level_act15d0_05_end

What am I even meant to do...?

Ahem.

Is something the matter, sir?

Ah, Miss Robin, I've been wanting to meet you.

I presume right now you're waverin' over whether to continue your own hit, or if you help Anthony jump ship?

Who're you?!

My name is Jesselton, Miss Robin.

Don't you worry, I'm just like you. I'm one of the hitmen sent in here to take out Anthony.

An' I so happened to hear Mr. Anthony inviting you to break out...

Mr. Anthony, Captain Barton was wondering if you are doing okay. Are you hurt?

Nothing serious; just a few scrapes. Let him know to wait a little longer. I'll be finished here soon.

Right, not a problem. Take your time.

You were the jailer back there?!

Ah, looks like you remember me. Wonderful. I like to imagine I'm pretty memorable.

If you'd gone and forgotten me, why, I'd feel sad as a burdenbeast.

Y—you were listening there the whole time?

Hah hah. I was the one who brought your prison pals over while they were out stone cold.

Anthony mighta kept his voice down in that 'safe room' of his, but, see, I'm the kinda person who notices things. Wasn't difficult at all to listen in.

What are you trying to do?

I'm here to give you a deal, Miss Robin.

A deal?

A deal.

Of course, we can't forget to praise Mr. Anthony for his moves.

What he did was offer you the olive branch, but truth is whether you accepted or not, it wouldn't do him no harm.

Marvelous move. I gotta say, even I can't help but give it a gold star.

It's a crying shame that he don't understand who you are.

Otherwise, I fear he'da given it a second thought.

Who I am?

Yup. You see, you, Miss Robin, have not yet sensed the factual relationship that exists between you and Mr. Anthony.

Can you get to the point?

Miss Robin, do you still recall the name of that place your pop worked, back in his lively days?

BlackCloud.

Right on. BlackCloud Trade Corporation.

Your pop was the general manager there. But right when his business reached the shining peak, BlackCloud Trade suddenly went under.

After that, no matter how he tried, business never picked up again. Ever since, he kept tumbling. Started drinking. These days, he lies on a hospital bed waiting for his medical fees so he can get operated.

So, you know who bankrupted BlackCloud Trade?

You don't mean...

Correct. Simon Co. themselves. The family name Mr. Anthony's so proud of? Simon one and the same.

Of course, I gotta prove I'm being genuine. So let me give you the whole picture.

The short story is, six years ago, the Simons and HydeBro fought over something.

Both sides wanted the other's half of the pie. Both sides were pretty even weights. Their tussling and bustling grew and grew, until the day someone drew blood.

In the end, it was HydeBro one step ahead, and the Simons were dust in the wind.

During the calamity, Smith Simon at the head of the family decided his only son, Anthony Simon, oughta be sent to to another city.

And then, once he escaped to Ironforge City, poor little Anthony got captured.

Lucky thing is, in Ironforge City's state law, all criminals are tried in the state itself.

In other words, he was not sent back to Bunkerhill City for trial. Then, after that, state law said he'd be locked in their own Mansfield State Prison.

Now, I gotta say, I think Ol' Smith planned this well in advance, sending his son to Ironforge to be captured.

When all's said and done, Anthony's safe precisely because he's not in Bunkerhill City, where HydeBro rule the land.

Does this have anything to do with my pop?

Course it does.

I just told you Simon were competitors of a kind with HydeBro. Even if they were a move behind, they'd still get a last word in while death was a-comin'.

And there among the gang they spat that last word at, why, that was your ol' man's company—BlackCloud Trade.

We can also assume, if the Simons were one step ahead of HydeBro instead, then Smith Simon would've had the marbles to far outstrip the Brothers all those years.

But just like the Simons went poof overnight, BlackCloud Trade took the Simons' death struggles square, and when the sun came up, they'd vanished.

Your pop, of course, wanted to make a comeback. But would his rivals give him the chance?

Not in a million years.

So Columbian business goes. Times it stinks more of blood than the battlefield.

And because of that, your pop's never been up on his feet since.

Now, so, I've gotta admit, it makes total sense why Mr. Anthony wants to get outta here and give HydeBro hell twice over.

But you, Miss Robin?

We can both assume for sure, if HydeBro never wiped out the Simons, then the Simons would've never taken down your pop's BlackCloud Trade with 'em.

We can also assume, if the Simons were one step ahead of HydeBro instead, then Smith Simon would've had ambitions to far outstrip the Brothers all those years.

He might've even been more peaceful in dealing with HydeBro's various underling firms.

But 'if' don't live anywhere.

Present reality is—the Simons have caused your ol' man's collapse.

And the guy you're killing, Anthony Simon, is that family's last man standing. Their sole survivor.

I don't think it adds up like that.

Sure! Of course, I'm not gonna tell you this is righteous, Miss Robin, this ain't no justice at all.

If tragedies can be weighed, then I must say, the debt HydeBro owes Mr. Anthony is far heavier than what Mr. Anthony owes you.

But does that mean your revenge has to wait its sweet turn until his is done?

Is your pain worth less than his?

That ain't right.

Pain's an equal mistress.

Think about all those miserable years your ol' man's gone through. You've got enough reason to put the big guy to death, don't you?

I...

And we must consider something else too, Miss Robin.

Something even more practical.

The Simons are already ruined. Even if Mr. Anthony can break his way out, even if he promises to sweeten your pop, even if at the very end he succeeds—

What the hell is he able to give you?

Can he pay all those urgent medical fees for you?

Can he get your pop to the most cutting-edge hospital out there for treatment?

Maybe ol' Smith passed his business brain down to his son, but in the short-term, he can't do squat.

But me, I can give you these things.

You can think it over, Miss Robin.

You're...

You can think it over, Miss Robin.

You're... the one hiring me?!

I am. Here in the flesh.

I sympathize with your experiences, but I have figured out how you tick. I know you aren't willing to take charity, and I don't like giving others charity either.

So I've prepared for you a deal.

Why would you tell me all that?

Of course, I was not planning to reach out to you at first. Only, this move Mr. Anthony made has forced me out.

Forgive my sorrows once more, but after living in here, even I was one step away from Mr. Anthony's boldness winning me over.

And if I hadn't told you any of this, you would've let that cheap sympathy go to your head, and you would've chosen to help him.

And if I were running some basic con on you today—say, Mr. Anthony brought your ol' man's company down—I'd worry about you hearing the full picture from his side soon enough.

And wouldn't I look like a cheat and a scoundrel then? You'd want nothing to do with me.

So I may as well tell you everything you oughta know. Let you choose for yourself.

Go and put all those past disputes to one side. Just think about this one, simple question—

You gonna choose to help him out of sympathy with likely no returns, or are you gonna help me for all I've promised in your interest?

Miss Robin. Have you decided?

...I'm in.