agmar almost got down on his knees but Dagmar heaved him back up and cut him short once more.

“DO NOT SPEAK!” He yelled at almost his greatest volume.

Agmar was definite he heard a crowd cheer this time, clapping and shouting below the window; his eyes began to water and redden. Struggling with his constraints he moved this way and that. But Dagmar had a hard grip on him - he would not let him shift.

“You do not deserve an execution such as that.” He said more quietly.

Lifting the crossbow he fired the bolt into the dusty pillar at the centre of the room, the bolt broke through the other side and its blades unravelled into a hook of sorts.

Agmar now sobbed loudly to himself, his choices had caught up with him and his regret was not of sentiment but of self preservation and survival. He tried wiggling his wrists from the rope that tied them together, but it was no good. He only wished now that he had told that ugly girl Fearis he liked her when he was a child, for maybe things wouldn’t of –

Dagmar kicked Agmar through the open window and let the metal wire run through his hands as the coward screamed, sliding through his fingers like silver water; he jumped back as it snapped straight and the screaming stopped, unsure about the integrity of the pillar. Walking over to the window he peered down the 5 floors below to see the sea of Blue Viruses all cheering as Agmar hung at the neck. One senior member threw a ball of blue paint at the body, and they all cheered doubly as their trophy was stained with their gang colours.

“This is what happens to your enemies!” Dagmar announced a war rally from his feral roots, pointing to the corpse that hung 2 floors from the ground.

“Tonight, a new power will rise! Call your allies, let it be known! The Bloodied Fist shall fall!” With this he brandished his Glaive Blade and thrust it into the air.

The crowd erupted with guttural roars and endless cheering, specks of blue running this way and that to spread the word, others heaving weapons into the slum.

[hr]

Retreating back into his lowly room, Dagmar pushed at his earpiece thrice and waited impatiently.

“Yes?” Came an official female voice.

“Dagmar for Mathias” He replied hurriedly.
 
“Connecting...”

“Dagmar! What is it man? Do you know what time it is?” Mathias was an old and hefty fellow, an aristocrat if ever there was one.

“I need your help, I’m on 57.” Dagmar had no time to chat; he walked to the elevator as he talked.

“What can I do, by the Emperor, name it!” He was always one to make things sound dramatic.

“I need firepower, or a quick way out.” He pushed the button for the ground floor and waited. Gunshots sounded out side.

“I’ll have Rewert look into a way out, I’m sending a squad to you now. They have been underground for a bit, so I don’t expect they’ll be ready for an hour or so.” Rewert was also a fat man, not out of excess, but simply trying to fit in.

“I’m at the crossroads slums. 43.53.” Dagmar informed, you never know where things are unless you make a note.

“Yes, your earpiece has a tracker installed. Rewert suggests making your way to the outposts station, there are a few passenger ships and a trader docked.” Rewert was also rather ugly the poor man, again, not because he wanted to be, just bad luck. Dagmar had always found him repulsive, anyway.

“I’ll make my way there.  I noted some underground passage ways that will make for a faster journey.” More gunshots fired outside, the elevator door opened clumsily.

“Good good. Take care of yourself, I’ll have the squad follow your tracker then shall I?” Always polite, even at the worst of times, never dropping the act.

A Blue Virus slicer was smacked against the elevator buttons as a grenade went off, Dagmar quickly stepped out before the doors shut once more, pulling out his duel wields as he did so. 

“Yes, that would be great! Out.” Dagmar shouted over to the gunners outside to pull back and fortify the door, the doormen was one of them, he gave a quick nod and pulled the other two back by their collars.

He himself made his way down into the basement, in search of the passageways he had noticed on his previous scans.