Reggy jerked the knife out of the bodyguard’s neck, softly lowering the corpse to the ground. He wiped the blade along the poor sap’s coat before sheathing it. Wrong place at the wrong time. Reggy took a quick glance around then continued down the hall.

There should be three of them, according to his intel. One was downstairs, passed out drunk. Lucky for him. One here, bleeding across the fine Ambelford carpet of the dining room. That left one, probably with Dr. Jacobs himself.

Reggy pulled out his infrascope and peered up at the second floor. He tuned the knob on the side and focused on where the bedroom was, according to the map. Yep, Dr. Jacobs was there, writing notes on whatever horrific experiments he’d been running that day. The bodyguard was outside the door, whittling wood with his dagger. Sloppy.

A few moments later, Reggy was standing over the guard’s body, his knife wedged in the man’s larynx. That would be hell for the edge. He’d have to make sure to treat it well later.

With that, he pulled out his crossbow and kicked in the bedroom door. A single shot to the shoulder knocked Jacobs to the ground. Reggy didn’t want this quick, but it would have to be. Next guard rotation was due in ten minutes. He settled for crushing the man’s foot under one of his heavy boots, reveling in his squirms as he choked the life from him.

Then it was just a matter of planting his signature – the red-lacquered daggers he’d had commissioned in Endervale – and a quick slip out the back door. Clean work. No witnesses. Just how he liked it.