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Rain leaked through the ceiling of the Rusty Nail, dotting the floor with regular taps. A loud cough and snort resounded through the near-empty tavern as an old man, sitting at a corner table, cleared his mucus-filled throat.
Ako sat at the bar while the barman, a young boy no older than fifteen, stared at him as he waited for Ako to give him his order. He'd obviously never seen such white skin below. The little shit probably figured Ako was one of the walking dead that had somehow snuck through the gates to water its dead throat with some piss-warm beer. The boy's eyes darted left and right, his fingers fiddling nervously.
"Jus' give me one o' those ales you got," said Ako.
The boy skittered to one of the boxes behind the bar, pulled out a bottle of ale, popped the cork and placed it on the bar. "That's... uh, five coins, sir."
Ako dug around in his belt, pulled out five coins and placed them on the bar in front of the boy. "That's for the ale." He then reached back into his belt, took out a small pouch and laid it next to the coins with a slight jingle. "That's fer ye to get the fuck out."
The boy stared in confusion. "Sir?"
"Ye'heard me. Take a walk aroun' town and then come back."
The boy slowly reached for the pouch, opened it up and peered inside. He then darted his eyes at the old man in the corner.
"Don't worry about him," said Ako. "Just take the coins an' get out."
The boy snatched up the pouch and coins and rushed out the door, not sparing a second glance back as he did.
Ako grabbed his bottle of ale, took a nice big swig and raised himself up from his barstool. He turned in place, glanced over at the old man, tilted his head once and walked on over to him.
"Mind if I join ye?" asked Ako and, before the man could answer, took a seat across from him.
"Uhm," hummed the man, "I don't see why not."
Ako raised his ale to his lips, staring at the old man over the bottle. "Yer from aroun'ere?"
"No, I actually just arrived two days ago."
"That so?"
"Quite. I'm headed to Cove once the road is deemed safe."
"Well, that coul' be a while," said Ako with a grin.
"I suppose so," said the man before breaking into a slight coughing fit.
"Ye alright?" asked Ako, as if he gave a shit.
"Yes, yes. I've merely seemed to have caught some sort of fever on the road. The nights get rather cold out there."
"Mrmm," murmured Ako. "Cold, and other things."
The man nodded before taking a sip from his wine.
"So ye' fleein' somewhere?"
"You're quite the curious type."
"Aye, I am," said Ako with a stern expression.
The man became increasingly nervous as beads of sweat started to form on his forehead. His eyes trailed off in the direction of the door before returning back to Ako. "Are you..."
"Yes," interrupted Ako.
The man's lower lip began to tremble slightly. "I can pay you more than-"
"No," interrupted Ako again.
The man's breath became more rapid with each second that passed. His eyes flashed open as he quickly raised himself from his seat, but before he could stand straight Ako had jumped up, grabbed him by the back of his head and slammed his face into the table. Ako's other hand came up from his side, knife planted in its grip, and thrust the blade into the back of the old man's throat without a moment's pause.
Black blood formed a pool on and under the table as the man's eyes stared dead into the empty tavern. Ako yanked on the dead man's head, pulled out the knife and sloppily started sawing through the throat. He tore at the head right before the blade had cut all the way throat, tearing it apart from the body with sinew and skin ripping like old leather.
Ako held the head up, facing the man's dead eyes. "Nothin' personal, Elliot Maise. A job's a job." He turned on his heels and walked toward the door, stuffing the old man's head into a bag as he did.
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