Chapter 7: Sly Fox
Mister Fox strutted up to Lucille's apartment, as brazen as ever, just as the sun was setting that evening. He still wore that suede jacket and fedora as he rapped on the door with his meaty knuckles. Lucille let him in.
"I hear you want to see me," he told her, his gaze suspicious even beneath those sunglasses. "Imagine the shock and awe of being asked to meet with someone who, not long ago, you had attempted to kill. I don't mind, though. It's actually quite refreshing." He did not sit.
"Eloquent, as always," Lucille half mocked him.
"So, what is it I can do for you? I don't imagine you have much use for me but I'm getting paid from Rocky Boy's money either way so fire away."
"It's Wolf," Lucille began. Fox's face gave no indication he had even heard what she said, though she was sure he was listening raptly. "I've been told he's gone missing. It's probably nothing, but…well-"
"You want me to track him down?" There was surprise in his voice, and a hint of amusement. "Surely you'd be better suited to that yourself."
"I'm a bit busy with the job your boss gave me," she reminded him. "Apollo, you know? Look, I know it's not what you normally do, but I imagine you're well connected. If you're not prepared to go out there yourself, at least come up with a lead I can follow." He seemed hesitant as he glanced around him nervously, peering over the edge of his sunglasses to examine the room. "As a favour. I understand we're not on the best of terms. But we are technically on the same side now. And like you said, you get paid either way. Rock hired you for the year, didn't he?"
"For ten months, actually," he corrected her, making no attempt to hide his joy at that. "Alright, Lucille. I'll see what I can find for you." She smiled in thanks, pleasantly surprised that he would actually do this. "I didn't expect you to fret over the man so much. He can't have made that good an impression on you. I certainly bear no love for him."
"No," Lucille conceded. "But he's a good man. Or as good as you can get in this city, you know? And he has people who give a shit whether he lives or dies. Again, a rarity in Roanapur." Fox chuckled heartily, producing a cigar from his pocket and planting it in his mouth delicately as he reached for his lighter.
"I dare say, we would have made fine friends at one time," he said. "Under different circumstances, of course. I can't imagine you would have taken too kindly to me back when you were doing Her Majesty's fine work. Anyhow, I must be off. I'll be in touch." He left as regally and gracefully as he arrived, the ends of his jacket swaying in the wind as he entered his black Mercedes. Once she was sure he was gone, she retreated to her room, reaching for her lockbox and opening it to reveal a black rose, now completely withered and falling apart. She hadn't been to her brother's grave in some time and she likely never would be again. The thought brought a faint tear to her eye, one she refused to allow escape her. She removed her combat pants and fell onto her bed. She had spent many nights here in a drunken stupor, doing her best to suppress or forget the memories of her old life. It was a feeble, desperate attempt to erase who she once was from her mind, to create a clean slate for the person she was becoming. But there was no getting rid of that. Whoever she became, her past would always be there. As she lay there, she found herself thinking again of Apollo. This exceptionally dangerous man was no common enemy, yet he most certainly had no chance of taking Lucille on in hand to hand combat. He knew that. That was why he had taken off before she had the chance to tackle him. He was an enemy she was eager to dispose of. This job was a way to occupy herself, to keep herself busy and return to the world after some time alone. But she could not wait for it to be over. Already, she was sick of this, pursuing some unknown aggressor who allegedly wanted nothing more than to cause chaos. If she was being honest with herself, she would freely admit that she would have preferred to go after Wolf and discover what had become of him. The assassin was always in the back of her mind. But she was not honest with herself. And so she would go on denying that fact, adamant that Apollo was her primary interest. She rose from her bed a few hours later. It was dark outside, darker than even she expected. It was very likely that she had rarely seen the city at this hour, being far too drunk most nights to possibly keep herself awake. The mirror she had put on the wall about a month ago caught her eye. Even in this light, she could see her reflection. She walked over to it and gently pulled up her tank top to reveal the nasty puncture wound that Apollo's katana had left on her body. The sliced flesh was particularly ugly looking. Lucille lost a lot of blood from that wound alone. The katana had been sharp, its blade doing more unseen damage than she would have thought. She traced the cut with two of her fingers. Even that slight motion sent mild pain through her abdomen. She left it alone then, going to the window to peer out across the city. It was oddly beautiful at night, its lights giving it a sense of community. This was Lucille's home now, despite her best efforts to avoid that. This was her life, her path. She was curious about the other criminals in the city, curious about whether the journey to the dark had been painful for them. Obviously Revy was not someone she could just ask, nor was Chang. But Rock, he had his own struggles with adjusting to life here. Perhaps Lucille would speak with him about it. If anyone could understand, he would.
