The easy breeze caressed Arkaneh's long, blonde hair through the open car window as he sat in the driver's seat of the van with which he had just drove about a dozen Men of Midas to a construction site in the rural scenery of Swillstorm, Northstock. “Where are we going?” the men asked Arkaneh throughout the whole ride there. “What's our job here?” they begged to know, and yet Arkaneh spoke nothing to them, leaving them in the dark up until the moment of their arrival at the site. The men stood at the site, dressed in Elastics, waiting for the White Knights to show up.
Meanwhile, Arkaneh enjoyed the clean air and silence of the rural scenery for a change. He felt as if every room and space inside the factory outpost in Ravenwey Burrows was filled with racket and fights over dumb things, and the awful smell of booze and cigarettes. Barbarians. All of them. No matter where you go, or who you're affiliated with, whether you’re a Man of Midas or a biker of Harley Nation, they're all fools. Lowlife scum who consider shooting a man down and stealing his money their greatest achievement in life. Escort girls from the Godly Succubi roamed the halls of the factory, pleasing and teasing whatever man they came across.
You can thank good old Griffiths for that pleasure. That man sure loves his women. He's the one who brought those girls here, buying the loyalty of his men with cheap, easy filth.
Men like Griffiths repulsed Arkaneh. It seemed that every time he looked at the lieutenant he would find his face either buried in a line of Vex or between a girl's breasts. One of the reasons he found himself so disgusted by the degrading acts of the escort girls was because it would remind him of his ex-girlfriend, Elina. Whenever he saw one of those damn brutes running his hand all over an escort girl's body, he would be reminded of how the men who took them on that fateful night touched her. Whenever he would see one of them forcing a girl to do something against her will, he would be reminded of how Elina had begged those men to stop.
Arkaneh looked at the cloudy afternoon sky, wondering if she was up there, watching him. He wondered if she would understand the reasons behind his actions, the reason why he joined Men of Midas and what he was planning to do. His face showed no emotion, for he wouldn’t allow himself to show weakness, even though he was all alone in that van.
It was a cold, rainy night when it happened. Arkaneh was walking Elina home after the two caught a late movie. The two were drenched from the heavy rain, walking through the streets of the city of Ussermis. Elina leaned her head on Arkaneh's shoulder, running her fingers through his soaked hair. She loved his hair. He had never changed his haircut since, for that reason.
Arkaneh was only 22 back then, yet he felt like he had everything he wanted at his side. Even after being with her for almost 3 years at the time, his heartbeat would always accelerate whenever he looked at her, as if he would fall in love with her each time, all over again. All he wanted was the love and warmth she provided him, the sense of safety and joy, but there could be none of that in Alataria.
On that dreadful night, forever engraved in his memory, they came out of a dark alley. He could have sworn they weren’t there a minute ago. It was as if they appeared out of thin air. There were 4 of them. They grabbed the two before they could do anything about it. They beat Arkaneh until he was in no condition to fight or do anything to jeopardize them.
His face was swollen, dark bruises decorating it, and bloody gashes appeared everywhere. Then they started beating her as well, although going softer on her, so that her face would still be pretty. He would never forget her screams. He always wished that he could, yet no part of those haunting scars of memory would ever fade from his mind.
She cried for mercy as one of them pulled down her pants and raped her, right in front of Arkaneh. Even after the beating he received, at that point it didn’t feel half as painful as watching the love of his life getting abused like that. He begged them to stop, promising to give them any amount of money they ask for, but they simply laughed and kept on watching poor Elina as she suffered. In between begging for help and letting off screams of pain, she called Arkaneh's name. The way she said it, crying for her loved one to save her… yet Arkaneh was helpless, as much as he was willing to do everything to help her.
Once the deed was done, they beat the two once more, eventually leaving them to rot on the street, hoping that they would die of their wounds. However, only one of them would answer their wish, and it was Elina. The doctors said she hadn’t been alive when they were brought to the hospital.
If you truly are out there, my dear Elina, I hope you're not disgusted by what I am today. I know that you would never picture me as a criminal and a killer, but know that there is a great purpose behind all of this, and when the time comes, I hope you can see that and forgive me for these sins.
He relished the cold breeze a minute longer before coming to a decision. It's been almost an hour now. The Justicars aren’t coming.
That can only mean one thing… Griffiths is not the rat.
Arkaneh called the men back into the van. They seemed restless and agitated, having been forced to wait for no one for so long. Once they were all back in the vehicle, Arkaneh drove back to Ravenwey Burrows.
Once he made it back to the factory, he walked in along with the other men. Through the clear windows, Arkaneh could see Griffiths sitting in his office at the top of the staircase. He climbed the squeaky, rusty stairs and entered the lieutenant's office.
Griffiths was just opening his half-empty bottle of scotch.
He noticed Arkaneh just as he took a sip of it straight from the bottle. He looked at the tenderfoot long and hard, burning him with his gaze. Arkaneh already knew why he seemed angry.
"I didn’t get any reports about a shootout in Swillstorm,"
he told Arkaneh. "Do NOT tell that you were gone for this long, only to—"
"There was never any gun trade," Arkaneh interrupted him, unable to listen to any more of his ongoing ramblings.
Griffiths's eyes widened.
"W-What do you mean—?"
"There was never any gun trade," he said it once again. "I made the whole thing up." Within three seconds, Griffiths put down his bottle of booze and paced toward Arkaneh, grabbing his shirt and slamming him against the wall.
"Are you fucking retarded?! Does this look like a joke to you?!"
"I was trying to—"
"I don’t want to hear a fucking word out of you!"
Arkaneh maintained his composure, despite a strong desire to punch the OldGen. "Listen to me—"
"If you think I'm going to let a fucking TENDERFOOT
make a fool out of me—!"
"You're not listening—"
"I'm going to make you suffer like—" Arkaneh twisted Griffiths's hand and shoved him away, making the old man shriek in pain and placed far from him, as he wanted.
"I had to do it," Arkaneh explained himself. "We have a rat in our troops."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"Every time we took some kind of action recently, the Justicars were there. They KNEW where and when we would be every time! The only explanation for that is that there's someone in Men of Midas leaking information to them."
"What does this have to do with the fake gun trade?"
"Whoever the rat is, he knows about our actions almost every time, but not ALL of our people know about our activities every single time… unless they're a lieutenant,"
Griffiths's eyes turned red once more. "In which case, they would know of every action, since they need to sanction it."
"So you think either me or Talimay are helping the Justicars?" his face looked repulsed with the notion.
"Talimay's brother, Heycliff, died during that store robbery where the Justicars showed up. If it had been Talimay leaking information directly, she wouldn’t have risked her brother's life and rat out about it, and if it had been indirectly, the Justicars wouldn't risk killing him and sending their own rat into a mourning period where she's useless to them, so she can't be it." "Which leaves me."
"Which leaves you. I had to check that possibility. That’s why I told only you about a fake stakeout for that gun trade. If you'd been the leak, no matter how, the Justicars would know about it and we would have been attacked by them." Griffiths's eyes narrowed. "Of course, there's also the possibility that one of the other men here is the rat, but there was a higher chance that it would have been you, so I checked you out first. I made sure not to tell any of the men that I took with me where we were heading. That way, whether or not an ambush would take place, it would’ve determined your innocence or lack of."
"I don’t believe this…" Griffiths mumbled to himself.
"Think about it. In case one of THEM was the rat, then even if an ambush would've taken place, it wouldn’t tell me who the rat is. But since nothing happened that means you're not the rat." Once more Arkaneh found himself slammed against the wall within seconds.
"So you risked the lives of your brothers just to check a possibility?!" Griffiths grunted in Arkaneh's ear. His breath was hot and heavy, and had the acute aroma of scotch.
"The rat is responsible for the deaths of many of our brothers, and he can potentially cause a lot more!"
"Who the fuck do you think you are?! You're just a tenderfoot!"
"Does it really matter what I am? You have a very dangerous man in your ranks. As a lieutenant you have to do something about it."
"Who's to say we really DO have a rat?"
"How else do you explain the Justicars showing up every time we do something?"
Griffiths ground his teeth and clenched his lips. His eyes still burned red, and his grip was still tight on Arkaneh's shirt.
Griffiths stared straight into his eyes, eventually calming down, realizing the reality that Arkaneh spoke of.
"Reus would go crazy if he heard about this," said Griffiths as he let go of Arkaneh's shirt, burying his face in his hands.
"Reus doesn’t have to know about this yet. Let's try to focus on flushing our guy out before running off to tell Reus."
"Do you have any idea on how we do that?"
"I do, actually, and I'm going to need your help with it."