Bad Influences.

I knew the moment I agreed, it was a mistake.

'It just might be your way out', he had said to me. In theory, it sounded good, even if we failed and I ended up shackled and tossed into the stockade which, from the sounds of it was a real possibility, in the end, it STILL might get me out. And so, even as I pretended to weigh the decision over a vile mug of fermented swill, I knew I had to at least try. 'I'm more of an enforcer type' I had declared dryly, then gave him a ridiculous demonstration to prove it, something I would do again later.

I sat there a moment longer, pondering all the worst possible scenarios we might encounter on this little fiasco, when it occurred to me, he LIKES it. He likes the excitement of this hand to mouth existence. I had to admit, I did not worry where my next meal was coming from, I knew, always, that I would eat and survive, if I was free. And so, I could at least respect his choice to live as he did. Besides, he has so far, been the only kindness I have seen in this city. He did not have to help me when he found me, but he did.

This was the third time since I met the pain in the ass, that he had tried with his silver tongue and his friendly, persuasive intentions to capitalize on what he believes is an opportunity in me. At least, I think...that's what he thinks. I feel like somewhere along the line, I lost the ability to trust my own judgement. Even now, I was not completely sure this entire place was not some imprisoning dream that I had no way to wake from.

The bald man across the bar looks at me, "he has a point" he echoed, he who had only moments before taken my side, had so quickly turned on me and grinned while he did it. "I suppose he does". Did I say that out loud? Why am I even talking to these people? That is what I really want to know. Why am I not down in the dark places just waiting, out of the way causing no harm, waiting for my opportunity to flee? It was a good question.

I ask myself another, a series of many that would plague me that night. Why do I trust his word more than my own? To be honest, it's not much of a stretch to the answer to that one. I am completely out of my element, he seems to be basking in his life in this city. Such a care free, easy going, come what may spirit that leaves me feeling unsettled and yet I find it strangely appealing. I know...know to the marrow of my bones, that I am not one of those spirits. Perhaps that is why I watch him with a puzzled, perplexed scattering of thoughts. Just trying to follow what he says sometimes can leave me drained. Still, I have smiled in his company, something else I know truly, happens rarely in me.

Before I know it, I am following him out of the tavern and down the street in the pouring rain and I am sure to keep my hood up and my head low. Most likely think me male, which is fine by me, I'm as tall and easily weight as much as the average of their kind, so it is likely I would be misidentified in the dark, and where we are headed, that could come in very handy.

'I need you to talk to the guard, distract him while I pick the lock' his voice was low as we lingered around the corner. I looked at him like he was insane, for he clearly had never met me before. 'do I really strike you as a charming conversationalist?' my whispered reply was harshly insubordinate. 'think of something!' he insists through his teeth and shoves me around the corner and into full view of the City Militia posted at the gate. I stand there a moment, frozen which in of itself seems to surprise me as well, leaving me even more useless. It is the soldier's voice that snaps me out of my stupor, 'State yer business!' the command is barked and the tone clearly expects a reply.

It is enough to draw me forward, and again I keep low, stumble once, a light instability that deliberately shows and I offer the most feminine voice I can muster, 'Sir....' I offer from beneath my hooded cloak the sound weak and cracked, and almost immediately I see it in him, that sense of confidence, of letting down his guard as he realizes I am merely a woman. 'Sir...I need your help', and with that I nearly fall into the man at the gate, his spear raised and he reaches out to assist. Silly boy.

The uppercut started low, beneath the cloak as I leaned forward into my so called fall. I plant my foot into the stone street and shove my full weight upwards with my fist rocketing from my knees straight up, connecting with the underside of his chin as I reach to my full height in a jerking crack towards the sky. There is a crunch of teeth on teeth and the militia soldier topples backwards, hitting the iron barrier behind him with a clatter of armor. I have my hand around his cape and am dragging him away from the gate when my companion rounds the corner. 'you sweet talker you', he murmurs with a crooked smirk as he goes to work on the lock. I have just time enough to dump the guard behind a hedge and turn, and he is already leaning against the open gate, looking incredibly smug. 'must you dawdle?'

The rest is kind of a blur it all happened so fast. The trip through the quiet of the District was without incident, no one saw a thing and we slipped in far deeper and easier into their jealously guarded paradise than anyone in power would care to know. He stops at a house, a big house, but then they are all big up here. I look at the opulence, the waste of wealth while down in the bowels of the city, there are many who will live their whole lives without such luxuries. Many of them, will die young because of it. It makes my blood boil, as I stand there, perhaps that is why I did not hear the soldier until it was too late. My friend steps back into the revealing glow of the street lamp, just at the soldier catches sight of us.

'Hey! You do not belong here!'

'Suggestions?', Another brilliant question I posed to my co-conspirator. He grins, something about getting caught lights a fire in his eyes, and he offers an equally brilliant answer. 'Run!', And with that, he is off.

Well, I did not need to be told twice, for just as he takes his first step away from the approaching soldier, a Triad Templar steps into view from the other direction. He must have been very surprised indeed when the pair of us bowled him over as we fled more or less right OVER him. The gig was up and shouts begin to form somewhere behind us, which seemed to encourage our speed as we ran through the gilded streets. We tear full tilt down the hill we climbed to get here, and screech to a halt as we find the gate, once again occupied, as a very unimpressed city militia with an aching jaw sees the pair of them come skidding in, looking perhaps a little less tolerant of our arrival than

'Now what?!', I blurt out as I look to my companion for another brilliant spur of the moment plan. He however, offers me a shock, not the first of the evening, but alas it was far from the last as well. He tackles the soldier, head on, 'Go!! I've got this!', he bellows, even as the butt end of the spear in the soldiers hand cracks him on the back of the skull, and he crumples at the guard's feet. I did not wait around, as he fell, I fled.

I am not proud of it, but I knew I would not help him if I went with him to the stockade, so instead, I fled back through the night. The rain covering the sounds of the boots upon the stone, as I fled to the only safe place I knew. It occurs to me as I burst through the door, that I had lost my friend, put myself on a wanted list on some bureaucrats desk, and at the end of it all, I am still locked behind these damned walls.