Dead Mans Alley

The short confrontation had not helped Ares; instead he had wasted more time. He didn't bother being too cautious traveling through the rest of the market instead keeping a hand on his purse as he moved. As he finally got away from the Main Street he began to walk in the hospital district.

Ares's thoughts went to the fight, he needed to work on a way to use more magic as he fought. What use was having all these spells if he couldn't instinctively use them? He had barely completed a quarter of the journey through the city and had only seen the safer bits so far. This was going to be an eventful journey. He could feel it.

Jogging past the hospital Ares could see the huge Red Cross on the side of the building. That symbol had been the universal sign for health for hundreds of years, even in the broken society it stood for health. The only difference is that help is now very expensive; doctors and healing mages who care about their patients are rare. If you couldn't afford it healing slavers would pay for you, at the expense of a life of servitude/slavery often a fate worse then death. There were rumours that even after death the slavery continued.

Ares walked in a large circle around the hospital, despite this area being one of the "safest" in the city like everywhere darkness hid in the shadows waiting for people to step into it and be consumed. He managed to pass through the hospital district pretty safely but he knew the next two districts were the most dangerous in the city.

The entry to the homeless district was ahead; it was a gradual move into poverty along the road. Initially it was paved; then it fell into disrepair finally it was a dirty dusty track with vagrants laying in heaps near to the road. The landscape was flat, covered with thousands of tents and fires. Running along the centre of the area was the bridge, a mile long and above the poverty beneath. It cut through the area and provided a clear path for those better off. It was known as the Broken Bridge.

At the entry to the Broken Bridge were two guard posts, they played a role in keeping the poor away. They also sometimes dealt with minor disputes, the men here were clad in armour and had dangerous looking weapons at their sides. Ares approached the guard post with haste knowing the bridge was the second to last stop before he arrived in the slums.

"Bit young to be out and about" a guard stated as he approached.

"I have business to attend to in the slums" Ares tried to sound as adult as possible.

"Well good luck with that." The guard remained stood in front of Ares. Staring at him. Ares sighed before fishing out a golden coin from his purse and sliding it into the guards hands. The guard didn't answer only flashing a coy smile and stepping aside to allow Ares to walk the bridge.

Ares smiled not saying anything further and stepped onto the bridge. Before him stretched the mile journey down the bridge, then finally after that Dead Man's Alley. The walk along the bridge was dull; looking at the poor from above upset Ares. He thought to himself; Why could our world not work in harmony dividing the resources we all deserved? The resources that were available after the latest world war were not exactly bountiful but yet there were still rich and poor. The vast inequality was especially visible to him. Ares knew the alliance of Gaia which managed the cities in this region was flawed. It ruled with an iron fist having the primary and secondary guilds as its enforcers. Those who disagreed were often given a fate worse than death.

Soon Ares realised he was approaching the end of the bridge, the road disappeared in-between two tall buildings. Here it met Dead Man's Alley. Known by this name for one reason, many men died journeying through here. This was the mid ground for a turf war between two gangs which had been raging for well over 10 years now.

The Reformed Red Slaves and The Dead Dogs were the two gangs who fought here. Countless lives had been lost from each side and from the public. A compromise had never been made; only more bloodshed was to come from these streets. As Ares walked into the dark alley he allowed his eyes to adjust. The second they did he noticed a huge group of men on his left and on right. They lined both sides of the street jeering and shouting at each other. What were the chances Ares thought to himself. He had come on the day of a skirmish.

The people on either side carried many different weapons, ranging from clubs to swords and axes. There even looked like a few with magical staffs. It wasn't uncommon for washed out mages to join minor gangs for the elite treatment they would get; any successful mage wouldn't be seen dead in a gang. Each side was packed with hundreds of people and there was a clear path between despite this it was empty no one daring to walk it.

Ares knew only way to get to where he wanted was through the middle of the road. He also knew he couldn't wait it out; there was no guarantee for how long each standoff lasted. He had heard one had lasted over five days. Each side seemed to be waiting for a signal or someone to begin it. Ares walked to the left side where a small group of other travellers were waiting. The group were anxious and their eyes were staring at the groups waiting for something to set them off.

Anything could set the situation off and Ares knew being in the middle when it did would be suicide, even if he could take a few people there were hundreds of people here and they were all seasoned veterans. It was better to speed things up a little he thought to himself picking up a pebble from the ground. Ares then choose a target, a particularly large man on the right side of the road baring his teeth and carrying a club. He launched the pebble as hard as he could at the man. The pebble hit him square in the nose breaking it and causing blood to spray from his face.

"THE COWARDS ARE THROWING ROCKS!" Ares bellowed trying to make his voice sound as deep as possible. There was a moment of confusion where both sides went quiet before the large man shouted

"GET THEM!" he said gesturing with his club and beginning to run forwards.

Instantly there was a charge, both sides running into the middle and attacking. The Reformed Red Slaves were noticeable from their red face paint; while the Dead Dogs wore brown all over. Colourful spells flew into each side. They looked like low level spells but regardless flames and sharp icicles stabbed into each side causing serious casualties.

Ares stood to the side waiting for a chance to slip through. Knives plunged deeply into flesh and axes severed limbs with ease. The spellcasters appeared to have already run out of mana as Ares saw one running into the affray swinging his staff at others. It was a bloody battlefield.