...Not again. Not this stench. Every time I breathe it in... It feels as though my very lungs are rotting... The stench of blood. 

Far below the streets of New Delsta, the sewers spread out in a vast expanse of rot and misery. The caves were crowded and disgusting, each drip of water enough to make someone flinch. However, there was no time for such wincing right now. All there was time for was an escape, and that meant continuing to move for as long as possible. 

Two men were rushing through the sewers. One of them had brown hair that flew every which way even on a good day, but tonight, it was especially messy. The other had managed to pull ahead of him in terms of speed, his pale blonde hair falling on either side of his face. Sweat wetted the man's forehead, making a few threads of his hair stick to his head. The man paused when he realized he no longer heard footsteps moving at the same pace behind him, and he turned to look over his shoulder in a red-faced panic. "Hurry up, Throné! They're coming!"

Throné Anguis moved carefully through the sewers as she pursued the brown-haired Scaracci and the blonde-haired Pirro. They were capable of moving much faster than her, and they were eager to get away from their pursuers. Throné, however, had to be careful with each step she took. She had a third man hanging off her, and Donnie had one of his arms wrapped around her shoulder as she forced them both to keep moving. His feet tried to imitate her steps, but he could only muster so much strength. 

Donnie's other hand was pressed against his abdomen where a deep stab wound resided. He had been struck by a dagger a few minutes prior, and since then, he had been trying and failing to stop his body from losing too much blood. Donnie's skin was normally a healthy tan color, but right now, it was pale from a blend of panic and weakness. "Dammit... The bleeding won't stop..." Donnie snarled, trying to will his fingers to press deeper against his wound and keep his life held inside of him where it belonged. 

Throné couldn't bring herself to look down at the wound. The smell was overpowering, consuming her vision enough to make it go dark at the corners. She was normally great at handling situations of pressure, but that all flew out of her mind the instant she caught a whiff of blood. It was simply too much for her to bear, and she had to fight to keep her body from acting on its own to take her as far away from the smell of iron and misery as possible. "Don't waste your breath. Keep running!" Throné instructed of Donnie, still not looking directly at him. She could feel him nod against her body though, and that was enough for her. 

Up ahead, Pirro and Scaracci finally found what they had been looking for: a way out. There was a wooden door pressed against the back wall of the sewers, and it would be their salvation. Scaracci couldn't hold back his relief as he let out a crazed laugh of joy. "We made it! We should be able to get up top through here!" Scaracci rushed over the door and started trying to open it. 

Pirro, meanwhile, stepped to the side as Throné arrived with Donnie still hanging off her. Donnie's head had fallen by his chest by now, and his fingers were losing their grip around his wound. Pirro stared at Throné and Donnie for a long moment, something like regret rising in his eyes. He didn't look at the pair for long though, instead directing his attention over to Scaracci and the door. 

No matter how much Scaracci pulled or pushed, the door remained stubbornly closed. Pirro took a step after Scaracci. "What's the matter, Scaracci?" he asked, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder at the direction they had come from. He knew he wouldn't find anything good back there, and yet, he couldn't seem to stop himself from wanting to know how soon their enemies would arrive upon them. 

"It won't open... The damn thing won't open!" Scaracci replied. By now, he had resorted to beating his fists against the wooden door, aiming for the parts that had not been reinforced by pitch black steel to keep from damaging his hands. 

Throné heard the sound of squelching in the distance, and she knew what it had to be immediately. Seconds later, she heard footfall approaching her, getting louder with each passing second. Pirro had figured out what the noise indicated as well, and he bit back an angry growl. "The rats finally caught up to us..." Pirro murmured. 

Scaracci hit his fists against the door one last time. "Damn it all!"

Throné stepped a bit farther up the path before she eased Donnie off her shoulders. When she set him down, she handed him the item that had caused all of this in the first place: a staff the same color as the blood flowing from his injury. It had been secured to her back previously, but Throné didn't want it to hold her back in the fight she knew was about to break out. "You catch your breath, Donnie," Throné instructed. 

Donnie let out a quiet groan as he touched the ground. "Sorry, Throné..." he murmured, the syllables slurring together gracelessly. Throné knew what that meant for him, but she didn't let herself acknowledge it. She couldn't think about it when there was still filth that needed to be cleaned... Filth that was steadily approaching her. 

Sure enough, when Throné looked up after setting Donnie on the ground, two men dressed in black had appeared before her. She could feel their glares without needing to properly see their eyes. Throné reached for her dagger where it rested in a sheath on her upper thigh, and she yanked it out in an instant. The blade gleamed in the limited lighting of the sewers, promising death and despair to all those who tempted her in the firelight. "Now then, it's time we welcomed our guests," Throné murmured. Pirro and Scaracci prepared their own weapons--a knife and an axe respectively--before rushing in after her. 

Throné targeted the first of the two men with swift brutality, slashing at his side ruthlessly. She had taught herself years ago to breathe through her mouth in moments like this so that she didn't smell too much blood and lose her grip on reality because of it. The man's wound bled freely, but Throné didn't let herself look at it. Instead, she cast a quick spell of dark magic that she knew would bring the man to his knees without her needing to offer him a second glance. 

Sure enough, the shadows swarmed around the man's feet, exploding with enough force to nearly knock him to the ground. That was the only cue Scaracci needed to rush forward and finish the job, burying his axe in the man's chest. The pursuer mustered one last groan before his body gave out on him, and he died with his eyes staring emptily up at the ceiling overhead. 

Pirro avoided a swipe from the second of the men before following up with one of his own. He managed to open a slice across his target's arm, creating yet another source of blood in the darkness of the sewers. Throné turned to face the man, narrowing in on his face instead of letting herself stare at his injury. She kicked herself off the ground all at once, her dagger leading her toward the man with a brutality unlike any other. She aimed for his chest, her mind already showing her the imagery of what would happen when she struck true. 

Throné knew that her knife came to find a home in the man's chest, but she didn't let herself look directly at the wound. Others would call it a sign of weakness, but Throné couldn't care what others would say right now. Instead, she planted one foot in the stomach of the dead man on the edge of her dagger, using a kick to dislodge her dagger and send the body crashing to the ground. She was breathing heavily, though it had nothing to do with the exertion of the battle. Her chest was burning instead because she was trying to once again breathe in through her mouth instead of her nose. The stench would cloud her vision if she gave it the chance, and so, she turned to every strategy she could to avoid it. 

Throné rose to her full height a moment later, sliding her dagger back into its sheath at her hip. Nearby, Scaracci returned his axe to its home on his back and turned his head to the side. He spat at the ground, and the wet noise echoed throughout the cramped sewers. "What a waste of time," Scaracci muttered crossly. 

Pirro approached the door at the back of the immediate area. A small torch was stationed at the top of it, casting the door in bright red firelight. "Why is this door locked...?"

Scaracci snarled and turned to face Donnie where the dark-haired man was still slouched on the ground. "Get up, Donnie! It's time for you to work your magic on that lock!"

However, Donnie did not move. Throné felt her heart go stiff in her chest, but she forced herself to step toward Donnie anyway. "Donnie..." Before the battle began, she had an awful feeling that this was how it was going to end. Even so, nothing could have prepared her for when she crouched beside him and found that his skin was steadily losing its warmth. Throné felt for a pulse, her fingers shaky as she forgot to breathe through her mouth and was assaulted by the bitter stench of crimson. 

Scaracci stepped toward Throné, the color draining from his face in an instant. "No, no, no...! Don't tell me he's dead!"

Throné did not respond to Scaracci's words, but they all knew what her answer was going to be. Donnie was gone, and he had breathed his last while the three of them were distracted with their pursuers. Throné had seen more death than she could ever hope to express in words, but it always struck her differently when she was faced with a friend perishing just steps away from her. She had known this was coming, but grief took hold of her anyway, threatening to tear her apart. 

Pirro pulled a cigar from his jacket pocket, and he struck a match to light it. It was no time for him to smoke since they could have been chased and fought at any moment, but it was all Pirro could think to do. It was all that would alleviate his stress in such an agonizing moment. "This job is a nightmare," Pirro muttered, taking a quick drag of the cigar and exhaling the smoke through pursed lips. 

Scaracci's reaction was far louder, and he stomped one foot into a puddle that split the difference in the distance between Donnie's corpse and the door. "Dammit! What the hell is goin' on...?!"

Throné's response was a quick one, and yet, it was an answer she did not want to give under any situation. "Someone set us up." All of this had been planned just a bit too perfectly, and Throné could see a plan when it was put in motion. She didn't know why it had been set up that way or who would have wanted to do it, and yet, she was certain of what had happened for all of them to fall so far. 

"Our plan was perfect," Pirro said even though it was very clearly wrong. If their plan had been perfect, then Donnie would not have died. If their plan had been perfect, then they would not have been chased into the sewers in the first place. Pirro punctuated his thought with another drag of his cigar before he continued to talk. "We slipped into the Diamante estate and got what we came for. There was no way they could have known to have all those guards outside... Unless someone squealed."

"And only a few of us knew the plan," Throné finished for him. Scaracci turned to look at her slowly, his face now lacking all color. "Which means... There's likely a traitor among us."

"You can't be serious," Scaracci murmured incredulously even though he had no choice but to believe what he was hearing. "Who'd sell us out like that?!"

Throné wanted to know the answer to that question more than anything. She wanted to understand why all of this had fallen apart so completely. She wanted to know why Donnie had to die... But she had no time now. None of them did. Throné could hear footfall in the distance, and she recognized the squishing of boots through water as proof that they had not eliminated all of their pursuers just yet. "We can figure that out later." 

"She's right. We have to get out of here first," Pirro agreed. He cast one last glance at the locked door before he started down the path leading deeper into the sewers. "C'mon. There are other ways out of this place."

Throné nodded, glancing over her shoulder at Scaracci. "Let's go." Scaracci turned his head to the side and spat once again, the noise fading into the distance as the sound of footfall grew louder and louder. 

When Throné passed by Donnie, she reached down and picked up the strange red staff that had started all of this. It was what she had been told to steal alongside Pirro, Scaracci, and Donnie. It had been kept in the Diamante estate in another part of the city, and Throné and the rest of her group had been tasked with breaking into the manor, grabbing the staff, and getting out of there. Throné and the rest of her team were great at what they did, and they wouldn't be defeated unless someone was deliberately trying to sabotage them... And that was certainly what seemed to be the case. The fact that Donnie was dead on the floor now felt like proof as perfect as any. 

Throné felt guilty about having to leave Donnie behind, but she knew they could not afford to haul a corpse with them during their escape. If they ran into any other enemies, then they would be decimated before they had the chance to fight back. Throné hated the idea of leaving Donnie's body there in the sewers, but she had no other choice. She hoped that he would forgive her for her brutality as she secured the staff on her back once again. In a perfect world, she would be able to come back one day and give him a proper burial... It was just a shame the world was rarely ever perfect. 

Throné, Pirro, and Scaracci were silent from adrenaline and grief as they pushed through the next part of the sewers. Throné caught a glimpse of a door up ahead, and she stopped in between two stacks of boxes, holding up a hand to make sure her companions did the same. "Wait."

Throné looked ahead, and she saw the exit to the sewers. The door was sectioned off from the rest of the sewers by a large padlock, and a guard was stationed in front of the bars. It looked like a prison cell, proving to Throné that she, Pirro, and Scaracci were trapped there. It had always been their enemy's plan, it seemed, and the thought made her heart skip a beat. 

Scaracci was even more shocked than Throné, and he barely managed to restrain a yell when he next spoke. "What the hell?! What's another one of those rats doin' here?!"

Pirro finally managed to finish off his cigar, and he extinguished it by letting it fall from between his fingers into the murky water around his shoes. "They must have known we'd come this way." He glanced up at Throné. "What do we do now?"

"Wait here. I'll handle this." Throné pulled out her dagger, shifting her grip on it so that the hilt was ready to be used as a blunt weapon. "I'm going to give our friend a little surprise..." Pirro and Scaracci's faces lit up in recognition, but Throné didn't wait to see what they had to say on the matter. Instead, she turned to look at the guard. He was surveying the area by looking back and forth, and if Throné moved out from behind the crates she was using to hide, she would be spotted immediately. The guard would raise the alarm the instant he realized he was not alone, and even more of his band of brigands would surround Throné, Pirro, and Scaracci. 

So she would have to try a different approach. Luckily for her, the other end of the hall was a dead end, so the man wasn't bothering with looking down it as much. If Throné could find a way to get to the other side of the sewer's corridor, then she would be able to sneak up behind the man, strike him in the back of the neck, and knock him unconscious in the blink of an eye. Throné wasn't entirely sure how she was going to do that, but she was certain there was a path that would let her get away with it. 

And sure enough, there was. Throné caught a glimpse of a ladder leading to an upper path nearby, and she slid her dagger back into its sheath. She began to climb up, her long skirt swaying with each step she took onto a higher rung. Once at the top, Throné looked down at the guard from above. He wasn't looking down the dead end, and he hadn't heard her clamber up the ladder either. The Diamante guards were getting overly confident in thinking they knew exactly where Throné, Pirro, and Scaracci were going to be, and they were about to pay for it dearly. 

The platform higher up in the sewers was thin, and Throné pressed one hand against the wall to make sure she didn't slip and fall. The good news was that the ground was dry since it was so high above water level, so Throné didn't have to worry about accidentally stepping in a puddle and alerting the guard as to her presence. She made it across the top platform easily, finding another ladder at the other end of the corridor. Throné took a grounding breath before she started down it, taking as much care as she could to not make any noise. The guard hadn't looked over in her direction yet, and the last thing she wanted was to mess up her plan right when she was about to put it into motion. 

The guard was staring at the space in between the crates where Pirro and Scaracci were hiding, just waiting to see any burst of activity through the wood to indicate that he was not alone. However, it was not destined to come. Throné, now on the ground, began to creep toward him, stepping gingerly and avoiding every puddle she thought could have been a threat to her assault. She pulled her dagger out if its sheath, and as soon as she was close enough to her target, she brought the hilt down in one fluid motion. 

Throné had been taught years ago how to best incapacitate people, and it was painless for her this time just as it had been before. Her strike was accurate enough to send the man crumbling to the ground, his duties forgotten in favor of unconsciousness. Throné looked down at the fallen guard for a long moment, letting out a slow breath. She was glad she had been able to do that without spilling any blood. It was a miracle she had managed to keep her head this cool after being exposed to so much of it, and the last thing Throné wanted to do right now was test her luck. 

She couldn't say as much to anyone else though. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, Throné was a perfect assassin, and she wasn't eager to let them think otherwise. After all, if they realized she had a weakness, then they would want to exploit it and tear her apart. Throné knew how cutthroat her life could be, and she wasn't going to let anyone take her breath away from her without a fight. That meant hiding as much of her true nature as possible. If the world requested a ruthless assassin, then they would get a ruthless assassin regardless of if Throné was certain that was the best course of action for herself. 

Pirro and Scaracci emerged from behind the crates, darting over to stand beside Throné. "Nice work!" Scaracci praised, offering a kick at the lookout's fallen body just for good measure. 

"Your skills are second to none. No wonder you're the best in the nest," Pirro smiled, though there was something else dark about his gaze. Throné didn't need to ask to know what was bothering him; praise never came easily in their line of work, and Pirro was always careful with what he said. They all had to be if they wanted to be able to live to see another day. 

Scaracci crouched down over the lookout with a grin and a shake of his head. "He's fast asleep. Didn't even see it comin'," he commented. He curled his fingers around the keys fastened to the guard's waist, pulling them free and then looking back to the locked door behind him. Once Scaracci had the keyring in his hand, he turned to Throné with a deep bloodlust in his eyes. "Finish 'im, Throné."

The stench of blood intruded upon Throné's senses once more even though there was no source for it in sight. She shook her head, willing her body to listen to logic and understand that she was as safe as she could have been. "No. I'm in no mood for meaningless bloodshed." Throné didn't say that she was never truly in the mood for it. She doubted Scaracci would ever let her forget it. He would gladly boast to everyone he met that he knew a weakness of Throné, one of the greatest assassins of their time. Pirro, on the other hand, would shake his head dismissively and not understand why Throné held such a deep vulnerability when their line of work did not allow for it. Throné didn't want to see either reaction, and so, she forced herself to push the rotten smell of blood as far from her mind as possible. 

Pirro said nothing, but Scaracci let out a scoff. "What's your backup plan then? Cheese? Because you're gonna need something to keep him busy when he comes chasin' us down this tunnel!"

Throné remained silent, unable to come up with a response because she knew he had a point. Their survival was hardly guaranteed unless they could secure some kind of distraction to keep the man off their backs... But Throné still did not move to take the man's life. Her dagger simply refused to drift in the direction of the fallen man, and she would not have wanted to follow it even if it had yearned to spill his blood. Pirro seemed to notice this, and he let out a frustrated sigh. "That's enough, Scaracci. We have to go." 

Scarcci twisted his head to the side and spat on the ground again. "Fine." He put the key for the nearby door into the lock and twisted it. The door opened easily, and Scaracci started off down the path. Throné and Pirro were hot on his heels with Pirro turning around to lock the door in his wake and then pull the keys through a particularly large gap in the bars. 

After a few moments of walking, Throné saw perhaps the sweetest sight she could have asked for right now: daylight. The faint traces of life on the surface were filtering down through a manhole cover on the ceiling, and a ladder led up to it. Scaracci grinned up at the light like he had never seen anything better. "Finally, a way out! Time to say goodbye to these rat-infested sewers!"

Scaracci started toward the ladder, but Throné didn't let him approach it fully. She held out one hand to stop him, and Scaracci paused just behind it. "Hold on. We aren't in the clear yet," Throné told him dangerously. As if on cue, a cluster of three guards wearing the same dark clothing as the rest of the mercenaries affiliated with the Diamante estate appeared. They had been hiding around the nearby corner, waiting for a chance to strike. Clearly the Diamante guards had figured out that they would be coming this way, and they decided to set up an ambush in the meantime. 

"Yeah," Pirro muttered crossly as he readied his dagger for the inevitable battle to come. "We've got company."

Scaracci took a small step backward. "T-Throné! If you've got that cheese, now's the time!"

Throné snarled. "You idiot. Enough about the cheese!" She pulled her dagger free of its sheath once again, and it gleamed dangerously in the firelight of the torches pressed against either side of the sewer corridor's walls. 

"If we don't focus, we'll be as holey as cheese ourselves when they're through," Pirro agreed. He held his knife at the ready, waiting for the signal from Throné to rush forward and show what he could do with it. 

Throné nodded. "Right. Let's go!" She surged toward the guards in an instant, her dagger thirsting for blood even though she did not. There was no other way of getting out of this though, and Throné was fully aware of that. If she wanted to live to see another day, then she was going to have to fight, and if she had to kill the guards, then... Then so be it. She knew how to breathe through her mouth, and she would force herself to do it for however long was necessary. 

The first guard was easily the strongest of the three, and he lunged at Scaracci, correctly assessing him as the weakest link in Throné's trio. Scaracci was hit hard in the arm, but he didn't let that stop that. Instead, Scaracci turned his axe around, catching the man in the chest. The guard didn't let up and tried to go after him again, but Scaracci deflected the blow with his axe. He went in for a second strike, and this time, the attack was enough to stagger his assailant and distract him for a few seconds. 

The second guard moved toward Pirro, and the blonde-haired man swiftly avoided the attack that came in his direction. He stepped out of the way with a precise motion, and he pressed his dagger into the man's shoulder. The guard nearly dropped his weapon, but he maintained his grip on it. Pirro pulled his knife free and delivered a kick to the guard's stomach. Before the man had the chance to recover, Throné rushed in and released a burst of dark magic. The guard was sent sprawling backward, and judging by the horrific angle his head was at when he hit the wall, his neck had been broken by the impact. One down, two to go. 

Throné turned to the third guard that had not attacked yet. He was aiming for her stomach, but Throné soared out of the way just in time. She sliced across the man's shoulder, distracting him just enough for Pirro to get in a quick stab to his back. Pirro had curled around behind Throné's target and then dug his dagger in deep. The man reeled from the pain, but he didn't have long to writhe around in agony. Pirro slashed the dagger down in a merciless vertical motion, and the guard screamed one last time before falling to the ground in a heap of blood and lifeless bones. 

Scaracci was still trying to fend off the strongest of the three guards, but now that the other two had been taken out of the picture, Throné and Pirro were more than able to help him. Pirro aimed a precise dagger blow between the man's shoulder blades. Throné created yet another blast of dark magic, and the guard dropped his weapon. His knife fell to the ground, and Scaracci picked it up to make sure it was entirely out of his hands. Throné raised her dagger high, and she slammed it down at that perfect spot in between the man's bones. She pierced his heart just as she had known that she would, and she pulled her knife back as quickly as she could. 

Throné had been taught the best way to aim her dagger in order to take the lives of her enemies. She knew how to make their deaths painless, but on the other hand, she was also fully aware of how to make them suffer as much as possible in their final moments. She was ruthless, and to the rest of the world, she seemed to be the perfect assassin, able to kill and fight all in the name of the organization she had come to work for. 

But deep down, Throné did not feel like a perfect assassin. The fact that she was so easily distracted by the smell of blood was proof of that to her. She took care to breathe through her mouth as she tore her knife free of her target's body. That was the end of that... But she wished that she hadn't been forced to kill more than she already had. 

But she never got a choice, and she knew that. Her only option was to survive... And sometimes, survival of the fittest meant the survival of the greatest killers. 

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There's the first part of Throné's story done! Woohoo!

I really didn't recognize just how long the opening section of her chapter is until I started to write it all out. It's a lot longer than I thought it was. I guess that makes sense though. This is a pretty big moment, and I think it deserves all the weight it got here. I'm very excited to be out of this sequence at the start of the next chapter though. We've got a bunch of good stuff coming up, and I can't wait to see how it all plays out. 

This chapter is pretty loyal to canon, so there's not too much to comment on here. I do love writing Throné as a character though. I've had a few chances to write for her in the past, and I always have fun with it. I just enjoy her a lot, and I'm looking forward to exploring more about what she can do over the course of the rest of the story. 

Next time, we'll continue with Throné's introductory chapter. Feedback is appreciated as always. Have a nice day, everyone!

-Digital