Ullen's escape was winding and arduous.
It felt like every time he rounded a corner, another band of misfits would jump out and attempt to claim the bounty on his head. His poison would soon reduce the numbers of the first gang by two-thirds, but the streets were lousy with replacement muscle to fill in the gaps.
If he were the vindictive sort, he might have wanted to see the look on the hooked-nosed man's face as his men dropped like flies around him, but he wasn't that kind of person.
Besides, he had seen his poison's effect first-hand before, and knew intimately how it worked. There was nothing to gain from stalling.
Right now, he had to focus on fleeing. His Majesty was running low, so to conserve it he avoided using Air Step when he could help it, and his tattoo would be unusable for the next twenty-four hours.
