Hans and Damascus didn't need to talk much to each other to get their thoughts across. There were a few crowbars and a big ass wooden door with some rusty hinges, the situation was pretty self-explanatory.
Hans collected the two crowbars that he judged had the least dried blood on them and handed one to Damascus.
"Do we need two?" Damascus questioned.
"Not for prying, but if any angry mobsters are on the other side…" Hans left the rest to the imagination.
Damascus nodded in understanding. The two teens crept up the stairs, and Hans put his face up to the old wooden door to see if he could get a glimpse of the outside.
"Nothing. I'll start on the door" Hans whispered.
Hans stuck the edge of his crowbar inbetween the crack of the door and the stairwell and looked back at Damascus.
"Watch out for people on the other side". Damascus nodded in response and Hans began prying with the crowbar.
The door was already close to falling apart, so it only took ten seconds for it to give way. Light flooded into the dank basement and blinded them for a split second. When Hans' vision recovered, he saw one of the gangsters from earlier storming towards him and shouting in Serbian.
Damascus lightly shouldered past him and slammed his crowbar over the poor Serb's head. A loud crack sounded, much like the one from earlier today when Hans had punched Goran's jaw.
"You're a lot stronger than you look, sheesh". Damascus gave a sheepish shrug, smiling at the compliment.
The two allies scanned their surroundings, finding the alleyway empty apart from shattered beer mugs and the man Damascus had just knocked unconscious.
Before the two could plan their next course of action, the door on the other side of the bar audibly swung open. One man yelled something loudly in Serbian, and footsteps began to exit the bar and begin treading towards them.
Hans and Damascus looked at each other, their previous celebration wiped off their faces. Hans gave a quick gesture towards the end of the bar alley, that emptied out into the market square and Damascus nodded.
The two escapees sprinted towards safety, doing their best to ignore the sizeable crowd of angry Serbians that were now alerted to their whereabouts. Hans and Damascus tore around the corner, trying to lose their pursuers in the market square. Damascus made a break for a wine shop with a low roof and pulled himself up onto the top, motioning for Hans to come with.
Hans grabbed onto the edge of the roof, pulling himself up next to Damascus. They both layed flat on the roof, trying to catch their breath. The gang members filtered in to the market square, looking around and under the stalls in search of them.
"You seem used to this, Damascus" Hans whispered to the surprisingly unshaken boy to his left.
"These guys have been chasing me around for about a week now, I've got experience."
The gangsters split up and moved on down the roads branching from the square, causing Hans to breath a shallow sigh of relief.
"How'd they catch you?" Hans took his eyes off the market square, looking now at Damascus.
Damascus looked at Hans with an anxious look in his purple eyes.
'Wait… his eyes are purple? How did I not notice that before?' Hans combed through his memories, coming up short for any answer to this mystery.
"You know the tall dude with the scar through his eye?" Hans put the eye color question on hold, nodding in response to his new allies' question.
"That guy is a Regius". Hans' blood ran cold at the revelation, realizing how much lower his odds for survival had become in an instant.
It all made sense in his head now that Damascus had said it. Hans knew some of the serbian guys were ex-military, he just hadn't considered the possibility that a Regius would be a lowly gang leader.
Hans had thought his whole life that he would never see a Regius in action, but the prospect that had used to wonder him now seemed a lot less appealing. He couldn't deny a little bit of excitement though. He had always wanted to be a Regius as a kid, to get rich and famous as a war hero of the Byzantium and have anything he could dream of.
The Regius were real-life superheros for christ sake, wielding powers beyond human ability and "serving" the people of the empire. But as he started to get older, he started to hear the real stories of what the Regius did. How they burned cities, stomped rebellions and tortured anyone in opposition to the Emporer's rule. Still Hans was curious about whether he would awaken on his 18th birthday, just like any kid in the slums.
Now, he might not even live to 18.
"On a scale of one to ten, how bad would you say we're fucked?" Hans asked in jest.
Damascus actually appeared to think about the question seriously for a moment, before grinning like a smartass.
"Maybe a 9, if you distract him for me".
"That bad?" Hans grimaced at his ever-falling survival chances.
"His Regius ability isn't that incredible, but its plenty to deal with two kids". Damascus didn't seem visibly upset, but his expression had sobered a little.
Hans raised an eyebrow, waiting for Damascus to continue.
"He can shoot a heavy metal chain out of his wrist. I don't think its very long, but it's fast and it has a knife connected to the tip".
Hans grinned at Damascus' information. At least they had a little more hope to survive than before.
"That doesn't sound bad, at least he doesn't have a cannon for an arm" Hans reasoned.
"His skin also becomes as hard as rock whenever he wants to" Damascus tiredly shut down any hope Hans had left.
"How do we know that he's going to find us?" Even Hans knew he was reaching, but he was getting desperate at this point.
"Because he already has" a deep and instantly recognizable voice spoke from down in the market square, burying any hope that remained.
Damascus bolted up and grabbed his crowbar, peeking over the roof at the subject of their dread. Standing below the roof was the man of the hour-
'I still don't know this guy's name, and hes going to kill me?'
Hans also got up, now looking at leader of the Serbian gang who was standing down in the market square.
"Whats your name?" Damascus looked at Hans with a shocked expression, probably wondering why Hans chose now to ask that question.
The gangster gave him a confused look for a moment, before pointing to his stitched-up right eye.
"They call me Stitch" He deadpanned.
Hans couldn't help but to chuckle a little, and he swore he saw Damascus choke on a laugh out of the corner of his eye.
In contrast to all the hopelessness that he felt but a moment ago, Hans was now inspired. Giving up and dying would be too mundance, he would die battling with a Regius for fucks sake, thats awesome!
Hans turned to Damascus, and found him sporting a reckless grin as well.
"Do we have telepathy or something? I feel like we're always thinking the same thing!" Damascus put in words what Hans had just been thinking.
"Nah, I think we're just both stupid. I didn't even know you three hours ago and now we're planning on fighting and dying together".
Damascus gave a lazy shrug and looked away from Stitch to respond to Hans.
"Sounds great to me" Damascus quipped.
Both attempted to look at each other with a straight face and proceeded to fail miserably, doubling over laughing on the shop roof. Stitch stood below, barely containing his rage at being both slighted and ignored by the two youths.
"Do you want die today?" Stitch threatened.
Hans looked back at the gangster and cocked his head.
"Do you want another stitch in your eye today?"