Ruffles stood on the open tarmac of Payton's huge shipyard, watching his crew, taking in the details of their work up on the web of scaffolding. He wanted to be able to get in there and help physically put his inventions together, even if it would only be for a small amount of the time. But the work crew given to him by Payton weren't ready for that, yet. For now, he needed to watch for errors. They were all accomplished engineers, but these were his designs. Now he had the freedom and finance to do as he wanted with them, the product was going to be cutting edge. The nobles in their glorified yachts could eat their fucking hearts out.
Hours later, when the twin suns were setting, he drove a dome car through the streets, leaving the main city behind entirely, until he came to a small, quiet district of villas. seven of the hugest on one side of the street had had the walls separating their yards smashed through by the occupants. He hadn't expected anything else from his family. Only one had the lights on, and there was a lot of noise coming from it. Some of it music, most of it cheering and conversation.
Ruffles was just a bit too tired for that. Maybe next time. He turned and got back into the dome car.
Back at his apartment, he cracked a can of blue soda, sat in an armchair by a coffee table, and started rolling a joint. When it was done, he lit it, and reclined back adjusting the chair low. It had been a good day, but he was exhausted.
He wondered what the others were doing right now.
He hoped Sprout, Allie, Maria and Bennie had liked their presents. They'd all reacted well, he thought. Ruffles smiled as he remembered giving them each their gifts in private.
For Sprout, he'd forged a new combat knife, and had even managed to get some stag horn off of the black market for the handle. For Allie, he'd made a portable, compact version of the ADS cannon he'd built. It was powered by a small plasma cell. He'd been young and dumb and in her position once. Maybe a bit older, but still. Young enough that he hadn't thought hard enough about taking a life before he'd had to do it. He wanted her to have other options.
He'd stolen Bennie's shoes one night, long enough to take measurements. He'd gotten some cash from Payton up front, so it hadn't been hard to have a good pair of boots made in an afternoon by a very handsomely paid cobbler. He'd always noticed Bennie went all in on his shoes. They always looked so fancy and easy to ruin. The boots he'd had made were handsome, but simplistic. Most importantly, they could have the shit kicked out of them and buff spotless.
Maria's gift was the one he was proudest of. He vaguely remembered the scooter she'd apparently lost before she'd come aboard the Maiden. So he'd built her a new one from the ground up. Concealing that had been hard. He'd taken to disassembling it partially and hiding it in the walls. The entire ship was rigged with wall compartments for the purposes of smuggling that he'd modified into the ship's design. It was times like this he was glad nobody knew about the ones in his lab. Hell, it was how he'd hidden his weed garden.
As he thought of Maria, his eyes drifted to the radio in the corner. He decided he'd call her tomorrow. Despite the fact he'd left the ship for a number of months, he wasn't totally ignorant of the fact that he had something pretty damn wonderful going with her.
The last few days had been a blur for the survivors of Frostfall's latest war. The period of it's turbulent history that had earned itself the name 'The Long Night'. It worked nicely, Erik was pushing it to everybody. Not only was it full of dark deeds but it was ending just as storm season was passing. The days were going to get longer, people's hopes were daring to rise, whole days had gone by without shootings.
The long night had passed.
And for Florian, a manic day was dawning. He spent his time being pulled to and from meetings, to planning sessions to being coached in the finer points of rule. People were leaping on the change and to their credit, no one was going to let this chance fail.
Orders were given to reopen schools and bandits that once laid wast to the streets escorted children to safely attend their classes. Military personnel gave their supplies and manpower to emergency rebuilding schemes as hospitals and shelters were flooded with fresh staff and volunteers. Not the greatest of deeds maybe but the city was making its first steps towards a peacful future.
What little personal time they had was visiting Irena in recovery. Things were tense between her and Erik but the old brute took everything she threw at him without complaint and went back everyday. Florian had gotten his own chiding from Lilith for going ahead and claiming his 'birthright' without running it by her first. He was loving it though, however rough the job ahead got, he kept going. He was helping people, in a far bigger way than he ever could as a priest. There was still a pain from Vasa's death... but he was working through that with the help of those around him. Diving into such demanding work helped.
And today they were working on a very big project. The renovation of the tower and their new base of operations. Right now they'd worked their onto the living quarters.
"I told you I'll have these rooms." Florian said, surveying the scorched penthouse.
"It's the smallest one though." Erik mused.
"It's cosy, I like cosy. Gunna snuggle up in here at night, put some tartan around the place."
"Why do you keep going back to tartan?!"
"Have you ever slept in tartan blankets, Erik? I have, they are ten times more comfy than any other form of blanket or sheet!" Florian said in the lordly tone he'd been practising.
"... You're enjoying decorating far too much." Erik rolled his eyes.
"It's great! I'm playing house for realsies." Flroian beamed like a child.
"You should have seen the kitchen back on the Maiden." Lilith chimed in, hands across her chest as she looked at the pair. "I think there are hospitals that are dirtier and less organised than that place when Florian was in charge."
Lilith had quietly resigned herself to what was happening. Florian was... well, not happy, not yet, it was far too soon, but he was keeping busy, doing good things, the atmosphere of the entire dome was already changing for the better, and that sense of accomplishment was having an effect on the man.
"And I will bring that to all of Frostfall and we shall have the prettiest dome in the world! I'm going collar some street kids painting graffiti but instead of arresting them, I'll get them to paint beautiful murals around their neighbourhood. They shall go through a heartwarming journey and believe in themselves for the first time." Florian went on, letting himself indulge in some wimsy while he could.
Not that Erik would let him. "That's stupid."
"Your face is stupid."
"Come on lads." Lilith chuckled. "Let's all agree that both your faces are stupid in equal measure."
"Turning on both of us like this." Florian sniggered. "And the old ladies at the women's institute thought you were such a nice girl."
"Satch a nice vyung gal!" Erik joined in, broadening his accent even further and putting on his best old lady voice. "I has grandsoon, is doktor, he give you good-" He didn't get a chance to get to whatever filthy punchline he was working up to as the radio clipped to his vest crackled up. "We need real phones around here, damnit." He grumbled.
"Shared a few words with the person on the other end, their voice was difficult to understand through the static. Erik nodded along before his brow furrowed. "It's for you." He said quizzically and offered the radio to Lilith.
Raising a brow curiously, Lilith pursed her lips, shrugging her shoulders as she took the radio. "Gimme a minute." The girl said quietly, winking at Florian as she took a few steps away from the two men.
"Hello?... Oh hey Bennie, yeah it's me, what's up?" The other two resumed their conversation, Lilith's voice fading into the backdrop as she walked away from the pair.
With Lilith wandering off Erik and Florian got back to their bickering.
"It's going to cost an arm and a leg to get all these buildings fixed, you know. How are we paying for half of this?" Florian asked. He was still learning the ropes when it came to balancing books on this scale.
"Dead noble estates." Erik said simply. "They owned most of these things and since nobody wants to step forward to collect... well except you."
"I guess between that and all the drugs and gun money we swiped we should be covered huh?" He smiled a little at the thought of all these gun runners seeing their loot going towards something like a sunshine daycare building.
"Plus when it's done we can rent out your new place to film a porn." Erik nudged him with a smirk.
"It's porno, or porn movie, you don't have a porn."
"Okay...yeah... I-I'll... yeah." Lilith lowered the radio from her ear, her arms going limp at her sides for a few moments before the device fell from her fingers, clattering on the ground.
Florian and Erik's argument over porn based grammar came to a stuttering halt as they turned towards the noise. Florian raised a hand quietly for Erik to stay as he followed after Lilith. It was clear to see something was wrong.
"Hey, what's up?" He asked her tentatively.
Lilith barely registered Florian's question as slowly began walking towards the exit of the building. "I h-have... to go." Her voice was shaking, her eyes wide and glassy as all the colour drained from her face. "A-Axel... I need to..." She trailed off as words began to fail her.
Florian was only taken aback for a second as what little she said clicked. He cut her off as she tried to get by, looking like a wreck, the same kind he'd looked like a few days ago. "What's happened, Lil?" He held her, his hands on her shoulders.
Lilith froze as Florian grabbed her, slowly her body began to shake. "S-she's de..." She couldn't bring herself to say the words, as if refusing to acknowledge their meaning would somehow change things. Turning around slowly, she looked up at Florian. "S-she's..." her bottom lip began to quiver as tears welled in her eyes. "I-I..."
He didn't say anything more, Florian just pulled her closer into a tight embrace and let Lilith pour it all out. While this went on Erik quietly retrieved the radio and spoke to the person who'd contacted her. The look he gave Florian confirmed it.
He couldn't think of anything he could say that would possibly comfort Lil at a time like this. He just held her tighter, just as she'd done for him when he'd needed it.
"I... Flori-" She couldn't even speak, the sobs that wracked her chest were too much. The feeling of loss was instant, like something had reached into her and ripped away a part of her soul. It was like Axel in Feroxi all over again.
'Axel'
Squeezing her eyes shut as hot tears streamed down her cheeks, Lilith gripped Florian tight, tighter than she'd ever held anyone, terrified that the world might swallow her right now if given the chance.
"You do what you have to." Florian said softly. "I'm here for whatever you need... you just do what you have to." He knew her well enough to know where her mind was going and that he couldn't stop her.
After a few more minutes, Lilith's sobs had quietened slightly, and then after a few more moments, as she tried to calm herself, one sentence kept echoing in her mind, something to focus on, something that she made stand out above everything else.
'Axel needs you.'
For everything she was feeling, Axel was going through worse, and knowing him, he was doing it alone. He needed her, he needed her now more than ever, more than he'd ever need her ever again.
Through sheer force of will, Lilith calmed her breathing, sniffling as she pushed away from Florian, running her coat sleeve across her face. "I'm going." She said simply, wincing as she demanded the tears to stop. Turning on her heel, the girl quickly made for the exit, hands balled into fists, purpose in her step.
"Wait- what, now?" Florian headed after her. "You can't go now, you're in no state to travel out there!" He carried on, warning her about brewing storms and travel conditions, just trying to get Lilith to pause and take a breath. All to no avail it seemed. Erik followed at a distance, calling someone to get some emergency travel supplies.
Bursting out of the doors of the tower, Lilith didn't register the stares of several guards as she walked across the courtyard, the cold air stinging her eyes and cheeks as she maintained her pace. Florian was quick on her heels, begging her to see reason, but it didn't matter, nothing mattered, only getting back to Axel. She need to get to her bike, near the outskirts of town, a crawler, she needed a crawler, right now.
"She's going to leave all her stuff behind too." Erik added, leaning up to Florian and sounding like this whole thing was just a little bit boring. The exact kind of old man calmness that really got on Florian's nerves.
He shot Erik a look and immediately got back to chasing after Lilith, rounding on her as she got to the closest group of parked crawlers. "Please, Lil, just take a moment!" He pleaded. "There are fresh storms brewing out there that'll bury you if you rush off now. We have special crawlers, we can get some guides. You don't need to rush this alone."
"Now." Lilith mumbled as she tried the doors on the first parked crawler she saw. Locked. "I need to go now." She stated, getting more frustrated as the doors on the second crawler she tried were also locked. "I need..." the girl started breathlessly as the doors on the third crawler also failed to open. "I NEED TO GO NOW!" She cried, smashing her fist against the glass.
Florian took a deep breath and composed himself, he wouldn't look at her with pity. She had given him that same courtesy. He reached out slowly, placing a hand over her clenched fist. He wanted to comfort her, to help her somehow, but he had to stand his ground here as well.
"You can't help Axel if you get yourself killed out in the ash." He locked eyes with her, forcing her to take a moment in the quiet. "You aren't alone." However much she felt it, he had to make sure she knew otherwise. "Let me help you."
"Fuck you!" For a moment she fought against him, trying to pull herself from his grip. Locking eyes with Florian, her gaze was a both one of fury and despair. "FUCK OFF!" With her free hand she lashed out at the man, it was a hard punch, but fortunately didn't entirely connect.
She'd clipped his jaw. Florian didn't say anything. His grip on her hadn't been firm, though her hit hadn't been strong enough to stagger him back properly. Still, he let go. He knew from the start he couldn't stop her, he just hoped it would go better than this.
["Keys. Who's got the keys for this?"] He called out to the nearby staff who were trying desperately to look like they weren't watching. After some hesitation someone stepped forward and handed him the keys to one of the nearby crawlers.
Florian wordlessly gave them to Lilith.
The girl snatched the keys from Florian's hand, panting angrily as she glared at him.
Then over the span of a few moments her breath went ragged as her eyes softened and glistened again. "I didn't mea..." she winced as she hesitantly raised her hands.
"You do what you have to do." He said softly, reaching out just enough to brush the tips of her fingers with his before quickly pulling away. "You know where I am." He stepped back and gave her space to drive away.
Lilith sobbed slightly, quickly stepping foward, she hugged Florian briefly before pushing away, fumbling with the keys in the crawler door before crawling into the driver's seat and firing up the engine on the crawler. He met her eyes as she looked at him through the windscreen, a part of her begging her to stay, to do this properly, like he'd said, but she couldn't, this was the only thing stopping her from completely breaking down.
'Axel needs you.'
Tearing her eyes away from the man she loved, Lilith kicked the crawler into reverse, tyres screeching as she quickly backed up and spun the vehicle around before heading to the outskirts of town to retrieve her bike from Irena's apartment.
Florian watched her go, managing to hide most of the hurt in his eyes. A punch and an embrace seemed to be the natural way of things for them. Things never got to stay simple for long... if they ever managed to get there.
["What happened? I went away for a second."] Erik knocked him from his thought, suddenly appearing by Florian's side.
["She'd gone."] Florian sighed.
["Couldn't wait, huh?"]
["Nope."]
["Sucks, right?"]
["Yep!"] Florian blew air threw his nose and turned back to the tower. ["I have work to do."] He called behind him, shoving his hands in his pockets. Part wondering if Lilith would ever be back.
Erik hung back, knowing when to give the boy his space. He watched the crawler speed off through the narrow streets, taking a moment to enjoy the strong breeze across his face. This could make things interesting. ["The queen is dead. Long live the queen."]
Lilith stumbled around Irena's apartment, grabbing as many thick jumpers and blankets as she could fit into her pack. The Maiden was docked at the Crow's nest, that was less than day away, even less if she gunned it and drove through the night. The fact that this didn't register as remotely dangerous in her head was an indication of just how unclear she was thinking.
Kick starting the bike, Lilith wrapped herself in as many layers as it was feasibly possible, climbing onto the bike, she headed for the exit to the dome, grabbing a couple of tanks of gas on the way.
The cold hit her instantly, clawing away at her as she made the bike give her everything it had. She didn't think of the rapidly declining temperature as she hurtled through the ash, she didn't think of what would happen if the bike broke down, how getting stuck this far away from the dome was a death sentence, she barely acknowledged the thundering storm bellowing above her.
Nothing in the world could stop her right now, not the cold, not the weather, not her grief. Not even Florian. That all paled in comparison to what she needed to do right now, where she needed to be.
As darkness fell, the storm lulled as she travelled further and further from Frostfall, Lilith's hands were completely numb, even in two pairs of thick gloves, what little moisture there was exposed on her skin and hair had frozen, forming crystals on her eyelashes. She had never felt cold like it, and yet she immediately quelled the voice of reason in the back of her mind.
'Get to shelter!' 'No.' 'Turn back!' 'No.' 'Go back to Florian! You can wait a day!'
The answer was always the same. Pixie would be proud of her stubbornness.
Would have been.
Several unbearable hours passed, and not once did Lilith slow down, if this was any other day, she'd have been convinced she'd travelled faster than anyone had ever travelled by land between Frostfall and the Crow's Nest. Any other day.
As the dome finally peaked over the horizon, Lilith's gaze was drawn to a smaller speck miles West, she'd recognise that tiny silohouette anywhere.
'I'm coming, Axel'
---
"Cap'n!" Allie called out over the intercom to the bridge. "Cap'n I got somethin' incoming on the sensors, a wee thing, it's fast, might be a crawler? Do you have a visual?"
Bennie was busy nursing a whiskey bottle when the call came in. "One sec," he replied before making his way over to the bridge's main window. Brock handed him a pair of binoculars so he could get a better view. "That was fast."
"It's Lilith," the big man said into the mic. "Let 'er in."
"Aye Capn'" Allie quickly flicked off the intercom and rushed down to the hangar.
Pulling a breather off the wall next to the control panel, Allie locked down the hangar as she initiated the opening procedure, visibly shivering as the colder Northern air hit her. Blondie was coming in hot, for a moment it didn't look like she was going to slow down as she hit the ramp. Barely travelling more than a few feet into the hangar, Lilith dismounted the bike before it had even come to a complete stop. Without even acknowledging Allie, she stumbled forward clumsily, as if she had forgotten how to walk. How long had she been driving that thing? Allie glanced at the bike, it had certainly seen better days.
"Bennie'll want ta see you." Allie called after Lilith, closing the ramp and taking the hangar off lockdown. Blondie ignored her as she moved down the hangar, quickly regaining the proper use of her legs, and began peeling off what looked like blankets and a sweater or two, leaving them behind her on the floor, along with her breather.
Bennie was halfway down the hall towards Sprout's room when he spotted Lilith marching towards him. "Hey Lilith," Bennie called out, his voice weary. "Sprout, uh... he hasn't spoken to anyone in days."
"I know." Lilith mumbled, the first words she had uttered in almost a day. Barely looking up at Bennie, her determined, almost panicked expression told him everything he needed to know. She brushed past him quickly as she moved further down the corridor.
"We'll catch up later," Bennie whispered mostly to himself as she passed by.
If anyone could get through to the boy, it was her.
Standing in front of the door to Axel's room, Lilith gently tapped on the door, ignoring the painful chill that still lingered in her fingers.
No answer came.
Resting her forehead against the door, Lilith closed her eyes for a moment, her body screaming at her to sleep. "It's me, Axel." She said softly, placing her palm on the cold metal.
A full minute went by before the door finally opened. The man Sprout had grown into over the past few months was gone, replaced by the frail, broken boy that stood before her now. He looked directly into Lilith's eyes.
She couldn't stand what she saw behind them.
Lilith's fatigue was instantly replaced as she searched the boy's face. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks were raw from where he'd been wiping away the tears. She wanted nothing more than to break down with him, just the two of them crawl into a corner somewhere and never leave.
But that's not why she came back.
Exhaling slowly, Lilith fought back the rising at the back of her throat.
'Be strong for him.'
Forcing a sad smile, her eyes glistened as she held open her arms.
"I know, sweetheart."
He collapsed into her embraced and simply... existed there. He had no tears left to shed, but even still, the pain persisted. He was grateful for her, even if he couldn't find the words to tell her.
Lilith closed her eyes, cradling the back of the boy's head as she held him close. "I know." She said again, her voice cracking as the threat of tears closed her eyes.
Amy maintained her silent vigil, sat against the wall outside the door to the Captain's Quarters... Pixie's room. This was where she spent her free time now, not that there had been a lot of that lately. With no particular speciality to speak of when the Maiden was docked like this, she tried to help out wherever an extra pair of hands was needed (or rather, where a thin excuse for one could be found for one). Through her contacts, she'd managed to requisition such a surplus of medical supplies for Maria that finding a place to put it all became its own logistical problem, and she must have cleaned every gun in the ship's now ample armoury by now. Between that, training, helping Whiskey look after Millie, and begrudging pauses for food and sleep, she'd been trying to find ways to divide her time down to nothing...
And still she felt so useless.
Axel still wouldn't come out of his room, and Amy hadn't tried to force him. She understood enough about grief by now to know that it just had to run its course. When he needed her, he would come. Until then, she would wait. As for her own feelings? Right now, it was all white noise. So much sorrow and anger fighting for attention inside her head that she couldn't focus on any one piece of it. What first? Her mourning for Pixie? Her guilt at how they had left things? She didn't even know what to feel about The Gentleman. She'd never really thought of him as a friend. The man didn't have friends, and until recently neither did she; and yet, he was the first man to have ever treated her fairly, the first to ever put the power in her hands. Even now, she couldn't think of anyone among those she loved the most who understood her like he did. And now this silence? That could only mean one of two things: Either that the network was critically compromised, or that The Gentleman himself had ordered it to go dark, in anticipation of a storm he'd seen coming. The one thing she was sure of, was that Contessa Lombardi was lying through her teeth. Blowing up an Ivory Tower was not his style, and if he'd wanted Contessa dead, she would be.
There was no sign of Claire either, after the attack on Feroxi. The original mission Amy had sent her on with a simple nod of the head, that night at the heist, was long past void by now. Perhaps she was laying low as well? However, the dull pit in Amy's stomach begged to differ.
On the outside of all of this, Amy was a picture of calm. Well, that's what she was good at. Savouring the pain, cataloguing it, keeping it safe and contained until she could find its rightful owner, and return it to them in kind. This time, however, where was she even supposed to start?!
"How much more?"
Amy was pulled out of her tangled train of thought by Sandra coming to sit beside her.
"What do you mean?" Amy replied faintly.
"Just the last few days, I've been thinking..." Sandra said bitterly "How much more of this shit are we going to have to take, before we get to wherever we're going? First Georgia, now this. I can't stop myself from trying to second guess who's next."
"Lets not start placing bets." Amy told her, continuing to stare straight ahead.
Sandra looked a little embarrassed with herself.
"I'm sorry." She said, putting her head on Amy's shoulder "I didn't know her as well as you did. To be honest, she scared the crap out of me."
"That's fine. I'm not certain I really knew her at all."
"Still," Sandra continued "I know this must be hard for you. Kinda makes you wish you could go back to being stone-cold and independent, huh? Just bow out and go your own way, you know, before anyone has to cry over you too. Not that I'm planning to, or anything. I go where you go."
"Sandy," Amy cut in "I brought you on board because I wanted to keep you safe, but I don't know where the hell passes for safe anymore. I only narrowly escaped a broken neck just a few days ago, remember? If you want to leave, I'll set you up wherever."
"Well, on balance, I'd rather be somewhere with a lot of guns." Sandra replied firmly. "I'm staying."
For the first time in days, a small smile crept onto Amy's lips.
"To answer your question, no it doesn't." she said, after a few moments of silence. "A month ago, I'd have been right there with you. Cut and run while nobodies paying attention. Stay in control. Never bet anything you can't afford to lose, and never win something you really want. Worked out pretty well for me for a long time. At least, it never led to me sitting staring at a fucking door like she's waiting right behind it... waiting to jump out the moment I give up and say she won."
Amy's good hand balled into a fist, and she hung her head.
"I'm not saying you'll find it on this ship Sandra. You'll find it where you find it, but some day life is going to hand something to you that's gonna hold on to you tight. When that happens, don't you dare let it go, cause every day there are a few less good people in the world. From now on, we find the ones we can call our own...
Maria tried to keep her aim steady as she squeezed the pistol's trigger. Half a second or so later, a tin can didn't look so healthy. Whiskey's training might've left her with a aim decent enough to hit whatever was in front of her but didn't help any bit with combating the wave of grief following the news of Pixie's death. The doctor holstered her weapon. It was certainly a little more effective than the hoedad she'd bothered carrying around for long. Though, there something to be said about a doctor with a pistol...
...Which would be probably be in lost under the sound of gunfire.
Setting aside the tin cans, Maria walked to the infirmary. An infirmary filled with medicial supplies rather than patients. While many would never see such an amount in their lifetimes, the mass of medical supplies was quickly becoming a messy monster. Maria must've organised and organised it a thousand times in a vain effort to contain it. She sighed as she spotted a part where a bunch of boxes had fallen over. Typical. Time to start again.
A lot had happened in the past few months. First there was the end of the Talbot rain, which brought the revelation that Jesse was in fact of noble blood. While that did explain a few things, Maria still thought the boy was a bit... touched in the head at times. Even if he was starting to dial it back a bit. Then Ruffles left. The goodbye contained more sass than smushy stuff. Maria smiled as she thought of his goodbye gift: a reincarnation of an old friend. She wondered where the original was, perhaps some bandit had swiped it and made a name for themselves like with the Iron Maiden.
Suddenly her smile stopped.
Though she'd only had a conservation or two with the Bandit Queen, her absence echoed through her ship's hull. The boy Maria saved had locked himself up in his room. No surgeon could fix what ailed him, or the the rest of the crew for that matter. Even the ever upbeat Jesse seemed under the weather.
That was the problem with bereavement, the maddening void where a person was supposed to be.
Maria tried to brush those thoughts away as she slayed the monster of boxes, leaving to wake again another day. Well, on the bright side, at least Lilith had returned home safely. Right?
With her home under Wilkes-Vines control, Elizabeth had very few places she could go. Dio had survived the attempt on his life and knew of Elizabeth's involvement. His vengeance would be swift and merciless. If she joined up with the Maidens or sought protection from the Tigereye family, she'd only endanger their lives. There was only one real choice.
And Asad wasn't at all happy about it.
"Seeking asylum in Paradiso" was an epitaph if he had ever heard one--a point he'd made clear a dozen times since they left Feroxi. Still, he relented in the end.
It was the only choice that made sense.
And here she was now, a fugitive noble sitting in the waiting room of the most expensive public hospital ever built. With her tower in ruins, the Golden Empress would have to settle for a bed among the "common rabble" until her condition improved. Contessa's prized possession had crumbled the same night Dio's was set ablaze, and yet she managed to survive with some minor burns and a bullet wound in her shoulder. Odd that--both women getting shot in the same spot by the same man. That was assuming Contessa's story was true, of course.
Elizabeth had her doubts.
Though she hadn't yet spoken publicly about the attacks, Contessa's people claimed the attacks on Feroxi and Paradiso were perpetrated by the illustrious Gentleman. Elizabeth knew the truth about Feroxi, and if Contessa would lie about that she could be lying about Paradiso as well. Even about Pixie's apparent death.
If Dio had a body he'd happily leave it out for display.
Maybe that was just wishful thinking, but was it any more crazy than taking Contessa at her word?
If Contessa was behind it all it would certainly explain a lot. The summit being held that night had within it some of the most powerful and influential leaders among the nobility. Their deaths would lead to power vacuums in the oligarchy--vaccums that could be filled by shills and idiots that the attack's lone survivor would place there. Lady Lombardi would court order by employing chaos--the very same tactic Dio had adopted. Any blame leveled against her--if any existed at all--could be easily reasoned away considering she was in the building when it was bombed. Given his rather exaggerated resume and the nobility's general fear of the man, the Gentleman was an ingenious scapegoat--the perfect boogieman to rally the weak willed against.
Despite how much conjecture was involved, Elizabeth knew it all to be true. Contessa was a power-hungry tyrant. Just as much the control freak as Dio had ever been. She would cast the people of the Rock into darkness, and have them cower from a shadow. She would tell them she could save them, if only they follower her lead--and they would believe her.
Elizabeth would not count among their number, however.
She'd been through so much since the train robbery. She thought she'd opened her eyes, only to have her new found insight tested time and time again. Elizabeth didn't have all the answers, but she knew evil when she saw it and no longer had reason to fear it. Elizabeth would play her just as Contessa was playing the rest of the world.
And when the Golden Empress finally let her guard down, Elizabeth would usurp her ambition.
"How long have you been out here?" someone suddenly asked from Elizabeth's periphery. She had been so absorbed in thought that she didn't even notice the stranger's arrival. "Lady Maribel?"
Wait... I know you...
"Dr. Pym," Elizabeth said. "Sorry, I was just drifting off. To answer your question: I've been out here quite awhile, actually. It seems the good Lady doesn't enjoy unannounced company. If you're going to stay, could you give these flowers to her for me?"
The graying scientist cocked his head and shot the girl a curious grin. "You're not going to ask me why I'm here?" he replied.
"It doesn't take a genius to figure it out."
"Is that so?"
Elizabeth's expression grew serious. "You were working with Contessa the entire time," she claimed. "That, or you are working both sides." Adrian only smiled. "Let me guess, you're going to tell me something cryptic."
"And why's that?" he asked, his smile larger now.
"You seem the type."
Dr. Pym broke eye contact and nodded to himself. He had one helluva shit-eating grin. "You're just as cocky as she was, you know?" he told her. "Well, you are now anyway."
"Is this about Margaret?" Now Elizabeth was the one with her head cocked.
"I wonder who will bring her dream to life first," he said. "I wonder who she favors." Elizabeth simply watched him, unsure what it was he was getting at. "You mean to outwit the very Empress who freed you."
Elizabeth clenched her jaw, but otherwise remained calm.
Adrian laughed. "Honestly, I'd like to see you try. I'm genuinely curious if you can succeed," he said.
"What's your angle, Doctor?" she asked him, finally. "Whose side are you on?"
Adrian laughed harder. "I'm on the same side you are, m'Lady," he assured her. "I'm on the side of the people. I am working for a better tomorrow. For a better Rock, just like you are."
"We have very different methods, apparently."
"Perhaps," he said. "We all have different parts to play in this script, m'Lady. I have a good idea where most of us fit, but you remain a mystery to me. I'm glad you didn't end up as a bloodied plaything for that maniac."
"Like my sister, you mean."
Dr. Pym's cheery expression evaporated. "Yes," he said in a grim tone. After an awkward pause he walked over to the young lady and took the flowers she offered him. "Lady Lombardi will love these."
Elizabeth pursed her lips into a half-hearted smile and got to her feet. "You say we're all following a script," she began as she started down the hall, "yet I've been improvising--learning as I go." Before turning down the adjacent hall, Elizabeth looked over her shoulder and smiled confidently. "My sister wove a compelling story, but I don't intend to simply co-opt her work. I'm going off script, Doctor. It'll be interesting to see if you can keep pace with the new plot."
"Curiosity?" Pym asked whimsically. "You would have made a good scientist."
"I'll make a better conqueror," she said, chuckling slightly, before disappearing around the corner.
Adrian simply stood there for a good long while--staring down the hall--before suddenly crushing the bouquet in his hands and shoving the flowers violently into a nearby trashcan.
Only one of them would be standing at the end of this tale, and Dr. Pym wasn't quite sure who it would be.
[HEADING=1]The Ashlanders - Chapter 6: The Blind Man's Last Gambit[/HEADING]
Six Months Later...
Was this Elizabeth's tenth or eleventh session? She'd lost count some time ago. After countless hours laying down on that table, she never really got used to the pain. Still, Sebastian's pen couldn't hold a candle to Dio's knife.
The young Latino did a decent job keeping her mind off of it. He was charming in his own way, but he learned early on that telling jokes wouldn't fly. When Elizabeth started laughing she became a very difficult canvas to work with. He'd done considerable work on her--possibly his best ever--and he couldn't risk spoiling his masterpiece now. The young noble would just have to suck it up.
Something told him she'd gotten rather good at that.
"All done!" he announced with a sharp clap of his hands.
Elizabeth sighed with relief as he finished wiping her back. "How's it look?" she asked.
"See for yourself," he told her as he snapped a picture of her back with his Polaroid camera. Once the image appeared he handed it to his client. "It's still a little red around the paws, but the swelling should die down. If it doesn't look quite right once its down, come back to me and I'll touch it up."
"It looks fabulous, Sebastian!" Elizabeth declared with a huge grin on her face. "I can't believe it's finally done!"
Elizabeth was no longer the naive little girl she once was, and now she finally had something to prove that. Could any other noble claim to have a yakuza tattoo on their back?
All that pain had been well worth it.
Sebastian put his hands on his hips and cocked an eyebrow. "You know, you never told me why you went with this," he remarked. "Why a white tiger?"
"In New Roppongi they call him 'Byakko', White Tiger of the West'," she told him. "It's said that he only appears when the emperor rules with absolute virtue and the entire world knows peace."
"Sounds dramatic," Sebastian chuckled.
Elizabeth nodded. "I suppose so," she admitted.
Asad would say the same.
"So, Lady Maribel plans to win the Rock with peace and virtue?"
"I do," she replied. "I may crack a few skulls while I'm at it though."
Sebastian laughed and slapped her on the shoulder. "I'll be sure to stay clear of the explosions then," he said. "Come on, let's get you back to work. Captain Beatrix says we'll be arriving in Frostfall with the hour."
Elizabeth took the man's hand and got to her feet. Considering his unconventional proclivities, the virgin noble had no problem standing half-naked before him. "Thanks again," she told him as she slipped on her bra (she'd upgraded to a b-cup!). "I still can't believe its all over. I'll have to think of another one to get before too long."
"I don't know m'Lady," he said. "You seem like a one-tattoo kind of woman. But if you do think of something, you know who to call."
Elizabeth offered him a warm smile. "Of course," she said with a wink. "Well, duty calls." After putting on her white tank-top, she threw her jacket over her shoulder and headed out the door.
Her transformation was finally complete! A badass tiger tattoo on her back, a super-short, independent woman haircut and a lean build? That's a recipe for a badass noblewoman! Wasn't it?
Still a child when it comes down to it, Elizabeth thought, chuckling quietly to herself.
If she'd learned anything after all this time it was that she needed to lighten up. Taking herself too seriously wasn't good for her blood pressure, nor was it particularly effective against Contessa's people. They were all about pretension and humbling their peers.
No, she had kept her theatrical flair--even her dramatic intensity--but she'd also learned to laugh at herself. She figured the more she laughed at herself the less Asad would laugh at her.
Stop thinking of him. You're about to see Florian again for the first time in months!
Not only was her crush alive, but he was a noble now too!
Focus! This isn't about boys!
Being a virgin sucks.
"You couldn't bother getting fully dressed, m'Lady?" Captain Beatrix asked when Elizabeth arrived on the bridge. Despite being Elizabeth's subordinate, Beatrix never gave her an inch. Apparently she was just like that with everyone. It reminded her of Cranston.
Guess it runs in the family.
Elizabeth looked herself over. A white tanktop and slacks that flared out at the bottom. No shoes. Well, she was half-dressed anyway. "I just got out of an appointment," Elizabeth told her. "I understand we're about to dock outside Frostfall. I figured checking in with you took precedents over dress code."
Beatrix squared her shoulders. "You wear shoes on my bridge, m'Lady," she told her, pointing to the woman's bare feet.
Your ship?! I own this ship! I---I get what you mean.
She wasn't about to argue with the woman.
"Wait a minute, who's the noble here again?" Edea suddenly chimed in. The tall blonde approached the two women and offered the Captain a mischievous grin. "Forgive me if I forget who I'm sworn to protect."
Considering his extensive operational experience, Elizabeth had taken Asad off of security detail months ago--replacing him with Edea Fontaine, a minor noble who had spent her entire adult life serving the Lombardi family. She was a fencing expert and always kept her rapier close by. She was a pretty good shot, too.
"Can it Fontaine," Beatrix snapped.
"Status report," Elizabeth commanded, ignoring her bodyguard's quip.
Beatrix crossed her arms over her chest. "Florian's people will be there to greet us when we arrive," she began. "They'll escort us to the tower where the negotiations will take place."
"How do you rate our chances?"
The older woman shrugged. "There are a lot of factors at play, m'Lady," she said, "it's hard to judge. You are personal friends with their leader, however. That gives us an edge."
Elizabeth nodded to herself. "He's a good man, he'll understand," she said. "What about the Santiago op?"
"Colonel Barzetti and Commander Harel are about to engage," Beatrix explained. "They're above the prison ship as we speak, ready to make the drop."
"Good."
"M'Lady, we'll be in port soon," Beatrix said. "You should return to your quarters and get dressed before your betrothed sees you."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Fine," she relented before turning to leave.
The next 24-hours would seal the fate of Elizabeth's campaign. Santiagos and Bejics. If she didn't have their support there was no hope for Boomhower.
Colonel Barzetti stood by the exit ramp--his free hand hanging casually from the metal handle on the ceiling. The rest of the soldiers under his command were sitting against the walls, on opposite sides of the cramped cabin, prepping for the drop. The red lights hadn't come on yet, but their pilot assured them it was almost time. The Colonel cast his eyes around the cabin and whistled sharply to get everyone's attention. "We drop in five minutes," he announced. "Red Team's with me. We're to secure the main deck and bottleneck the enemy. Commander Harel's in-charge of Yellow Team. Once we've breached the hull Harel's team will enter the bottom deck and systematically free the Santiago PoWs one cell-block at a time. Go it?"
"Yeah, yeah, Colonel, we've been over it a thousands times," one of his men whined.
"Then go over it a thousand more times in your head, Sergeant!"
"What about her?" another soldier said, pointing his thumb towards the back of the cabin. A lone soldier sat in the darkness apart from all the rest. She sat hunched over--her black hair obscuring her face. She didn't seem to notice the rest of them as she secured her ponytail into a bun and donned her helmet.
She hadn't spoken a word the entire flight.
Barzetti grinned. "A gift from the Golden Empress," he said. "Matador." Suddenly the cabin erupted in nervous whispers. They didn't last long. "Shut up! Don't worry about her, she's got her own assignment."
"She's not part of a squad?" one of the soldiers closer to the Colonel asked.
"No, she works alone," he replied. "She'll neutralize the engineering staff for us and drop the bird out of the sky when we make our escape." There was a content silence after that. "Anymore questions?! Harel?"
"Get up!" Tsubaki spat as she threw open the curtains, bathing Dio's half-conscious form in the light of the afternoon sun. Again with this? It was getting worse everyday. "You missed three meetings, m'Lord. Get your ass out of bed!"
The half-naked noble pulled himself up into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. "You don't give me orders, Colonel," he groaned. "What time is it?"
"Too late," Tsubaki replied with a sigh. "You need to stop doing this. Sleeping in every day. It doesn't--"
"Shut. Up," Dio cut her off as he buried his eyes into his palms.
Tsubaki furrowed her brow. "Does it hurt?" she asked.
"Every second of every day," he replied in a grim tone. "Why the fuck do you think I stay in bed? The pain goes away when they're closed. When I don't need to see."
"And what of your vision, m'Lord?" Tsubaki asked. "How can you realize it if you won't open your eyes?"
Dio looked up at Tsubaki. His new eyes were empty. Lifeless. Much like the man himself these days. "You will have to be my eyes, Tsubaki," he whispered in a defeated tone.
Tsubaki clenched her jaw. "I am the instrument of your will, m'Lord," she said firmly.
"Thank you, Tsubaki," Dio whispered with his head hung low. "I knew I could count on you."
Tsubaki snapped herself out of her daydream and got out of the shower. Glancing into the adjoining bedroom she spotted Bryan, still asleep from the previous night's "festivities". Their "relationship" was part of their cover, but she still felt weird fucking him. Wasn't he in love with her or something?
After everything that's happened, he'd be a fool to.
After drying herself off with a towel, Tsubaki blow-dried her short hair before allowing it to settle into a natural bob. She still hadn't gotten used to seeing it--that deep, jagged scar that started at her eyebrow and ended on the opposite cheek. A souvenir from a previous life: one she'd gone to great lengths to put behind her.
Baka.
Being a war hero--saving Lord Basilio's life, hadn't really changed anything. Sure, people in Feroxi treated her like some kind of goddess now and gave her anything she wanted, but she never did want for much. After everything that had happened, she really just wanted to run away. To be left alone. But no, she was a hero now. She had a future now. She had to be Feroxi's savior now. Dio's savior.
It made her sick, but it gave her purpose--something she sorely needed, especially now.
Dio's plot had taken an unexpected turn and he needed her now more than ever. Pixie had crushed his spirit. Whether he would admit it or not, their encounter had left him scarred. He couldn't do this alone--even when Dr. Pym had his back. But Pym had betrayed him, just like Asad had betrayed her.
Baka!
Contessa was consolidating power. Uniting the nobility under a common cause. Her cause. Dio's vision wouldn't allow for that, which is why Tsubaki was in Paradiso now. While Contessa focused on uniting the nobility, Dio's forces would fracture it. A dozen teams had been spread out across the ashlands, and were doing their duty for their lord--working to sabotage everything Contessa had built over the past six months.
Tsubaki's team was a little different.
The new Samsara squad had been tasked with infiltrating and dismantling Contessa's oldest ally: the Russo family, Paradiso's native bandits. In a similar vain as their Frostfall mission half a year ago, Samsara was undercover as mercenaries looking to join the family. They had done well for themselves over the course of the past three months, but they had a long way to go before they were in a position to dismantle the entire enterprise. It was bold quest, but Tsubaki knew it could be done.
"Rise and shine Bryan," Tsubaki commanded as she stepped into the bedroom. "We've got work to do."
"What a generous donation, Mr. Dotson! The 'Castello Foundation for Underprivileged Children' appreciates your contribution to the cause!" Anthony Castello announced to a crowd gathered around his craps table. The sleazy, mustached noble patted Bennie on the shoulder and greeted the roaring applause with his pearly whites. Bennie, playing the part of the humble millionaire, averted his gaze from their prying eyes and grinned nervously. Anthony pointed to the heavy, metal case Bennie had brought to him. "Security, please take Mr. Dotson's contribution down to the vault. We can count the carbon later tonight."
"Right away, boss," one of the men said before kneeling down to lift the crate. "Christ, this weighs a ton!" The man said to the other.
Allie, keep your ginger trap shut or so help me, God, Bennie thought to himself as he watched the two security guards lift the case containing the little spitfire onto a dollie.
Moments later the eccentric casino-owner had forgotten about Bennie entirely and was looking at the two beautiful women on either side of him. Amy and Sandra were pros to be sure.
"Whiskey. Jesse. You're up," Bennie whispered into his comm. "Wait for Allie to give the signal. Go."
Sprout watched Bennie's display from across the casino, nodding in approval once Allie was carted off.
Don' fuck this up, kid.
Despite their recent successes, this op had everyone on edge. A casino heist took far more finesse than most, especially when the casino you're robbing blind happens to be aboard a ship that circles the parameter of the largest dome on the Rock--Paradiso. If anything went wrong they'd have to contend with a mountain of security and possibly even the military.
Still could be fun.
Content with Bennie's performance, Sprout turned his attention to Lilith. She was eye-balling a nearby poker table. It was almost time for them to make their move. "Hey sexy," Sprout joked. "Let's 'urry up 'an get this over with. Fuckin' tux's chokin' the life outta me."
Florian doubled over, hands resting on his knees and his brow dripping with sweat, one ragged breath rapidly following the other. Maybe he'd over done it. Seemed like Erik had passed on the gym nut bug to him. The old man wasn't even here and he'd still forced himself to go on as if that polar bear turned man had been snapping at his heels. The rush was worth it though. These points when he went through the old bandit style training regime were the closest things Florian had to personal time and he needed to get his blood pumping here, anything to help him stave off falling asleep in whatever meeting awaited him next. It was fun the first time. Florian had actually stopped and smiled to himself.
'I'm bored. I'm actually bored! When was the last time I had the luxury of finding something so dull I actually dozed off doing it, this is amazing!' This was what normal life was supposed to be like. How naive he'd been. To think he could stand before this torrent of budget meetings and audits with a smile. What a fool.
This wasn't going to be like the other days though, today he was meeting delegates of Boomhower, Elizabeth Maribel among them. Never had a tiny teenage girl made Florian so nervous before. It was one doozy of a situation to explain to Erik.
"You see it might just... be awkward since, when I was with the maidens I was.... kind of her jailer."
"How can you be KIND OF someone's jailer?!"
Oh he was never going to hear the end of that one. How was he even going to manage this? He got why she was coming, what she might want from them and Florian had been through negotiations plenty of times... but that was always with criminals! You knew where you stood with them, the mistrust was clear for all too see. Maybe they'd threaten to break your knees just to be clear. But this... he didn't know how to handle nobility politics! Irena had even hired an etiquette teacher for them, useless! All it had resulted in was Florian getting countless cane swipes from a bitter old crone and being confounded by the number of forks people apparently used at dinner. Was this all part of the great game his mother had once told him of? Somehow he'd pictured it differently.
No matter, he'd handle it as it came, just like he had everything else. The elevators were all back in working order and racing Florian back up to his little penthouse, now totally refurbished. He showered off the stink sweat and gave himself one last look over in the mirror. His scars had finally been given time to heal properly and most had faded to a colour closer to his natural tone. Most. They'd never go completely. The ally cat nick in his ear was in good shape. He'd been worried it wouldn't stand up well to the elements after he'd gotten his hair cut. worries that had quickly faded. Not like Florian's usual scruffy stubble, that had grown in force, despite how much Erik made fun of him and claimed that Florian was just trying to copy his beard. For a moment Florian allowed himself to look over the muscle he'd put on since getting back under Erik's thrall, feeling pretty smug for it. 'Oh God, maybe I am turning into a mini him.' That was a scary thought.
He moved onto the bedroom and looked through the collection of freshly pressed clothes, trying to decide what would look proper and formal. Most of those outfits were muted, military looking things. Florian's staff had told him it would look commanding while fitting with the image he'd shown to the world, an image they continued to refine. Being lord had certainly given him a bunch of nice material things, better clothes and living conditions than he'd ever experienced, Florian would never deny that but he might have traded it all just so he didn't have fight for the right to fight for the right to dress himself. 'You knew you'd have to play the part.'
He was half way through getting dressed when a vile howl erupted from the other room, breaking the pleasant quiet. "Not now, Rollo!" Florian shouted back.
A great mass of ginger fur shuffled through the door as the scarred up cat leaped onto the bed with a grace Florian had never suspected to look at it. It looked him in the eye and meowed again in its rasping, nasal little voice.
"Myeeeeh! That's you, that's what you sound like." Florian retorted. Rollo looked unimpressed as always and made himself a nest among the bed sheets. "You know none of the other cats are allowed past the fifth floor, but do you appreciate that?" (They had adopted a sizable chunk of the city's stray cats as 'security guards' to deal with the tower's rodent problem six months ago.)
Florian had first found Rollo the cat hiding among the ruins of the tower, back when reconstruction had just begun. As big and fluffy as he was Rollo was cowering among the rubble and shivering from a mixture of cold and fear. A pussy scar over one eye and missing a couple toes from one of his paws that left him with a slight limp. Just wishing the whole world would go away. Florian had seen a kindred spirit in that brutalized little creature, two scarred brothers in arms. He'd gotten a vet to see to Rollo's wounds and had made sure he was fed and watered over the coming days. Rollo had been slow to trust humans again and it had taken time until he would let Florian near him without hiding or lashing out. Then one night he'd edged closer to Florian and allowed the man to stroke his fur and purred. He suddenly changed his mind and fled later but it was progress.
Then Lilith had come to visit a few months later and the ginger bastard practically leaped into her arms! Snuggling away like no one's business. Dick cat.
======================================================
"Do you think they should have sent more people for this?" Erik mused.
"No, a big escort makes it look like we don't think they'll be safe. Besides, who could be better than us? Give 'em some sugar and spice to warm them up when they get in." Alexei smiled.
Erik did the same. The two of them had been talking in common all day, for Erik it had been weeks. Florian had childishly refused to acknowledge him whenever Erik spoke in their mother tongue. All part of the learning process he said. All to get Erik's language skills back up to the level they were back law school. Well he'd show them, he'd sow all of them! 'I'm gunna be mister dictionary over here!' Despite all the complaining he was having fun with it though. In fact they'd all been having a lot of fun these days, as if years had been taken off them. It was amazing how relaxed you could feel when you didn't live under threat of roving death mobs.
Things were changing in Frostfall and Erik was changing with them. Shedding his old bandit skin and remembering the man of the world he'd once been. It came easier to him then some of the others, he hadn't been born to the bandit world like Florian had. For Erik, it had been like finding an old friend. With their own people in charge he'd really been able to play havoc with the legal system of the city, the same thing he'd lost faith in all those years ago. His crowning achievement of course being "Ablev's Law" The legalization of same sex marriage in Frostfall. He touched the two wedding bands hanging from a chain around his neck and tucked it under his kevlar vest. The others may have sold out but Erik had kept his bandit work clothes. 'If you could see us now, Petrov.' Those queens back at the bar had better be praising his name, they'd never have to have a secret, illegal, wedding.
Thankfully Alexei hadn't made a thing of it. Erik had been worried the younger man would be a awkward to be around once they'd broken things off but he'd been surprisingly chilled about it. 'I guess we were never really a couple.' A Handsome you bi-boy like Lexei, he'd be fine, Erik'd bet carbon on it. Now if only things could go so smoothly with that lady from the agency.
"Oh- ooh I think we have incoming!" Alexei perked up.
Looking out the large viewing window of the dock they could see an airship approach from over the horizon. The view being nice and clear now storm season had passed, the closest thing Frostfall got to summer. "Remember you're on your best behavior."
"I promise to only mess with them a little." Erik smirked.
Bryan stirred and opened his eyes. Kicking off the blanket, he got out of bed, yawning all the way. He hadn't bothered putting on clothes after last night. It'd at least been going on long enough that any awkwardness either of them felt at the strangeness of their situation was, if not gone, at least on the back burner.
Crossing to a chest of drawers on the far side of the room, he searched out a pair of fresh underwear and started putting them on. "We may have work to do, but first, we've got breakfast to eat," he said.
"You want me to fix something up, or do ya wanna go out and get this pantomime o' ours started nice and early?"
For the umpteenth time, Ruffles tried to work free of his restraints. It was just principle, really. He'd designed them. Nobody was getting loose.
He was restrained in a moulded metal seat, pinned with a chestpiece like the safety restraints he'd seen on rollercoasters in places like Paradiso. On top of that, his wrists and ankles were in heavy duty cuffs. The WVS Shawshank was at half prisoner capacity, but he and the man next to him had this section all to themselves. As the man next to him was still unconscious, Ruffles had had a lot of time alone with his thoughts.
Giving the man a sidelong look, Ruffles winced, not for the first time. He'd thought Eddie looked like shit before, but the past couple of months had put him in a different league.
Walking between the huge mahogany bookshelves of Payton's library, Ruffles ran his fingers along the spines of the books until he found a gap. What should have been filling that gap in the endless lines of hardback books wasn't there.
Aw, goddammit...
Running his hands through his thickening afro, Ruffles wondered who might have it. There were a select few other people Payton allowed to peruse his collection, and if one of the generals had taken it out, who knew how long he'd have to wait.
What with rumours of Dio's cyborg assassin running rampant, Ruffles had decided to start reading into cybernetics. The book he was looking for was a hell of a rare find, and he remembered seeing it right here.
After a moment, realisation struck him. Payton had mentioned something about flicking through "a rather fascinating book on robotics" the other day. It was probably on the shelf in his office.
Several minutes later, he was turning the corner to Payton's office and saw a suit standing guard. Ruffles groaned silently. That meant Payton wasn't in. But he really wanted that book...
"Hey Joey," he said, striding around the corner with a grin on his face.
"Oh, hey, Mr Miller," Joey replied. Ruffles felt a wave of relief that he'd remembered the right name.
"Joey, I think I heard Callahan in the mess saying he wanted to see you."
"Aw, shit..." Joey muttered. "That guy's a real task master, y'know?"
"Yeah, I can imagine. You probably wanna get down there."
"Dude, do you have any idea what Mr Wilkes-Vines would do to me if I left his office unguarded?" Joey replied. Groaning, he clapped a hand to his forehead. "Aw hell, Callahan's gonna have me doing laps for hours when I don't show."
"Sounds like an asshole," Ruffles commiserated. "Hey look, why don't you go see what he wants real quick? I'll cover for you until you get back. And if he tries to keep you long, just namedrop Payton and leave."
There was a moment of hesitation before Joey asked, "you sure?"
"Yeah man," Ruffles replied. "Ain't got any work today anyhow."
Thanking him profusely, Joey disappeared around the corner. Without a moment to waste, Ruffles got to work picking the lock on the door. After a few minutes, it clicked and he opened it. Payton's office was deserted, as expected, and the book Ruffles wanted was lying on the desk. Picking it up, he turned to leave, but hesitated. Turning back, he walked around Payton's desk to the bookshelf.
Might as well see what the old man has in his private collection.
A lot of it was old world literature. A lot of Mark Twain, and suchlike. One thing caught Ruffles' eye, however. A huge leatherbound tome with gold embossed letters. The spine read, 'Necronomicon: The Best Weird Tales of HP Lovecraft.'
"Weird," Ruffles muttered. Reaching for the book, he pulled it out. The top corner slid out several inches, and then stopped. When he pulled harder, there was a click, and suddenly he was turning and moving, along with the entire bookcase.
He came to a halt in a stark concrete hallway. "Well that was cliched," he muttered to nobody in particular. Turning to look round, he saw that there were no doors on the adjacent walls. The hall ended after few yards with a staircase heading down. Payton's office was on the ground floor.
He should probably turn around and go back through the bookcase. He imagined Payton's seemingly limitless patience with him might abruptly run out if he knew that, not only had Ruffles broken into his office, he had found his secret exit.
And yet he was walking down the staircase. When he got to the bottom, he found a much more substantial hall filled with doors. Most appeared to be locked, but there was one about halfway down on the right that was simply barred from the outside. Ruffles was becoming ever more certain that he needed to get the fuck out of here, but curiosity had him on autopilot, as he lifted the crossbar.
The room behind the door was only dimly lit, and there were long shadows everywhere. What Ruffles saw at the far end of the room made the breath catch in his chest.
There was a man manacled to the wall, hanging forward by the chains on his wrists. He looked like a wreck. There were heavy spots of dried blood on the floor around him, and his exposed torso was a mass of purple and yellow bruising. Looking down, Ruffles saw that scrape marks had been worn into the concrete floor, in a rough line ending at the doorway. He guessed they'd been laying into this guy with some heavy duty gear.
Ruffles advanced slowly, his heart racing.
"Hey buddy, you awake?" he asked. Getting closer, he reached out. His hand was inches from the man's shoulder when he suddenly snapped into life. Seizing hold of the chains around his wrists, he swung out and kicked Ruffles hard in the chest, sending him sprawling onto his back.
"Ah shit, fuck!" Ruffles yelled. Picking himself up, he looked at the strange prisoner again, being sure to stay out of kicking range.
The man was panting heavily. The effort of that kick seemed to have cost him a lot. Even so, he looked up with a defiant expression on his face. "So what, he's too good to come down personally now?"
"Who?" Ruffles asked, although he already had a damn good idea who.
"Oh, yay high, big white mustache," the man replied. "Complete filthy fuckin', bastard blowin', horse rimming son of a *****. Your boss too, I imagine. Ringing any bells?"
"Yeah, I get the picture," Ruffles replied. "Look, I ain't supposed to be down here."
"That so?"
"Yeah, it is."
"So who are you? And when are you gonna drop the pretense and get down to business? I ain't gonna fall for that psychological bullshit."
"I'm Ruffles."
"The fuck kinda name is Ruffles?"
"Nickname. Real name's Jake Miller. I do work for Payton, yeah, but I ain't here for..." he gestured around, taking in a huge battery that might have been a defibrillator if it hadn't been for the clamps attached to it. And the actual defibrillator next to it. Ruffles winced in spite of himself.
"Yeah, I heard of you. You're the guy giving that goddamn snake a war fleet. Man, I hope whatever he's paying you helps you sleep at night."
"Hey, fuck you, you don't--" Ruffles cut himself off. He wasn't going to start getting mad at someone who looked like he'd been made the chew toy for a giant dog. "Look, I didn't sign up for any of this. This is fucked!"
The man straightened up with visible effort. "So what are you gonna do about it?"
"I'm getting you outta here," Ruffles replied without a second thought. "We just gotta get to one of my ships. I can override the ignition code and fly us outta here."
The man didn't respond, but merely watched Ruffles with a shrewd expression. His face seemed mostly unmarred but for some bruises, as though Payton had purposefully left his victim's method of expressing pain and sorrow unobstructed. Ruffles shuddered.
'So this is what you've been reduced to, Allie, you've been reduced to luggage.'
The young girl couldn't say she was surprised, being one of youngest members of the crew.
'Hey, you're fourteen now, ya practically a woman!'
Allie didn't feel particularly womanly, being jostled around in that metal case. Maybe she should have made it a big bigger? She hadn't realised that she'd grown a few inches taller, and wider in certain areas, as all growing young women do.
"You fucking drop me, ya cunts, and I'll shove this case so far up your arses, you'll be tastin' the fine embroidered leather lining." The girl sneered under her breath.
Suddenly the case stopped moving, and presumably the people carrying it.
"Did you hear that?" One man said.
"Hear what?" Replied a gruffer sounding man.
"I dunno, something about fine leather?" The fist man chuckled.
"Are you fucking high again? I swear to god, don't ruin this gig for us man, this is good fucking money." The gruffer one complained as the case began moving once more.
"Yeah, that's right you fookin' move." Allie sniggered quietly, bracing herself for more jostling.
After several minutes she heard several door and gates they passed through, the last being the largest and presumably the vault, if the sound of several mechanisms moving were any indication.
"Just drop it here." The gruff man grunted as the case lowered was lowered indelicately to the hard floor. Allie held her breath as she heard the pair walk away, followed by the sound of the vault door slamming shut.
Allie awkwardly raised a hand to her ear piece. "Chocolate Bear, this is Red Fox, I have successfully infiltrated Aladdin's Cave, over."
-------------------------------
Lilith eyed up the joint, no amount of floor plans and blueprints gave her the feel of a place such as this, all the magic and pitfalls in a casino were the things that couldn't be mapped. The number of people, the frostiness of the security, the tables with high rollers, the tables with the high winnings, takings, all factors to be taken into consideration. One thing was for certain, the young woman was in her element after a long time.
"Hey sexy,"
Lilith raised an eyebrow as she glanced at the boy.
"Let's 'urry up 'an get this over with. Fuckin' tux's chokin' the life outta me."
Lilith turned to get a better look at Sprout, crossing her arms over her chest as she rolled her eyes. "I'll choke you if you don't quit your bitching." Taking Axel's arm, the pair began slowly moving across the casino floor, looking for the best place to start their mischief.
They couldn't look more the part, Axel was taller than Lilith now, by a good two or three inches, something he like to mention at least five times a day, much to her disdain. His stubble was thicker now, more defined, with very little patchiness. His long mop of hair was gone too, instead he now sported a very fetching buzzcut, although it had been a few weeks since his last trim. Lilith hated to say it, but seeing the boy fill out that tuxedo the way he did, with his broader shoulders and leaner figure, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in that.
She had been working him to the bone for the last half year, after all.
Not that she hadn't been holding herself to the same routine, Lilith was also a little leaner, more defined. Not that anybody could tell, with the long dress she was wearing. It was a sparkly little number, cinched in at the waist and strapless. A glittering diamond necklace hung delicately from her neck, resting comfortably above her bosom, with matching earrings. Allie referred to the dress as 'So fuckin' glittery, I think it's givin' me a seizure."
It was very glittery, white fabric, with long gloves to match. But the most important part was the shoes, red high heels, with a glossy finish.
"I fucking love these shoes, I don't care that my feet feel like they're being molested by a crawler engine, I'm fucking stunning." She gleamed at Axel, brushing a strand of long hair from her eyes. She'd grown it out like she'd planned, only with a slight change. The left side of her head had been buzz cut short, to where her side parting was, leaving the rest of her hair to be swept over to the right, reaching just past her shoulder.
"Do you think anyone will recognise me?" She whispered. All things considered, Lilith's make up job was perfect, she had Amy to thank for that. Her scars were barely noticeable.
If only Pixie could see them now.
-------------------------------
Asad rolled his eyes as Barzetti rambled on, they had prepared for this mission a thousand times, they all ate, breathed, and shit the mission, the Colonel had made damn sure of that. The Major frowned as he scratched his thick, but short beard. It was a simple extraction mission, he'd done this dozens of times before. His thoughts wondered back to Elizabeth for the umpteenth time that day. Even though he hadn't been on her personal guard in a while, he still couldn't help but worry about the girl.
And that stupid tattoo she was getting finished.
'Ermergerd Asad it's sewwww kewwwwl!'
'No. Tigerman is not cool, stop trying to make Tigerman cool.'
But did she listen to him? Nooooooooooooooooo.
"Anymore questions?! Harel?
The Colonel snapped Asad out of his internal monologue, sighing as he brushed a hand through his long swept back hair.
"Only one, sir." Asad smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Would you mind going over the finer details again?"
Janitors... again!Gale had been okay with it the first time she had to dress up as some shlub job, it made sense to go in disguise for the heist. And in the other jobs she'd been helping with over the last few months, they needed her to be low key, needed a subtle touch. She was good at that, Gale was a light handed girl, she was a team player.
But here, really?!
They move up to robbing the flaming ritz! The fanciest place Gale had ever laid her eyes upon where half the walls looked to be made of diamonds and pure light! And here she was in overalls again. Everyone else got to dress up all fancy and laugh it up upstairs where the champagne never stopped flowing, trying their hands at all sorts of fancy games - games they knew Gale'd be good at. They'd seen her cut decks with her eyes closed!
Gale huffed along, determined that she better get a good cut of this job. She'd gotten herself a nice little nest egg now that the crew could work for themselves now. Yeah she never had time to spend it on anything nice but that just meant she'd have an even better time of it when it when she finally got to cut loose. Maybe she'd finally get to go see a movie, even if it was by herself.
She and Maria were making their way down the back halls of the casino, far from the eyes of the tuxedo clad punters. "Makes you wonder why they dress up so much for it, right? Like, I get showing off how fancy you are but like hell do any of these folks walk away winners. You wanna keep that tux clean... get the best price when you try and make back all the carbon." She mused, tipping her hat at a passing security guard.
Gale had lost some of her road weight since she joined the crew and got to learning all the kung fu stuff bandits all seemed to prefer to using their guns. And she. Was. Feelin' it. 'Shoulda' put me in a slinky dress, see the distraction I make.' "Mmm hmm."
==============================================
"Come on, Moonshine." Mal kicked the leg of the bed, trying to rouse her moody room mate from his sleep. "We got work to do, those mafioso aren't gunna whack themselves."
Moon had proven to be just as cold as she'd heard from all the gossip from the other squads. It was kind of a shame, Mal hadn't been that put out about the prospect of sharing a room with him, having a fondness for Asian men like she did. He was kind of intense she guessed. Even more so since they'd had to try blue.
That part still rankled her! Mal was under no illusions that as a black ops soldier she'd be asked to do some morally shady shit, she'd already done plenty. Or that their boss was the nicest guy around but usually her targets had been people who'd brought it on themselves somehow, earning a hit on their head some way or another. Keep it simple, keep it business like but this, drugging themselves up like this. That wasn't like anything Mal signed up for. Would Esteban have stood for that? Like hell he would have, Mal thought. The moment that greasy peddler tried anything he'd have smashed his jaw and rammed that blue powder down his throat. He'd have found some other way in, he'd have thought of a plan around it.
But he was was dead. Esteban, Mila, all of them... and Mal hadn't done shit to stop it.
She left the room and paced out into the hall, her blood up and boiling like it was most of the time these days. She felt trapped here, suffocated by this buzzing hangover the drugs had left her with and stuck with this teenage drama show of a squad!
She needed out of here! She needed to vent on some Russo skulls.
"where the hell are the others?"
Name: Rebecca Mallory (Friends just call her Mal) Age: 25 Sex: Female Occupation: Basilio Black ops agent.
Appearance: Rebecca's just a little short of six feet tall and is a pretty broadly built woman, made even more imposing by the effects of her military training. She has a dark complexion, even for someone of African decent and prefers to wear her hair naturally in a short cut of loose curls with shaved sides. She used to wear it in braids, big mistake.
She's not earned any lasting scars yet, being newer to the military than her squad mates, just light cuts and nasty bruises that have gone on to heal.
Personality: Mal's lacking direction right now. She's gotten over the worst of what hit her when the tower was attacked, having mourned her friends and mentor she's now capable of cracking a smile again. It's not like it used to be though, it's a little more bitter and her sarcasm's gotten more spiteful. She's still dedicated to doing her job right, she'd die if she wasn't, but she isn't dedicated to the Basilio regime. In the back of her mind she's wondering what the hell she's doing with her life.
Backstory: Mal's family moved to Feroxi shortly before she was born to find work. It wasn't good work but they found it and managed to raise their daughter in a poorer part of the city. It was rough at times and Mal would often find herself home alone, left to deal with any visits from the idiots and hoods that made up their tenement building. They weren't bad all the time but Mal never told her parents about the times they gave her trouble. She was what you'd call a moody and rebellious teen.
In what she now sees as a really stupid move Mal fell in with one of the countless bad crowds that made up their tenement building and block. Starting off her terrible criminal career. Mostly they just hung out and made a nuisance of themselves but sometimes Mal or one of the other carbon hungry members of their brood might get their hands on a bag of weed to sell or they'd work up the nerve to stick up a richer looking sort at knife point. One time they actually managed to land a pack of coke. She was the only one with the nerve to go in first and lead the deal with the some pack of gang bangers. She even stuck a knife in it and let them snort some of the white powder from the blade. After it was all done and she held the carbon in her hands it felt like the biggest rush of Mal's life. As you can imagine, she didn't bother with school much after that.
On this less than mediocre career went until Mal got herself caught alone in a deal gone bad with a couple of cholos. They decided they wanted their gear for free and wanted to test their luck on a lonely girl. She was happy to prove them wrong, having gotten into plenty of street fights at her tender age. Then some passerby decided to play hero and stepped in, it turned out he was trying to help her but Mal didn't get that at the time. He looked and sounded like the guys she was fighting so she figured he must have been a friend of theirs in the chaos. She turned on him too and somehow the two of them were the last ones standing, mostly thanks to him dismantling Mal's attackers like nothing. Then he just toyed with her, looking kind of smug about it. Eventually he had enough and got Mal in an arm lock, leaving her wincing in pain and panting for breath.
"That was pretty good, when it wasn't just sad." He smirked.
And that was how Rebecca Malory met Esteban Ortega. He actually saw some potential in this young idiot and took her under his wing. He actually showed her a world beyond what she'd experienced, even all the way up to the cloud district. With Ortega's guidance Mal cleaned up her act, put her head down to her studies and started aiming for a job in the military. She even got to meet up with Ortega a couple days a week at the gym where he'd put Mal through her paces.
With her new mentor's help Mal passed all the entry exams and became a part of the Feroxi military, later she found out that she'd been recommended for the special operations training scheme. That was how she joined Chimera squad.
And things were going well! Mal even had aspirations to lead her own squad one day, maybe become a colonel or something. It was like one adventure after the next, sure they had to be serious at times too but she had friends in Esteban and the others, even Mila was a good laugh once she opened up to people. That was all before the tower got hit though and Mal found herself separated from her squad and surrounded by mercenaries, fighting for her life.
Now she finds herself the last surviving member of Chimera squad and reassigned to Samsara. and everything's just gotten so messed up.
Notes: Mal has a penchant for heavy weaponry and has a knack for working explosives.
Among the grand hallways and opulent suites of the upper levels of Frostfall Tower, the barracks of the Wolfguard gleamed in it's own cold, efficient manner. It's stillness was broken by the short, shrill ringing of the alarm bell, sounding the call of the next shift. At once, dozens of occupied bunks came to life, as soldiers quickly got themselves up and prepared for morning inspection.
Katya had already been awake for a couple of hours, and had completed her morning routine. Now, she finished checking her weapons before marching into the room, to see parallel columns of enlisted men standing at attention.
"[Today is the most important day yet in the reign of our Lord.]" She began, marching up and down the line, daring any of them to move a muscle and searching for any faults. "[It is also the most dangerous. Lady Maribel is a young girl and a friend of Lord Bejic, but be under no illusions. She is here today accompanied by the power of Paradiso. Assume that all who accompany her owe their loyalties first to Lady Lombardi, and are not to be trusted.]"
"VSEGDA BDITEL'NY!" Her man chanted in unison, their fists over their hearts.
"Vsegda Bditel'ny." She responded, returning their salute. "[I must retrieve Lord Bejic from his chambers. I expect you all to be ready upon my return!]"
'I wonder if he'll need me to help him with his tie this time?' she thought to herself, suppressing a smile.
Name: Cpt. Katya 'Wolf's-Wrath' Ivanovich
Age: 28
Sex: Female
Profession: Bodyguard to the Lord of Frostfall (formerly an assassin)
Appearance: It's hard for Katya to walk into a room without making an impression. She if 6 feet tall, with an athletic build and a powerful stride. Her posture in general is that of one who probably wouldn't know how to relax even if she tried... and nobody really wants to suggest that she try and relax. Her face is handsome, if not especially feminine, with prominent cheekbones, a long, slender nose and dark green eyes. Her skin is blemished only by two scars. A smaller one, splitting her left eyebrow in half, and a larger one, running down from the corner of her nose through her upper lip. Her black hair is cropped almost bald at the back and sides, with about an inch sticking up on top (though this is usually concealed by the crimson beret of her uniform).
The rest of her dress is made up of arctic-camo combat trousers, black boots, and a sleeveless flak-jacket slung with holsters for her weapons and spare ammo. On her bare arms, she has a tattoo on each shoulder. On the left, she has the chevrons and crossed-sabre's of her rank; on her left, the striking image of a wolf's head with a blade caught between its teeth, the insignia of her unit.
Personality: Loyalty is the order of the day when it comes to Katya. She is devoted to her men and to the Lord they serve, in equal measure. She can be cold and rigid around those she does not trust... which is most people. However, her position demands that she know how to be respectful to dignitaries who entreat her Lord (that's just not going to stop her from keeping a close eye on them). To those who have won her trust, she is far warmer, but will still be very blunt with her opinions when they are asked for. It's next to impossible to 'make' her angry. Katya will get angry when she feels anger is the most efficient emotion with which to deal with a situation and not a moment before. Besides, she doesn't need to be angry to beat you to death with your own femur...
Biography: Katya's upbringing in Frostfall was lower-class. However, her clan had always been staunch loyalists to Boykov rule in the dome, and Katya was one of a long line in her family to enlist in the military as soon as possible. At the time, she thought nothing of it. She was a part of her family, and so she did what her family expected of her... because they were her family. In fairness, to think about it in more complex terms that that would have been a lot to ask of a thirteen year old. It wasn't like they'd bothered sending her to school, after all.
In search of the vague promises of pride and honour that her family had drilled into her from birth, Katya pursued her training with religious zeal, excelling against recruits twice her age. She graduated the Boykov military academy when she was 15, and shorty after was being deployed to combat operations both within and without Frostfall. Demonstrating sharp skills, incredible endurance, and a cool head under fire, Katya was head-hunted for the Boykov's Special Forces after 4 years of standard military service. Two years later, she received a dishonourable discharge.
Katya hadn't in fact done anything to warrant it. Her discharge was part of her deep cover for a top secret operation. Her discharge gave the military deniability, and also ingratiated her with some of the more active dissident groups within Frostfall. The Boykov's paid her off the books, and in return Katya infiltrated deep into some of the most notorious gangs in the north, and set about raising merry hell. She spread misinformation to set factions upon one-another when they might otherwise have united, and used the chaos to kill almost 50 high value targets, including several Bejic's, at least a couple of whom were semi-close relations of the current Lord of Frostfall.
Despite her successes, Katya's dissolution was becoming increasingly not just a cover. Despite in reality doing more for the Boykov's than any of her ancestors, Katya's dishonourable discharge had led to her family disowning her. What's more, even as she slaughtered their enemies, the Boykov's were growing ever more weak. For the first time in her life, just before it all came tumbling down, Katya was beginning to ask herself what it was all for.
The fall gave her the answer. Nothing. At the end of it all, Katya was left friendless in a dying city, with nothing but the primal urge to survive to keep her going, but nothing to do but slowly pick Frostfall's bones with the rest of the low-life's... or so she thought. When Florian Bejic first emerged from the shadows to claim his birth-right, Katya didn't trust him. Old habits died hard, and this man carried the name of her enemy, and was the son of the man who had fiddled while Frostfall burned! It wasn't long though, before Florian proved her wrong. When he turned the city around in record time, Katya knew she was witnessing a leader worth following for the first time in her life, and through a local priest who was known to be a friend of his, arranged a meeting. She knelt before the new Lord of Frostfall, and confessed everything of her past, including all the death she had personally brought upon his family, and promised her life in service to him if he would spare it.
He did, and Katya wasted no time proving her worth. The new Lord needed to be protected from those who might still do him harm, or all the progress he was making would quickly collapse once more. She became Florian's personal bodyguard; and two foiled assassination plots within ten days of each-other later, Katya had the personal trust of her Lord, and some of Florian's most fervent supporters queuing up to serve with her. Designing her own elite training programme, based around her own intimate knowledge of assassination strategy, Katya has formed the "Volk Okhrannik" ("The Wolfguard"), perhaps the most elite regiment escorting any noble in the world.
Notes: Katya is a lethal marksman and hand-to-hand combatant, and knows many tricks of the assassin's trade. She is always heavily armed when on duty, which is most of the time. Her loadout consists of:
- A customised Galil assault rifle, with combat sight, foregrip and compensating stock
- A Sig-Sauer P226 sidearm
- A K-Bar knife
- 3 fragmentation grenades
- A field med-kit‏
Night had fallen upon Boomhower, and the streets were mostly empty. This part of town didn't exactly have a bustling nightlife scene. Not much did in the city these days. Still, The Gentleman enjoyed the solitude. It forced him to strain for all the little sounds that would be lost in the hubbub of a lively city: The scurry of a startled rat; the low, sorrowful hum from the streetlamps that stood sentinel along his path...
"You think you can move in on our turf, gutter *****?"
"I say we take a finger, and if we ever see your face around here again, we'll take the rest of your hand. Keep going until she gets the message."
The Gentleman sighed as he changed course towards the commotion. There always had to be something to ruin the moment.
One of the larger Santiagos--a fat guy with a handle bar mustache--was holding Pixie's hands behind her back, while two wirery fellows took turns bloodying her face and abdomen. Her lip was slipt in two place, she had an impressive welt on her right cheek and her torso was covered in bruises. At least they weren't threatening to kill her. They probably thought she was too cute to waste like that.
Pixie would have to make her move before they got horny.
After an espectially firm slap across the face, one of the skinny bandits grabbed her by the jaw and cocked his head. He was so close she could smell his breath before he even spoke. "What? You don't like this game, you little punta?! You rather get down on your knees and suck on my cojones?!" He grinned, sadistically. "I bet you'd like that, eh *****? Getting passed around like a whore."
Pixie's enraged expression warped into a sinister grin. It was hard to see it past all the blood though. When she started laughing, well that's when it was clear she had lost her marbles. "This *****'s loco, yo!" the other skinny man said as they all joined in her laughter.
That joy was short lived.
The desperate youth pulled herself forward--closer to the man in front of her--and tore off his ear with her teeth. His bloodcurdling screams put a big bloody smile on Pixie's face, encouraging her to press the attack. The earless man grabbed his wound and stumbled backwards, giving the wirey teen an opportunity to escape the grapple. While the big man behind her was distracted by the carnage, Pixie threw her head back, crushing the his nose.
She was free.
The third man went for a knife when he realized what was going on, but was too slow. By the time he'd produced the blade Pixie was already on him, grabbing his wrist while she took him to the ground. With her superior leverage she managed to plunge his own blade into his neck, severing his jugular and painting the whole area in blood.
She turned to see the other two now as they closed in, grinning wildly. Their friend's blood was all over her face, chest and arms, so the whites of her teeth really stood out. She looked derranged.
They hesitated.
"Shit! Forget fingers man, let's just shoot the *****!" One said to the other, as they both pulled out handguns. The alley was cramped, and Pixie was surrounded.
"My my, what a mess you've made."
Illuminated by a street lamp just outside the alley, The Gentleman's shadow was cast long, so it loomed over all three of them.
The one cradling the bloody remains of his ear with his spare hand was slow on the uptake, and thought they were getting reinforcements.
"Yeah, well, ***** is gonna pay double now!" he snarled, before the other hissed at him to shut up.
"You misunderstand me." The Gentleman's smile was cold "I wasn't talking about the lady."
"Just stay out of this, gringo!" the one with the broken nose slurred, "This isn't your business."
"No doubt." The Gentleman replied, puffing on his pipe "Besides, I'm more than confident the lady can handle herself. I just wanted the opportunity to see the Santiago's in action, to learn a bit more about your... standards."
"If you know who we are," the thug spat "then you know what we do to punks who g-"
"I'm well aware of who you are, specifically." The Gentleman's smile had faded. "You're subordinates to Hugo Santiago, who runs all operation out of this... ahem, 'neighbourhood'. You're low-rent lackeys to a footnote in the ranks of a band of amateur cut-throats; and you're wasting your time..."
As the men bristled with anger, The Gentleman began walking slowly towards them.
"... you see, I just got back from killing your Boss, so whatever reward you were expecting to receive from brutalising this girl, I'm afraid it's not waiting for you anymore. Now run along, before you spoil a perfectly fine evening."
The two men were honour bound to gun him down on the spot, but in case it wasn't already obvious, the tone of his voice told them they didn't stand a chance.
"F-Fuck! Come on, let's just get the fuck out of here!"
As the two men fled down the alley, The Gentleman sighed and shook his head.
"Parasites." he grumbled, before turning his attention to the young lady for the first time. "My apologies, I imagine slaughtering those two would have been rather entertaining for you. However, people with talent should aspire to better than those morsels, don't you think?"
"I take what I can get," Pixie hissed before hocking a bloody loogie near the Gentleman's foot. "Don' reckon they were yers ta' drive off." She didn't know who he was, but she could sense he was a dangerous man. Still, something told her she had no reason to fear him. He was just an old man on a midnight stroll. "How ya' reckon you'll repay me?" Her sadistic smile had faded, replaced now by a tired, almost bored expression.
"Well..." The Gentleman smiled and stroked his chin "I was lying before when I told the ruffians that Hugo Santiago was dead, but I suppose I have now made an enemy of him, and I have no other urgent business..."
He put the pipe back in his mouth as he drew his gun from under his overcoat and checked it.
"I have no doubt you're adept at killing, but I wonder... do you have more strings to your bow than mere savagery?"
"Folks say I'm fun at parties," Pixie replied. "Does 'at count?" She yanked the knife out of the dying man's neck and wiped the blood off on her jeans. After cleaning the blade, she cast her eye around the alley and spotted a spigot leaking water nearby. Kneeling down beside it, Pixie removed her tattered tanktop and held it under the dripping water.
"What's a guy like you doin' in this neck'a the woods, anyhow? Don' reckon this is yer scene." The young woman got the tank-top thoroughly soaked, and wrang it out a few times to remove as much blood as possible. Then, she took the damp cloth and began cleaning the blood off her face and chest.
"Really?" The Gentleman replied "What if I told you I was born here, and that I'm visiting my mother for her birthday?"
"I'd tell you yer stand up routine needs some work," she said, chuckling softly. "Why'd you step in? Most folks would look the other way."
"Because a gentleman doesn't ignore a lady in distress," he told her "no matter how... capable she might be. This world deserves better than the likes of them, even in its criminals. Especially in its criminals, in fact. Which is why, if we're going to do this, I expect you to follow my lead. When I kill someone, whoever they may be, I do so according to certain standards. It's my 'thing', as they say."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night."
"You think I'm motivated by sympathy, or guilt?" The Gentleman chuckled as he shook his head.
"No, but it makes a convincin' cover," Pixie said. "I reckon yer jus' like everyone else. Fightin' tooth an' nail fer whatever meager scrap you can take from this world. Speedin' towards a red light jus' like everyone else."
"I assure you, I'm the most sincere charlatan you'll ever meet." The Gentleman said "But you misunderstand. True, I show my targets courtesy, minimize their suffering, an whenever possible allow them as much dignity in death as there can be. However, this has nothing to do with pity, and I never feel an urge to clear my conscience. Tell me, do you know what an artist is?"
"Reckon I do. Not too bad at nittin' myself." Pixie wrang her shirt out one last time before airing it out and slipping into it. Thankfully it was a warm night. "You wanna tell me somethin' clever. Come on, let's 'ave it."
The Gentleman's smile was far warmer than it had been at any point yet.
"You understand better than I think you realise. In its true, literal meaning, as employed by the ancients of our old world, any man with a practical talent was known as an artist. As far as they were concerned, the man who designed the latrines was just as worthy of the name as the man who carved the great sculptures and murals. Both have talent, both take pride in their creations, and both are fundamental to the very essence of living in civilisation. That's what I am, at my core. I am a handyman, and my trade is deceit, subterfuge, and murder. When those with deep pockets and few morals need to keep their hands clean of the sort of work that maintains them, they send for me, because they know they are guaranteed quality."
Stowing his pistol away under his jacket, The Gentleman turned to leave the alley, beckoning her to follow.
"That is why I find the attitude of civilised society towards crime so lamentable." he continued "After all, where would we be without it? Nothing would change, no boundaries would be tested, the righteous would grow bloated and lazy with nothing to rail against. Yet, so many of us think it acceptable to leave dirty jobs in the hands of dirty people, just like those men. Vulgar pond-life with no desire to better themselves, and no appreciation for the finer things. Or else, the dour and joyless so-called 'professionals', who may have skill, but who take no pride in a good day's work. The silversmith will stamp his crest into the metal, the painter will sign his canvas, but who among the underbelly will seek to create something unique, and of true value? In this way, I like to think I'm raising the bar."
Pixie got to her feet and reluctantly followed the mysterious man. "Most of us don' take pride in killin' an' thievin' 'cause it's jus' what we gotta do in order ta' survive. It ain't somethin' we actually want fer ourselves," she said matter-of-factly. "It's hard ta' take pride in somethin' when you're forced ta' do it. When you don' got a choice. That said, I reckon I make the best of it. Killin' ain't borin' work--not most of the time, anyway."
"You see, I had that hunch..." The Gentleman told her "True, not many choose this life, but every once in a while, there are some who are born for it. Perhaps all you've been needing is a better class of material to work with."
The Gentleman awoke to unfamiliar surroundings... again. They had a habit of doing this, moving him from location to location while he was asleep, doubtless to try and avoid him figuring out where he was and getting a message out somehow. The faint soreness and the sight of a new track-mark on his arm confirmed it beyond all doubt. If they were going to keep moving him, the least they could do was throw some variety into the mix. Bland basement cells all began to look the same after a while.
On the bright-side, it was his regular relocations that allowed him to keep track of time, and thus he new the time to act was soon approaching...
In the mean-time, he wondered if he's be getting any visitors today.
"So, Mr. Castello..." Amy began, fingers brushing the opal at her throat, and her other hand lightly stroking her mark's hand. "Tell us some more about your charitable works."
"Oh, I would be happy too, my Lady." Mr. Castello replied, clearly chuffed that these beautiful women seemed to be taking a sincere interest (thought he would have been perfectly content with them even if they weren't). "But are you sure you want to discuss such morbid matters now?"
"Oh go on Anthony, we don't mind!" Sandra piped up, leaning forward to give him a good view as she slid her betting chips across the table. "I can call you Anthony, can't I?"
"Why of course!" Anthony couldn't have been more delighted, before assuming a more rehearsed, sombre tone. "It never gets any easier to see, you know. You wouldn't believe the depths of depravity that ravage the children of this world..."
"I can scarcely imagine." Amy interjected, stealing a look to Sandra in a split-second.
"I know, I know. Just last week, a young lad wandered in to one of our orphanages in Sherwood with no shoes!"
"Perish the thought!" Sandra gasped, a hand over her heart "Well, it's a good thing such poor souls have you to count on them Anthony. I always say there's no greater quality in a wealthy man than altruism, wouldn't you say Mel-"
Amy had stopped listening, and was staring vacantly through the table, with a white-knuckle grip on it's edge. She had suddenly begun to feel very hot, and her vision swam in front of her as she grew dizzy.
"Melanie?"
The episode was gone as soon as it had begun, and Amy returned to the present with a shake of her head.
"Oh, yes of course. Forgive me Anthony, and you too Eleanor." Amy giggled "I'm sure I just need to slow down on the champagne."
'That's three times in two days now! What the hell's up with that?!'
"Come on, Moonshine. We got work to do, those mafioso aren't gunna whack themselves."
The only reply Mal got was a muffled groan. Shortly afterwards, Jun propped himself up and yawned, scratching a sorry excuse of a goatee. His fingers found a clump of blue powder and brushed it out. A waste of product. Well, it wasn't even enough to snort. First alcohol, now hard drugs, what was next? Hell, he'd might as well take everything going at this point; far easier to go down the slippery slope than crawl back up - since when was it worth it just to get back to the starting line?
Jun looked around, finding Mal had already gone ahead. The latest addition to Samsara was just the same as all the rest. It was like Asad never left. And of course, he was serving under Colonel Saburo now, medal and all. Why didn't that fucking ***** die when the tower got hit? The jagged scar on her face showed how close death had came, but the scythe hadn't finished the job. Banishing those thoughts, Jun grabbed a towel and some clothes then walked to the shower - his own private sanctuary ever since he got his hands back. Somewhere away from the constant buzzing of blowflies.
Hot water rained down his body, flowing down Jun's hair, forming rough rivers in the geography of his back. Those scars had served their purpose as a reminder many times however, now they were only etched promises of a threat which would never be followed up ever again. If only the same could be same for his head, which still ached from last night. It was worth it though. For once, Jun had found something he liked in the ashlands. The rush when Blue hit... The drug made him feel something he hadn't in a long time: ready and able to kick the world's ass. Usually it was the other way around.
Unfortunately, it was too early for a hit. He'd just have to do with feeling like a dirty thrown out rag for the moment. Well, maybe a clean one since he was done with the shower, changed and all. Jun walked back to his room and threw his pyjamas in there before stepping into the hall. A new day, another day closer to finally ripping the guts out of the Russos.
***
"Makes you wonder why they dress up so much for it, right? Like, I get showing off how fancy you are but like hell do any of these folks walk away winners. You wanna keep that tux clean... get the best price when you try and make back all the carbon."
"Ain't about winning money." Maria shrugged, "Just fresas spending to excess 'cause they can afford to. Nobles love their little power trips."
Gale seemed to be in a good mood, something which was carrying Maria through the heist so far. A doctor in maintenance get-up, there was a joke about that somewhere. She wondered what her boyfriend would think of that. Speaking of which, why oh why was she placed in a position which required handling machinery? Apparently it was simple: turn the drill on, wait for the actual drilling to happen, turn the drill off and stuff cash into duffle bags as fast as their hands could manage. Not exactly a job for a doctor. Well, she was more of a combat medic now and that excuse was getting really fucking tired after about six months of it.
***
"Whiskey. Jesse. You're up, wait for Allie to give the signal. Go."
"Aye cap'n." Jesse said back, he would've done a salute if not for the circumstances. Though why couldn't he be the dashing millionaire in a tux with two lovely ladies on each arm? The ex-noble was perfect for the role! Not to mention the fact that the more experienced Bennie would be Jesse's place, surely a plus when the casino's security might be an issue. But here he was, posing as part of the help. Well, not every day is a winner and Jesse had come a long way from being a pampered pussy. However, he still was nervous. Just as they said, it never was any easier.
'Focus, focus.' Jesse almost slapped himself. At least he wouldn't get that look from Gale again. Maybe the exotic ashen flower was beyond his reach...
'Focus!' He was a ball of nervous excitement today.
This was the Castello Casino! Anyone who was anyone important turned up to the slots to gamble away their carbon. Bright lights and pretensions of glamour hid the sleaziness behind it all. Any bandit foolish enough to steal from the casino was either lauded in folk songs or... very, very dead. Mostly the latter. Jesse didn't want to join them.
A very familar heavily-accented voice came through his earpiece, "Chocolate Bear, this is Red Fox, I have successfully infiltrated Aladdin's Cave, over."
"Thank you, 'Red Fox'. Received, over." He replied and turned to Whiskey, who Jesse had decided was a decent substitute for two women on each arm for the moment, "There's the signal. Ladies first?"
"Would you mind going over the finer details again?"
Barzetti rolled his eyes. "Alright kiddies, that's the last joke I want to hear until Payton's bird is eating dirt," he barked. "Got it?!"
"YES, SIR!" his subordinates shouted in unison.
Moments later the cabin went dark and the red auxiliary lights kicked in. After their pilot gave him the thumbs up, the Colonel pulled and twisted the release for the door. A violent wind blasted into the cabin, whipping Barzetti's black hair about as the door slowly slid opened--revealing the blue-black night sky and the thick clouds below. It was absolutely freezing at that altitude, above the layer of ash that covered the globe.
The sun would be rising over the horizon any minute now, and when it did they would lose the element of surprise.
It was now or never.
The Colonel donned his helmet before the air grew too thin. "MATADOR!" he shouted over the booming gales filling the cabin. "YOU'RE UP!"
Those soldiers that weren't already in the zone looked between each other in confusion. A one woman vanguard? Was she really that good?
The one called Matador got to her feet and wordlessly passed by her comrades as if they weren't even there, only stopping so her CO could check her parachute. "YOU'RE GOOD!" he told her. She nodded in compliance and went over to the door. Gripping the door frame, she bounced a few times on her heels before launching herself into the black abyss.
The Colonel watched her until the blackness of night swallowed her whole. "ALRIGHT YELLOW TEAM, YOU'RE UP!" he commanded.
The silent soldier plunged through the darkness headfirst with only the light of the distant moon giving her context for where she was. Though her equipment had been custom tailored for such a drop, she could still feel nature's cold fingers around her throat. She felt gravity weighing down on her--squeezing her as she reached terminal velocity. Even the well-below subzero air had managed to chill her bones through her insulated suit.
After passing through the clouds--in which she was completely blind--her target came into view. The poor fools had absolutely no clue what was in store for them.
Anti-Gravity Ships typically came armed with state-of-the-art radars, making it nearly impossible to sneak up on them. Thankfully Contessa had access to high-altitude anti-gravity planes, vehicles that could breach the Rock's troposphere. Few radars on the planet could reach such a height due to the thick layer of ash that blanketed the planet, and this particular ship was no different.
Matador grit her teeth as the ship below her grew larger and larger.
NOW!
The assassin yanked a cord on her vest, releasing her pitch-black parachute. It caught the air quickly, jerking her here and there as it found its footing, so to speak. From here it was a slow descent to the ship below. Thankfully it was flying at cruising speed, standard protocol for routine, non-urgent flights.
As she got closer, it became evident the ship was actually moving slower than she'd thought. Was there something wrong with it?
SHIT!
She hadn't accounted for that!
As she closed in, it was clear she would overshoot the bow of the ship. Brandishing her carbon steel combat knife, Matador severed the parachute cord while she was still a good twelve feet above her target. She hit the ship hard, nearly dislocating her shoulder as she dug her blade into the hull with her other hand. It tore into the steel hull a good two inches before catching. The soldier held on just long enough to activated her magnetic boots, glueing her feet to the steel surface.
After prying the blade out of the hull, she got to her feet and surveyed her surroundings. According to the schematics, the utility room on the main deck was supposed to be near the starboard side of the ship. She made her way over there as quickly as he weighed boots would take her. Once she found the right spot, Matador slipped a fusion cutter off of her pack and went to work melting a large hole in a circle around her. The super-heated plasma ate through the military-grade steel like it was paper, and in no time the surface below her gave in--taking her with it.
Matador deactivated her magnetic boots just before impact, allowing her to roll with it when she hit the ground. After quickly scanning the room, she determined she was in the correct place--dimly lit and severely lacking in personnel. Still, she'd made a lot of noise on the way in. The Colonel's men would need to move fast if they were going to maintain the element of surprise.
"Not a fuckin' chance," Sprout snickered. "You actually look like a proper woman fer once in yer life. Ma's probably pukin' her celestial guts out from beyond the grave. Way ta' disrespect the dead! Christ, woman!"
It was nearly three months before Sprout opened up to anyone about his mother's cruel fate, and even then it was only to Lilith. Some time after that he talked to Bennie about her, then Amy, and eventually, anyone who asked. He'd grown tired of grieving, and while it hurt to remember her sometimes, he took it all in stride. It was better to remember her for the good she did. For everything she'd done for him and his surrogate sister.
He knew Lilith felt the same way.
It was how his mother would want to be remembered.
"Thank you, 'Red Fox'. Received, over."
Sprout made eye contact with Bennie from across the room before looking back to Lilith. "Looks like thin's 'er movin' purdy fast," he said. "I reckon we best start this rodeo."
She wasn't even technically there yet and Elizabeth was already shivering from the bitter cold of the nightmarescape called Frostfall. How could such a wonderful man hail from such a dreadful place?!
As if Boomhower is much better.
Elizabeth had spent more time in the shower than she intended to. The hot water worked wonders for the dull pain in her back, and she would have stayed there longer, soaking it in, if not for the urgency of her situation. They would be docking any minute now, and if she wasn't on the bridge when they arrived the Captain would never let her hear the end of it.
Still naked, Elizabeth stood before the opulent mirror in her bathroom, examining the newly-finished tattoo. She was way too happy with herself. At this stage in her mission she couldn't afford such trivial distractions. Then again, it did serve as a good morale booster, and with Asad gone she would need every one of those she could get.
I know one thing that could 'boost' my morale, Elizabeth thought, giggling softly.
What did Florian like in his women, anyway? Elizabeth had cut her hair pretty damn short, so if he didn't like the look there wasn't much she could do about it. "If not the hair, then the body?" the young noble considered. She lifted her breasts up with both hands before letting them drop. They were certainly larger than the last time he'd seen her--which was to say they actually existed at all now. They were a modest size still, but they had a pleasant shape... if Elizabeth was one to judge such a thing. 'Perky' was a word. "I bet Frostfall women grow it all out to stave off the cold. Can't imagine he's the type of guy who likes the 'traditional' look."
Glancing down at the work she'd done in the shower, Elizabeth nodded to herself. She'd done good.
You're thinking WAY too hard bout this!
A sudden, sharp knock came from her door. "Darling, we're about to come into port," a familiar voice said from her bedroom. "What could possibly be keeping you in there? Is it something you need--ehm--assistance with?"
Contessa's son was the king of all cads. Just Liz's luck.
"No thank you, m'Lord. I'll meet you on the bridge," she replied.
"Are you sure you don't require my touch?"
Wow, really? Does that ever actually work?
Elizabeth faked a laugh. "That won't be necessary," she said.
"Fiiiine," Franz whined. "But do be quick about it. You know how Beatrix gets."
Suddenly the intercom came to life. "Lady Maribel, we're here," Beatrix explained. After a brief pause, she added, "Get your pasty ass down here, m'Lady. Northmen are a punctual people. They don't appreciate being made to wait."
"Fiiiine," Elizabeth echoed Franz with a sigh. A hardy laugh sounded from the other side of the door. "Would get out of my bedroom?! I need to change, God dammit!"
"You want me to fix something up, or do ya wanna go out and get this pantomime o' ours started nice and early?"
"Some scrambled eggs would be nice," Tsubaki mumbled before walking over to their shared dresser. The only good thing about playing the part of a bandit was their disregard for proper dress. Sure, Tsubaki didn't like to half-ass her look, but despite her strict attitude she actually loathed dressing in uniform. It just looked so... unflattering.
Rummaging through the dresser, Tsubaki picked out a few pieces and went to work getting dressed. She'd wear a plain grey t-shirt with a black leather motorcycle jacket, tight-fitting blue jeans and black biker boots. As for the bow on-top, she wore her standard-issue Russo bandanna: pitch black with the outline of a rooster drawn in white. What was it with Paradisians and cocks, anyway?
Tsubaki sat on the end of the bed and put her boots on. "Rough night last night," she said. "Jun went at the blue pretty hard. I'm getting worried about him. The last thing I need is a sniper itching to pull the trigger. That shit makes him crazy."
With his noble clothes finally sorted out, and free of cat hair, Florian stepped out into the hallway. "I'll be back in a while, no wild parties while I'm out." He called back. Rollo promised nothing. A few moments later as he worked the locks Katya''d had put in place after that maid had pulled a knife while doing the laundry and he was away. Looking a proper aristocrat about town, even if he didn't have a tie. His neck had spent long enough being locked away, it was time to let it breathe. He met Katya further down the hall, no doubt on her way to collect him, as she was want to do.
"Morning! I'm guessing The Wolfguard's ready to welcome our visitors?" He called to her, waving as they got closer.
'I can't believe I have a WOLFGUARD!' The name alone was coll enough to awaken Florian's inner child. Every time they came up he had to stop himself from smiling too hard. At least he didn't laugh like a kid on Christmas morning anymore. It was so cool though!!!
"Big day today. Maybe we should hold some of the men back, don't want to scare the diplomats after all." He added a little hesitantly. The last time Florian had seen Elizabeth along with when he'd first met her was far from peaceful. Add to that the time she'd spent as a captive with the maidens. He didn't want her seeing him again backed by a squad of heavily armed soldiers.
Issues like this had been tricky during Katya's early days of working with them, before Erik had cleared her for that level of info. He'd huffed and puffed at Florian rushing it through but after that week of assassination attempts he knew there had to be an openness between them if they were going to be able to work together. Besides, between the countless stories and rumors that went around about what Florian had been up to during his time away it was hard to tell who knew what. He needed some clarity. 'That was one hell of an evening.'
It didn't help that Florian and friends had helped start half of them. Giving him an air of mystery gave him an edge against anyone who wanted to try gathering information against him as well as protect his friends. Keeping contact like the Maidens quiet would be useful later.
When she saw Florian approaching down the hallway, Kayta dropped to one knee.
"[Good morning, Lord Bejic.]"
"Morning! I'm guessing The Wolfguard's ready to welcome our visitors?"
"They are, my Lord." Katya answered, switching language to match Florian. She was not as adept at the languages of the other domes, but for some reason her Lord seemed to prefer this one. If she had to guess, Katya thought it reminded him of a happier time.
As their paths crossed, Katya rose and kept pace with him.
"Big day today. Maybe we should hold some of the men back, don't want to scare the diplomats after all."
"I had 20 men escort Secretary Ablev and the others to the docks, as you requested." she replied. Florian had previously negotiated her down from 50. "Eight more will accompany me as your personal escort."
"Oh he's going to make that nice and easy for them." Florian raised his eyebrows at the thought. Erik was still sour at Katya's men for locking him out of the tower the one day he'd forgotten his pass. And then tried to arrest him when he got belligerent.
"But eight, eight's okay. We'll keep them in the background once everyone reaches the tower. Not dismissed just, not obviously present." That could work, then on the rare chance things got ugly they could swoop in from the wings.
The two of them carried on for a while, meeting up with the men Katya had just mentioned. Florian wished them all a good morning and cringed as they, like their leader, got down on one knee. He thanked them awkwardly, urging everyone to get up as fast as possible.
"Our first interdome meeting, Katya, a moment of truth for all of us. You excited?" He smiled at her, a mixture of nerves and energy rising in the back of his head.
Katya had remained silent for Florian's instructions. Her men would stay at a respectable distance. She, however, would remain by his side. It had been a point she'd made to him several times. As good as the Wolfguard were, she could not guarantee the interception of a sniper's bullet at a closing distance of any more than five yards. The Wolfguard with the lowest performance evaluation would also be on hand on the kitchens, tasting the Lord's food.
"You excited?"
"Indeed." she said, sounding less than excited "It is... an auspicious day, my Lord."
She bit her lip, before deciding today was too important to be holding back reservations.
"Permission to speak freely, Lord Bejic?" she said‏.
"Always." He said without hesitation.
"As we are now, we are a beacon to the rest of the world..." Katya began "With the exception of perhaps Yuteni and Varrdenheim, no dome in living memory has known ruin like Frostfall has, and we raised it back up out of the dirt, faster and greater than any of us could have expected, or hoped.
We did it ourselves, an example to all of what can be accomplished with leadership that is as strong as it is compassionate. I will not question the intentions of your friends, but you must remember who is behind Lady Maribel in all this. Frostfall deserves better than to be made a client state of the Lombardi Empire, and to be drawn into her wars. We don't need them, and the only reason they wish to treat with us now is because we now have value, but if left unchecked, we could grow into a threat."‏
"The vanguard of things to come." Florian practically purred. "That's what some of the latest papers from Feroxi are calling us. All the other cyndicates are looking at us thinking, 'Well those knuckle dragging Bejics can do it so why can't we?'" He smirked to himself, leaning back against the elevator wall as it carried them down to the ground floor.
"You're totally right though." He said, his chirpiness fading as he cast his eyes downwards, looking into the middle distance as he mulled things over. "Lombardi is hoping to tame us. It's much better to control something than just destroy it. I bet she'd like to have your wolves on her leash." He looked up at her, a cheeky glint in his eye as he saw Katya's reaction to such a thought.
Depite the cocky tone he was putting on though Florian knew all too well he was about to walk a very fine line, made all the more dangerous by the public eye. He'd seen his family live as the attack dogs of the nobility and he'd be damned if he'd let it happen again.
"But Frostfall cannot stand alone, not again." The Boykovs had taught them what that form of stagnation could bring. "The dome's gates are opening again after a long time and I'd rather step into the world on our own terms. Besides," He straightened up, clearing his throat. "For now we have a common enemy... and I think there's more to Elizabeth Maribel than we're getting."
Katya nodded. Florian had proved an adept politician already, and she deferred to his wisdom on these matters. Still, she would not let the snakes slither through her halls unchecked.
"Then I hope, My Lord, that Lady Maribel is not star-struck by her new company, and speaks with her own voice."
"Her and me both." Florian laughed. They watched the floor counter go down as they neared their destination. Florian looked around him, at the steadfast soldiers surrounding them. They looked... right was the best word he could think of for it. That perfect mixture of military discipline and outlaw steel. Frostfall's shield and sword.
He hadn't walked the streets in a while. He wanted to see how the rest of the city had grown, if it had found its strength again as they had. With some help.
"You've done great things with them, Katya." He said quietly as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. He turned just enough to look her in the eye. "I wont let you down."
And with that Florian braced himself for whatever was to come and stepped out into the lobby.
"Comin' right up," Bryan replied as he zipped up the combat trousers he was wearing. They'd been the only part of military dress he actually liked, because they gave him good range of motion. To that end, he'd incorporated them into his casual wear for the mission. Pulling on a grey tank top, he reached into the dresser and pulled out a brown leather jacket. It was the same one he'd worn on their melodramatic trip to the pub back in Feroxi.
"Jun went at the blue pretty hard. I'm getting worried about him. The last thing I need is a sniper itching to pull the trigger. That shit makes him crazy."
"Bet it makes ya miss the days when all ya had to contend with was a sleazy Irish booze hound, eh?" Bryan said as he rummaged in the kitchenette cupboards for pans and plates. "Look, you're right, Tsu, I can see that problem forming a mile away, but I seen this shit a hundred times before. Ain't nothing we can do for him unless he wants to be helped," he continued, dropping the humour. "If worst comes to worst, it wouldn't be the first time I tied tweaker buddy to the bed and hand fed him fer a week. I just don't swear by the results."
Eddie had long since lost any sense of time, being down here. Payton never let a permanent pattern form in his visits, so using them to count the days was impossible.
Hanging by his wrists, on the verge of losing consciousness, he wasn't sure if Ruffles was gone five minutes or an hour. But eventually, the door opened again, and the engineer was back.
"You... you got what I told you to get?"
"Yeah," Ruffles replied. "But first thing's first, I gotta get those chains off ya."
"You said you had a way of doing that, but I don't see a buzz saw or a blowtorch..." he shook his head to clear the fug. It didn't help. "...or anything like that."
"Oh, ye of little faith," Ruffles replied. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a small silver object."
"You're gonna cut me down from here... with a fucking pen?"
"*****, please." Ruffles crossed over to him, and got to work. What Eddie had assumed to be a pen was actually a small plasma laser he'd developed. At this size, it didn't have much battery, but it was handy to have when he was tinkering. It took several minutes just to work through the thickly cast chains, and Ruffles became worried the cell would deplete before he could free Eddie's other arm, but in the end, he managed it.
Dropping the spent mini laser, he dropped to his knees to catch Eddie as he fell limply to the floor. Despite the weight he had shed in his months of captivity, he was still a heavy son of a *****.
"Jesus, you're duct tape and fumes at this point, aren't you? We'll think of something else, man. I ain't a doctor, but what I got here's gonna fucking kill you."
Ruffles made to push the items he'd retrieved away, but Eddie clamped a hand on his wrist. Ruffles looked down, and the metal plate on the back of Eddie's left hand glinted up at him. "Y'know I heard stories about you. They all said you were dead."
"Rumours of my death, something, something." Eddie muttered.
"Y'know, I heard about a guy named Metal who had a hand like this," Ruffles continued. "Then suddenly that asshole breaks my ship. Killed one of my crewmates, too."
"Well your crewmate was about to start throwing dynamite around in your precious ship," Eddie snapped. "So yeah, I shot him. He forced my hand." He gestured to the things Ruffles had deposited on the floor to unchain him. "Now fucking do it. We're out of options."
Ruffles sighed. "Your wish is my command, for some reason." He reached for the first item. A shot of adrenaline in a blister pack. Tearing it open, he pulled off the cap. "You know how this works?"
"Obviously," Eddie replied, shuffling backwards to lean against the concrete wall. Ruffles sighed again and stabbed the syringe into Eddie's chest, jamming the plunger down. Discomfort was visible on Eddie's face, but being stabbed in the cartilage of his chest must have felt like a tickle after everything else. He didn't make a sound. As the adrenaline hit him, he gasped and bucked. Ruffles hastily withdrew the needle and pinned Eddie down until he stopped convulsing.
The bounty hunter sat up, eyes wide and got to his feet. "You got the blue?"
"Yeah, it was there, like you said. What's Payton want with this shit, anyway? Don't tell me he's a closet stoner."
"Some people use it as a solution base for some kinds of medicine. Payton prides himself on having everything you could possibly need in everything he does."
Ruffles passed him the glass vial of blue powder. "And you want it for..."
"When the adrenaline wears off."
"Shit."
The two men charged out into the corridor, where a loud thudding could be heard. "Oh yeah," Ruffles said. "Forgot to mention, they're here and they're pissed. Managed to block the door at the bottom of the stairs with crap from that infirmary though."
"Ain't gonna hold long, and that's the way we're going," Eddie said. As if to prove him right, the door splintered out of its frame, and men in Wilkes-Vines suits started breaking through the barricade of gurneys and chairs Ruffles had put up.
"I got this," Ruffles said, and pulled out a beaker of clear liquid stoppered with a rag. "Found some ethanol in there, too," he said, lighting the rag and throwing the molotov at the ruins of the barricade. The first men through the breach were greeted with a huge roaring fireball. As the smoke cleared, Ruffles pulled his gun and advanced, emptying a clip through the door frame to discourage anyone from poking their heads out.
As they reached the doorway, Eddie seized the nearest man still standing bodily, and slammed him against the wall, while Ruffles put the burning men out of their misery. Eddie straightened up with a looted pistol, and the two made their way up the concrete stairs. Getting back to the bookcase was the easy part. Getting out of Payton's office was somewhat more difficult.
Eddie's head was swimming, but he was moving on pure instinct. Ruffles was nothing short of amazed. Eddie's marksmanship was sloppier than his own, with his grip made shaky by exhaustion and pain, but he was still hitting targets, and when he got close enough, flooring his opponents with brutal, artless strikes before staggering on.
Now that he was standing behind him, Ruffles saw that huge strips of skin had been flayed from Eddie's back. Some of the wounds were still glistening, while others were masses of dried blood and half formed scar tissue. "Fucking gross," he muttered, laying down covering fire.
They were in the entrance hall now, trading fire with grunts on the stairs and landing above. Throwing himself into an alcove to reload, Eddie's gaze found the windows by the huge double doors. "We've got company," he yelled.
"Well, that way's out," Ruffles called back. "Any bright ideas?"
Eddie sprinted across to where Ruffles was in cover, skidding to a halt and nearly overbalancing. He was starting to feel really faint now. "East side lounge on the second floor," he said. "We'll go out the window, land in the bushes."
"This was supposed to be my day off!" Ruffles yelled as they broke cover and charged up the stairs. Most of the opposition was behind them now, mostly the fresh forces that were coming in through the double doors from outside. They sprinted down the second floor landing, with Ruffles slamming every door he could behind them to slow Payton's men.
"I knew this was a terrible idea," he said as Eddie staggered along next to him, occasionally having to catch himself on the wall to keep balance. They were feet from the penultimate door before the lounge when he spun out and crashed to the floor. His chest was heaving and his skin was glistening with sweat.
"Shit!" Ruffles yelled. "C'mon, get up man, you can do it." It didn't matter if he could though, really. They weren't out of the house yet, and Eddie was at his limit.
"Plan B," Eddie muttered. Pulling out the vial of blue, he popped the stopper with an overgrown thumbnail and upended it into his nose, snorting hard. Ruffles helped him through the next door and slammed it behind them. Taking a painting down from the wall, he jammed it under the door's handle and returned to Eddie. "How're you holding up?"
"Like six tonnes of goddamn carbon," Eddie said, straightening up. His pupils were hugely dilated, to the point where Ruffles could barely see the edges of grey around the black. He looked around to see Ruffles kicking open the doors on either side of the hallway. It was a good idea. Their best bet would be to find some cover and try to thin the herd a little before going for the lounge window.
The room they ended up in was a guest bedroom. Slamming the door shut, Ruffles began dragging the chest of drawers in front of it. Eddie, meanwhile, was looking around. There was a wardrobe built into the far wall. He opened it and began sweeping aside hangers to clear the back.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Ruffles asked. He, meanwhile, was opening the window to see if they could escape through it. He was greeted by the sound of gunfire and jumped back.
"This place might look like some kinda fancy mansion, but it's a fortress," Eddie replied. "There are emergency weapons caches all over, and I've found one I remember." Stepping into the wardrobe, he kicked in its back, which turned out to be cunningly painted plywood. It shattered with ease, and he reached inside, producing a shotgun, a box of cartridges, and a box of grenades.
"Gimme those grenades," Ruffles said. Eddie threw them to him, and he knelt down, pulling the lace from one of his boots. Threading it through the pins of several grenades, he carried them to the window, and waved them hard by the string. The pins popped out and half a dozen grenades dropped on the Wilkes-Vines men below.
The door had been ripped apart, and the only things keeping their attackers from pouring through were the chest of drawers, and Eddie, firing the shotgun every time someone was brave enough to try. Tipping out the remaining grenades, Ruffles started throwing them through the doorway. That was enough to push the enemy back, and so they made a move to get back out into the hall, leaping over the various holes Ruffles had made in the floor.
Eddie got out first, sprinting for the door to the east side lounge. Ruffles began to follow, but was hauled back by a hand on his collar. Tearing away from his assailant, he turned to see it was Fargo. The bastard had climbed in through the window Ruffles had opened.
Bringing up his pistol, he fired, but Fargo swayed out of the path of the bullet and stepped around Ruffles, catching his arm and twisting until the gun fell to the floor. "Payton sure would be pissed if his prize engineer got killed," he said and punched Ruffles in the temple, knocking him out cold.
Eddie hadn't heard the disturbance, too busy emptying the shotgun into the men stupid enough to get out of his way. The Blue was really hitting him now, and his blood lust was up.
Payton Wilkes-Vines had been the head of a major crime syndicate, of whom he was the founder, for a number of decades. Conflict with the Bejics in the North was only the most recent of the many major turf wars he had presided over in his time. When he started, he was a man whom nobody knew, and who held no sway in the world. By the time he had reached his apex, dozens of smaller factions and a number of fairly large ones cowered under his shadow. Payton Wilkes-Vines was not a man who scared easily.
The violent thudding hadn?t been going on very long before the door flew from its hinges. The man responsible filled the space where it had been. Eddie stood tall, despite bleeding from nearly a dozen different wounds. There were deep circles around his eyes, and where his hair had been completely brown before, after months of hellish captivity, was now streaked with grey at the temples. His eyes bore lines that had not been there when Whiskey sunk a bullet into his gut.
After so long shut in the dark, chained to a wall. After so long being made to sit and wait for the pain to come. After being made to grieve for the death of his daughter at the hands of the man he had at last cornered, Eddie watched hungrily. Despite captivity having burned much of the muscle from him, Eddie was still overbearingly tall and broad, and running on pure rage, adrenaline, and pure narcotics. Despite everything holding him back, Eddie Canton began to run. Occasionally, he dipped and weaved, and the bullets Payton fired from Mendez? ancient revolver found only air as Eddie hurtled across the lounge like the bastard son of a cheetah and a fighter jet, vaulting a pool table as he went.
Payton Wilkes-Vines was not a man who scared easily. But as he watched his former right hand general coming at him with shotgun held like a club in one hand and a blood splattered hunk of metal fused to the back of the other, like a man possessed, Payton was at least quite unnerved. When, several feet away, Eddie leaped into the air, bringing both his feet up at the height of the jump for a two pronged jump kick, Payton Wilkes-Vines was certainly scared then.
Eddie?s feet collided firmly with Payton?s chest, and the crime lord was lifted from his own by the force of it, as his head whiplashed forwards. He flew, sailing backwards threw the air, and hit the far wall hard enough not only to visibly bounce from it as he fell, but hard enough to shatter the section of plaster he hit. The revolver spun from his hand, smashing through the window. Payton came to rest in a crumpled heap, lying on his chest as crumbling lumps of plaster rained down onto the back of his white work shirt.
Eddie stood over him, panting. The sounds of violence behind him had died down. Turning, he saw a familiar goggled face. He sunk into a defensive stance, watching Fargo with a snarl on his face.
Fargo sighed. "Come back when you're not half dead." Reaching behind the door, he pulled up a shotgun, aimed roughly, and fired. The rubber riot round slammed into Eddie's gut, and Fargo came after it, pivoting around Eddie and roundhouse kicking him in the temple. The life flooded out of Eddie as he was pitched onto his side. He tried to move, but the strength had left his limbs. Darkness crept in as unconsciousness claimed him.
Ruffles had actually nodded off in his seat. He was awoken by the sound of the automatic doors sliding back. Two men in Wilkes-Vines black suits came through. "You," one of them said, pointing to Ruffles. "You're needed in the engine room."
"And what if I don't go?"
The grunt answered by drawing his pistol and pulling back the slide ominously.
"Oh yeah," Ruffles said. "Right."
Eddie stirred, and opened an eye blearily. "What the fuck... Jake? What's... what's going on?"
"Nothing, buddy," Ruffles replied as one of the grunts unstrapped him. "These two just need someone to keep lookout while they go blow each other." That one got him a punch in the gut. Totally worth it.
Asad watched with interest as Matador took point, leaning outside the craft as he watched her descent, the Commander shook his head, a small smile curling his lips. "Show off." He mumbled as he put on his own mask, turning his back to the exit of the aircraft, he looked at his team. "See you on the other side." And with a casual two finger salute, Asad let himself fall backwards and out into the night sky.
Asad would never stop being amazed at what it felt like to fall through the sky like this, it was frigid, terrifying, and exhilarating. As the target came closer and closer, the Commander pulled the rip cord on his chute, grunting at the sudden deceleration.
The wind was a ***** at this altitude, it was all Asad could do to make sure he didn't overshoot, flying over the craft faster than he liked, the man jettisoned his chute, falling a good ten feet and, Asad braced himself as he hit the hard metal of the ship, planting his hands on the deck as he fell to his knees. Quickly getting to his feet, he scaled down the side of the ship and entered through the makeshift entrance Matador had made. Pulling off his mask, the man panted slightly, glad to be out of the cold, he quickly readied his rifle. "Yellow leader here, I'm in, on standby until rest of team has landed, over."
------------------------
"You actually look like a proper woman fer once in yer life. Ma's probably pukin' her celestial guts out from beyond the grave. Way ta' disrespect the dead! Christ, woman!"
Lilith smiled at the thought. Axel had come so far in such a small amount of time, and she had tried her best to get him to this point. After the first month, people were still walking on eggshells around the boy while she was waking him up at the crack of dawn and dragging him down for training, some days literally.
Lilith didn't have many friends on those days.
Some of the others thought she was being cruel, couldn't understand how she wasn't upset herself. Lilith did her own grieving in private, she had never felt more alone in her life, but the others couldn't know, she had to stay strong, Sprout needed someone to look up to, an anchor.
A crutch.
Florian understood perfectly, was the only one telling her that what she was doing was the right thing. They had spent many sleepless nights talking on the radio, on those nights he was her crutch. Looking back at them now, she didn't think she could have made it through without them.
"I reckon we best start this rodeo."
"It's been so long since I did this." Lilith mumbled. "What if I've lost my mojo?" She looked genuinely worried, the entire operation hinged on the pair of them acting as a good distraction, if she couldn't win then...
Sprout cocked an eyebrow. "Where's this shit comin' from?" he teased. "'Casino' wins, period. An' she don' worry neither. She's a cocky *****! Always has been! Why do ya' think she's banned at every poker table from here ta' Sherwood?!"
Lilith shrugged her shoulders. "I'll guess we'll see." A small smirk curled her lips as she glanced up at the boy.
Maybe she'd spent so long taking care of Axel, she hadn't really thought about herself.
"Now that's the Lily I know," Sprout chirped, nudging the sharpshooter's shoulder. "I reckon if thin's go smoothly we may come outta this deal with some extra change the rest'a the Maidens don' need to know about. If I'm gonna lose on purpose ya' gotta give me half the winnins. Whadda 'ya say?"
"On 'purpose'?" Lilith narrowed her eyes slyly. "You won't have to so much try to lose, just be yourself, it'll come naturally." She nudged him playfully.
Sprout rolled his eyes. "Ah, fuck yer tight ass!" he spat. "Jus' a second ago you were all, 'oh noey, can I still play cards'?!"
"Yeah, but like, I knew how to play in the first place." She winked at him. "All I'm sayin', is that I'm looking forward to the inevitable moment when you realise, again, that you're retarded, but not retarded enough to count cards."
Sprout pursed his lips. "Let's jus' play some cards," he groaned.
"You pick, what do you like the look of?" Lilith clicked her tongue as looked around the various tables.
"I reckon poker'd do jus' fine."
"Alright, take my lead, loser." Lilith chuckled as she tugged on Axel's arm. After walking past several tables, including a few poker games, the pair stopped by a table next to a large elaborate fountain. "I have a good feeling about this one." She nodded her head sagely before looking up at the boy from the corner of her eye.
Sprout looked at the gamblers already gathered around the table. There was nothing remarkable about them that stood out. "Reckon that's yer gambler's intuition?" he asked.
Lilith closed her eyes, holding out a hand towards the table, fingers splayed as she hummed quietly. After a few moments, and a few strange glances from passerbys, Lilith opened her eyes. "I feel it in my little toe, this table be the one we go...to...shit!" She never was any good at improv rhyming.
"That was... beautiful," Sprout teased. "I think I shed a tear."
"You ain't so tall that I can't still beat your arse, remember that." Lilith glanced at him menacingly.
Sprout simply laughed before moving over to the table and sliding a chair out for Lilith to take a seat.
"Why thank you, my love." Lilith said in her best high born accent.
Sprout grinned. "Of course, darling," he replied.
An old man sitting next to Lilith smiled at them. "Young love," he mused. "It's a beautiful thing."
"A beautiful thing for a beautiful woman," Sprout remarked.
Nailed it, he thought.
"Oh you!" Lilith giggled, holding the back of her hand in front of her mouth. "You're such a sweetheart."
Sprout faked a laugh and place some carbon on the table. "I have the fine lady covered," he told the dealer. The thin, moustached man nodded firmly before dealing the first hand. The scruffy Maiden glanced over at his companion to get a read on her before looking at his own cards. Hopefully Lilith still had her signature luck.
"Don't you peak, you." Lilith giggled again as she narrowed her eyes playfully at Axel, holding her cards close to her chest.
"It's freezing!" Elizabeth whined once they had made it off the shuttle. Somehow the dome itself was colder than the surrounding ashlands. Did the natives actually prefer the cold?
Captain Beatrix hushed her. "Florian's men are waiting for us just beyond that threshold," she said. "Show some respect."
"Sorry..."
Elizabeth and Franz walked side-by-side with their entire entourage on their flank: Beatrix, Edea and several other armed guards. Everyone was dressed for the weather, even Elizabeth, who had been doing nothing but complain since leaving the comfort of her ship. Layers of fur apparently accounted for nothing in this hellhole.
Before Liz knew it they were in the main lobby, where Florian's people were standing by.
"Erik," Beatrix said with a small smile, "It's been a long time. When last we met you were a good thirty years lighter."
Elizabeth simply smiled. She hadn't expected her Captain to know anyone here.
"Is this Little Trixie I see before me? Do not tell me she still has not found another man who can tame her." The larger man stepped up to the group, looming over them as he squared up to their captain with a polite smile on his face and his hands on his hips.
Alexei was left to pick up the rest. "Lord Lombardi, Lady Maribel." He greeted them with his arms wide open, boy band pretty smile all shiny and charming. "Please, allow us to welcome you to Frostfall with great pleasure." He embraced them lightly and gave them a peck on each cheek, as was a local custom, leaving it up to them to respond. He couldn't tell how well behaved Erik was going to be yet so Alexie had opted to go full force with warm greetings.
"My name is Alexei Novak, I'll seeing to all your needs personally over your stay." He was going in all friendly and informal. "And this charming fellow by my side is Erik Ablev, don't worry, he doesn't bite." Lexei joked.
Erik turned to face the two nobles, his stern eyes examining both of them as he let out a low rumble from his throat by way of greeting. "Hmm. Greetings."
Beatrix grinned and gave the larger man a firm hug. "Please, you know you can call me Piper, you old bear," she told him. "It hasn't been so long that we're no longer friends."
Elizabeth nodded to Alexei and Erik. "It is a pleasure to meet you both," she said.
"Yes, a pleasure," Franz echoed. "I understand the man of the hour is waiting for us at his tower?"
"Lord Bejic regrets he cannot be here personally to greet you, he keeps a very busy schedule."
"There's a lot going on round here, maybe you heard." Erik said, bluntly interrupting Alexie's apology. After getting his hug of course.
"And Lord Bejic prefers to see to as many matters as he can personally. you understand." Alexei tried to recover things before Erik pushed them any further.
"He's a busy man. I can respect that," Franz said.
Elizabeth fought the urge to roll her eyes and proceeded past the two northmen. "I'm eager to see my old friend," she told them. "Let's not keep Lord Bejic waiting."
Edea walked alongside her charge wordlessly, followed by the rest of Elizabeth's personal guard. Beatrix shrugged her shoulders and gestured towards the young woman. "You heard the little lady, Erik," she said with a grin. "She's quite a handful when she's giddy, so I suggest we follow her lead."
This could have gone better. Alexei grimaced as he sped up to keep pace with the young noblewoman. Erik's long strides made it easier for him. "I can relate." He drawled. "You need to train her better, Piper, when they are young they'll walk all over you." Kids
Their party were greeted by the parked convoy of crawlers with squads from the Wolfguard assembled out in front of them. The camo clad soldier all stood to attention, looking as crisp as toy soldiers fresh from the packet.
"This would be our escort." Alexei told them, opening the door of Elizabeth's crawler for her to get in. The Wolfguard were all silent.
Edea checked inside the vehicle before nodding to Elizabeth. "Thank you, Alexei," Liz said before crawling into the backseat. Edea followed.
Beatrix and Franz got into the second vehicle with Erik. "Tell me friend, how long have you and the Captain know each other?" the young Lombardi asked.
"Since before you were suckling your mother's gold-plated teet," Beatrix joked.
"We met while I was travelling away from home for a while. Seeing to a client's legal needs." Erik added polity, trying to stretch his legs out as much as he could in passenger seat. Of course at that time Erik's use of the legal system had become a lot more... creative but he didn't know this new boy well and didn't feel like adding details for him. "I was a lot less grey then."
The crawlers trundled on, their route proving to be very peaceful as they passed some of the sights of downtown Frostfall. It was a lot better than it had been over six months ago. The scars of conflict still showed in places. It was going to take a long time for the rebuilding to be totally finished. Longer if they got half the renovations the regime wanted underway, but the place was finding its feet. Onlookers paused here and there to get a peek at the convoy and who was inside.
In Elizabeth's car Alexei was making himself comfortable in the back. "I hope you wont take this as too forward, Miss, but I can't help but ask. How do you and Flor- Lord Bejic know each other?"
Edea snickered, eliciting a sharp elbow to the ribs from her boss. Clearly Elizabeth had told her bodyguard too much... or at least enough for Edea's imagination to work with. "I was his prisoner, actually," Elizabeth explained. "Well, I was the Iron Maiden's prisoner. I didn't know it at the time, but my imprisonment was actually for my own good. Pixie, their captain... she knew things about Lord Basilio few others do. She was trying to protect me."
Elizabeth clenched her jaw. "And she ultimately died for it. Florian... he was assigned to watch me. To protect me. He almost died for it too. I owe him for that."
"Well... I... oh my god." Alexei gasped. He'd put his foot in it right there. "Well I was way off the mark!" He laughed nervously. "My bet was on him being yours. The Iron Maiden, wow." He laughed a little to himself. "I never even heard that story."
"'Yours'?! What do you mean by 'yours'?!" Elizabeth panicked.
Edea burst out laughing. "He means he thought the Lord of the North was plowing you, dear!"
"N-no!" Elizabeth cried. "Th-th-that---shut up!"
"Alexei laughed along with Edea, failing to hold himself back as he put his hands up in defense. "No! No, nothing like that, hun." He snickered.
"It's just that, nobody knows where Florian went while he was gone, no one who doesn't need to around here and there's just so many stories so - uh - we all tried to work out where you fit in. I bet on the one where he survived the attack but got wounded. Then he gets found by a visiting noble girl."
Alexei went on to explain the romcom tale that had taken his fancy. Of how Florian had been nursed back to health in a foreign dome by a kind young noblewoman. And though the two of them had been at odds at first they'd come around to each other as the beautiful woman had shown Florian the error of his ways, only to be whisked away by an evil fiance. Leaving Florian to return home, swearing to raise every gun in the north to rescue her.
"That's my favorite anyway, better than the bitter old horror stories Erik tells. I keep saying we should publish a book with all these in them. Just ignore me, hun, I'm just being silly."
Elizabeth would never admit it, but she fancied the tale quite a bit.
If only that were true...
The flushed noble rested her forehead against the window and sighed. "I suppose we could do with a little silliness," she admitted. "The coming weeks will be dreadfully serious, I'm afraid."
"Well you girls stick with me, I'll look after you on that end." Alexei smiled smugly.
The convoy rolled on and they made their small talk until reaching the compound where security buzzed them all through before pulling up at the base of the tower. In the distance they could see Florian, Katya and their guard waiting at the steps leading to the tower front entrance.
"We're here." Alexei hopped out and held the door open for them. "In your own time, ladies."
"You're too kind," Elizabeth said as she and Edea shimmied out of the backseat. She spotted the rest of her entourage gathering around the front of the tower, and proceeded alongside Colonel Fontaine. Florian was there, standing before the front doors, with a host of guards all around him. He looked different somehow--colder. He had clearly been through a lot these past seven months.
Franz smiled warmly at his betrothed and was about to intercept her so that they may greet their host hand-in-hand, but was blown off rather spectacularly. Elizabeth walked right past him without batting an eye and stopped a few feet in front of Florian, greeting him with as noble a curtsy as she could manage under so many layers of fur. "It's been too long, Lord Bejic," she said firmly, bowing her head so that he couldn't see her flushed cheeks.
Florian jerked to attention as he saw the crawlers pull up and put his best game face on. He scanned their faces as each of the visiting party got closer. There was no sign of her until - wait, was that her? The transformation was something to say the least. A far cry from the young girl he'd seen aboard the maiden.
"Lady Maribel." He greeted her. "It's good to see you again. And this must be Lord Lombardi, a pleasure, sir."
Franz hid his annoyance well. He had been groomed for diplomacy, after all. "The pleasure is mine, Lord Bejic. Trust me. You're already a legend in the oligarchy. More of a celebrity than myself," he grinned. "Quite a feat!"
"Yes, quite," Elizabeth said, dismissively. "Shall we see this tower of yours, m'Lord?"
"If only I could say it was all mine." Florian laughed awkwardly.
'Oh crap, am I supposed to know more about this guy? I only read some basic stuff in his file.' On the bright side, he thought Florian was a legend, that was pretty cool. Always the sucker for flattery.
He lead the way into the base of Frostfall tower, the internal heating hit their guests like a soft, welcome, wave. The building had lost it's old look of opulent splendor, there was no recovering it after all the heavy ordnance that had ravaged these halls. But it was nice, in modest, efficient, kind of way. Murals of The Long Night and the people's struggle. Memorializing the conflict that had lead them here. Florian had wanted some depictions of the myths and legends of their ancient ancestors but those were deemed better for other floors. Alexei offered some soft notes on the finer details of the place as they went.
Florian let him go on before finally speaking up again. "If you'd like to rest before we get to business we can get you set up in your rooms." He bristled a little at that. 'Can't believe she's engaged to that man.' He still couldn't believe that was Elizabeth standing in front of him.
Elizabeth smiled warmly. "I would like that, thank you," she said.
"Don't take too long powdering your nose, dear. Consider the timetable. We can't tarry here for long," Franz explained.
"If you're so antsy why don't you ask Mr. Ablev for a tour of the remaining floors."
Franz shrugged his shoulder and looked to the large man beside him. "What do you say, Erik? Care to sing me the song of your people?" he laughed.
While Franz was distracted, Elizabeth turned her attention towards Florian once more. Her eyes told him to, "stay put".
Florian noted her silent signal, he kept the psychic conversation going by shooting his own look at Erik. 'Humor him.'
Meanwhile, in Erik's brain. 'You don't get to call me Erik. You call me Mr Ablev, you get to call me Sir if you're lucky. Sing you the song of my people, I'll sing you my foot up your ass.'
"I have so much to show you, my man, you'll never want to leave." He gave a big beardy grin and clapped Franz on the shoulder. "Come! Ignore the boring ones, I will show you the real tower!" He cheered and lead the golden noble boy away. They owed him for this.
Florian waited until Erik had lead franz from the lobby and out of earshot. "He seems nice." He smiled.
"Nicer than his mother, perhaps," Elizabeth quipped before stepping closer to Florian. Most of their guards were gone now, following Franz as he explored the tower. Beatrix and Edea were the only ones who remained. They could be trusted.
Some of the few.
Elizabeth's smile grew warmer. "There was a time when I thought I had left you for dead," she whispered. "I... I hated myself for leaving you there. It's really good to see that you're okay."
"Ah, nothing I hadn't walked off before." He waved her off. Florian's eyes looked around the few escorts that were left, all too aware that the Wolfguard were dotted all around them, probably just out of his vision. "Katya, I'm going to assume you have fully automatic weapons trained on everyone here so I'm going to let my guard down for a second."
He pulled Elizabeth close and wrapped her in a tight hug. "I'm glad you're okay too." It wasn't too long ago he'd thought she'd been lost for good too. He quickly released her and composed himself again. "Forgive me. Had to get that out of my system." It was at that moment Florian noticed that Elizabeth's escorts were smiling a lot for some reason. "Well we should get down to business soon."
Elizabeth's face was glowing bright red. Had she squeeked when he hugged her?
Oh God, please no!
She probably did.
"I-I uh, um, y-you... YES!" she stammered. Elizabeth gave a new meaning to the term 'flustered'. "Let us get to business. That would be best. Yes."
"Point taken, ma'am." Jesse replied, tipping his hat as his legs started to move. Things like this were all about confidence, fake enough and you could steal just about anything. Well, as long you had the skill...
"Alright," Whiskey drawled, checking the load on the pistol she was concealing in her maintainance jumpsuit. It was one of her matched pair of ten milimetres. The rest of her weapons had stayed on the Maiden.
"Guess I get to see the man that saved the Bandit Queen's son in action," she said, following after Jesse.
Oh, man was it? Jesse's cocky smile grew a little, though he brushed away the praise, "Please, we're just here to... adjust some wires."
"And when have you ever heard of a Maiden mission that didn't turn into a shootout?" Whiskey asked.
Although the corridor was deserted, she kept her voice at an undertone. "Hell, I hope ya had the foresight to bring a piece, honey."
"One could hope..." Jesse shrugged, "'Sides, of course I did. Safety first right?"
"Damn, it'd be too funny if having said that, you forgot to put the safety on," Whiskey said. "Hey, that looks like the maintainance door up ahead."
She thumbed her radio. "Red Fox, this is..." she trawled through her pocket for the scrap of paper Allie had pushed on her containing her apparent codename.
"This is Soccer Mom--Hey, fuck you! Uh... anyway, we're in position."
The Golden Empress never realized how lonely she would be without her son around. Sure, they'd been separated for long stretches of time before, but he was older now. He would take a wife soon and that would be that.
He wouldn't need his mother anymore.
Franz was a bit of a dimwit, but Contessa loved him for it. In fact, he was one of the few people on the Rock she cared about at all.
With her favorite son half a world away, she'd have to settle for her favorite prisoner--the only man alive truly worthy of being called her rival.
"Good morning, old friend," Contessa cooed as she entered the small space outside of the Gentleman's cell. He looked haggard, but acutely aware of his surroundings--as always. "I trust your new accommodations are sufficient?"
The Gentleman smiled politely at Contessa's entrance. Fighting his groggy, post-tranquiliser feeling, he got up off the bed and stood up straight. Despite everything, her visits has made for some of his favourite days in captivity. He had to be careful with that, even he wasn't immune to losing perspective in this environment. He had to always be mindful of who he was.
"Oh, you know me. I can't complain." he replied cordially "Though, if you could be so kind as to bring me a newspaper..."
Contessa chuckled. "Oh please, don't think me a fool," she said. "I know how your people work. My code breakers have already found over a dozen secret messages intended for you across several different outlets. Who knows how many we haven't found. No, I'm sorry my friend, but no news papers." She smiled. "I would be happy to answer any questions regarding current events myself, however. What are you curious about?"
So, the network was keeping Contessa busy? Good. The Gentleman knew that there was no chance of her cronies intercepting anything important. However, for as long as he could keep the Lombardi's chasing loose ends, the smaller chance there was of them trying to torture information out of him.
"Well then, whey don't we start with something more personal?" he mused "You're looking well. How are your injuries? .38 calibre wasn't it? I prefer the 5.7mm myself, strangely..."
Contessa caressed her scarred shoulder, smiling softly. "You know I'm no expert on guns," she said. "It did the job, that's all that matters. I bet you're disappointed you didn't get to see it yourself. I won't lie, it hurt. I think I may have shed a tear or two."
"Oh I'm sure your performance was more than convincing." The Gentleman rallied "However, I must confess I'm a little disappointed. I mean, what's the point of a having an infamous reputation all across the Ashlands, when no-one recognises your work when they see it... or rather, when they don't. Any half-wit should have been able to take one look at you and know that I had nothing to do with what happened."
Contessa allowed herself a small laugh. "Which is why I culled all your so-called 'half-wits' when I burned my tower to the ground," she explained. "Save for a few holdouts, I have the entire oligarchy under my heel now. Their brightest leaders are dead, replaced by those either loyal to me or too stupid to tell the difference. I took your strongest asset, your reputation, and made it my own. I thought you would admire that."
"A whole new crop of half-wits?" he mused "Exciting. Though, I'm sorry to disappoint you if you think my reputation now belongs to you. It's going to take far more that a little regime change."
"It belongs to me for as long as you remain here," she countered. "Don't worry, I am not being negligent about it. While my methods aren't completely aligned with your own, they are still of a similar flare and quality."
"Methods, you say?" The Gentleman was genuinely curious. "Why don't you give me an example?"
Contessa considered the request for a moment before grinning wickedly. "Okay, how about this: a young couple--this brash noble and his secret lover--are dining in his Paradiso suite. This young man is brave but stupid, and in his quest for change he's created more enemies than he can count. One of those enemies has deep pockets and hires a discreet professional to break into his residence undetected, and slay him," Contessa paused briefly, touching her tongue to her upper lip. "This killer is disguised and shoots the man in the head. He does not suffer. The young woman is a witness to this crime, but does not see the killer's face. This is of no consequence. What she will tell investigators is what the killer wants her to tell.
"The killer leaves a rose for the man and departs into the night, leaving his lover unharmed," Contessa laughed. "It is reported as a hit and the detectives waste no time in connecting this murder to that of a known killer: The Gentleman. Let me ask you this: who understands your methods intimately enough to copy them in such a way? Not just the actions themselves, but the professional courtesy they inform?"
The Gentleman was silent for little more than a second, before a wry smile crossed his face.
"Why, someone who's seen me at work up close, of course. I've only ever taken two partners in crime with me on a job... and both of them now work for you."
Contessa nodded. "And as we both know, one of those two does not practice the appropriate discretion when let off the leash," she told him. "The other? Well, she isn't exactly known for subtly, but she's far more disciplined than most assume."
Chuckling under his breath, The Gentleman began to clap slowly, in a manner that may have come across as condescending from most people.
"Congratulations." he said "I had assumed your plan was to declare me dead, and make yourself look all the more invincible for my supposed failure. But no, this is better. Use my image to strike down your remaining enemies, and frighten those still abstaining into thee arms of the only one who ever lived to tell the tale."
Sighing, he lowered his hands to his sides as his expression grew more serious.
"It won't work."
"And why do you say that?" Contessa wondered. "Besides Dio, who is left to stand against me? You're not going anyway, old friend, so who else could strike me down? The other nobles are too afraid to challenge me, as are the bandit families they employ."
"If it's all as in hand as you say, then why am I still alive?" The Gentleman asked, smiling. "We both know you're not so sentimental as to keep me around just for the stimulating conversation. Let's be honest, I'm not interesting to you when I'm cooped up in here, at least not if you think I'm going to stay forever. You have your copy-cat, and they've apparently proven convincing to the masses. What use is there left for me then? Why am I not just a loose end that needs dealing with?
It's because you want to see me beaten, but you know you haven't won yet. You know I still have cards in my hand, and you're waiting to see how I will choose to play them. You drug me and move me from place to place because you know I have it in me still to challenge you, and you keep setting me a time limit, waiting for the day when I'll actually attempt an escape. It would be dull to keep me alive just so you could gloat. It's all a game, and you don't play games after you've already won.
Your imitation can kill a thousand rivals for you, but I think you know enough to know that The Gentleman is more than just his method or his style. Keep fooling your world of fools, but you know, and you'll see, that I remain untarnished."
"Oh, dear friend, you do know me so well!" she exclaimed. Her sinister smile warped into something far warmer. She almost looked sane. "I see that no amount of discomfort will dull your wit. I'm fortunate to have a rival as dreadful as you. Tell me, if the tables were turned, would you simply put me down and call it a day, or would you savour the bond we share as I have?"
"That would depend..." he said "on if, in that moment, with my gun to your head, we had both found the answers that we seek in one-another."
"And what is it that you seek from me?"
"It's not so complicated actually." The Gentleman was smiling again "You are a woman born with the will to dominate. Trampling underfoot those whose will does not match your own comes as easily to you as breathing. I can't help but be just a little impressed. There are few, perhaps none, in this world who would have staged the events of these past months quite in the manner that you have, nor thrown so much of themselves into it."
Sitting back down on the bed, he steepled his hands under his chin and looked up at her.
"I wonder... has there ever been a single event in your life, any setback, that has truly fazed you? Have you yet had an enemy that was capable of leaving you a lost and frantic child, unsure of which way to turn? I want to see what real fear looks like in your eyes. I want to see if it suits you."
"There have been a few, yes," she said with a hint of melancholy. "Only one remains, though I intend to rectify that error in due time. I may have to disappoint you, however. The scared, little girl you seek was put to rest a long time ago. I'm not even sure you could wake her."
"Demons don't rest, Contessa." The Gentleman replied "They lie in wait."
Contessa shrugged. "Well then, I hope I'm still around when yours are done waiting."
"If worst comes to worst, it wouldn't be the first time I tied tweaker buddy to the bed and hand fed him fer a week. I just don't swear by the results."
Tsubaki ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. "If it weren't for his skill I would have kicked him off the team after my promotion," she admitted. "He's a time bomb, Br--I mean Val." She slammed her fist down on the coffee table and hissed through her teeth. "Shit!"
How many times had she slipped this morning alone? It was the blue--it had to be. Before they started hitting the stuff they never screwed up each other's cover names. Now Tsubaki's mind was in a constant haze. It took the taste of copper and gun powder to pull her out of it completely, and even then it was temporary.
A good way to keep the lowly grunts where they are, for sure.
They could power through it. She knew they could. They had to.
It was their mission.
"Let's scarf this down quick," she muttered. "We have places to be."
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