Chapter 21.
The
New
Assignment

ME: Okay, this is another filler; this takes place roughly a . . . . Uhm, a week before the next Arc, and centers primarily on the pre-intro of two characters that I'm planning on introducing properly next and I'm hoping will become prime members of the "AU: Tidal Wave" team!

I'm also planning on featuring them on yet another AU that focuses on the canon Archipelago with a few changes; for now I'll settle with just starting their introduction here and see how it works out from there.

Anyways, I own only the characters mentioned . . . . Sort of, so please enjoy!

"I'm gonna love ya until you hate me . . .

And I'm gonna show ya what's really crazy . . .

You should've known better than to mess with me, honey . . .

I'm gonna love ya, I'm gonna love ya, Gonna love ya, gonna love ya . . .

Like a black widow, baby . . .

"Black Widow" – Iggy Azalea and RITA ORA

~X~

Darnell Hall was a simple man.

He had a very regular routine.

On his days off he would get up at 8:45. Shower than have breakfast at 9:10. Go for a pleasant, uneventful walk in the park until noon to admire the scenery. Have lunch at his usual café at 2:25, exchange small pleasantries with the workers there. At 3:50, he would return home and devote his energy to filing the numerous piles of paperwork that seemed to grow constantly day after day. At seven, he would eat dinner. Then read one of multiple business books he had stored away until 9:30 then go to bed.

On his work days, he would then get up at seven sharp. Shower, dress and depart at 7:15. Work as the business manager at his item shop until sundown. Return home at eight sharp. Have dinner at home at nine sharp. Then straight to bed at 9:30.

He saw no point in dilly-dallying or pointless improvisation when it came to the matter of progress and time. He was very strict with his schedule and made a point to keep it so. Anybody who knew him would ultimately agree.

Strict punctuality was especially clear in his more . . . . . Extracurricular business.

The line of work as an informant for bounty hunters and demon hunters and any other of the like wasn't the most cautionary path to take. After all, he who would poke his nose too deep in affairs concerning that of the deep, dark criminal element was more than likely to earn his own bounty with no hope of escape. Any idiot would be able to tell you that.

But for Darnell, fear didn't really apply to him much less complexity.

For him, the job as simple as could be.

Step One - Arrange for good clientele who had both good means and capabilities.

Step Two - Recommend them for the most extravagant or modest jobs that required said assets.

Step Three - Pay for and receive the needed information and scan it carefully for any additional conditions or agreements set by the teller.

Step Four - Pass it on to said clients.

Step Five - Collect the finder's fee once the current case was closed.

Step Six - Move on to the next job.

It was basic, routine and when well thought out, would leave you with quite the chunk of change in your pocket for both the clientele and yourself.

Again, not the safest career path but definitely one of the most profitable.

Even more so when you're the number one informant for two of the most effective if not unusual hunters in the entire Archipelago.

. . . . . Hunters, whom of which, were late.

Again.

Darnell sighed irritably into the night air. It was still warm since the seasons had started to slip into spring but once the sun went down the wind decided to turn chilly, provoking many a few to travel outside in a shawl or coat. Such as he did with his favorite gray shawl that went straight to his knees and was trimmed in soft gray, the clasp secured comfortably at his throat. The breeze blew at his matching hat, leaving it at a jaunty angle to which he quickly rectified, not wishing to look ridiculous to any few whom would spot him.

He frowned up at the lit street lamp five feet above him. It provided enough light for his standing point that stood just at the between of the corner of a wide street junction and a lone bench. A rather uneasy position to get to had had he been here during the day when the streets were as stuffed and wild as a herd full of goats. During evening hours, however, the busiest it ever got was when a cat decided to trespass in the territory of hungry street dogs of the normal variety.

Exactly the reason being for his clients to choose this place as a rendezvous point when they contacted him via Speech Mote.

As expected, their message was quick and to the point.

"Mission accomplished. Meet us at the junction of Galley Way and St. Road. We'll be ready for you then."

Darnell had so hoped they would actually stick their appointment time just this once.

But, of course, he gotten his hopes up and wasted time in being as prompt as always.

Again.

Shifting his cloak, he produced a pocket watch that read the time as accurately as ever.

10:37.

Darnell's frown got deeper. He swore that if someone didn't show up in the next minute or such, he was going home –

A scuff sounded behind him.

Darnell's heart stopped. He whirled around on his heel, his heart pounding at the exhilarating effect that step had on him, his eyes wide and his breath sucking in a hiss. From his reaction, one might guess that a demon had just appeared behind him . . .

. . . Although Demon may've been a little strong to describe the perpetrator. Even for him.

"Must you keep doing that?" Darnell scowled. "I feel I'm about to go into cardiac arrest each time you come and go like that."

His client's face was barely recognizable in the dark. From the few stretches of light that reached out towards the night, Darnell was able to make out the silhouette of a snout and a powerful tail sweeping out silently behind him from his own coat. Darnell needed no light however to catch the smile in his voice as he said calmly, "I was taught to be quiet and not make a sound as I move about. After all, that's the primary motive of each hunter of all kinds, isn't it?"

"Not if you had arranged for a meeting with your informant." Darnell frowned, taking in a breath and pocketing his watch before adjusting his cufflinks. "Who, by the way, had been waiting for said contacts, namely you, for over two hours, eighteen minutes and forty-eight seconds."

"Keeping track, have you?" His client joked lightly.

"What must one do when he is kept waiting for longer than intended? Surely even you know the answer to that." Darnell questioned, earning a chuckle. ". . . Are you by yourself tonight? Or are you and your partner having a quarrel that I should know about?"

His client angled his head towards the sky. "Don't worry, he's just keeping an eye on things, as usual."

Darrell raised his head. The dark of the night concealed the rooftops well, the buildings almost rising and disintegrating into nothing in the sky . . . But not well enough to conceal the faintest outline of someone hunched over on the edge far above them. Darnell didn't even need to think twice about what he was doing.

He could hear his weapon clicking from here.

As always, he kept passive about it on the outside, but on the inside he was glad that it was the hunter in front of him who came down to greet him instead of the latter from above. This one he could handle, surely but the other . . . Well . . .

"Amazing how even after all this time, you still don't trust me." Darnell sniffed at the said hunter.

"You know it's just a pre-caution; just to see if anyone decided to try to get to us by tailing you." His client reassured him. "In this business, you can't be too careful."

Darnell had to agree. As he always did, much to both his annoyance and relief. "Quite." Stepping over to the bench, he sat down in one silent sweep. "Now, speaking of which, let's get onto business. I'm assuming you have the package with you?"

This time, Darnell didn't jump as his client materialized next to him, making the planks of the bench creak a bit from the no doubt heavy weight's sudden appearance, and the flaps of his coat shifted. "Of course." A large, meaty hand tipped with claws held out something towards him, bound with string and wrapped in a thick fabric. "It would've been here earlier this week, but it took a little longer to get it than expected because the guys who took it were a lot harder to track than your sources lead to believe."

"How unfortunate." Darnell said, not sounding at all sorry, taking the said package.

Lucky for him, his client knew him better than that. His snout curved up in a calm smile. "My partner seems to think you deliberately tried to play us with those directions you gave us to their hideout."

Darnell felt like rolling his eyes but kept his eyes solely on the wrapped object in his hands. "Do I have a habit of pranking you?"

"That's what I said."

"Then again, as I recall, your partner seems to have some rather . . . Vague trust issues."

"He always thinks you try something to pull one over on us on a job."

"Rest assured, my friend, were I ever to try and "pull one over you", you would know it for sure. Provided I ever do try and finagle my original plans for a change."

"You're a real stickler sometimes, Hall."

"One must be in order to have patience. Especially when dealing with tardy clients such as yourself." Darnell finished examining the outward appearance of the package and had already undone the sting. "It's not easy even attempting to keep a schedule whenever you two are involved. If only you knew what it felt like . . ."

Darnell's posture was utterly placid as he could feel his client blinking at him. ". . . . . You didn't actually send us into the wild side of the Root Island Desert out of spite on purpose, did you?"

Darnell needn't not look up to hear the sound of his second client's weapon readying itself. "I assure you, I have no idea what you talking about." Silence.

It only took a moment for Darnell to unwrap the fabric. Peering down at the object, he observed it in silence for a precious few minutes. The stifling amount of magic coming from it made no surprise to him. He had been told all about it from the client who ordered this particular object.

However . . . ". . . Are all these locks supposed to be on it?"

"Yes and no." His client scratched his cheek with the tip of his claw. "The first few ones had been on there before but they would've been relatively easy to crack had not it been magicked with some sort of Tri-Lock spell."

"A Tri-Lock?" Darnell looked at him, curious. "Why would someone go through the trouble of putting such a complex spell like that on this?"

His client shrugged his broad shoulders. "No idea. When we were scouting out their camp, everyone looked on edge. A good portion of them were sporting injuries that shouldn't even be possible from just guarding the thing. I'm sure of one thing though, they were scared of something; one guy even looked like he was about to soil himself just from having to hold it when they put the Tri-Lock on."

Darnell had to admit his interest was peaked a little. "Hmm, that is a little peculiar . . . But then again, the person who gave me the case had made it clear that this was no ordinary package."

"Just what did you get us into, Darnell?" His client asked.

"Nothing you needn't be too worried about." Darnell said. "I'd be more concerned about the Tri-Lock if anything." He pulled out a pad and pencil from the pocket of his shawl. "You need to get started on cracking it; we have a deadline on this delivery and I will not be the one to bear the shameful lateness if it comes to it."

He received a nod. "Understood. In the meantime, any new assignments come in for us to take on?"

"Now that you mention it, yes." Darnell immediately went to work. His hand scribbled smooth instructions and facts in contrast to furious pace it moved over the thin sheets of paper in his hand. "I was contacted by a elderly professor over at Score Island. It's the same as before; you need to locate an artifact that he has been searching for and then deliver it to him in one piece, if you don't mind. I don't want to have to explain a repeat of the Cloud Island Job."

"Right." Darnell handed the package back to him and it disappeared under his cloak. "And what exactly is this artifact we're looking for?"

Darnell's mouth twisted downwards at that. "I don't know the exact details of it, unfortunately. All I know is that it has something to do with herpetology and ancient myth. If you want the rest of the details, you'll have to speak to the professor himself once you've retrieved the item." Once the final word was writ, he ripped off the sheet and handed it to his client. "Here's the professor's name and residence. I'll send word to him once you two are on the next ferry to Score Island."

Darnell made no comment of the slight tension in his client's form as he mumbled, "Right, another ferry ride. That's going to be a joy."

Making no mind of that comment, Darnell allowed himself a small smirk. "And remember what I said about that package." Darnell stated, standing up and straightening out his shirt from where it had bunched up behind him. "For the number that our clientele was offering for it, we can't afford to waste any more time. So don't let the thrill of two cases at once get to your head."

He heard his client get up as well. "Don't worry, Darnell, if it's business, I hardly ever get side-swiped."

"Hmm, right . . ." Darnell took out his pocket watch once again and checked the time. 11:03. Turning on his heel, he started, "I'd tell you that usually you do otherwise, but as I'm sure you know, it's getting late and it's time I get –"

The bench was empty and he was alone. "– Going." Again.

Darnell blinked.

He looked up. Was his partner still there – Nope.

Darnell blinked again.

Another breeze floated back, knocking his hat right back into the same disposition as before.

He set right back with a snap of his wrist. Irritation gnawed at him like a grater.

He was a simple man.

He liked having his cards on the table. Knowing what was going on, when it was going to happen and what would happen after. It was as plain is that.

. . . . . . . . . . . . So would it kill someone to explain it to him how something that damn big moved that damn FAST?!

~X~

The hunter's feet clicked near silently against the granite-laden street. Shadows grew from the buildings that set themselves side-by-side in the alley, making the walkway as dark and unassuming as the hall of a haunted house.

In other words, just the way his partner liked it.

With a small smile again gracing his snout, he stopped at the line of wire-braided chains that extended all the way towards the roof. He reached out and tugged it twice like ringing a service bell. The chains rattled, disturbing the silence. "Hey. We're leaving." He called up casually.

Almost instantaneously, a figure jumped from the roof's edge above him. It fell through the air with the swiftness of a hawk, his own set of dark claws grabbing the chains and zipping down the line with ease, before falling into a near-silent crouch in front of him.

The figure raised his head and frowned. "About time. I was getting antsy up there."

The hunter shook his head lightly. "You know how Darnell is. If it's not on time, someone's gotta get chewed out. Just be happy that he was understanding about it this time."

His obvious companion grunted as he stood to full height. He grabbed the chains and gave a firm yank; the rest of the links came down like a waterfall, encircling the yard he was building with each twist of his wrist, and the hook of it fell right into his extended paw. "Whatever, I'm sure that he screwed us on the last job."

"Oh, c'mon, you think everybody's trying to screw us." The hunter pointed out.

"Which you know they do."

"It can't be helped. We just have to make the most of it."

"Hmph, yeah, right. I still say, the next time someone tries something, he's getting a claw up his arse."

"You always say that."

"I can do it, y'know."

"Oh, I believe it. Remember? When you actually did it and our boss nearly did likewise to you in exchange?"

". . . . Whatever. Let's go."

"Mmn, Right."

The pair made their way down the alley, their steps adding on to the slow rhythm of wind scattering small bits of trash onto the ground and the occasional pebble turned over. Silence made the hunter's companion twitch an ear.

The hunter saw that as he pulled up his hood, which he had pulled down earlier to avoid being rude. "So I take it you know the job then."

His companion grunted once more. "Yeah, another pick-me-up job. What are we doing it for, anyways? Isn't it the mailman's job to make cheap deliveries?"

"Hey, if you ever actually hear of a mailman taking on smoke demons or such just to deliver a lousy piece of paper, you let me know." The hunter teased. "Sure make our jobs a lot more interesting." His companion grumbled in response. Mature as always.

The faint sound of a foghorn drifted across the air.

The hunter tensed once more. He felt his hand go to his stomach, the rumbling inside starting to get dizzying. Wonderful, he was already getting nauseous . . .

His companion knew what was going on with him with only a glance. His ears flattened against his head incredulously, him saying without missing a beat, "Man, you're hopeless; how can a someone like you be a High-Class Hunter yet still get sick to your gullet on a ferry?"

The hunter shot him a dirty look and gulped down the small batch of spit building in his mouth. "You tell me, as far as I know, I just do because someone thought it would be funny. Story of my life."

His companion shook his head. "You're hopeless. But if it makes you feel better, if Darnell's being straight for once, Score Island shouldn't be more than a two-day's ride away." The hunter didn't sound at all relieved at "Two-day's", judging by the sick groan. Closing one eye, he kept the other open secretively, adding, "Unless, you want to call one of those friends of yours."

The hunter waved that off. "No, no, that's too risky. I don't want to risk bringing them out in the open if I can help it. Besides, I have no idea if they're even by the coast of the Island let alone this side of the Archipelago." Taking a deep breath, he sighed heavily. "Guess I'll just have to buck up and choke it down."

His companion gave his first chuckle that night. "Suit yourself. But if you blow chucks over the deck, I'm hiding out in the broom closet while they throw you overboard."

"Have you seen me? Who in their right mind would try to throw me off a boat?" The hunter quipped.

"Our boss?"

"Right."

The two stepped out of the alley and their shadows became towers on the street just as the hunter's companion, no, partner, asked, "So, who is this professor we're going to meet, socio?"

The hunter had already unfolded the paper their informant had given them and read it with silent fiery sea green eyes.

"Professor James Potter, PHD. 1789 Flower Avenue, Opalliou."

ME: WHEW! Here we go with the next filler! Pay attention to that name, folks, because that is going to be very important in the next Arc!

I literally came up with Darnell Hall on the spot when writing this chapter; I was inspired to create him from seeing Nainso Ziska from "Dreamkeepers" and I'm really happy with how he turned out.

It took some time figuring out what his name should be, but after some googling, I found to my satisfaction the two names you see today; putting the two together, you would get the expression "To cover the hidden nook", which describes Darnell's outward demeanor perfectly.

. . . . At least if you switch the names around . . . . I'm not perfect.

Anywho, Please read and review!

'Till next time!