The Lord Protector took off months ago and took the Masked Felon with him. Presumably one went back to Dunwall and the other followed. Hopefully they stay there for good.

Since their departure, Garrett has been enjoying his freedom. His quiver is lighter without sawtooth arrows in it and not having to look over his shoulder every time he goes out leaves him feeling almost giddy. This, coupled with the scaffolding slowly disappearing from Grandmauden and some of the other districts, and life slowly but surely coming back to the City make it seem like things are finally looking up. The City feels like home again.

Then, just a week later, he comes back to the Clock Tower one night to find a message from Basso: Your friend from Dunwall's back. Thought I'd let you know since you can't seem to stay away from him. -B.

He tosses the note into the brazier and starts packing sawtooth arrows in his quiver again. They've never seemed so heavy.

The incident with the Primal still hangs heavy in the back of his mind. The Primal hasn't reacted like that to anyone but Erin and even then it never lashed out. The whole thing felt like being caught in a particularly bright light: hardly able to see, let alone able to think or move or react. His life depends on him being able to think and move fast. And he's not keen on being caught unaware again.

But over the next couple weeks things are, suspiciously, business as usual. He takes jobs and keeps his head on a swivel the entire time, but he doesn't catch so much as a glimpse of Corvo or his masked shadow. It's infuriating. He jumps at every creak, reaches for his bow at every banging shutter. He uses the Primal much more often, scanning his surroundings and bracing for that prickling feeling. It never comes. Maybe Corvo's empress is keeping him busy this time. He's cautiously optimistic.

The gossip flooding the streets, though, is unavoidable. Word is, Garrett isn't the only one on edge. He might not see much of the Masked Felon, but others do. People claim they're seeing a skull mask outside their windows at night, they're worried he's coming to get them. They claim he's an agent of Red Jenny.

Despite being able to fill a book with everything he's heard, he doubts most of them are true. After all, no one ever reports the Masked Felon leaving any of his victims with anything more than a couple bruises and a headache. Even so, it isn't long before the Watch has him in their sights and Wanted posters are scattered throughout the City.

It sounds to Garrett like the Masked Felon is doing a poor job of keeping a low profile. Then again, maybe he doesn't realize the Watch is after him. Or maybe he just doesn't care. The thought sends a flurry of old warnings swirling through his mind and a phantom ache through his left hand, but he doesn't let himself dwell on it. It's not his problem if he doesn't know how to keep quiet.

No, his problem is the latest job he's taken from Basso. A woman well-known among the underbelly of the City, and to Basso, was recently robbed by the very group of smugglers she was working with. She lost several different items of varying prices and rarity, but nothing so important to her as her treasured black pearl ring. As she's preoccupied with damage control, she's hired Garrett to get it back and given him a list of their hiding spots, both old and new, to check out.

There are twenty hiding spots total, and they're scattered all around the City. From Stonemarket to the Old Quarter all the way to Cinderfall. He can't check all of these places in one night and the smugglers will be eager to leave with their treasure as soon as they can. That leaves him with a week, maybe less. He needs a way to narrow this down. Black pearls are rare, so it's likely being kept somewhere out of the way where it won't be discovered before they can leave.

What's the most inconvenient place for smugglers on this list?

----

He treads carefully over old pipes and stonework, mindful of the last time he was here. Though the wood creaks and the pipes groan, they hold his weight. Good. The last thing he needs is to fall through another roof.

Cinderfall is just as dreary and gray as he remembers. The ground and sky are the color of ash. He swears it's colder here than in any other place on the island. Some of the factories still stand vacant and drab despite all the efforts to get them up and running again.

As he nears one of the abandoned factories, voices come from street-level. Four men are pacing the perimeter of the front yard. Two with swords, two with crossbows.

"Think he'll show up tonight?" One with a crossbow asks.

"I don't know. Cinderfall is creepy enough at night. It's not like we need any more shadows out here."

This place is supposed to be empty. The list said it was an old hiding spot, that they haven't used it since the Gloom. Are they waiting for him or just being cautious? Either way, he doesn't like the look of those swords. He moves on and opts to keep his eyes peeled.

He uses the Claw to climb the fire escape of the factory. He jimmies open a window on the second story and climbs inside. The room is thankfully empty.

Rows and rows of tables and dozens of machines fill the large room. The tables are covered in bundles of cloth and tangles of yarn. A textile mill. There will be more rooms like this on every floor. Unless the men outside have recently taken up spinning, it's a safe bet to skip all these rooms and make his way upstairs to the offices.

So he goes, making his way up slowly through the building, aware of how little hiding places there are. The further he goes, the more anxious he gets. Room after room, hall after hall, turns up empty of valuables, men or anything of interest. Until he finds a small metal box mounted on the wall of one hallway.

The metal gleams in the dim light with a shine newer than the rest of the building. A trap; recently installed too. He cuts the cord inside with his wirecutter and closes the box again. He'll have to keep an eye out for more.

He continues on, eyes lingering a little longer on the floors and walls now. The silence isn't doing his racing mind any good.

People don't need traps unless they have something worth protecting, but so far he hasn't seen anything of value, not even a coin. So why bother with traps in a mostly empty building? Clearly the men out front are here for the same reason. They don't just believe someone will show up tonight, they're counting on it. And where are all the others? Even Garrett knows it takes more than four men to run a smuggling operation. It doesn't bode well, but he's already here.

He needs to get this job over with as soon as possible.

The same disconcerting silence follows him all the way up to the fifth floor. The offices, too, sit empty and unused. There's nothing in them to indicate anyone was up here recently--certainly not tonight. The desks are empty of any books or notes, furniture is undisturbed. No one has been up here since the factory was closed. But there aren't any hiding spots for loot up here either. So why are there armed men in the front yard?

It's time to face the facts: it might be time to call it quits. The information might be wrong, if not entirely false. He's not blaming Basso, but it happens. It's not unheard of for one criminal to try and thin out the competition, although there's usually a reason for it. He hasn't done anything to anyone. Not lately. Even if Basso's friend did set a trap for him, she had to know a few men at the front door and a couple of traps wouldn't have been enough to see him, let alone stop him.

He leaves the offices--prizeless--and just makes it to the bottom of the staircase when he hears the telltale whoosh of a trap being triggered.

But not by him.

Further down the hall, an irritatingly familiar masked figure curses and plucks a dart from his coat. The fabric looks thick so it doesn't seem like he actually got hit with whatever was in that dart.

Red Jenny's tears, what are the odds? He can't catch a break. This job isn't worth it anymore. He came here as a favor but nothing, nothing is worth dealing with Attano's little shadow. He's still crouched at the foot of the stairs when the Masked Felon snaps to attention.

Garrett draws his blackjack and points it at him. "Stay away from me." He tenses up and inches back towards the stairs. It's a sorry defense against someone his size. Garrett knows he could just knock it out of his hand; it's likely the Masked Felon knows too.

Instead of attacking, he raises his hands in surrender, a mirror of what Garrett did to him all those months ago. He even takes a few steps back.

He stares at him, heart beating hard. A trick? A trap? Regardless, he's not wasting any more time on him. He still has a black pearl to find. He lowers his blackjack and puts it away again.

The sound of barking orders and men yelling comes from somewhere below them. It won't be long before someone comes up here. The trap. This will be the first place they check.

Garrett glares over at the mask. "Trickster help me..."

"I wasn't--"

"I don't care!" He hisses. He can't tell if the other is shocked into silence or genuinely listening, and right now, he doesn't care. "This is the second time you cost me a job and now they know exactly where we are. Do you have any idea what you're doing or are you trying to get caught?"

A pause. "Are you done?"

"Are you dumb?"

He shouldn't be standing here chatting. He should be long gone by now, but he's fed up with this man and his incompetence. This isn't even a matter of him being a novice. A novice would at least learn from their mistakes. But he comes to the City and makes an unholy racket the entire time, then shows up on another one of his jobs and draws the smugglers right to them. Does he even know he's at the top of the Watch's list? What kind of amateur criminal can't sneak around or spot a brand new trap? Can he do anything right or has he just tripped through his life up to this point?

A cacophony of footsteps and voices come racing up the hall. They all freeze at the sight of two criminals instead of the one they were expecting.

"Well, well," a man with a sword sneers, "it looks like we caught two birds with one stone."

Garrett doesn't stick around to listen to the rest. He takes off back up the stairs behind him, an escape route already coming together in his mind.

He feels that prickling behind him, then hears footsteps. He looks over his shoulder, shocked to see the Masked Felon right behind him. Following him. Garrett just makes it to the top of the stairs when he hears him grunt behind him.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Not a good sound. He turns and sees three bolts pinning the Masked Felon's coat to the floor and wall.

His escape route is waiting. With the smugglers preoccupied, he could make it. Easily. Let the Masked Felon deal with them since he wants to traipse around the City with no regard for his own safety. Maybe he'll actually learn something.

Should he have to pay for his mistakes with his life?

The leader orders his men to fire again.

As fast as he ever has in his life, he nocks a choke arrow and fires at the foot of the stairs. He moves back down while the men are too busy coughing to pay much attention and seizes the Masked Felon's other hand. The gold edge of his sleeve glints as he yanks the last bolt from the wall.

They go back up to the fifth floor. They can't go down, so they'll have to go further up. Luckily, Cinderfall has so many pipes it's a thief's playground.

He climbs through a window and lands on a pipe lining the outside wall a few feet below. He inches along as fast as he dares, his back against the wall, his new partner right behind him. They get to the corner of the building and stop. The pipe curves straight up to the roof, which is angled and too steep to climb. There's yelling inside. The fire escape is below them. Silently he drops down and lands with a clang on the fire escape. Once he reaches it, it's as easy as retracing his route back to Mourningside.

"All that time in Dunwall and you still don't know how to keep quiet?" He scolds over his shoulder.

"You're still on about that?"

"Yes! I was almost stuck full of holes trying to help you get out of a mess you made!"

He's silent until they leave the factory far behind them. "Thank you," the Masked Felon finally says. "You didn't have to do that."

He's about to tell him to find his own way back from here. He doesn't want to risk being seen by anyone, especially after such a close call. But all his thoughts come to a screeching halt.

He turns around to look at him fully. He takes in his appearance more carefully this time. The gold edging on his coat, too well-made for any assassin, too conspicuous, especially here. Not even the nobility wear clothing like that. But he's seen it before. He knows that accent.

He squeezes his hands together and tries to get his scattered thoughts back in order, tries to weigh whether this man is a threat or not. If he wanted to kill him, he could have about a dozen times by now. Everything falls into place. The repeated sightings, the coinciding disappearances, the fine clothes, all of it. It all makes sense.

His hands twitch. "Don't thank me yet."

"Wh-" the rest of his words leave him in a sharp gasp as he comes face to face with a sawtooth arrow.

He gazes right into the lenses of the mask. His voice, thankfully, is steadier than he feels at the moment. "Are you following me, Lord Protector?"

He flinches like he's been struck. "Who?"

He doesn't take his eyes off him as he nods towards the other's clothes. "They gave you away. Start talking."

He sighs. "I'm not following you." A pause. "And I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know what you're capable of." He won't forget what happened on the rooftops in Grandmauden so easily.

"Then you know one little arrow won't stop me." A note of arrogance enters his voice.

"I don't think you're in the position for threats. Talk." He lowers the arrow just enough so it's pointed at his throat. "While you still can."

Another pause. Then he sighs. "I was here for the smugglers," he says. "A Watchman told me they were operating out of Cinderfall. I had reason to believe more members of the Watch were involved. And they were. I recognized all of those men here tonight."

"That's what happens when you start sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

So those weren't smugglers in the front yard. The Watchmen were planning to ambush Corvo. The pearl really isn't here.

He lowers his bow. "They don't use this place anymore. Believe me, I checked." Looks like he'll have to go home with his tail between his legs. Too bad.

"I thought you were a thief?" The smallest bit of tension leaves his shoulders now he doesn't have an arrow pointed at him.

"I am. They have something I need." Which means he still needs to check a lot of different places. Especially now the people involved know Corvo is after them. He really just complicates everything, doesn't he?

"What do you need from them?"

No harm can come from telling him now. "A black pearl ring. Instead I picked up a stray."

"Real nice," he says flatly. "Is the ring yours?"

"A friend's. The gate to get you back into the City is to the left, three buildings over. Think you can handle it on your own or will you need my help for that too?"

"I think I can manage," he says dryly. "But first--" he snags his upper arm-- "How do I know you won't tell anyone else what you know?"

He looks from the hand--and the strange mark on the back of it--squeezing his upper arm to the mask. Glares. "Is that a threat?"

He lets go after that, using his hand to cover the mark on the other. "That depends on you."

He's not surprised. He'd probably do the same thing if their roles were reversed. But how does he reassure him he doesn't care enough to reveal his secret? If anything, he'll probably just use the information to avoid him better. And frankly, as long as he keeps the Watch occupied, he can do whatever he wants. Garrett doesn't care, but his word won't be enough...

But a bargain might be. A way to make the other feel like he gave something in exchange for his silence instead of just taking him at face value. If this works, he might get his commission and throw off a particularly annoying hound. Two, if he's really lucky.

"What about a trade?"

His tone turns wary. "What kind?"

He thinks of Basso's friend, of the list she gave him, of all the hiding places he can't possibly check in time. Not now. But Corvo has ties with the Watch, and they have plenty of men.

He folds his bow and pulls the list out of his pocket. "This is a list of all their hiding places in the City, new and old."

He eyes the paper. "So?"

"I have to do your job now too?" He says. "Use it to catch them."

"Why?"

"They crossed a friend."

He takes the paper. "If I do that, you'll keep your mouth shut?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll see what I can do."

There's just one more thing bothering him. "Wait."

He gives a long-suffering sigh. "What now?"

"That night at the jeweler's, how did you find me?"

His smile comes through in his voice. "Maybe you didn't hear me."

"No, I would have heard you." He sends a meaningful glance down at the other's boots.

He remembers that night. The feeling of eyes on him once he got back to Stonemarket, how he tried to lose the feeling by taking a different route. The Lord Protector had been waiting right outside for him anyway. He never heard a thing. He felt it.

"How did you do it?"

"You're just easy to track."

Insufferable little lapdog. He chooses to ignore the way his face warms at the comment. There aren't many people in the City who can say they snuck up on him. It was hard to get the jump on him before the Primal. Now it's a notch below impossible. There is no way he could have followed him that whole way without him knowing it. He'll let it go. For now.

"But if you catch them, you'll owe me." He enjoys the aggravated sigh it earns him as he turns to go.

They part ways and Garrett doesn't run into him again. About a month later, talk of the Masked Felon dies down. But the Lord Protector's popularity is rising. He's gaining a reputation for being helpful, honest, and, if the gossip at the Burrick is to be believed, even well-liked among the Watchmen.

Garrett is in his usual spot in the Burrick's basement, thumbing through the latest jobs while Basso reads a newspaper at his desk. He's been on Garrett's back about the ring since he returned without it. His lady friend, he told Garrett, was angrier. She was ready to put his head on a platter for 'false advertising'.

A young man knocks on the doorframe.

"Come on in." Basso puts the paper down as the man approaches the desk and hands him a letter. He pulls a few coins from his pocket and hands them to the man. "Thanks."

The man nods and leaves.

Basso looks down at the letter. A wax seal. The other side has the initials M.T. written in the upper right hand corner. "Garrett, I think this might be for you."

He lifts his head from the small stack of papers. "Why?"

He scoffs. "Probably because my initials aren't M.T." He holds it out to him. "Open it."

"My initials aren't M.T. either."

"Yes they are, but okay. Since we're such good friends, I'll open it for you." He drops the letter on his desk while he roots through a drawer for a letter opener. "'Thank you, Basso.'" He mutters. "Oh, no problem. What are friends for?"

Garrett hides his smile behind the papers.

He finds the letter opener and opens the envelope with a quiet snick. After a moment's reading, he jolts up in his seat, startling his bird and drawing Garrett's attention. "Garrett," he says urgently, "what did you do?"

"Nothing."

"You did somethin'! Why is this letter signed by Corvo Attano?"

"What?"

He hands him the letter.

Your list was the reason we caught the smugglers in the end. I suppose I owe you. Since that is apparently how you do things here, I'll warn you the Watch isn't happy and they're looking to take their anger out on someone. Call it a favor. And, since we're trading, I'm glad to inform you, you owe me now and I know exactly what I want: an alliance.

If you haven't tossed this letter into the fire, then you must be willing to hear me out. In our handful of interactions you showed great determination and skill, and when faced with a challenge you were resourceful and creative. Clearly, you know your way around the city and the people in it. Let me be frank, I see countless benefits to working with you instead of against you. Think on it. There's no need for you to come to me. I can find you well enough on my own. You have my word that, should you decline, there won't be any retaliation.

I'm also happy to say I found something I thought you might appreciate.

Yours truly, Corvo Attano

"Something I'd appreciate?"

Basso tips the envelope upside down. The black pearl ring clatters onto the desk. "Well." He says. "She'll be thrilled."

"Good for her." He says dryly. "Will I be able to show my face in Blackfurrow again?"

He smiles. "Since when do you show your face?"

"You know what I mean."

"Probably." He picks up the ring and stares at it. "Maybe that Attano fellow isn't so bad after all."

No, Garrett thinks as he crumples the letter. He's worse.

The week after getting the latter, Garrett's mind ran non-stop weighing pros and cons, sifting through what little he knows about Corvo, trying to guess whether he could be walking into a trap.

They had countless opportunities to hurt each other but the worst either of them got out of it was a good scare. If he wanted Garrett dead or felt he was getting in his way, at any point, he could have done it. He could have easily taken advantage of the fact that he can see Garrett and follow him without him knowing. He knows all these things, and knows Corvo probably knows them too, but just because he hasn't done anything yet, doesn't mean he never will.

He lets his mind run in circles for a few days then, when he can't make a decision one way or the other, he talked to Basso about it. He told him pretty much everything he already knew. His answer was a resolute 'no'. Garrett expected as much.

Despite Basso's admittedly sound reasoning, he still wasn't sure. His past experiences have probably made him a little paranoid. Then again, what reason does he actually have to trust Corvo? In the letter, he said he wouldn't retaliate if he refused but that could be another lie, thinly veiled with false flattery. If he does refuse and he sends the Watch in, he'd likely send them to the same place he sent the letter. That would mean, eventually, the Watch would come knocking on Basso's door looking for Garrett. Again. That's not an option.

In the end, he couldn't figure a way around it. He doesn't have a chance at avoiding him. Not when Corvo can track him so well. He'll have to wait for him to find him and see what happens. But he isn't going in unarmed.

It happens one night while he's on his way to a job. He feels the phantom sensation of needles on the back of his neck. His heart leaps into his throat but he remembers the blackjack at his hip, the arrows in his quiver and turns and meets the empty gaze of Corvo's mask with a steady regard of his own. Tonight the gloves are missing. The tattoo on his hand is on full display.

"Make it quick," he says. "I've got a job to do tonight."

To his credit, he gets right to the point. "Did you decide or not?"

"What do you want from me?"

"Like I said in the letter--"

"No," he says sternly. "What do you really want from me? You could get a map of any district from almost anyone, anywhere. You don't need me to show you around."

"Exactly what I said I did."

"To hire me." He crosses his arms. "For what?"

"I..." He sighs. "I can't be everywhere in this city at once. Taking care of the paperwork, keeping the Watch in check and hunting down all the stray nobles and criminals by myself is getting difficult. And there's been a surprising amount of pushback despite the fact we're trying to help."

"I'm not helping you fix the city." He's not falling for that gimmick again.

"Actually, I want you to do the opposite." The smile in his voice is clear. "All you have to do is what you do best: steal. I need certain things from certain people and I can't always get them myself." He pauses. "Occasionally I need to cover my tracks. A robbery where several other things are missing, along with what I need, won't be looked at too closely."

That is... Unexpected. But not enough to put him at ease just yet. "What do you get out of it?"

"Someone who makes my job here a lot easier."

"And how much is the Empire willing to pay me to do their job for them?"

"I'm willing to let you have whatever you find on the job," he says.

He raises a brow. "That's all? I could do that all on my own."

"What else do you want?"

He eyes the hand with the tattoo. "I'd settle for information."

He goes very quiet and very still. He clenches his hands into fists but makes no move to hide it. Garrett's beginning to like these silences. "It's... Hard to explain."

"Try anyway."

"It... It was given to me when I... Needed help. It lets me do a lot of things that normal people can't do."

Magic. Of course. What else would set the Primal off like that? "Like tracking down and hurting thieves?"

"Hurting?" He sounds surprised for the first time all night. "I never hurt you."

"Don't play dumb," he snaps. He's not humoring him, not on this. "That night on the rooftops, I know you felt that too."

"You didn't do that to get away?"

His eyes flick down and to the right. "No."

"Then... Are you the reason it feels so stifling when I try to use my Mark?"

Now it's his turn to be confused. "Stifling?"

"Like something is pushing down on me. All around me. It's everywhere."

Now that's interesting. So the other feels it when they use their abilities. But why does it cause pain? Does proximity matter like it did with Erin? He'll have to ask some questions some time soon.

"Is that eye any easier to explain?"

He drops his gaze to the ground again. A habit he picked up during the last year. It doesn't do much to hide his eye but it's all he can do, short of just shutting his eyes. "Didn't want it, or need it. Have to live with it." He pauses. "It does have its uses, though."

He shrugs, seemingly understanding that's the extent of the explanation. "Alright. Is that enough information for you?"

"Not quite. Is this how you do things in the Empire?"

He shrugs. "When it's necessary. But I keep my end of the deals I make, if that's what you're worried about."

He gives him an unimpressed look. "We'll see. Is that all?"

There's a twinge of amusement in his voice. "For now. Is there a place where I can find you?"

"You've been doing fine so far," he says, smiling behind his mask when he hears the annoyed sigh from him.

With that, he turns to go. He hears footsteps behind him and knows Corvo is leaving too. Already he begins thinking of all the ways this could backfire. For now, he shoves all those thoughts aside. He still has a job to do tonight and he's already taken long enough.