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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Rolzup" data-source="post: 2874579" data-attributes="member: 10105">The Evil that Men DoThank you, Durrin, thank you.  Very dry in here today, innit?Well, as it turns out, the Archer had gone to buy a hat from ol' Don Magic Wand, owner of "The Chapel".  Never knew he was a haberdasher, but the Right Reverend is obviously a man of many talents.And that, my friends?  That was the problem.  While the Archer was there, waiting for the Reverend, a woman came in.  She had a child in tow, a girl of no more than twelve summers.  And how was that child dressed?  No better than common streetwalker, and with tears running down her face besides.That girl went in to see the Reverend, and would he tell the Archer why?  No sir, he would not.  But it was clear as the nose on your face what was going on, and Joachim and I?  We were mad, friends, madder than hell.But did the Archer care?  Not so far as we could see.  Or the Fancy Man?  Oh, he was glad to see his new hat, but he didn't give a damn about how this poor girl was sufferin'.  Just kept eatin' his brunch, and sippin' his tea, and never turned a hair.Joachim and meself, though, we weren't going to stand for that kind of thing.  Not a bit of it.  Off we went to the Chapel, ready to raise hell, with the Crazy Bastards and the Professor taggin' along behind.I was ready to crack ol' Magic Wand's skull, but the Bloody Archer held me back.  Wanted to talk, if you can credit it.  Wanted to hear his side of the story.  Now, that sort of thing don't sit right with me...but I didn't want to cross one of the Crazy Bastards.And then what do you think?  The Pretty Man sat himself down, back to the room, and didn't say a word.  Too good to associate with the likes of us, right?  The Right Reverend told us a tale, he did, about poor little Calliope and the life she was forced to lead.  She was an orphan, and the legal property of a fancy house called  the Maison Chatons.  Place caters to folk who like that sort of thing, may they all burn in hell.He healed her wounds, he told us, and took away the memories of what kept happening to her.  He wanted to do more, but he didn't dare cross the owner of the Maison: a mister Jack Fancy.Now, we all know that the Crazy Bastards have a history with the Room Rouge Players, don't we?  I thought that they must have killed Jack Fancy along with the rest of 'em, but no sir.  And were they happy about that?Not at all, me friends.  Not at all.  The Pretty Man stood up, and turned around.  Frowned a little, and that was the closest thing to emotion that I ever did see him show.  It wasn't natural, that frown.  Sent a chill down my spine to see it."We will deal with the situation," he says.  And you could see how bad he wanted to draw that sword of his, right then and there, and feed it another soul.Well, of course it eats souls!  Stands to reason, dunnit?They started to makin' plans, right off.  Crazy plans, like bustin' the door in and takin' the girl.  Law wouldn't like that, though, 'cause Fancy'd paid all the proper bribes.I nodded and smiled; "Don't argue with a crazy man," my dear old mother used to say, and that's some damned good advice.  When we took a look at the Maison, though, even Pretty Man knew that it wouldn't work.  Like a fortress, it was.Didn't stop 'im from bangin' on the door, demandin' entrance.  Someone opened a little slot in the door, told 'im that the Maison was a private club, and besides they weren't open for business so early in the day.And he nods, all proper and polite, and walks away.  As I'm standin' there, me blood boilin'.Don't try to understand, lad.  Ye can't.  Gods know, I've tried.But I've got contacts, if ye know what I mean.  Took a bit of doin', but I found out a few things about Jack Fancy.  Most of it, you don't want to hear.  Put you off your lunch, and no mistake.  Some of it, though...some of it was pretty damned useful.There's this place near the docks, see....</blockquote>

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