Author Topic: Uri's Part-Time Retirement  (Read 138 times)


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Uri's Part-Time Retirement
« on: June 10, 2019, 09:54:15 PM »
Uri woke to knocking on his door. He swore loudly as he rolled over. Foot steps hurried away so whoever it was must not have been wanting a lot from him. He made as if to go back to sleep but then he remembered the many tasks he had to do. This was a funny retirement.

However he had grown bored the week following the whole farse at Hastings House. Never again he had told himself. Back to the gang where there was no Vampires or ghostly priests causing him to shiver more than he should. Never would he be sat at the same table as those crazy idiots that nearly got him killed with stupid love lives and strange meanings of keeping quiet and talking.

Never again till he opened his door one day to find Peter asking for his help. He had never jumped at a chance so quickly. Thinking back he had never seen crazier things and he wanted to see more. Agreeing to help the cell where he could, would get him close to some of the strange action and Uri hoped sooner rather than later.

Cohen wasn’t happy with him, Uri knew that. He was part of the revolution now. He had the bug. Uri had made it clear however that he would help out in the gangs endeavours and to treat him like a gun for hire, but on much lower costs as his family still needed protecting. He wasn’t going to miss the money, now being one of the richest men in a mile radius, but he wasn’t going to work for free. Only an idiot would do that.

Even if he had not spoken much to the group before the Hastings incident he wished to get to know them more, but he may have to entice them to other pubs in the area as Uri didn’t think he would be accepted into their favourite, The George Inn, anytime soon and especially not after their recent change of leadership. That was a definite off limits to him seen as he still held connections elsewhere.

Uri opened up his front door to find some small children cowering in the hallway. Uri softened his tone and the children soon gave him the information they held. Another job. He smiled as he looked at the people needing the help. The Architects. After giving the children some copper and food, Uri suited up with all his weapons and clothing, checking it off ritualistically as he went. Jobs for the Architects were like a breath of fresh air, none of the same territorial shit he had to deal with so many times and the ‘he said she said’ business he had to sort out every other day. He never knew which district he would be in or what type of work it would include. It excited him every time he got the call to action from them.

He picked up his tattered coat. He had tried to repair it as much as he could from the fight with the Alchemist girlfriend but his sewing skills had yet to be developed. He had tried remembering how they did it in the haberdashery and haphazardly managed to fix the holes. The scars on both his skin and clothes were reminders to him to never doubt his opponent and to teach that kid, Fog, not to throw knives at allies. He made a mental note to watch out for mechanical arms in his future fights. Even with all his money he still preferred to be in his ‘working’ clothes. It kept him humble. At least he hoped it did.

Uri closed his door and made his way out into the streets of London. He wondered if the papers were keeping up with The Architects’ threats and actions. Well he supposed he should start saying our, as he was one of them now.
"Spartans never die. They're just missing in action."