A/N: Yay, I found more WiFi! Also, Merry Christmas for anyone seeing this on the day, I hope you all had a good one! I must warn you, everything from this point in the story gets absolutely bonkers, but who reads fan fiction for the plot anyway? Enjoy! :)
When Wylan heard the bomb go off, he thought it was one of his own, which wouldn't be surprising since his bag had tipped on the ground when Edward Rithouse had tackled him. But one look at Jesper told otherwise.
For a moment everything paused as the wall erupted into flame, sending huge chunks of stone hurling towards the unlucky ground people. Jesper had stared at Wylan, asking so much with his eyes. Wylan had shook his head; it wasn't one of his. And a bomb of that size... it must have been the girl.
That was when they had seen the dark shape flying through the air like a demented crow. No, not flying; falling. Inej.
Kaz sprinted forward, leaping up and, by some miracle, catching her before she hit the ground, though they both slammed into the wall, making him cry out in pain.
The rest of the Crows surged forward as well, ready to defend their fallen friends, when Wylan heard a voice yell above the ringing in his ears.
"That's enough!" The deep and pure voice resonated across the Exchange. "Don't you all think we've given them enough trouble already?"
The Scales laughed and jeered as they parted like the sea, letting through a man who Wylan had never seen before. He was tall and skinny, the sides of his head shaved, his hair standing on edge, which made him look a lot taller than he was already. It was the eyes that made Wylan shiver; the pupils appeared to be slitted, like cats', and were a startling green that matched a snakeskin shawl he adorned on his shoulders. In fact, he seemed to be wearing multiple dead reptiles on him at once. Even his boots were covered in snakeskin instead of leather, which clacked smoothly as he walked towards the Crows.
"Well, well. It is indeed the infamous Dirtyhands. I must say, I have been waiting a very long time to meet you. My snakes say you have built up quite the reputation."
So this was the man everyone was talking about? Scales? Wylan couldn't help but feel intimidated.
"It seems you've brought along your motley crew with you as well. How fun is this?" He laughed, and it was worse than Wylan could have imagined, because it sounded so normal coming from the man's mouth. His green eyes immediately began scanning the Crows that had surrounded Kaz, as if he could see right through them.
"I must say, you put up much more of a fight than I expected, but I always come prepared for situations like these," he gestured to the large gouge in the wall.
"Yes, that was quite inconvenient." Kaz joined in, but Wylan could see his brown eyes flashing as he handed Inej to Nina. Inej rested against Nina, leg shaking, but she seemed defiant. Thank Ghezen she wasn't injured, otherwise half of the city would already be swallowed by flames.
"Well, maybe I was a little too cocky, now that my best bomber girl has gone and blown herself up." He rolled his eyes as if he had merely stepped in dog poo. "Or was she your bomber girl? I honestly can't remember!"
"I can't seem to recall her being mine, if she was working under your command." Kaz replied, clearly digging for more information about how Scales stole her in the first place.
"It seems you were quick to replace her, either way. Your other little light show was quite impressive!" His cat eyes landed on Wylan, who tried not to shrink back, but it was a struggle. How had he even known it was him that could make bombs? What if Rithouse had told Scales about him? Wylan suddenly felt a hand on his arm and nearly flung out of his skin as Jesper pulled him behind him, keeping him from eye view, Wylan realised. Scales removed his gaze and continued.
"Well, Brekker? Do you have anything to say for your lost gang members? Your blown-up bomber girl? The way I snuck my way right under your nose?"
Kaz smirked. "You will never escape my sight completely, Scales. I can smell pride from a mile away."
"Pride is what drives a man forward, Brekker. Pride is a pinnacle of the Barrel!"
"No. You are confusing pride with something else; greed. As long as greed is around, then men and women will always hunger for more, if they think they can take it. Pride is what gets a man robbed when he wears something too shiny. Pride is what gets a poet chucked in the sea for being too cocky. Pride is someone who blows up their own crew just to prove a point."
A smile slithered onto Scales's lips. "Then it seems we have both been infected, Dirtyhands." Scales pointed at his gang, who parted to reveal a bundle of wires, cogs and rods on the other side of the Exchange. Wylan's heart dropped. "See that over there? That is a bomb just like the one I set off on the wall, except with twenty times the amount of explosives as before! Since my lovely Grisha has chosen not to serve me anymore, I have no one else who knows how to turn it off. It will explode five minutes after it is activated. So, Mr Brekker-" he grinned at Kaz. "Are you proud? Will your pride make you stay and continue to fight my gang, who will shoot you as soon as you attempt to leave? Or will you try to dispose of the bomb, which will kill everyone in a mile's radius? The choice is yours. Ta-ta!"
Scales began to run. "Now Jesper!" Kaz yelled, but they weren't quick enough. The Scales gang jumped in front of him, blocking the bullets until Scales had reached the bomb. He bent down, casting one last green-eyed look at Kaz before he flicked a switch. The bomb began to tick.
Tick. Tick.
Everyone was screaming. Wylan thought he heard a maniacal laugh echoing across the Exchange, but he couldn't be sure. Both Dregs and Scales were surging towards the exits, only to be shot down by the other team. It was pure chaos dripping with fear, and the awful smell of gunpowder that he had gotten so used to in the past few weeks.
"I don't suppose this is all some elaborate plan, is it? A practice? An acting performance?" Nina asked half-heartedly.
"I don't know what types of plays you go to Nina, but I'll let you know when the safety curtain is coming down!" Jesper yelled sarcastically.
"What's your plan, demjin?" Matthias said frantically.
"Get as many members of the Dregs out as we can. We'll have to fight our way out, but eventually the Scales will run." Kaz said calmly, swooping a complaining Inej up in his arms.
Wylan had never seen a better opportunity to escape than in that moment. The path was right there, and if he kept his head down he could get through the crowd and run, as fast and as far away as he could. He could scrape together his few pennies he had saved from the tannery, and board the nearest boat to Ravka, to Novyi Zem, even the Wandering Isle, but anywhere that didn't smell of grime and gunpowder. He could still have a life; a life without the fear of his father, his friends turning on him, death.
He was about to make a break for it when Wylan cast a long look back at the other Crows. Nina was motioning with her hands, swiping down men like playing cards, but they were piling up. Matthias was right by her side. Kaz still held Inej in his arms, and Jesper appeared to be running out of bullets.
How could he ever think of abandoning these people? They had taken him in, given him a chance to be useful, to feel accepted even if they did it in the least obvious way possible. They may not care for him, but he cared for them, Wylan realised. Even through Matthias's frosty gaze, Nina's nosy questions, Inej's silent wisdom, Jesper's flirty taunts and Kaz's harsh words, Wylan couldn't help but like this band of criminals and convicts. And he would gladly go to his grave defending them.
"Wylan, are you even listening? Get moving, you're putting everyone behi-"
"I can diffuse it!" Wylan said suddenly. All eyes turned to him. "I can do it."
Jesper shook his head vehemently. "No way, merchling. I admire your narcissism, but this is a Grisha bomb we're talking about. It's not worth the risk. We can get everyone out in time!"
"No you can't! Kaz, let me do this! If all else fails, you'll all be far enough away that you should be safe." He said determidly, feeling much braver than he should have in this situation.
Jesper whispered something beneath his breath. Kaz looked at Wylan. "You really think you can do it?"
Wylan nodded. Kaz stared at him with something he had never seen before. Was it... trust?
"Jesper, Nina, get him through the crowd then leave through the two side exits. We'll lead the Scales out of the Exchange. Wylan-" he turned to him, his face a mask of seriousness. "I don't care what happens. Get out as fast as you can. Or I'll have Matthias come and pummel you with a stick. Are we clear?"
"Yes, Kaz." Wylan whispered, knowing very well that he probably wouldn't get a chance to get pummelled with a stick.
"No mourners,"
"No funerals." The rest replied, not including Wylan, who was very confused about the catch-phrase.
They all took off, and Wylan ran ahead, dodging bullets and people knocked down by Nina and Jesper. A path was slowly clearing to the bomb, which no one had bothered to defend since they didn't think there could ever be a better demo man than the Grisha. Well, they hadn't met Wylan yet.
Nina stepped forward, patting Wylan on the shoulder. "When this is all over, I'll buy you waffles." She whispered, her eyes glistening. Wylan didn't say anything.
They pulled apart and she ran, leaving Wylan to stare at the bomb in question. It was a huge mass of wires and rods, with connecting branches that seemed to form a spider web around the main explosives, which were contained in a shiny box coated in flammable liquid. Wylan bent down next to it, fumbling in his bag for his bomb kit.
"So, what are we doing?' Jesper said casually as he bounded down next to him, as if he were merely asking what ice cream flavour he wanted.
Wylan stared at him incredulously. "Go away, Jesper! You can't be here!"
"Since when did you become in charge?"
"Since you started acting like an idiot!" Wylan said angrily; distractions wouldn't help defuse the bomb. "You can't help me with this."
Jesper spoke hesitantly next. "I can, actually. I'm..."
"JESPER!"
"No, Wylan, you don't understand, I'm a-"
"Go, Jes! GO! I'm not having you killed because of me!" Wylan yelled. Jesper looked like a wounded puppy, and refused to move until Wylan cast him one long withering glare. Finally, he left.
Wylan took a deep breath; now he could concentrate. The bomb was a complex, complicated jumble of the very latest tech, some parts of which Wylan didn't even recognise. How many minutes had passed already? One? Five? Wylan prayed the other Crows were long gone, especially Jesper. The Exchange was practically empty now, the only sounds audible were the far-off ones of bullets and the too-close sound of the bomb ticking.
Tick. Tick.
The first thing he needed to do; get past the outer shell. Carefully, using a small scalpel, Wylan fiddled at the edge joints and screws of the casing, ignoring the beads of sweat forming on his head. There! He had broken through. Now all he needed to do was-
Wylan screamed as pain coursed through his hands and arms. A vial of acid had been released when he opened the casing, he realised, as he stared at the yellowish liquid forming around the bomb. Great. Now the deadliest bomb he'd ever worked with was also booby-trapped. Could things get any worse? Wylan stole a glance at his hands, and felt sick. They were already starting to blister up, gnawing away at his soft skin. Wow. Things really could get worse.
Gritting his teeth, Wylan turned back to the bomb, refusing to be defeated because of a low pain tolerance. Now that he had gotten through the coating he should be able to find the coils connecting the diffuse to the lighter, and be able to shut it off.
Tick. Tick.
There it was! The main part of the bomb was less complex then it should have been. Clearly whoever had made it never expected anyone to get this far. Or maybe they wanted to make it easy. Wylan began to snip at the wires, the acid creating a dull throb pulling through his fingers every time he moved them. The wires were difficult to cut through, but he was making progress. Achingly slow progress, but progress all the same.
Tick. Tick.
Finally, the last wire. It was green and thick, like a snake, Wylan realised. How appropriate. It was so thick, his cutters were not nearly strong enough. Now Wylan was beginning to panic. Time was moving too quickly for him to keep up. There were so many people relying on him to do this... he was letting them down, as he always did. Desperately he hacked at the wire, ignoring an awful shiver crawling up his back. He was being watched.
Tick. Tick.
A hand yanked Wylan back, sending his cutters flying and Wylan falling onto the ground. Hot, sticky acid bled through his shirt, and he cried out as he felt his skin curl and burn. A man loomed over him, a sickening smile plastered on his blood-covered lips. Edward Rithouse.
Tick. Tick.
Wylan dived for the cutters, but Rithouse was quicker. He kicked them away, sending them halfway across the Exchange. Wylan crawled towards the bomb, but Rithouse grabbed his hair, dragging his acid-soaked back across the cobbles. Wylan wailed, his bravery turning back into a child-like fear. He had done this before, been dragged like this before. Where was it? His mother. He wanted his mother. But she was dead, and had left him to his father's mercy, which was non-existent. He wanted Wylan dead. And Wylan was too weak to stop him.
Tick. Tick. No. No.
No. Wylan wasn't weak anymore. He was a Crow now, no matter who did or didn't believe it. And he would not die at the hands of an idiot, in an abandoned courtyard with no one ever to care that his body would be blown to bits. He would be remembered in this world, if not for stopping a bomb about to kill hundreds. He just needed to do it.
Tick. Tick.
Rithouse had Wylan's head locked to his chest, and was fiddling in his pocket for the knife. He was still bleeding, Wylan realised. Good. He didn't hesitate as he drove his fist into the man's shoulder, listening to him howl in pain as Wylan felt hot blood drip down his arm. He broke the headlock, twisting out of it until he was free. He dove for the bomb again, but not before he felt a fiery pain course down his back in one straight line. The knife had got him.
Tick. Tick.
Wylan made it to the bomb in seconds. He took the wire, imagining so many things as he stared at it. It would not control him anymore. Wylan ripped it in two with his bare hands.
Tick. Yes. Wylan relaxed. Rithouse did not.
Immediately his leg was pulled out beneath him, and he was on his back, dirt-covered and fresh with scars and cuts, but he felt no pain anymore. Not as Rithouse's mouth curled. Not as he raised the knife above his head for the second time that night. And not as he realised he was going to die either way.
Please remember me.
The knife never landed. Rithouse froze as blood splattered from his head. He teetered, then fell on Wylan, who could do nothing but narrowly avoid the knife from burying in his shoulder. For a moment he just lay there, in pure shock. If Saints existed, then he must be one of their favourites. Or one of their least favourites, depending on how he looked at it.
"Wylan?" A shaky voice asked. Wylan could have sobbed in relief.
"Jesper!" He shoved Rithouse off of him, trying to ignore the hole planted in the back of his head. The tall sharpshooter stood above him, alive and well, if his smile said anything. Wylan couldn't help but stare at him in disbelief. "You... you came back for me?"
"Well, what can I say? Kaz Brekker isn't the only one that protects his investments." He smirked and held out a calloused hand, pulling him to his feet.
"Right, right, you've been taught by the best,"
"That I have." Jesper was staring at Wylan again. "You did it, merchling. You really are something, aren't you? One big bundle of surprises!"
"Yes. Well done, Jes." Wylan said softly.
"What are you congratulating me for?"
"I don't know." Wylan replied weakly, trying and failing to ignore the spike of pain protruding his skull.
Jesper studied him again, a worried look growing on his face. "You alright, merchling? You look a bit peaky."
But Wylan didn't have time to reply. He was already falling, a wave of nausea coming from nowhere, black spots appearing on his vision. "No... Jes? Jesper-" he stumbled forward, reaching out for the sharpshooter. He never made it.
"Wylan!" Wylan felt strong hands catch him and lower him gently to the floor, but he had already sunken away. He's safe. You've done something good in your life. Now you can finally rest.
"Come on, merchling, don't do this to me now; we're so close! You did it, remember? Wylan? Wylan! We still need you, Wy. I need you."