The Ashlanders - Chapter 6: The Blind Man's Last Gambit (Closed, Started)

[Fappy]

"Aye, I'm with the old man now...over."

Spoiler: Guts

Dio grinned. "Good," he said simply. "Standby." Pixie was about to make a move for the pistol on the floor when Dio suddenly called out to her. "The old man's alive, Meredith."

He had her attention now.

Forget him, end this now!

"If you spare my life I promise you Cranston's," Dio explained.

Pixie scoffed. "You don' sound too concerned," she replied. "What 'appened to the fearless knight all yer noble fuckwit friends go on about? Thought you were s'posed ta' be some kinda legend."

"They say the same about you. Don't sell yourself short."

"Fuck you!" Pixie spat. "I'm not 'ere ta' listen to yer ***** ass beg fer mercy. I'm here ta' put you down. I'm done posturin'. I ain't got nothin' ta' prove to a dead man."

Dio chuckled. "Put him on," he said into his walky talky. "Let him say enough to convince her he's alive." Without warning Dio suddenly tossed the radio at Pixie who caught it reflexively. Had it been a bomb of some sort she may have lost a hand.

Pixie clenched her jaw, and keeping her good eye on Dio, she opened up the channel and spoke. "Cranston?" she whispered.

There was a long silence before the radio came to life with the sound of ragged breathing. It sounded like a man on his deathbed.

"Meredith," the voice on the other end finally said. "I got caught.'

Pixie grinned sadly. "Y-yeah, Chromy," she choked, "looks like ya' did. I'm gonna get you out, okay?"

Dio's cruel grin grew sour when Cranston was allowed to reply to that. "It's too late for that now, Merry," he said. "My fire's finally burned out."

"Cranston!" Pixie cried. "I-I, n-no I can still--it ain't too--"

"Meredith," Cranston interrupted. "Promise me something."

Pixie closed her eye and inhaled sharply, steeling herself for what was to come. "Anythin' for you," she whispered.

"Go home to Sprout and Lilith. Kill this man if you feel you need to, but promise me you will return to them. They need you."

"I will," the Bandit Queen told him. "What will I do without you?"

"Survive," Cranston said plainly. "Like you always have."

Pixie's piercing gaze wavered as she fought back tears. "I love you," she whimpered.

"I love you too, Meredith," he said. "I'm proud of you." Moments later a gunshot sounded from the radio before the channel was closed.

Cranston was dead.

Dio snickered like a spoiled little boy. Bryan may have disobeyed his orders, but at least he got a good show out of it. "Very touching," he mocked. "Really, such a heartfelt goodbye. Tell me, did you share such a moment with Margaret?"

Her head bowed, Pixie remained silent--the radio still in her hand. She tightened her grip around it more and more until the plastic began to give. Dio didn't notice. "No," she finally said before crunching the walky talky in her hand. "You cut out her heart."

"Well, I suppose you do need one of th--" Before Dio could finish his taunt Pixie was suddenly moving. She'd discarded the gnarled radio and dove for the pistol on the floor. Dio didn't have time to close the gap and opted to find cover instead--leaving him with little more than a flesh wound on his thigh when Pixie came after him. She charged his position, unloading her pistol as he slid atop the mahogany desk and crouched behind it. Pixie strafed around the side of the desk, firing all the while. Bits of wood exploded overhead as Dio ducked low and propelled himself across the marble floor, to the other side of the desk.

"GET BACK HERE MOTHER FUCKER!" Pixie howled as she leaned forward over the desk, pointing her pistol at him as he lay flat on his back. She was close now. Dio rolled to dodge Pixie's first two shots but a third clipped his ear. The fourth shot never came.

*click* *click*

This was his chance.

Dio reached out and grabbed Pixie's wrist before she could withdraw. Pulling himself up by her arm, he delivered a swift jab to her nose, crushing the cartridge in three places. Then he hit her again. Pixie managed to free herself from his grasp and staggered backwards against the wall, stunned. The Lord of Feroxi lept to his feet and lunged over the desk to meet her.

Pixie shook off the last blow just in time to counter the next--deflecting Dio's attempt to choke her with one arm while hitting him the side with the other. Like two boxers, they danced along the back wall exchanging blows, any of which would have KO'd a normal person. As the pummeling went on Pixie grew dizzy--no doubt from all the blows to the head and face she'd received. She couldn't keep up the pace and Dio knew it.

"DON'T TIRE ON ME NOW, MEREDITH!" he taunted as he pressed the attack--delivering a series of blows to her mid-section. The final punch forced her to double-over, leaving her wide open for a knee to the jaw. Pixie lost balance and crashed against the desk, causing it to skid a couple inches across the marble floor. Dio was upon her immediately, punching her across the face, causing her torso to pivot ninety-degrees. "USELESS!" He spat as he grabbed her by the back of the head. "USELESS!" He cracked her forehead against the desk once. "USELESS!" Twice. "USELESS!" Three times.

Blood was pouring out of her face when he grabbed her by the collar and pulled her in close. All Pixie could smell was copper, even as he spat in her face. "WHERE'S THE LEGENDARY BANDIT QUEEN I'VE HEARD SO MUCH ABOUT?! IS THIS IT?! AFTER EVERYTHING WE'VE BEEN THROUGH--AFTER ALL THE TRIALS WE'VE FACED SINCE OUR LAST ENCOUNTER--THIS IS ALL YOU HAVE TO OFFER ME?!"

Dio's question was answered when a sharp stabbing pain pierced his abdomen. While he'd been slamming Pixie's face against his desk she'd managed to scoop up the letter opener he'd left there. Now it was stuck between his ribs--four inches inside his lung.

Pixie didn't give the man a chance to scream.

She grabbed his throat with her freehand, and using the letter opener as leverage--she hoisted him up above her head. She roared as she slammed him back down onto his desk, fracturing his spine and snapping the desk in two. As he lay there helpless, gasping for air, Pixie mounted him and removed her eyepatch. Taking his face in her hands, she forced him to look her in the eye. Was she trying to show him her hatred or the damage he'd done to her? Even she wasn't sure.

She'd fantasized about this moment for over a decade in a thousand different ways. She'd written so many scripts for it, but for some reason none of them seemed to fit.

Then it suddenly hit her.

Before she'd fully realized it her thumbs were already snaking their way to his eyes. Dio's expression grew panicked, but he didn't make a peep until she'd stuck them inside. The vengeful bandit pressed her thumbs in deep, shaking his head violently as she sunk them in ever deeper. His inhuman screams reminded her of Carlos'.

Somehow that just fueled her rage more.

He had taken everything from her. This is what he deserved. This is what she'd always wanted. She was taking it back. Her life. Her joy. Everything.

"OH GOD," a terrified voice suddenly called out from the doorway. "G-GET OFF OF HIM OR I'LL BLOW YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF!"

Pixie froze. That voice sounded so familiar. Slowly, she ceased torturing Dio and turned her head.

"M-Merry?!"

It was Tsubaki.

 

[Dogmatic99]

Spoiler: Music

Their group was out the door and scattered to their tasks, leaving Florian with just that dreaded moment to himself. "Okay, that's that, that's good, they all know what they're doing." He said out loud to himself as he paced around the door, running ash stained hands through his increasingly greasy hair as he turned to face the corpse in the room.

"So I just have to do this..." He stopped in his tracks. "With you here, because you're - hmmm - that's great." He said, half looking at Lilith.

Lilith looked at the ground, hands in her pockets. "I can go if you'd prefer." She glanced up at the man, a sad smile curling her lips.

"You know out here, we have this tradition. That once the dead are prepared, before they're burned, those closest to them stay with them. Some places have special rooms for it. Then they burn them just before sundown, that special hour where it looks like the sky's on fire... and they stay with them, all night. They stand their vigil and they do... whatever they need to. you get all the mourning out over those hours and when dawn comes you step out into the light... and you're ready to carry on unburdened. That's what people say about it anyway."

While he'd been talking Florian had gone to the sink, rolling up his sleeves and washing his hands and readying the tools he could find as he went through the old motions of making the body presentable. Still his eyes kept looking back to Lilith as she stood there smiling.

'My father's dead and she's smiling. I killed him, for her, and she's smiling. I used to do that. I could gut a man and laugh it off as he bled at my feet. How many times had he seen the maiden's laughing in the middle of a gunfight? hell, he'd done the same just a few hours ago.

He had wanted a life of peace, to help people and instead he'd pledged himself to a woman who could grin from ear to ear as she mutilated those stuck in her path. 'Did you ever smile like that when you fought your way up that tower to free me, Lil? Did I... and I just wasn't brave enough to see it?'

But he couldn't think of that now or the weight would crush him. He had to tend to his family now.

"I don't think I get to say I was close to him after today." Florian sighed as he pressed a wet cloth to Vasa's pale brow.

"He's your dad." Lilith shrugged "He might have been a..." Lilith thought better of what she was about to say, given the current mood. "Difficult man to understand, but he's still your dad." Lilith bit her bottom lip as she thought for a moment. "I didn't really say it before." She shuffled her feet slightly. "I... I'm sorry, about everything, if I hadn't been there, then..." She looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry." She mumbled.

"He wanted this. He wanted to go, to lose his way, he just thought it'd be someone else." Florian still remembered the way he looked at them, that smug smirk, the cheek when he'd asked for Erik to take her place. He laughed bitterly at the thought, of the way Vasa had asked for Erik to take her place. "He... he even left me a fucking note!" He was back to snapping again as he backed away from his handiwork on the table.

["GOD FUCKING DAMN YOU!"] He screamed at the corpse. ["Damn you for making me do this!"] He needed a moment to breathe, there was so much Florian wanted to say, that had gone unsaid for so long. He wanted to rant and scream and curse the heavens. But the world wouldn't stop turning outside and he still had more to do. And each time he looked at Lilith's downcast blue eyes he felt a fresh punch in his gut.

"So you don't need to apologise, don't you dare apologise." He patted her on the shoulder, it came across more manic than reassuring. "And I don't have time to mourn."

"Me and Erik can take care of things for a little bit." Lilith rested her cheek on Florian's hand. "Take as much time as you need." The girl looked up at Florian, who at this point looked like he'd aged about ten years. "I'll be around if you need anything." She smiled again. "I'll even cook the eggs."

Despite it all he couldn't help but savour the feeling of his skin resting against hers. Even in this blasted place on unending winter she was so warm. However crazy he'd gotten Lilith had always stood by him. Like she stood by everyone. In that moment she let him feel calm.

"I didn't even think." He croaked, the strength draining from his voice. "I didn't hesitate, didn't even think of it as him. I Just saw that you were in trouble, that he'd hurt you and... and I did it."

"It's not your fault." Lilith stepped closer to him, pressing herself against his chest as she slowly wrapped her arms around him. "It's not your fault, blame me if you have to, I just need you to tell me that this isn't your fault." She met his eyes. "It's not your fault." She cooed, shaking her head gently.

'Please don't say that, anything but that.' Because he wanted to blame her, to push her away and look at her as nothing more than the woman he spilled his family's blood for, the one who'd heaped even more pain onto his plate. He wanted to hate her, more than he hated himself, more than he hated his father and all the rest of them for helping bring this about and not turning away from this madness. And she'd take it all on herself without complaint, just as he'd tried to do and failed. She'd hold him in that warmth and speak so softly after walking through all that violence and rage. For him. Because she wanted to. It spoke to how messed up Florian's mental state was that to him, knowing what he was about to do, this was the cruelest thing she could do.

He didn't say anything. He didn't raise his arms to hold her in turn, he couldn't. He just closed his eyes and let go, leaning into Lilith's embrace and weakly trying to turn his face away for the sake of his pride. His breathing was beginning to sound something like sobs and his eyes were welling up faster than he could control. Until he couldn't hide it anymore.

Must have been the air something.

 

[NinjaDeathSlap]

Spoiler

"We cut off the feeds right on time, ma'am," the broadcast tech told Contessa.

The Lady of Paradiso stepped off the holo-platform and approached her generals standing nearby. "Good," she said. "Blow the charges. Now. We can't risk any of the eye-witnesses living to tell people what they saw. The Gentleman has better eyes than I gave him credit for."

"Right away my Lady," one of the generals said before he left to bark orders over his comm.

"Give me your pistol," Contessa told one of the remaining officers. He handed it over without question. "We're going to have to make this a convincing show." She put it in her purse.

"Let's get you to makeup and wardrobe, my Lady," one of the tech explained, taking her hand. Contessa smiled at the young man and followed him out of the room.

====================================================================================================================================

Even as the crowd panicked, The Gentleman slid smoothly through the jostling masses as everyone dove for the exits. He made no effort to help them along their way. He'd given the fools fair warning, his concern was for himself now.

He'd barely made it out of the auditorium before he was staggered by explosions chaining through multiple floors of the building. Glass shattered, pillars crumbled, and the hallways filled with smoke and distant screams. The Gentleman looked up to see a great, gilded statue of Lord Rufus Ludwig-Montague Lombardi III, far more impressive-looking than the man ever had been in life, teeter off its pedestal towards him. Quickly, The Gentleman rolled forward out of the way, as the old Lord fell face-first, with a deep clang. Dusting himself off as he got to his feet, The Gentleman continued towards his goal with renewed haste.

The stampede would bottleneck towards the tower's front entrance. Trying to get out that way would be a waste of time. The Gentleman knew a better way... having broken in to Parasido Tower so many times, doing the reverse shouldn't be too hard.

Beyond the auditorium lay a maze of reception rooms, and beyond them the kitchens. From there, he would be able to access service elevators to take him into the bowels of Lombardi Tower, where transit tunnels awaited to aid his escape from the compound. The normal halogen glare of the kitchens had been replaced by the dull red of emergency lighting, filtered through an increasing haze of smoke. The ventilation wasn't working. Stifling a cough, The Gentleman crouched low to the ground as he made his way toward the service elevators. Along the way, he saw the bodies of some of the kitchen staff through the gloom, though far fewer than there should have been under the circumstances. His earlier warning had paid off. Well, that was one card that had turned in his favour, at least. With any luck, a good number of the servant staff had made it out before Contessa had stationed men at the exits, no doubt in anticipation of the escape he was currently attempting. Speaking of which...

The Gentleman dived down behind a work station as one of the service elevators arrived, and a squad of six Lombardi men wearing gas-masks and wielding sub-machine guns piled out. Flashlights scanned the room as the commander of the squad barked orders.

"Permission to engage the target on sight!" the soldier exclaimed in muffled tones "But don't forget, this is recon. If we engage, call it in even if it means you taking a bullet, or I'll shoot you myself!"

'Don't worry. They will.' The Gentleman thought. He crept around the officer's position, slowly feeding the garrotte wire out of his pocket-watch, before lunging from behind. One swift tug, and the leader was a dead man, staggering and slipping in the pool of his own blood. The next two closest to him got bullets through their skulls before they'd even fully turned around, and The Gentleman rolled over a workstation and into cover, as the quickest of the remaining troops fired a wild burst in his direction, stopping only to bring his thumb to the radio pinned to his jacket. Before he'd got the chance to utter a word, however, the Gentleman's stiletto was spinning through the air, and buried itself in the plastic receiver, puncturing through into his chest.

As the man staggered back, his gun clattering to the floor, The Gentleman was on the move once again. As the two remaining of the Lombardi hit-squad opened fire, The Gentleman grabbed a serving tray off on of the work stations, slid it down the aisle perpendicular to their position, and dove onto it, all without breaking his stride. The silver tray skidded across the bloody floor at speed, bullets throwing up chunks of tile and concrete behind it. Lying on his side, The Gentleman timed his moment to perfection, firing two shots as their positions became exposed.

It had all happened in a little over five seconds, and now The Gentleman, breathing a little more raggedly, approached the last remaining survivor. By the grace of his now useless radio, the knife hadn't penetrated too deeply into his chest, but still the soldier sat slumped beneath a sink, struggling for air.

"Repeat after me..." The Gentleman said coldly, as he held a receiver he taken off one of the man's comrades beneath his chin, pressing his pistol against his temple with his other hand. "We are pursuing the target towards the service elevators on level 23 west. All units, respond."

The soldier nodded grimly as The Gentleman activated the speaker.

"Command this is Gold Four-Niner..." He began "We have engaged the target. Captain Hargreaves is KiA, in pursuit towards service elevators on 23W. All units, please respond, over."

"Copy that Four-Niner." the reply came back, quickly enough that The Gentleman was satisfied that there was no deception.

"Thank you." he said, before pulling the trigger, and yanking his blade out of the man's chest, before proceeding towards the service elevators. He should have a clear path now.

====================================================================================================================================

Contessa was watching a live feed of the proceedings while her handlers worked. Unlike typical makeup work, many of Contessa's injuries were real... artificial, but real. Small cuts were made on her face, forehead and arms, covering her in a fair bit of her own blood. The brusies were largly just makeup, but they looked convincing enough. She'd been dressed in a tarnished version of the dress she had on during the speech. It was covered in blood, soot and scorch marks.

Her handlers were true artists.

"My Lady, some of the guests are escaping through the lobby," one of her generals told her. "Orders?"

Contessa winced as one of her handlers cut her with a razor just above the eyebrow. "Set off the second barrage," she said with a sad grin. "Take the tower to the ground."

====================================================================================================================================

Spoiler

The Gentleman had anticipated something dramatic, from either Contessa or Dio if not both. However, even he had to pause at the notion that Contessa would be so willing to destroy the opulent perch from which she had looked down upon humanity her entire life, and all the treasures contained within it. Although, when he thought about it, he supposed it made a great deal of sense. Contessa's appetites had always been larger than life, and what better display of the limitlessness of your wealth, than to almost contemptuously burn such a large portion of it to the ground? Was she trying to impress him? To give him some kind of grand gesture setting her apart from the pettiness of the rest of her class?

Well, he had to admit it was a little impressive... in a gauche sort of way.

Before the elevator made it to it's destination, The Gentleman had to resort To squatting and breathing through a handkerchief, as the shaft and car began to fill with smoke, leaking through from all the other levels they had passed. It was just as well the fires weren't burning inside the shaft itself yet, or The Gentleman may have been roasted inside the metal box. That would hardly be sporting.

He had to resist temptation to gulp in air, as the car finally made it down into a loading bay in one of the sub levels of the tower. Quickly taking cover behind a nearby forklift, The Gentleman scanned the cavernous space. No-one had noticed his arrival. All the soldiers and support staff left were pre-occupied with evacuating. Calmly, he studied his options. There was a tram docked about two hundred yards from his position. If he was quick and quiet, he could stow away on board and ride it out into the city, where even the largest manhunt would never find him. If that didn't work, he could always hijack it.

The muffled boom of a second barrage of explosions above his head made up his mind for him. Contessa wasn't taking any chances. Much as it pained him to admit, there was no longer any time for finesse. He needed to leave, now.

A terrible screeching issued forth from behind his position, as the cables in the elevator shafts gave way and the cars still in transit began a fast trip down. The personnel in the loading bay dropped all pretence of organisation as they began to flee for their lives. Fortunately, this meant no-one took any notice of The Gentleman, already in full sprint, bounding onto his chosen tram as it pulled away out of the docking station, and into the tunnels of Paradiso. The cars were open-roofed, stocked with cargo and whatever soldiers had been close enough to clamber aboard as it left. They all died quickly as The Gentleman made his way towards the front, shooting as he went. At least the driver needed no encouragement to take the tram to full throttle. If the man noticed The Gentleman at all, he was probably just grateful to still be alive.

The rumble of the tracks and whine of the engine were drowned out in an instant by the ungodly roar of the tower above their heads, as it finally began to collapse. Disappearing behind them, The Gentleman saw the tram station crushed under an onslaught of falling rubble; that, with nowhere else to go, tumbled down the tunnel at terrifying speed after them, grasping at the tram with thick plumes of dust and smoke.

"FASTER!" The Gentleman bellowed, but it was unclear if the driver heard him.

====================================================================================================================================

Contessa was almost ready now. After thirty minutes of hell, the chaos above them was only intensifying. By now several news teams had arrived on the scene and were covering the devistation. No doubt every noble on the Rock not currently burning alive had their eyes on Paradiso... perhaps on Feroxi as well. Contessa usually played the game with finesse and subtly. However, in this case, instead of carefully checking all of her opponents at once, she'd opted to flip the table over. She would cast down every pawn and see which ones could rise up out of the ashes.

And she would guide them to the promised land she had always envisioned.

"We're ready now, my Lady," one of her generals said. "Do I need to remind you of the risk?"

"That won't be necessary," she told him. "Just make sure the cameras are where they need to be and the medics don't immediately come to my aid."

The general saluted. "Very well ma'am," he said. "Good luck."

The Golden Empress stepped into the black box at the back of the complex and watched as the automatic doors closed behind her. The elevator rose quickly, shaking and rocking every now and then as it burst through melted steal and burning rubble. Eventually it came to a halt on the surface.

Before the doors opened, Contessa inhaled sharply and pulled the trigger, blasting a hole clean through her shoulder. The pain was excrusiating. She cried out in agony before staggering out of the elevator. The reinforced steel canopy had protected it from the debris above, allowing for a clear path for Contessa to follow.

"HOLY SHIT! ARE YOU GETTING THIS?!" one reporter shouted as he pointed his camera man in the direction of the woman staggering down the street.

It was Contessa, and she looked like utter hell. Several news teams ran to her as she clutched her fresh wound, struggling to stay on her feet.

"GET A MEDIC OVER HERE STAT! IT'S LADY LOMBARDI!"

Contessa fell to her knees and managed to whisper, "I-it was the Gentleman," before losing consciousness.

====================================================================================================================================

As all eyes were turned towards the rubble and flames of Lombardi tower, no-one noticed a man-hole halfway across the city open up in the middle of the street.

From it, a man in the tattered remains of a coat with tails, caked with a mixture of blood and dust, stumbled out into the light. One eye was gummed up with the stuff, and his left arm hung crooked and limp. His breathing was a choking rattle, as he looked at his surroundings, before hobbling into an alleyway. He didn't make it very far before he doubled over, wheezing, and collapsed next to a trash bin.

 

[Fappy]

Bennie stood at the helm of the ship, staring out at the endless ash as they cruised towards the drop off point. The Iron Maiden, along with their Wilkes-Vines contacts were already there waiting for them. All things considered, the op had gone off fairly well. Most of the Maidens were still green, or at the very least not used to working with one another. At the end of the day only one of their own had been injured while two of Talbot's crew had died. Vanco was unavoidable, but the engineer Ruffles was forced to kill? Bennie had to take responsibility for that one.

Talbot and his staff were dropped off with some crawlers half-a-day's drive from the nearest settlement. They took the two bodies of their crew with them.

Gale, Jesse, Ruffles and Tallahassee were on the bridge with him. He already heard about what had happened. "You two did good today," he said to Jesse and Gale, keeping his eyes on the horizon. "Under different circumstances I'd be pissed at you for lying Jesse, but you had your reasons. You saved Axel, so I'd say you know where you belong. Just... in the future, come to me with stuff like this. I'm your captain, but I can also be your friend if you need one."

*************************************************************************************************************************************************

Sprout was sitting by Amy's bedside holding her uninjured hand. He'd been told not to fuss over her, but was quick to ignore such orders. Tal had ordered her to sit tight for a bit, though it was clear she wanted to get moving. "Sorry I wasn' there sooner, Amy," Sprout told her with a half-frown. "Though, I reckon it's fittin' we were the only two Maidens he roughed up. S'pose we're meant ta' be after all!"

 

[NinjaDeathSlap]

"Though, I reckon it's fittin' we were the only two Maidens he roughed up. S'pose we're meant ta' be after all!"

Amy smiled, and nuzzled up against Axel's shoulder.

"It's alright. I've been hurt much worse before..." she said,lifting her hand to stroke Axel's shirt right above where she knew the scars of his bullet wounds were. "And so have you. We're not children, no matter what other people might think. We're strong enough to handle each-other, and I'm sorry it's taken this for me to figure it out."

She sighed, as she lifted her head up and looked him in the eye.

"When we get back, I need to tell you about where I came from. It's... not going to be an easy story to tell, so I'm going to need you to be patient, and not ask questions of me until I'm finished, but you need to know. This isn't going to work if I'm always holding back because I don't know how you could love who I really am. That's just another way of saying I don't trust you, but I think... I think I do now, so It's time for me to start showing it."

 

[Terratina.]

"Under different circumstances I'd be pissed at you for lying Jesse, but you had your reasons. You saved Axel, so I'd say you know where you belong. Just... in the future, come to me with stuff like this. I'm your captain, but I can also be your friend if you need one."

"Aye captain." Jesse said as he shifted a bit in his spot. He could still spot the buildings of that settlement they'd left his father at, just specks in the distance. Sure, the kid supposedly had the balls to kill but saying goodbye to an estranged father? That was too much. Or was that one last act of defiance towards his old man? Jesse wasn't sure. Though it was certain whatever ties the boy had with his family had been cut forever. No more prestige, no more status from a surname. Still, the feeling of freedom was exhilarating. Reminded him of the escaping from Lord Ivan's drunken supervision. Broke out of Calico Tower, might as well as break away from the entire fucking family, that's how Jesse saw it. Nevertheless, whether he'd made the right choice had yet to be seen...

 

[NinjaDeathSlap]

Sandra turned up on the bridge just in time to catch Jesse. Seeing Bennie up here made her even more embarrassed. At the first sign of trouble she'd lost her cool, and she knew she'd have to apologise for it later.

"So... Amy told me what you did." she said to Jesse, finding it difficult to look him in the eye. "Sorry if I was too hard on you before. You did good."

Blushing slightly, she hugged him and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek.

 

[Terratina.]

The hug was exactly what Jesse needed, the kiss a little cherry on top. Far from what he'd expected to him after the secret got out. Afterwards, Jesse took a bow, "Apology accepted, milady."

He could get used to this.

 

[NinjaDeathSlap]

"Apology accepted, milady."

Sandra raised an eyebrow, but still couldn't stop herself from smiling a little.

"Alright alright, don't push it." she giggled.

 

[The Funslinger]

Ruffles stood watching all the making up and cuddly reunions for a while before it occurred to him he had one waiting somewhere. Stubbing out a half smoked cigarette and necking what remained of a bottle of miscellaneous blue soda, he got up from the seat he'd been occupying at the communications console.

"Real heart warming as always, Bennie," he said. "But how long are we sticking around here for? I got someone to get back to, man!"

===========================================

Bryan looked at the gun in his hand for a moment, the smell of burnt gunpowder sharp in his nostrils. The blood was smoking faintly from the hole in Cranston's temple. His eyes flicked to that for a moment, taking it in. Then back to the gun.

Sighing, he dropped it back into its holster. He wondered what flak he'd get for flagrantly ignoring orders. Then he wondered if Dapper was still on the frequency. Maybe Dio was, but he didn't much care. Getting to his feet, he adjusted the swords across his back and leaned over Cranston long enough to close the old man's eyes. He'd managed not to eviscerate Cranston's face when he'd killed him.

Turning, he headed for the door and thumbed his radio.

"Dapper, you still on the line?" He tried to say 'lord' again, and couldn't get it out. "Anyone else hearing me? Reckon if I don't get killed fighting my way outta here, that's me clocked off fer the night, 'less anyone objects."

 

[Dogmatic99]

The old priest arrived and set to work with Florian at his side, the two of them only sharing a few words as they made Vasa's body ready for the flames. Lilith had given them their privacy and took to patrolling the front of the building. Nothing major had happened yet, nothing that had reached their ears anyway. It seemed that the combined forces of Bejic rebels and Boykov remnants were doing a good job of keeping what order they could. Still, the chance of further chaos hung heavy in the air. Or maybe that was just the leftovers of what had passed.

The time passed and Father Jameson came out of the prep room, washing his hands clean. "He has a job for me." He looked to Lilith, shivering a little from the cold and possibly whatever nerves were rattling around his frail frame. "He wants me to... gather some certain people and tell them all about all about this an- and bring even more people to the cathedral. I-i-i-it's all very political. I'm sorry, I'm not very used to this kind of thing. What do you suppose he's up to?"
==================================================

His father's body had been wrapped up in white. Florian Stood before him, arms held tight across his chest as he held one hand out, the letter that had been left to him. The closest thing to Vasa's last will and testament. Florian let out a hefty sigh as he finished his third read through of it, lowering the paper for the last time and running a hand through his hair yet again. He didn't have much time, not enough to mourn in the truly traditional way, but he'd stretch it out as long as he could. For his own sake.

'Well you won, didn't you? In your own twisted way you did it.

They were never close. No matter how hard he tried to fool himself into thinking it Florian could never believe the lie. There were moments of warmth there, scattered among his memories, moments when Vasa had been more a father than a leader but the more he looked the further between they got. Reading these words penned by his drunken hand, it seemed to speak of a time that didn't exist. Or did he just not remember? It couldn't have left that big an impression if he didn't. In the end it was always the same, they were always moving, always looking forward to the next thing, never stopping to breathe.

'What were we to each other, you and I?' He thought he knew but the the more Florian thought about it the less certain he was. Given all this, history might soon write its own interpretation. But Florian would have time to find his own answer later. Just like Vasa, he had too much to do now to dwell on matters of the heart.

He'd need some of that coldness to do what he had to, to show an old face to the world again and maybe even wear the name of the Red Wolf he'd left behind so long ago. But it wouldn't be like last time, he'd come too far and done too much to fall back into old ways. Besides, that anger and hatred wasn't in him anymore, however much he raved and roared at the dead in his heart Florian knew he couldn't. The old cruelty had faded, and he'd keep it that way.

'I'll use what you've taught me, but I'll use it my way. Bite if I have to... so that others don't. And I will banish the barbarity we spread from this city and when this storm passes, I will fill this dome with light again.'

He laid the letter onto Vasa's chest, brushed his covered brow one final time before sealing the door shut and turning the dial. The muffled sound of flames began to build up and Florian waited in silence. 'From the last ashes of our old ways I will build a new one, a better Frostfall.'

"My word to God."

He waited as long as he could and did what had to be done. He wouldn't leave him here alone. Hours had passed and the suns were beginning to peak their heads over the horizon. He found Lilith nearby. "You should have gone with Erik, gotten some rest." He smiled to her weakly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. It might have been more touching if it weren't for the urn Florian was carrying under his arm. "We better get going, it's a big day ahead."
==================================================

Gale didn't have anything to say to the chief's words. Didn't feel like she'd done much to help matters along. Though it had left her with a lot to think about. With where she stood with this setup and all.

And to top it all off Jesse wasn't even Jesse anymore! What the shit was that about? Son of a *****, tryin' ta make her think his daddy had gotten killed back in the Austen attack. He was gunna get it for that. not here, but he'd get it. Already movin' onto his next try, and she thought Traveler boys had no shame. Looked like the stories about nobles were shaping up to be true. Whatever, Gale had bigger stuff to focus on right now. Once they were back she'd snag up any free time and shifts on lookout she could get, she needed some quiet after all this.

 

[Daystar Clarion]

Spoiler

Lilith had spent hours outside the crematorium, she'd like to say it was because she was guarding the place, letting Florian have his this time to himself, but the increasingly large amount of cigarette butts in the immediate area betrayed her anxiousness. She was freezing, accidentally left her coat back in the building, but she wasn't able to go back inside, she couldn't face the man again, not right now, she felt so guilty, so this was her punishment to herself, smoking herself to death in the cold, unsure whether the man she loved felt the same way about her any more.

'You do know there's other rooms in the building where Florian isn't tending to his dead father, you know?'

No, this was fine, it would have to do for now.

Father Jameson had come looking for her, his breath showing immediately as he left the building to greet her.

"He has a job for me. "He wants me to... gather some certain people and tell them all about all about this an- and bring even more people to the cathedral. I-i-i-it's all very political. I'm sorry, I'm not very used to this kind of thing. What do you suppose he's up to?"

Lilith smiled weakly, it almost looked as if the cold didn't bother her.

Stiff upper lip and all that.

"I could hazard a guess." She took a long drag of her current cigarette. "A proper send off maybe? People tend to put grievances aside long enough to respect the dead." She shrugged her shoulders, the old priest returning in kind as he shuffled off to do whatever it was that Florian had told him to do.

-------

After a few hours, the suns began to raise, bringing what little warmth they offered. Lilith was thankful for it, regardless. Thankfully the sweater she wore was just enough that the cold was merely horribly uncomfortable, rather than lethal. There were more cigarette butts on the ground now. For the first time in a while, she was actually low on smokes. That was usually a bad sign. Chuckling to herself in self pity, her body tensed as she heard the door behind her close. It was Florian.

"You should have gone with Erik, gotten some rest."

Lilith shook her head silently, genuinely smiling as the man brushed a lock of hair from her eyes.

"We better get going, it's a big day ahead." Purposefully keeping her gaze from the urn Florian was carrying, she walked beside her man, hoping things would soon get better. They had to get better.

 

[Fappy]

"... This isn't going to work if I'm always holding back because I don't know how you could love who I really am. That's just another way of saying I don't trust you, but I think... I think I do now, so It's time for me to start showing it."

Sprout nodded firmly. "Whatever you need, Amy," he told her. "If I'm anythin' at all it's a good listener. How else you reckon I survived all those years with Ma'?" He chuckled. "I reckon I 'ave a thin' or two I aughtta share too."

He pecked her on the lips. "Yer lookin' more n' more like a Maiden everyday. Thanks fer givin' it a proper shot," he said with a grin.

*************************************************************************************************************************************************

"Real heart warming as always, Bennie. But how long are we sticking around here for? I got someone to get back to, man!"

Bennie rolled his eyes. "Does everyone around here have a woman these days but me?" he groaned. "I s'pose stranger things have happened." His thoughts suddenly found their way to Whiskey. After a brief silence, Bennie glanced at Ruffles over his shoulder and sighed. "Be straight with me Jake, think there's anythin' there between me and the cowgirl? I'd like to say there's not, but I can't stop thinking about her..."

Doesn't matter, Bennie. It's a bad idea.

************************************************************************************************************************************************

"Anyone else hearing me? Reckon if I don't get killed fighting my way outta here, that's me clocked off fer the night, 'less anyone objects."

Bryan didn't get an answer. After checking some other frequencies he managed to pick up chatter about the first few floors being secured. Activating Masakado seemed to have done the trick.

************************************************************************************************************************************************

In the moment Pixie and Tsubaki locked eyes, time seemed to stand still. The chaos surrounding them no longer mattered. It was just two friends on different ends of a gun. Tsubaki's battle hardened instincts were culled by crippling grief, freezing her on the spot. Had she the will, she'd have ended it the moment she identified Merry.

Why...?

Merry had betrayed her in every sense of the word. Was there ever a moment in their conversations that she'd been legitimate?! Had everything she shared been a lie?! Was she just using her?!

Like everyone else...

Spoiler: Mirrors of Your Eyes

"W-what is this?!" Tsubaki croaked. "Who are you?!"

Pixie's mind was a haze. She recognized Tsubaki, sure, but it didn't really mean anything. What was she yelling now? Why hadn't she opened fire yet? Pixie spotted Dio's dagger in her periphery. It was close. She could snatch it up and close the gap in the blink of an eye, but her success would depend on Tsubaki's state-of-mind. If she couldn't muster the courage to put her down Pixie's gamble might just work.

"ANSWER ME!" Tsubaki shouted.

The woman she'd thought was her friend did not answer. She offered only a cruel, deranged glare. Did she even recognize her? Had she just snapped? Gone mad?

Or was this just who Merry really was?

Just as it looked like Pixie was about to answer her, she instead reached out for the knife and sprung to her feet. Tsubaki's gasp was muffled by the knot in her throat. She opened fire too late, only managing to graze Pixie's shoulder before the bandit was upon her. She swung wide, severing the rifle strap. Then, she grabbed the stock of the rifle with her free hand and elbowed Tsubaki in the face with her knife-arm. The soldier crashed onto her back, knocking the wind out of her. While she was dazed Pixie leaped atop her. Before she could bring Dio's cruel knife down on her face, Tsubaki caught Pixie's wrist.

Tears streaming down her face, Tsubaki struggled against Pixie's superior strength. Despite her injuries, the bandit queen was still far stronger. The blade was closer now, almost licking her forehead. As she struggled her gaze found its way to Pixie's eyes.

This was not the woman she'd befriended.

The hungry rage burning there was enough to give life to Pixie's dead eye. It told Tsubaki without words that Pixie would take her life.

It told her who God was.

Tsubaki's fear weakened her resolve and moments later, Pixie drew blood. The smaller woman cried out in agony as she continued fighting against Pixie's rage--the blade drawing a jagged line from Tsubaki's right eyebrow to her left cheek. The flesh split open, covering her face in blood, intensifying her screams.

Was this how she'd die?

Not like this... NOT LIKE THIS!

Once adrenaline took over, Tsubaki's resolved strengthened. The tip of the dagger had left her cheek now and was hovering over her throat. She couldn't hope to turn the blade on time, but if she could get her sidearm out...

As the young soldier squirmed and cried under her power, Pixie's fury only grew. Why did this lamb struggle so? Didn't she understand at all? Didn't she know that it was her turn?

The Bandit Queen drank in her pain and suffering. It was intoxicating.

Then something strange happened.

Tsubaki's screams, her tears... everything... they'd been replaced. Instead of the soldier she'd met at Dio's ball, the woman before her was not a woman at all. It was a girl. A stupid, stupid girl.

She was screaming about a dead friend. Cursing the man who'd killed her. The man who'd butchered her; who'd taken everything from her. She cursed him as he took even more; as he carved her up, grinning like a spoiled child all the while.

She saw herself there, and in the mirror's of Tsubaki's eyes she saw someone else. Something alien. Something vile and ugly.

Something evil.

Pixie's rage drained out of her like a severed artery. The strength behind her knife had left her.

Oh God, Cherry... what have I---

Two gun shots drowned out Tsubaki's screams. Pixie's entire body suddenly went cold. She touched her abdomen. There was blood. Too shocked to form words, Pixie simply looked at Tsubaki.

Holding her bloody wound with one hand, the petrified soldier kept her pistol trained on the her attacker. Pixie said nothing before doubling over, unconscious. Tsubaki got to her feet and watched as the bandit's blood pooled around her, soiling the marble floor below.

What happened next was a blur in Tsubaki's mind. At some point she had taken Dio to an infirmary. Where on the tower, she wasn't sure. She wasn't even sure if the fighting was completely over, though it was much quieter in general now. The doctors had so much on their hands at the moment that they didn't even have time to look at her wound.

It was fine. Tsubaki didn't even feel it anymore.

In fact, she couldn't feel anything at all.

 

[Dogmatic99]

Everyone had arrived, claiming their places among the pews. Grown men who'd been fighting side by side just a few hours ago were now carving a holy place up like kids in the cafeteria. Even the Bejic men weren't immune to it as each crew made it's own space as they talked among themselves as they turned away from the rest of the world. When they weren't throwing abuse at whoever had looked at them the wrong way. There was a lot of that going around as they each got more restless from waiting, meanwhile the civilians the priest had gathered were caught up in the middle of it all, looking lost and fearful. Filling this room were representatives of every major group left standing in Frostfall and Florian was walking right into the middle of them.

"You sure about this?" Erik asked him, looking uneasily at the urn Florian had placed tenderly in his care.

"I have to be."

The cathedral floor went quiet as Florian strode out like he owned the place, meeting the eye of every man that looked his way. The crowd went quiet. "It was nice of you all come. I hope no one will take offence from my choice of language... but I'm aware we have a multicultural audience with us today and I plan to be understood by everyone." His tone made it clear he didn't care even if the old guard were annoyed by this. There was the small number of press he'd called for writing down in their notepads and already starting to take pictures. Good, with luck this would reach every dome on the rock soon. Florian only hoped it would go as planned.

"Why'd you call us out here, Bejic? We've been kept waiting long enough." An old bandit heckled.

Florian seemed unphased. "Yes, I called and you answered." He didn't elaborate on that, just let it hang in the air and stared the man down. The same way he'd seen his father do in the past. He dragged it out just enough before turning away and getting back on point.

"You're here because you've suffered, because you've fought and bled for this city, for its people and for the chance that our dome could still have a future." That got a few mumbles from them but no one rose to cheer or clap. "Or maybe I'm talking out of my ass." Florian sneered. "Maybe you stood among those that set these streets on fire and filled them with corpses, pissing everything the people who built Frostfall made just for your own short term gain. Then, after it didn't go your way, you turned on your old masters and gave it a second try. That sums up most of you here, doesn't it? Those of you that weren't on the losing side, who were left cowering like animals waiting for help to come!"

That got a reaction. from them as men from every group leaped to their feet, yelling about how they didn't have to take this.

"Oh that touched a nerve didn't it?!" Florian yelled back, drinking it all in and letting them run out of steam as his voice rose above them. "But that is all the world sees when they look at Frostfall, at us. Savages, finally given the keys to the kingdom, who squandered it on petty greed and infighting! I look around this room and I see men who I was once proud to stand beside, to call my brothers in arms... even men I felt pride in calling my enemy. Now look at you. Look at what you've become. Faded shells of your former selves. Dogs clamouring over the legacy of wolves, simply because you can howl at the moon!"

"Dogs that saved your ass." One of them spat back.

"Yes! Yes you did!" Florian pointed at him, advancing with fresh energy and taking his heckler aback. No one, no matter how tough they were, liked surprise audience participation. "You stormed a tower, some you twice! How many people living can claim that? Not many I'd wager, and most that can are sitting in this room. Meanwhile... what did the rest of you do? Those that didn't fight, survived. Held on to what they could." He was talking to the community leaders now, the ones the priest had gathered. "Helping the countless injured and homeless. Feeding folks while they themselves go hungry. Showing folks... in a city filled with fighting, that brutality does not mean strength, that compassion does not mean weakness." He looked to all those gathered before him. "This is what I see, when I look to home. Damn what the rest of the world says, I see a place that was once full of beauty and can be again! If we stand together."

"And you want to stand with us now, Wolf? After disappearing to God knows where!"

"You know damn well I do! What's more you know I can. Who was it that raided the southern cartel lines? Who was the first through the gate when we stormed away the Maximov Bratva? But perhaps these stories are too old for you, it's not as if I came back from the dead an my name was used to rally you as an army." Florian shrugged, all showy for his crowd. "No, that all happened too fast, all the shadows. How could a man even do that?" The crowd murmured to one another, they could tell he was going somewhere with this and Florian's rises and falls had gotten some of them going. Some on nostalgia and others on the patriotic pictures he was painting them. "Why he does it just by putting on a mask."

Some of them clocked it just then. Others needed it explained to them as Florian gave them all the candid details of how he had run the bickering crews around each other, playing their systems against them and claiming their supplies and spoils as his own and giving them to his collared contact to pass out among those that needed it. He hadn't been one for bragging over the last few years but right now it was a necessity. He played every card he could. Florian shoved it in the face of the doctor present that it was him they owed the medicine and supplies they'd gotten just a few nights ago. How the local shelter had gotten that generous donation from a drug dealer that Florian had brought down with his bare hands and that was how they afforded the clean clothes and fresh food they'd used to help the families in their neighborhood. All in a classy kind of way of course, he didn't want them to feel shamed, just grateful. He even threw it in the face of some of the bandits present, after all it was their men he'd outdone. He only did it to the ones he knew would be responsive though. Ones that respected strength over logic. It all sounded like the heroic speech, as if he was rising to the occasion and being the noble leader, returned from his exile in the wastes to reclaim his home, it all sounded wonderfully storybook and by the end people were going for it. Some were excited, maybe even downright loving it.

And inside Florian was playing them all, knowing his audience well enough to see which buttons to push. One thing they taught him growing up, not just Vasa but his mother, Anna too was how to play the game. His speech went on, questions were answered and promises offered until Florian reached the end. They still didn't know where he disappeared too, he doubted they wanted to know. The mystery held more power than the priest did.

"So this is where we all make our choice, where we decide what future we make together. Who will help me make it a reality?"

"And you'll lead us?" Someone asked. "What makes you good for it? There are other noble families, relatives of our old ones out there, some of them might come calling."

"Because he is not just the son of Vasa Bejic!" Erik interjected. he stepped forward and people parted ways for him to make his way forward. The white haired bandit held up some papers as if they were a weapon and spoke to the crowd like the experienced orator he once was. "He is also the first and only child of Anna of the family Pajari, Lady of the Hussars and heiress to the Pajari legacy." He shot a sideways look to Lilith, some distance across the room. There were bigger things to dwell on now but still he wondered how she'd take all this.

"That makes me the closest thing to your old masters left standing in this city." Florian said sternly to any loyalists that may have been left. "I was bred, not to be a bridge between the classes. I was made to rule you." He let a beat pass. "I do not wish to. Instead... I beg to serve you. I offer myself up as sacrifice for what has happened here, my will will become mine, my life will become yours. I do not ask you to kneel or bow. I ask, who will stand with me?"

"Erik Ablev stands with Florian Bejic!" The old man roared.

"Irena Ellet stands with Florian Bejic came a woman's voice from nearby.

One by one others joined their chorus. Florian's old pack were first, conrad, Hansel and the madman they just called Bleach, even Alexie was there to lend his voice and as each one did others followed them. Even the elderly priest lent his voice to the choir. Until the whole hall was joining in. Eventually they calmed down and the priest stepped forward, Erik had pulled him aside and let him know what to do if this worked.

Florian bent down on one knee as water was applied to his brow, repeating the words of the oath of the coronation as they were given to him. Offering his blood, his life and his soul for Frostfall. And so the priest spoke the words. "Then rise, Florian Bejic, first of your line. High lord of Frostfall and protector of the northern domes." And Florian rose to his feet and the hall erupted into the chant.

"LORD OF THE NORTH! LORD OF THE NORTH! LORD OF THE NORTH!"

 

[The Funslinger]

"Be straight with me Jake, think there's anythin' there between me and the cowgirl? I'd like to say there's not, but I can't stop thinking about her..."

Ruffles tried to give Bennie a serious look, but couldn't quite manage it. Grinning, he got up and crossed over to a ventilation grill mounted low on the wall.

"See these? They're running through the entire vessel, like veins. And when you make veins outta sheet metal and concrete, then put 'em in something powered by explosions, shit's gonna wear out."

Turning, Ruffles put his back to the wall and slid down it. "So I honestly spend half my time crawling around the vents back on the Maiden, because it's also the easiest way to access some of the other stuff like plumbing, and the auxiliary cooling tanks. And you know what I learned being inside the veins of a ship? Veins and vents get a lot of acoustic backwash. I don't go listening, and I don't exactly hear everything, but there's a reason I've kept Allie mostly outta there since she's been here, man. My point being, if Whiskey had a problem with what you've been doing a half assed job of pedaling at her, you'd have woken up in Maria's infirmary by now."

Bennie chuckled. "I knew she was a tough girl, but I never took her for a 'Pixie'," he said. "Thanks, Jake. She has some things to work out on her end, but if she's interested later... well, you won't see me complaining." The big man turned away and looked out towards the horizon. "We're almost to the rendezvous. Go ahead and get the ship prepped for landing."

"Sure thing, Captain," Ruffles replied. Jumping to his feet, he grabbed his bag and left.

============================================================================

Were it not for the armored crawlers parked in formation around it, the hatch on the hill would have been undetected.

Payton was down the hatch, under the hill. He was sitting on a small hard backed chair in the hill's bunker, sipping scotch. The only other man in the room with him stood silently at the door. The only splash of colour on Fargo's black combat gear was the red komodo dragon bandana tied around one arm. The man was bristling with weapons, and those were just the ones Payton could see. Four pistols, two on his hips, two under his arms. A semi-automatic carbine was slung across his back, and there were numerous long handled knives across his body, along with who knew how many concealed weapons. The top half of the man's face was completely obscured by an ever present pair of heavy tactical goggles. What was left exposed still gave away nothing.

"Our guests?" Payton asked.

"Inbound," Fargo replied. "I saw them take the ship. Clean job, despite a few minor altercations. Seems they're breaking in the new blood."

"What about the one in Talbot's employ? The one you told me about; Vanco, I believe?"

"Dead."

"I see, I see. And who saw to that, then? Did the good Captain deal with that one personally?"

"Nope," Fargo replied. "The Bandit Queen's son went after him."

"And walked away? How impressive. Perhaps we've underestimated his progress. Vanco was formidable, wasn't he?"

"I believe the exact words I used were 'he's alright,' sir. Still, it wasn't the Monroe boy that finished him. He simply engaged the target. Talbot's own son intervened before Vanco could overcome the boy."

"The one who went missing?"

"Yes sir."

"Interesting." Payton took a sip of scotch. "This is why I always respected the Carmines, you know. They know how to bring the steel out in a man."

Fargo didn't exactly smile, but his lips became taut. "Didn't you have them destroyed?"

"Yes, but really, that I felt the need to do that is the highest respect I could pay them, Fargo."

"I understand, sir. They must have been an admirable threat."

"Loathsome would be the term I would use."

"Yes, sir."

 

[Fappy]

Bennie hadn't set foot in New Haven in a long, long time. Not since the Wilkes-Vines family butchered his own.

Not since Payton drove Bennie's father to suicide.

He'd have to put all that behind him. Today was about settling a debt and had nothing to do with the Carmine family. They were dead and gone, never to return to the Rock. Despite how often Bennie reminded himself of this fact, it never became any easier to accept.

Once they had landed, Bennie dismissed the crew so Payton's men could get to work. Tallahassee and Ruffles were to accompany him during the meeting and no one else. The rookies needed a rest, after all, and after their last run-in with Wilkes-Vines, Bennie couldn't trust Sprout in their presence. Whiskey would stay aboard the Maiden as well. At one time she'd have made an ideal liaison, but considering the situation with her lover, Bennie couldn't risk taking her along. She would be way to vulnerable to emotional manipulation.

"Payton?!" Bennie blurted. "He's here?!"

The lieutenant he was speaking to nodded his head and signaled to the hallway behind him. "Yep, the man himself," he explained. "He figured he owed you some face time--or that's what he told me, anyway. You know how he is."

"Unfortunately."

"He's waiting for you down the hall," the bandit reminded the big man.

Bennie regained his composure and nodded. The trio of Maidens continued down the hall. "Be ready for anything," Bennie instructed. "Payton doesn't play by anyone's rules but his own."

Tallahassee nodded in compliance, but kept his thoughts to himself.

Don't snap on us now, Boss.

 

[Daystar Clarion]

"LORD OF THE NORTH! LORD OF THE NORTH! LORD OF THE NORTH!"

Behind Lilith's smile was the sense of impending loss, everything was moving so fast, she barely registered the fact Florian was of noble blood, not that it would surprise her, most of the old families could trace their lineage back to one line or another. As proud as she was of this moment, and what they achieved, a stark reality was closing in around her.

She'd be leaving Frostfall alone.

Lilith couldn't expect Florian to go back to the Maiden with her, pick up where they had left off and pretend this was nothing more than another job. This was greater than her now, more important than her feelings, more important than her love.

As the crowd cheered Florian began moving through the throng of people, shaking hands, and was slowly swallowed up by his people.

Lilith suddenly felt very alone, and very tired. Laughing through her nose slightly, the girl ran a hand through her hair and turned on her heel, lighting a cigarette as she began moving away from the crowd. This was where he deserved to be, this was where he was needed and where he could do the most good. She couldn't indulge the selfish part of her who wanted to whisk him away back to the Maiden, but she could smile at the thought.

"Where is that radio tower?" She asked her self, sighing as she stuffed her hands in her pockets and began walking into the quieter part of town.

It was time to go home.

 

[Terratina.]

Jun leaned back slightly, tilting the chair he was sat upon. Through the window he saw the smoke was still billowing from Basilio Tower. However, the radio was silent. Had been for a while. The bratatat of machine guns and booms of explosions had slowly stopped. It was over. The bloody battle which never should've happened was over. He got out of the chair, switched the radio equipment, gave the pub's landlord a silent nod off and headed back to base.

There was always a quiet tension after a big battle, the question of whether it was really the end hung in the air. As Jun got nearer to the Tower, there were signs of cleaning up. Worned faced soldiers stood guard at posts where their predecessors had been shot down. Others were assessing the damage. Naturally, Jun had seen carnage before but the quiet aftermaths always reminded him of stories of the '79 bombing back in Mugunghwa-i. Hell, he'd seen the fifty year old wreckage left in its wake up close. The site of the destroyed state building had been turned into a training ground, complete with shock collar fitted prisoners to practice upon; an instrument of revenge against the Kumiho; the site of Jun's first kill.

Nevertheless, he reached the Tower and leant against a wall, hearing the chatter of the other soldiers present. It wasn't exactly easy to ignore the words of a particularly excited one.

"So, there were a few bouts of returning fire and then a motherfuckin' cyborg shows up and cuts the enemy down his sword. He was so fast!" The soldier said as he made cutting motions.

"Bullshit!" Another spat.

"Hey, we all saw 'im. Ain't my fault you decided to crawl inna hole somewhere." A third countered.

Before any more of the sillyness continued, Jun interruped. "Any news of O'Lafferty or Saburo?"

"N-none of O'Lafferty, Major." The formerly excited one replied, "Saburo, on the other had, saved our Lord from the Bandit Queen. She apparently threw herself into the frag when she saw our Lord in danger and survived to boot."

Jun nodded. 'How fortunate for her.'

 

[The Funslinger]

Spoiler: music

As the wheel on the large iron door spun, Payton looked up.

Bennie Carmine filled the door briefly, filing quickly inside, followed by two men whose faces Payton recognised well. It was good to see he was taking this seriously. But then, Payton had expected nothing else.

"Captain Carmine, good to see you." He nodded to Ruffles. "Mr. Miller, I do hope you've thought about my proposal."

"Yeah, I have," Ruffles replied.

"Good, in due time." Payton turned his attention to Tallahassee. "Ah yes. Well, my boy, if you ever need good money quickly." Payton smiled as he said this. There was no laughter, but his tone held a certain amusement to it. They all knew Tallahassee wouldn't be caught dead working for Payton outside of obligation.

"Allow me to introduce my associate. I could tell you his name, but as I understand, he isn't fond of that. He prefers Fargo."

Tallahassee simply rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' knob jockey," the cowboy muttered under his breath.

"It's a pleasure," Bennie said, his disinterest apparent. He turned his attention back to Wilkes-Vines boss. "There's no need to drag this out, Payton. We delivered the package as instructed. I trust we're square?"

"I imagine so," Payton replied. "That leaves the issue of Mr. Miller, but after that, I'd like to have a word alone with you, Captain."

Bennie glanced over to Jake and frowned. "You sure about this, Jake?" he asked.

Ruffles sighed. "Yeah, pretty sure. Guess I'm staying behind after you guys leave, huh?"

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Payton said. "I expect you have proper goodbyes to make. A last celebration or something. I'll see you in New Haven, two days from now. The guards on the dome entrances, and on the gates to my estate will have your name and picture. You shouldn't have any trouble getting through."

"Can I expect any compensation for you poaching my most valuable man?" the big man asked.

"Of course," Payton replied. Turning, he motioned to Fargo, who produced a very large suitcase with a noticeable amount of heft to it, and planted it on the table.

"According to my calculations," Payton said. "That is thirty five percent of the Iron Maiden's selling price when it would have been new out of the shipyard. I hope that's satisfactory."

Bennie chuckled nervously. "You're too kind, Payton," he said. "I'd say Jake's worth three Maidens at least. Consider that an endorsement, not a complaint."

"Of course," Payton replied with a smile. "But if I spend the cost of a number of ships thoughtlessly, I'll find myself with no job for Mr. Miller here to perform."

"I don't know, he makes for a half-decent brewer."

"And horticulturist, if my sources are accurate," Payton agreed. "Now to our final piece of business, and then you can take our leave. If you'd be so kind as to dismiss your men, Captain."

With that, he turned and looked at Fargo, who, after a moment of hesitation, stood up, turned and left.

Tallahassee and Ruffles followed after Fargo. It was just Bennie and Payton now.

If the Maidens weren't in a vulnerable position, Bennie would have his hands around Payton's throat the moment they were left alone.

We can't all get what we want.

"What's this about?" Bennie asked in an unamused tone.

"Like it or not, Captain, you and I go back quite some way," Payton replied. Calmly and slowly, so as not to alarm his guest, he produced a revolver and put it on the table so he could get a look at it. It was ancient, dark metal, with an esoterically large hammer. The cylinder was smooth, and the barrel was engraved with the words, 'Non Timebo Mala'. There was a pentagram cut roughly into each side of the grip.

Eddie would have recognised the weapon on sight. It was the gun carried by his mentor.

It was followed by a box of bullets, from which Payton loaded it with a practiced hand. Flipping his grip on the weapon, he offered it to Bennie, with the barrel planted squarely on his own forehead.

"Let it not be said I never offered you exactly what you wanted," he said.

"You have a death wish, old man?"

"No. But I wouldn't be where I am if the idea bothered me, either. I'm still waiting. What will it be?" There was a pause, and Payton smiled again. "What will it be, old friend?"

"Fuck you!" Bennie hissed between his teeth, struggling to keep calm. This was all just posturing. Payton was just trying to get under his skin. "You think I'm gonna put my whole crew at risk for some petty revenge? You and my father had a lot in common, but don't think for a second that I intend to inherit your pissing contest. If and when I kill you it will be for one reason and one reason only..."

Payton straightened up, flipped the gun back into a proper grip, and dropped it in its holster.

"And why will that be?"

"Business."

"And that is why I respect you. But now with that necessity out of the way, I can ask you the real question."

Bennie rolled his eyes. "Knock yourself out," he said.

"I imagine you'll be sorely tempted to do that yourself," Payton replied. "It's been at the back of my mind for some time. Your answer will be wrong, but that's sort of the point."

Arching his fingers, he looked Bennie in the eye. "Why do you think I killed your family?"

"Payton," Bennie began with a sigh, "why waste my fuckin' time like this? You honestly think I give a damn? The Carmines are dead and gone. The Iron Maiden is my family now. Let the dead rest."

"And after this, they can. Believe it or not, this is important to me. We all need our closure. Answer the question."

"You're a coward?" Bennie guessed. "They were a threat so you had them eliminated."

"No," Payton replied. "I could have moved out to other territories. Your father's shadow wouldn't have stretched far enough to shade me."

Opening a drawer, he produced a picture in a gilted silver frame. The picture inside was covered in creases, as though it had been savagely balled up and thrown away at one point. It showed two men holding each other close. One, despite black hair and a clean shave, was recognisable as Payton. The other had thick hair in dirty blonde ringlets, and a classically handsome face. Payton slid the picture wordlessly across the desk.

Bennie cocked an eyebrow. "You haven't aged well, sorry to say," he said. "Haven't seen the other guy before."

"A shame you don't recognise him," Payton said. "He worked for your father."

"Well he's clearly not a family member. Must have been a contractor or something. If I ever met him I don't recall it."

"Oh, he was low ranking, to be sure," Payton said. "Before I had any real standing, and before I found the place I would one day make my own, I cut my teeth on mercenary work for a few different families, including yours. As parts of larger operations, of course, so my name didn't really come up."

Reaching into a gilded box on the desk, he produced a cigar, cut the end, and lit it. "His name was Damien. We stayed in contact long after I'd concluded my work for your father. Fast forward a few years, and I'm making a name for myself in a different family, the one I'd go on to usurp. They were coming to blows with the Carmines over a few territorial issues."

He took a drag on the cigarette. "By then, your father knew my name well. When I took control of my family and rebranded it under my own name, I tried to get Damien to join me. He refused. He loved me, but your father had afforded him certain opportunities, and he held a level of loyalty for him. He tried to convince me there would be a peaceful solution. I listened because he was saying it, of course."

Another drag on the cigar. "Your father wanted to shake me. The last I'd heard of Damien, he was going on some kind of secret mission. It wasn't until after some digging that I found out what it was. A textbook suicide run, with no backup. He was never meant to come back."

Bennie clenched his jaw. He allowed the silence to hang in the air for awhile before replying. "I never took you for someone who holds a grudge," he said.

"Just the one was enough for my taste," Payton replied. "So I deigned to take everything that man loved, just as he'd done to me. I never intended for him to take his own life, though. He had to survive to feel as I feel. When the news came through, I recall it was down to a margin of seconds to call off the operative I'd assigned to snipe you in the street. Not so you'd live with it, but... with your father gone, it was pointless. Contrary to popular belief, I do have a line."

"Am I supposed to be grateful?"

"No," Payton replied. "But I don't tell such a story inaccurately. I know you hate me, and I know you always will. But the point of my story is this:

"In the recent months we've been working together, I don't doubt there have been mutterings and discussions as to how I might snake oil you at the last second. How I'm going to inevitably betray you and condemn you and yours to a horrible death, or something equally melodramatic."

He stubbed out the cigar butt. "I wish to dash these concerns. Despite our history, Carmine, I do have respect for you. I quite like Miss Monroe, as a matter of fact. But the moniker of 'Bandit Queen' aside, you are one small crew on one small ship in a very large world. You think I'm going to stab you in the back when you're no longer useful to me? You are worth neither the time, nor the potential damage to my reputation. You are too small to be in any danger from me. So drop the goddamn arrogant assumptions, Bennie."

"Arrogant?" Bennie laughed. "If I were arrogant there wouldn't be any whispers at all. You're right, I will always hate you, but more importantly--I'll never trust you. You're a bad man with more power than you deserve. You can make all the promises you want, but we both know you'd sell us out if the pros out-weighed the cons. And it's not because you have beef with my family, or have any particular hatred for the Iron Maiden itself. No, no, you're far more simple than that."

Bennie sneered. "You're a business man," he said. "You're all about the bottom line. All about your rep. You take your vanity so far you're even willing to threaten the life of your surrogate granddaughter to make a fuckin' point, so excuse me if I don't take you at your word. Our working relationship ends the moment the Iron Maiden leaves this dome."

Payton sat through the tirade without reacting. When Bennie finished, he said, "exactly my point. But the pros will never outweigh the cons, because you are too insignificant for there to be any benefit in doing it. By all means, you could turn and start causing me trouble, but then you'd be the ones betraying me. But until that happens... well, the only crew member you've got who's particularly worth taking just agreed to work for me. So again, what have I to gain from lashing out at you in any way?"

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," Bennie said. "Are we done here?"

"More or less. I'd ask you to give Captain Monroe my regards, but I doubt you even know where she is."

"It's been a pleasure, Payton," Bennie spat before standing up.

"Be sure to come back any time you're feeling financially challenged," Payton replied as the other man got to his feet.

"I'll be sure to consider the offer," Bennie replied sarcastically. With that said, he turned around and headed out the door.

"One more thing," Payton called out as the door began to close.

"What is it?"

"I was hoping you'd bring Miss Fifer, so I could tell her in person, but... I'm afraid the father of her child recently passed on."

Bennie froze for a moment.

"Payton," Bennie began without turning to look at him. "I probably won't be the one to put you down, but when you do go--you'll die like a *****."

It was the most honest thing either man had said since entering the room.

And with that, Bennie was gone.

 

[Fappy]

The days following the hijacking went by quickly. After leaving New Haven the Maidens stopped by Crow's Nest, a small bandit-controlled dome not far from Frostfall. Lilith had contacted them the day before and told them all about what had happened there. Sprout was only mildly surprised when he realized they'd already been harboring an ex-noble before Jesse ever came around. Florian the priest, head of both a bandit and noble family? Casino was doing pretty well for herself, it seemed.

Then again, she was returning home now. Had anything actually happened between the two of them?

Then there was Cam and Aesop. The two Maidens had found their way back to the Maiden two days ago. Apparently Pixie had sent them back, saying the mission to kill Dio was hers and hers alone.

What 'appened out there Ma'?

Two towers on opposite sides of the continent were set aflame in the span of an hour. Towers belonging to the most powerful people on the Rock.

And the Gentleman was to blame?

Yeah fucking right.

Dio and Contessa had both survived their wounds, though neither were to make a public appearance until they had fully recovered. It seemed far too convenient. Had Dio foreseen Contessa's gambit and responded in kind? Were both attacks staged as part of some elaborate con? And what had happened to the Gentleman? His network went dark the moment Lombardi tower fell, and Amy was coming up empty everywhere she looked.

Everything about it reeked of conspiracy. And honestly, if not for his mother's involvement Sprout couldn't care less. Sure, he felt bad for Amy considering her... "connection" to Gents, but Sprout had never known the man to be anything other than a snake.

Who knows, maybe he was behind everything after all.

Look on the bright side, Lily'll be here soon an' you get ta' gloat about yer knew girlfriend to 'er.

Considering all that had happened in Frostfall it was a small miracle Lilith was returning unscathed.

Still gonna make 'er pay fer leavin' me behind. That fuckhead!

"Hey buddy, can I come in?" a voice suddenly called out from the hall. It was Bennie.

Sprout hopped out of bed and opened the door. "How's the negotiatin' goin' out there?" Axel asked.

"It's goin' pretty well, though I don't really feel comfortable packing so much carbon around here," Bennie admitted. "We've got protection in Crow's Nest thanks to Cranston's old contacts, but that doesn't always prevent up-starts from getting wise. I just finished going over our inventory. We just bought out half the town. We have enough weapons to arm a small army now. Word gets around, you know?"

"Yeah, well everyone in town also knows you pulled a job fer Payton," Sprout pointed out. "I reckon the punks out there shit their pants if ya' so much as mention Wilkes-Vines."

Spoiler: Poor Sprout

Bennie laughed. "I believe it," he said. The two of them sat down on the edge of the bed and shot the shit for awhile before Bennie shifted gears to something more serious. "Hey, look... I just wanted to say..."

"Don' say anythin' you'll regret, Bennie," Sprout warned him. "You know some of the younger recruits ar' shippin' us already."

"Don't remind me," Bennie said with a sigh. "Anyway... I wanted to say that, despite how I've treated you, I'm proud of you. You're coming into your own."

Sprout rolled his eyes and shoved the big man. "What'd I say 'bout the homo talk! Come on, Bennie!" Sprout whined before sharing a laugh with him. "You ain't doin' a bad job yerself. As Captain, I mean."

"Thanks kid," Bennie said. "I mean, Sprout."

Sprout simply grinned at that.

"Hey Captain, Sprout," Tallahassee's voice suddenly boomed over the ship's intercom. "We have a call incoming from Paradiso. Man on the line says Contessa wants to speak to the kid."

Sprout and Bennie exchanged a harrowing look.

This couldn't be good.

A short time later...

"Hello, is this Axel?" a woman's voice asked over the radio. She sounded weak.

"Lady Lombardi?" Sprout asked. "Yeah, this is Axel. Any news about Ma'?"

There was a long silence on the other end before Contessa finally replied. "I-I wanted to be the one to tell you this. I... I'm so sorry, son. She's gone..."

The bridge fell silent. Bennie bowed his head, attempting to contain his despair. It was only a matter of time until he snapped.

As for Sprout? That time was now.

The boy nearly broke his hand when he suddenly and violently punched the radio, totaling it after the third strike--and he didn't stop until his fist was a bloody mess.

Once he found his way back to his room he wouldn't leave it again for days. Not for Bennie. Not for Amy.

Not for anyone.