hellloooooooo once more! A chapter you've all been waiting for! This chapter is a doozy, and according to my laptop it clocks in at 12,270 words, so get comfortable y'all!
RECAP:
- Lukas and Matthias were assigned to guerrilla squad E, run by Captain Malin Thomassen. Riya also got into a squad, but sadly not the same one. Lukas and Matthias finally acknowledged that they're actually friends.
- Feliciano and Inkar are waiting at the anchorage after catching a lift from Dirie. Feliciano is being uncomfortably haunted by what he did to gain passage.
- Matthew, Arthur, Alfred, Elizabeta, Vash and Gilbert have been sent to help broker the deal with Dirie, and they are almost at the anchorage.
- Barkhado is ready for businesssssssss
WARNINGS:
- Bloody and gory fight scenes that include knife wounds, broken bones and other icky things. References to vomiting.
- Mentions of child abuse and neglect, including physical and emotional abuse. Short semi-flashback scene about a kidnapping.
Please review! I hope you guys enjoy! :D
The Ruma Non "Red Pike" Anchorage,
About 350,000 km from Cyrassa,
20th Juillat
10:13am
Lovino frowned slightly, being careful not to disturb Lili, who had fallen asleep against his arm last night. The stillness of the ship was a vast change from the shuddering that had passed through the hull maybe forty minutes ago. He knew that they had to be parked somewhere, and that for that to be possible, they were either on a planet or at an anchorage.
It likely wasn't the former, as the ship would have heated up a little from entering any sort of viable atmosphere. Probably an anchorage, then. He sighed, rubbing at his eyes with the arm that wasn't pillowing Lili's head. If he could only get some sort of idea of where they were, then he could have devised a plan to get off the ship.
It's harder to get three people off a ship than one, though. His mind supplied. That was one unexpected result of spending weeks on this ship. He had started to subconsciously account for Lili and Eladina in any escape plans that came to mind. He knew that he couldn't leave them without suffering from crushing guilt as a result. Eladina's joyous laughter and dumb jokes, and Liliana's innocent smile and almost soul-crushingly sincere kindness reminded him far too much of Feliciano.
He hoped that his brother was okay. He had no idea if Feli had even managed to escape the pirates. Perhaps he had been kidnapped too, by a different group, and all of this was for nothing. Maybe that Zephyrak had gone after him and either driven him off Rela or straight-up killed him. His stomach turned at the very idea. No, he couldn't afford to think like that. His brother was smart, and very resourceful. He would find a way to take care of himself.
Thinking of Feli was getting harder and harder by the day. It had been almost a month since Lovino had been captured by the pirates. The two of them had never been apart this long. Even as children, when Lovino was permitted to travel to Fynkn to see Lukas Bondevik, he had never stayed more than two weeks. As his grandfather had always sharply reminded him if he asked to visit just slightly too often, it did no good to have the heir to Syhvva's throne off on other planets constantly.
He knew that his grandfather had a point, but given that he spent all his time on Syhvva being yelled at for simple mistakes and crying himself to sleep, he had also been very bitter that he couldn't spend more time in the wintery wonderland that, by the time of the Expansion, had started to feel like a second home.
His heart twisted still to think of what life had been like, way back then. He had been devoted to lessons in history and mathematics and language, which had formed part of the foundations of a life of monotony and shame as he endured verbal and occasionally physical abuse at the hands of his grandfather. His visits to Fynkn had been the bright bursts of colour to interrupt the monochrome. He had always found himself loved and attended to on Fynkn. He got to enjoy getting hugged and having his hair mussed by Astrid and Oskar Bondevik, and run wildly with Lukas, who then had been his best friend. All of the best memories he had between the ages of four and nine were of Fynkn.
Lukas hadn't had policy shoved down his throat, and he had seemed positively aghast when Lovino had quietly admitted one night, when they were slumbering under their blanket fort, that his grandfather hit him when he messed up using his abilities. Apparently, when Lukas messed up, his father would patiently ask him what exactly he was having problems with, give him advice and ask him to try again. Being told that had reduced a younger Lovino to tears.
He had cried a lot on Fynkn because it was one of the few places where he was allowed to. On Syhvva, if his teachers saw, there was nothing they could do but sit stiffly and wait for him to calm down. Most of them had wanted to do more, he could tell. One of them had always made sure to escort him to a room with a lock on the door before bending down and hugging him gently. Most didn't dare risk it though. Most just let him cry, but he never got punished for it if it was in front of one of his teachers.
If his grandfather saw, on the other hand, he would be in for more lectures and yelling about being strong and responsible, which normally just made him cry more.
His grandfather had made him feel like a failure at every opportunity, and though now, with the benefit of hindsight, Lovino was able to recognise that the fault lay with his grandfather and not him, it had been deeply damaging to hear and experience the abuse he had had inflicted on him whe he was little. He still couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was useless, or incapable, or outright deficient, and unsuitable to do anything but keep his head down and mouth shut. Lovino had always been too loud, too energetic, too moody, too immature, too naïve for his grandfather's tastes. As he well should have been. He was a child at the time.
He glanced down at Liliana, still sleeping on his arm like how Feliciano had done countless times when he was younger. He had raised his brother single-handedly, and Feli had somehow turned out to be one of the sweetest and most selfless people in the universe. It was better than what his grandfather had managed, anyway. Lovino couldn't remember his mother too well, so he only had himself as an example. And he was bitter, callous, angry and hateful. He wasn't sure if that was a reflection on his grandfather's terrible parenting skills or on his own foul personality traits. Perhaps a mixture of both.
Usually, he could dispel the hateful thoughts that came to mind. But he was usually around Feli, a living and breathing example that not everything Lovino touched ended up broken, a symbol of joy and optimism in a situation that really should have crushed such positivity by now. But right now, he wasn't around his brother, and he was finding it harder to drag himself out of his own depressing memories and dark thoughts. He couldn't let himself go under, though. He looked down at Lili's peaceful expression. He might not have Feli, but there were still people here who could use his protection. Lili was only a kid, just barely fourteen years old. Even younger than Feli was.
Lovino pressed his head back against the cold metal of the walls. He had to keep his wits about him. Something was going to happen soon, he could feel it.
12:37pm
"It's a strange thing to ask of someone, that I will readily admit." Jack said, scratching at the five o'clock shadow on his jaw. "And here I was thinking that you just wanted to see me for a good old chat." Barkhado smiled.
"I did want to see you, Jack, you know I did. But this whole thing came up about a week ago." She shook her head. "I don't like it when the feds get too close on my tail, you know that. And these ones are closer than anyone's gotten in the past. They won't dare do anything while I'm on the Pike, of course, but I can't go losing so much money because I don't have the appropriate papers. My raid on Bibesti got me out with tens of millions worth of goods."
Jack sighed, but smiled. "I have feds on my tail, too, but save one determined asshole, I have a good amount of breathing room. I can take them all while you put some distance between you and them. If you don't grab them all in the next three weeks, though, I can't promise I won't sell them off. I have a sale to those Xeir fuckers coming up soon, and from what I've heard, you got some nice stock in Bibesti."
Barkhado smiled. "Very nice indeed. I would show you, but I don't want to draw any undue attention." She leant forward a little. "I will need you to be very careful, though, some of those goods are bargaining chips I have in play with some powerful people. If I lose those, there's no telling what vengeful demons might come after me." Jack nodded.
"I'll do my best. I would never intentionally tank you like that, Barky, you know that." She smiled at the affectionate nickname and nodded. Jack signalled to one of Barkhado's underlings. She passed on the orders to him, and he nodded darting away. She turned back to face him.
"Do be careful with it all." Jack rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
"I will! I promise, your goods will be in tip-top shape when you get them back. I wouldn't do you like that. I'll transfer you the cash." Barkhado nodded. They had agreed on a 'safety net' of a few million marks just in case any extenuating circumstances or unforeseen adversaries made Jack lose her goods.
"Good. I know you wouldn't tank me, Jack, but I feel like it's pertinent to mention anyway." Jack snorted.
"'Pertinent', eh? You've spent too much time with Arthur." Barkhado laughed.
"Oh, I wish. I've seen neither hair nor hide of him since Fybwari." Jack sighed, shrugging.
"Me either, in all honesty. Do you think the Union got their hands on him? They aren't his biggest fan." Barkhado hummed.
"Maybe. I'm not sure though. There are a lot of people who hate him."
"True, but the Union's been especially pissy with him recently. Maybe they set him up in that torture ship they have flying around." Barkhado raised an eyebrow.
"The Arbiter? Now, now, Jack, I think that's meant to be a state secret." Jack snorted.
"Maybe five years ago. Nothing is a state secret if you look hard enough for it." Barkhado tilted her head.
"I suppose so. I doubt they'd put him there, though. They use that for the real problematic ones. Traitors and rebels and traitorous rebels and all of that. It'd be regular old prison for Artie, I reckon. Even so, I doubt he's been arrested. Can you imagine the headlines if they actually got him? He's been a pain in the ass for so long that they wouldn't shut up about it for weeks. Hell, might be lucky enough to get months worth of coverage."
"That's very true." He muttered, leaning back in his chair as his gaze slid from her face to the windows. He went still. "That's very true." He said, a grin stretching over his face. "You know that old saying, right? Speak of the devil and they shall appear?" raising an eyebrow in confusion, she looked over her shoulder, though the second-storey window, to where a very familiar ship had just docked.
"I think…" Barkhado said slowly, "…we should see if there are any available parlour rooms."
1:04pm
If Arthur could strut anymore, he would be a peacock, Gilbert thought bleakly as he scurried off the ship, rolling his eyes at the pirate Captain. Elizabeta looked amused at this, and just nodded as if to say 'yeah, I know, right?'. Gilbert scratched at his clothes. He had a cap pulled low over his face and was wearing long sleeved everything. Like the mirrored sunglasses sitting on Elizabeta's face, it was purely a precaution. As Matthew had pointed out, Cyrassa was in the same solar system as Galee, so it was entirely possible that there would be Garvich on the anchorage. Gilbert had been thankful that someone had brought it up first. He didn't like mentioning his parents to anyone, and it was a relief that Matthew, Elizabeta and Alfred had already known that tidbit.
Arthur and Vash had been unaware of it, of course, but neither had been too bothered. Arthur had just nodded and said 'ahh, so that's why you have albinism', while Vash had shrugged and looked just as disinterested as ever. Pyndaphians tended to have very negative views of incest of any kind, but in that regard, they didn't pin the crime on the child, but rather the parents, which was something Gilbert agreed with a great deal.
Elizabeta had practically doused him in her many different perfumes, while Matthew had thrown his leather jacket over Gilbert's shoulders, since it smelled very strongly of machine oil and gunpowder. The conflicting smells were mildly nauseating, but he didn't mind it too much. Especially since he got to wear Matthew's jacket, which was incredibly comfortable and, under the haze of oil and gunpowder, smelled like him.
Gilbert turned his attention to the task at hand so that he could stop himself from becoming even more of a weird stalker than he already was. Elizabeta appeared at his side, grinning encouragingly and Matthew also sidled up, smiling warmly. Gilbert forced his eyes away from the dazzling sight and instead took to scanning the surrounding area absently. Unfortunately, Matthew and Elizabeta took this action as a clear sign of nerves.
"Hey, don't stress yourself out," Matthew murmured, leaning into Gilbert's space as he did so, "even if there are any Garvich here, we'll make sure they don't get near you." Gilbert nodded, smiling anxiously. He was a little concerned, in all honesty. The lawlessness of this place meant that quite literally anything could happen.
Arthur and Alfred were lingering out the front of the ship, with the former looking impatient and the latter looking around curiously. Arthur was dressed up in all his gear; red coat, hair-obscuring black cap, black gloves to hide his dark nails, revolvers and all.
"We're gonna head in now." Arthur said after clearing his throat. "Barkhado's ship is here, which means that she is too, so I'd better get on with it." He inclined his head at Alfred. "Shall we?" Alfred blinked, but smiled widely and nodded.
"Yeah, let's go."
Gilbert watched them approach the bar before turning back to face Matthew and Elizabeta. Vash, dressed entirely in monochrome shades and face beset with a vicious scowl, jerked his chin at them.
"And what should I do?" he snapped.
Elizabeta furrowed her brow.
"You're welcome to wander, if you want. Ah, just a moment." And with that, she pulled a metallic clasp from her pocket and clasped it around Vash's wrist. He jerked in surprise, eyes narrowing as it beeped electronically. He sneered at her.
"A tracker, really?" he snapped. Elizabeta shrugged.
"Why would we trust you to go off by yourself? It's a sensible precaution." She said, looking unfazed by the fury on his face. "Do what you want until Kirkland's done with Dirie. We're heading in now." Vash snatched his wrist out of her grasp and turned on his heel, marching down the anchorage. Elizabeta raised an eyebrow. "My my, he's a moody one, eh?"
Matthew sighed. "You're telling me. Come on, we'd best find ourselves some seats inside."
1:09pm
It had been far too long since he'd gone to the Red Pike, Arthur thought, grinning as he darted up the wide, mahogany stairs that led to the front doors. He really had missed this place. The entire building had the appearance and styling of a large, vintage country house. It was made of brick and wood all painted in shades of deep red and maroon, with white trimming and a wrap-around bleached wood balcony. The very top of the building had a collection of antique pikes – hence the name – lining the roof. The windows were all pink and green stained glass, and all slightly marred so that you couldn't look inside from the outside. If you wanted to stir up trouble with someone, you had to come inside to do so. He sighed. Just standing on the aged, creaking boards was bringing back good memories.
Alfred was trailing after him, looking around curiously. Rolling back his shoulders, Arthur let his signature, wicked smirk grace his face as he swung the doors open, Alfred following him closely. The bouncer stood just inside, expression stern until he looked over and recognised Arthur. His expression cleared and he nodded him through.
"Kirkland." He paused, eyes narrowing and posture stiffening as he began examining Alfred. "Friend of yours?"
"Do you think I'd let him so close to my heels if he wasn't?" Arthur drawled, raising an eyebrow. The bouncer grinned, accepting his response, and inclined his head towards the doors that led to the main parlour.
"That is very true. Enjoy." Arthur smirked and marched through, shoving the doors open without hesitation, uncaring when they slammed against the walls loudly. His grandiose entrance attracted a few interested looks, that just as quickly shifted from intrigue to fear, shocked recognition or even anger. He could hear Alfred shuffling his feet uncertainly behind him, but he didn't deign to look back at him. He glanced around. He could see a lot of faces that he recognised here. The main parlour of the bar was a wide open space, with the drinks bar itself crammed into one corner. The spaces near the windows were crammed with armchairs, tables and other, almost homely additions.
There was a set of wide stairs that led up to the second floor, which was a collection of more relaxed sections to sit. The parlour was known, above all else, for it's fights and shootouts. There were a few sections of the parlour, behind the bar, where the floor was purposefully sunken down a little, almost like you were stepped down into a hot-tub. Those spaces had cushioned seats lining the hexagonal edges and a low table in the centre, with little steps to lead down to them.
Though he eyed the sunken down booths, Arthur didn't move towards them straight away. After days spent in a ship with righteous rebels, a scowling assassin and Alfred's snarky double, he knew what his first stop was going to be. The bartender and owner of the Pike, a tall Metteoan man named Miris Cantor, raised an eyebrow as he approached the bar.
"Mr Kirkland, it's been a while." He murmured. "I've brought in a lot of new drinks since you were last here." Arthur raised an eyebrow, running his gaze across the bottles at the back, pretending that they were actually talking about alcohol.
"Oh? What would you recommend?" Miris hummed for a moment, eyes sliding to Alfred as the blond moved up to the bar as well.
"Our new Nymian bourbon is especially nice, as is the Blackjack rum I got in from the Far Reaches." Arthur nodded, a smile stretching across his face. So, both Barkhado and Jack Kelly were here, then. That was a pleasant surprise.
"I might indulge later." He said, keeping his tone light. "For now, I'll settle for a vodka tonic." Miris nodded, relaxing a little. In addition to being a perfectly fine drink, it sent the message that any long-time patron of the Red Pike had picked up on. Miris took the cue to start preparing it, eyeing Alfred. "And your friend here?" Alfred jumped a little, looking surprised at being addressed directly.
"Uhh…" he trailed off uncertainly. Arthur examined the bottles behind the bartender keenly. Alfred was a newcomer, and he didn't know the code that Miris used with all of his older friends. But Arthur did, and luckily for him, he thought that the appropriate codeword would also be pleasing to Alfred's tastebuds.
"You have a sweet tooth, right?" he said, directing this line of inquiry at Alfred. His boyfriend nodded, biting his lip somewhat anxiously. "The mibora, then." Miris nodded, the line in his his brow easing when he next looked at Alfred. A moment later, he handed their two drinks over the counter.
"Does your friend know the rules of this bar?" Miris directed the question at both of them but kept his gaze on Alfred, squinting slightly. Arthur smiled slightly. Miris had never liked newcomers, and not just because they didn't know the little 'codes' of the place. Newcomers also tended to not be aware of Miris' more specific rules, which annoyed the man to no end. He had treated Arthur similarly the first time he had ever visited this place.
"Of course." Arthur said crisply, placing his drink down for a moment to make eye contact with Miris. "If you cause a ruckus, you pay for it. Remove any casualities you create. If someone buys you a drink, buy them one in return if they want. Don't attack the sick or young." Arthur grinned. "I still do find it fascinating that you apply Metteoan customs here." Miris shrugged.
"It's nice to have something of home here. Besides, you know how we get with illness." Arthur nodded, his scalp itching slightly as he recalled how very Chalydrantis-ridden he looked without the benefit of the beanie on his head or the black gloves on his hands. Metteon people placed huge emphasis on health and care. To attack someone who was sick was to commit a severe felony for them. Though he had previously thought the rule was somewhat foolish, today he was grateful for Miris' cultural customs. If things got ugly, he could rely on the fact that the bar would be on his side for once. Miris again looked at Alfred. "Will your friend have any problem following those rules?" Arthur grinned.
"Oh, no, he's a good boy, I promise. A mibora drinker through and through." Miris nodded. Arthur scooped his drink back up and had turned to go when Miris spoke again.
"Grab a meal if you make your way to the refec at any point, too. You're looking thin." Arthur raised an eyebrow, but inclined his head in silent agreement. In addition to a smart man and an excellent bartend, Miris was also known for underexaggerating things. If even he was commenting on Arthur's thinness, then it was probably more noticeable than he had wanted it to be.
He marched off, eyes scanning the parlour for any sign of the loud people he was here to see. The parlour was rather populated, but he couldn't see any sign of Barkhado or her crew. He heard Alfred make a surprised sound and spun around, smiling when he saw the former bounty hunter happily sipping at the drink Miris had made him.
"It's good!" he exclaimed, eyes bright with excitement. Arthur grinned.
"I thought you would like it. I've been here enough to have tried most of the drinks. Reminds you of that caramel thing the kitchens make, doesn't it?" Alfred exclaimed in agreement, nodding with a grin on his face. Arthur ignored the warmth that burst to life in his chest. "As glad as I am that you're savouring it, we have to find Barkhado. I saw her ship docked further along the anchorage, and judging by what Miris said, she's in the bar now." Alfred's expression became more serious, and he nodded, shooting a mournful look at his drink as he also scanned the parlour. His boyfriend blinked.
"Wait, how can you tell that she's here from what the guy said?" Arthur smiled softly at him.
"Did you ever watch that old show 45 Down?" he asked. Alfred brightened as Arthur continued to scan the room.
"You mean the old spy one? Yeah, I loved that show! It was one of the only things that our broke-ass TV on Rywan could pick up."
"You remember how the two main characters had an innocuous code they used to send messages but also avoid detection?" Alfred nodded. "It's like that. I normally don't have such an interest in what alcohol I'm drinking." Realisation crossed Alfred's face and he nodded. Arthur grinned. It was a simple system, and it let Miris know whether or not he needed to activate the bullet-proof shields behind the bar at any point in the evening. There were some basic drinks he used for people's intentions while in the bar, while other drinks acted as codes for specific people. Those were ordered often in conjunction with others, to show what your intentions with that one person were.
Arthur's drink, a vodka tonic, was code for 'I'm not looking for trouble tonight'. It let Miris know that he wasn't looking to fight or kill anyone, but that he also wasn't necessarily not going to meet that trouble head on if it found him first. Alfred's drink, a unique alcohol called mibora, was essentially code for a newcomer who was pretty much harmless. Nymian bourbon was how Miris referred to Barkhado Dirie, and Blackjack rum was how he referred to Jack Kelly.
The front door swung open, and Arthur's gaze slid over. It was Elizabeta, Matthew and Gilbert, having finally arrived from the ship. Arthur made eye contact with Elizabeta but let his gaze slide easily over them, not betraying the fact that he knew them. He had explicitly told them to all order screwdrivers that night; a nod to Miris that they were here with someone else, but they weren't going to do anything by themselves. Elizabeta had seemed baffled by his insistence, but she had eventually caved. Shuffling a little closer to the bar, he relaxed when he heard her purposefully ask for three screwdrivers. Nodding to himself, he sipped at his own drink and examined the room again, stilling when he saw that one of the sunken parlour booths, previously empty, was now occupied.
He saw Matthew, Elizabeta and Gilbert accept their drinks from Miris and move away to sit in at one of the tables in the parlour. Turning his body fluidly in the direction of the sunken booth, he set off, not bothering to check that Alfred was following him. He glimpsed a familiar set of long, dark braids and grinned. He slowed his pace a little so that Alfred could catch up, before smoothly sweeping down the stairs and sitting down on the cushioned seats, crossing his legs as he looked at his friends. Barkhado and Jack just grinned; they had obviously come to talk to him. Alfred hovered awkwardly by the stairs for a moment before Arthur indicated the space next to him, and he ducked into it gratefully. Barkhado's eyes followed Alfred curiously for a moment before Jack broke the silence.
"You know, comms are a thing. You don't have to adopt total radio silence when you aren't in the area." Arthur smirked and sipped at his drink again. Barkhado had wine, while Jack was drinking whiskey. Barkhado was here to make a deal and Jack was just passing through. Interesting.
"I am sorry for my absence. I've had a very interesting few months."
"Oh?" Barkhado raised an eyebrow, a wicked grin taking over her face as her gaze jumped to Alfred. "Would it have anything to do with the cutie you've brought with you?" Alfred, who had been sipping his mibora nervously, coughed a little and placed his drink back on the table. Barkhado's grin widened as she noted what Arthur had bought for him. Arthur gave a non-commital shrug.
"In part. I had a few nasty run-ins, some close brushes with imprisonment, you know the drill." Barkhado nodded, placing her wine elegantly on the table and leaning forward, studying Alfred curiously.
"My god, that facial structure." She said, tone wicked. "Where did you find him?" Arthur shrugged as Alfred stuttered and blushed in surprise.
"Technically speaking, an anchorage, but if you want someone similar, go sifting through Rywan and you might strike gold." Barkhado's eyes glittered with delight as she leaned back and clasped her hands together.
"Ohh, it has been so long since I went to Rywan. I might just take up that suggestion of yours." She said, nodding at Arthur and grinning at Alfred. Jack rolled his eyes affectionately.
"That's all very well and good, but usually your absences aren't so long. I understand that we all have some conflicting schedules, but you were gone for quite a while. Mid-Fybwari to late Juillat is a long time to go off the radar." Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? Worried, Kelly?" the roguishly handsome pirate shrugged.
"Hey now, we're friends, of course I was worried. Barky and I were debating whether or not the Union snatched you up and threw you in prison." Arthur smiled wryly. That would almost have been simpler, he lamented internally, but then, I would be dead right now if that was the case.
"Oh, come on, we all know that unless it's something related to the Free Courts, the Union doesn't really give a shit." He waved a hand dismissively. "If I was Syhvvanian or something, they would care, but a poor little Pyndaphian boy like me? I'm really rather inconsequential." Barkhado's glittered.
"That's a good point. Speaking of Syhvvanians, I snatched one up a few weeks ago." She leant back in her chair. "They're as pretty as everyone says." Jack sighed, shaking his head in exasperation.
"Barkhado, you think just about everyone and everything is pretty." He and Arthur exchanged a fond but mildly aggravated look. "Enough about your little Syhvvanian prize." Jack took a sip of his whiskey and pointed at Alfred. "I'm curious to know about you. Honestly, Arthur, you lecture me over my manners but don't even have the decency to introduce your companion? That's rather rude, if I do say so myself." Jack took another sip of his drink, placed it on the table and extended his hand to Alfred. Alfred shook it, looking mildly apprehensive. Jack grinned. "Ahh, nice handshake. I like people with a good, strong handshake. Barkhado just about broke my fingers when we first met, and that's how I knew we would be friends for life." Barkhado rolled her eyes, but she too looked curious about Alfred.
"As idiotic as Jack is, I must agree." She tilted her head as she looked him up and down. "Why are you accompanying our dear Arthur on this lovely afternoon?" Alfred blinked in surprise, glancing at Arthur, obviously uncertain of how much he should reveal to them. Arthur sighed.
"He's my boyfriend," Arthur said, ignoring Barkhado's squeal of delight at that, "and no, that does not give either of you the right to question him about my sex life." Jack pouted while Barkhado laughed, still grinning deviously.
"Ahh well. I guess I'll just have to get him alone and interrogate him later at some point." Barkhado teased, winking at Alfred. "Good to see that you've found someone who isn't a total degenerate for once." Arthur glared at her, but Barkhado only laughed. It was true, his dating track-record wasn't great, and most of those relationships had been very short-lived, but that didn't mean that she had to bring it up, and in front of his current partner, to add insult to injury. Alfred didn't look overtly bothered by her comments, thankfully, but that didn't mean that Barkhado was forgiven for making them.
Arthur swirled his vodka and tonic absently. "What about you two? How have the last few months served you?" Jack shrugged, making a face that indicated it clearly hadn't been as good as he might have hoped. Barkhado, conversely, grinned.
"Well, Jack's been moaning about poor profits recently, but I've had a marvellous time." She crowed. "I'll never understand why you two don't ever join in the Three Days' Reign. It's so fun! Not to mention, you get a hell of a profit from it." Arthur rolled his eyes while Jack shrugged, not looking convinced. Barkhado sighed. "Now, I know that Artie here isn't a fan of the whole slavery thing, but Jack, you have no excuse!" Jack her an odd look.
"I'm sure your crew enjoys themselves, Barkhado, but I don't think it would hold much interest for me. I'm not a rapist and I don't kill pointlessly, so it seems a waste." Barkhado shrugged.
"Suit yourselves. I did snatch up some good loot, though." She inclined her head at Arthur. "And as much as you dislike slavery, Syhvvanians are worth a hell of a lot, so I'll cherish my spoils." Arthur shrugged, sipping at his drink.
"How in the system did you find a Syhvvanian, anyway?" he inquired, curiosity piqued by her comments. Barkhado shrugged, smiling coyly.
"He was just running along in the streets, I don't know why he was there but I certainly did get lucky. Klaus snatched him up. He'll make a fair price on the market." Arthur hummed, sipping at his drink, feeling his stomach churn a little. Spending time with so many Free Court people was making him feel guilty just by engaging in this conversation. Previously, though he disagreed with slavery, he was able to brush the comments off, but it felt oddly personal now. He was glad that Mei and Leon weren't here to hear this.
Some of his discomfort must have shown itself on his face, because Barkhado's sharp grin faded a little. "I'll pass him on somewhere decent. No snuffers. God knows that Free Courters are in short enough supply nowadays." Arthur nodded absently, but felt the knot in his stomach ease. Jack leant back in his seat, taking a deep gulp of his whiskey as a young man approached their sunken booth.
"Captain Kelly." The man said. Jack raised an eyebrow. "We've finished loading up Dirie's cargo."
"Ahh, thank you Daniel." He threw his subordinate a flirtatious wink. "I think I'll hang around with my friends for a little while longer, though. The crew can mill around the anchorage if they so desire." The man nodded before scurrying off to undoubtedly pass on the message. Arthur raised an eyebrow. Dirie's cargo? That was unusual. His friends noticed his curiosity and elaborated.
"I'm shedding some cargo and leaving it with Jack so I can get feds off my tail for a while. I would have asked you to take some on, too, but the majority are prisoners, and I know you don't like that sort of thing." Arthur hummed as she continued. "I've given him permission to on-sell some of them, of course, with a decent safety net in my pocket." He nodded. On-selling and safety nets were old tactics. Pirates were known for giving cargo to others for safe-keeping and, occasionally, giving them permission to then sell that cargo to their own buyers. The purpose of a safety net was a payment made to the pirate lending the cargo in the case that the receiver lost, damaged or destroyed that property, either accidentally or deliberately.
Alfred looked a little puzzled by the whole conversation, but stayed quiet and didn't voice his confusion. Good. Arthur had told him to avoid speaking or asking questions of Dirie while they were here, and so far, he was sticking to that.
"Now, as much as I do appreciate your company, and I do mean that," Barkhado said, leaning forward, "I also know that you, Arthur, are a man of business. Of the three of us, you're the least likely to come along somewhere for a good old chat. As much as I wish that you were here purely to catch up, I know that you aren't. What are you here for?" Arthur sighed, leaning back as he felt his stomach turn a little.
"You aren't wrong, Barkhado." He lamented. "It is wonderful to see you both again, truly, it is, but I do have business to conduct, too." He crossed one leg over the other and stretched his arms along the back of the couch. "I need your help finding a very hard to find person." He directed this at Barkhado. A pleased smile crossed her face.
"That is a department that I excel in." she said smoothly. "Who, exactly?"
"A slave owned by Hamide Boushab." He said simply. Barkhado blinked.
"Ahh, a challenge. Good. What details do you have on them?" Arthur rummaged around in his pockets and pulled out the transmission information that Yao had told him to pass onto Dirie. He handed it over and she examined it carefully. "Hmm, no name or location. An auctions list, though, and an age and ethnicity. Those will help."
"Can you do it?" he asked. Barkhado looked up at him, folding the paper and slipping it into one of her pockets, zipping it shut.
"I can. Might take several weeks, and longer than usual since I'm travelling light, but I should be able to do that for you." He sighed in relief.
"Ahh, excellent." Barkhado smiled.
"I will need any other parameters, of course, and usual business details-" Arthur felt his stomach twist violently, and one of his hands closed into a fist. Fuck. The medication that he took for his Chalydrantis was vastly preferable over Malthecs, to be sure, but it didn't erase all of his symptoms quite as effectively as the old medication had done. Unfortunately, even though his cancerous growth was in his brain, one common side effect of the toxins was nausea, and, more dammingly, vomiting. And judging by the extremely unpleasant sensations currently passing through his abdomen, those things were about to strike him down.
"Yes, of course," he said, interrupting Barkhado mid-sentence, "I just need to excuse myself for a moment, if you don't mind. We can talk the finer details when I get back." And without any further explanation, he jumped up from his seat and moved in the direction of the bathroom, trying not to look too much like the contents of his stomach were about to violently eject themselves.
1:32pm
Elizabeta's gaze followed Arthur's retreating form with concern. His conversation with the pirates seemed to have been going well, but just a minute ago he had suddenly jumped to his feet and departed. Dirie and Kelly looked a little confused, but generally unbothered. Alfred, upon being left alone with the two pirates, now looked nothing less than scared shitless.
Despite their rocky relationship, though, Elizabeta couldn't help the stab of concern that had arisen when he had jumped up and run off. She had only been able to see the side of his face, but he had looked pale and rapidly going a nasty colour. His Chalydrantis made him susceptible to vomiting at times, that much she knew. It could hardly be pleasant, and she winced in sympathy before turning back to her own table.
She, Matthew and Gilbert had followed Arthur's directions and sat a decent distance away. They could still see everything that went on in the pirates' booth, but they weren't close enough to eavesdrop. They had also all ordered screwdrivers, a drink that Elizabeta very plainly didn't like. She had sipped at it once, wrinkled her nose in distaste and pushed it gently to the middle of the table. Matthew had gradually sipped at his, while Gilbert, who still looked a little on edge, had finished his own and ended up snatching hers from the middle of the table.
She had no problem with him taking it; she didn't like the damn thing, but she was concerned about the rate at which he was drinking it. The board had said that a screwdriver made here had an alcohol content of up to 35%. Considering their size, if he kept drinking at the rate he was, they would be hauling his ass out of the bar rather than following him. She watched Matthew smoothly pluck the glass from Gilbert's hand and place it back over near Elizabeta. The albino flushed, and Matthew smiled comfortingly.
"I know that you're nervous," he said, "but we need to stay alert." Gilbert nodded, face still flushed as he mumbled what might have been apologies under his breath. Elizabeta patted his arm gently, quickly glancing back at the booth. Dirie and Kelly seemed to be engaging Alfred in conversation, and she was relieved to see that Alfred looked a little more relaxed than he had before, and was talking back casually enough.
Her attention was pulled away as the door swung open and a group of dirty, bedraggled men came inside. She made a face as they leered at a woman sitting alone in one corner. They didn't make the same gesture to her, though she guessed that was likely sheerly due to the fact that Gilbert and Matthew were with her. She carefully avoided eye contact with them. Her eyes were what betrayed her as Daernic, and she didn't like the look of this group. Beside her, Gilbert stiffened. She looked at him. His expression was twisted with distaste as he lowered his gaze back to the table. She gently elbowed him.
"You know who they are?" she asked, voice low. Gilbert nodded as Matthew also leaned in to catch their conversation.
"People call them the Spades. They're a bunch of thugs that go around knocking off high-profile criminals. Not to be good or anything, but just for the sake of gaining more infamy. They're fucking creeps and rapists too, if rumours are to be believed." Elizabeta shuddered. It made their leering at the woman in the bar far more sinister, if that was true. She, Gilbert and Matthew, along with what appeared to be all of the other patrons of the bar, watched them step up to the counter where the owner was regarding them cautiously and cleaning a glass.
"Afternoon, Miris." One of them said, voice gravelly. "Whatta ya got in today?"
The bar owner frowned, scrubbing the glass he was holding in silence for a long moment. "A lot of the usual." He said after a pause. "I wasn't expecting to see you and your crew here today." The man grinned maliciously.
"Well, we were in the area so we thought we'd stop by." He crowed. "Don't pull that shit with me, Miris. What have you got in today?" he was so deliberate when saying the second sentence that Elizabeta frowned. The bartender frowned, locked in stony silence for a long minute before responding.
"…Nymian bourbon. Blackjack rum. We got some Pyndaphian gin just recently." The man smiled wickedly.
"Ohhh, I see. Thanks, Miris." He said. "I might try some of that gin later." The barowner's expression got even more closed off. The man grinned. "We'll all be having bloody marys." The conversations from the tables closest to the bar stopped short, and Elizabeta realised that there was something she had missed. Matthew seemed to be on the same wavelength, as he was muttering to himself. He reached over and tapped her arm.
"Drink orders mean something here." He murmured. She raised a sceptical eyebrow, and Matthew shrugged. "Think about it. Everyone reacted when he ordered bloody marys, and Arthur very specifically told us to all get screwdrivers. It must mean something." Gilbert nodded.
"People do seem to be very careful about what they order here." He muttered. "If that is the case, then I doubt that bloody marys mean good things, considering the reaction it got." Elizabeta watched the bartender hand over a platter of bloody marys and then fiddle with something behind the bar. The air around the bar seemed to shimmer and warp for a moment before fading back to normal. Gilbert cursed. "That's an axion forcefield."
She turned to face him. "And that's a bad thing?"
Gilbert gave her a long look. "They're the strongest you can get, designed to withstand fucking missile fire. That bartender is anticipating trouble." Elizabeta bit her lip in concern. That definitely wasn't a good sign. She watched the group settle into an alcove filled with plush chairs and sip at their drinks. At the same time, she saw a pale but relatively okay-looking Arthur emerge from the bathroom he had run off too. His gaze immediately locked onto the newcomers, and he slunk back into the booth he'd taken with the other pirates, resolutely avoiding eye contact.
Elizabeta felt her heart sink. This wasn't going to end well.
1:45pm
Vash scowled up at the façade of the Red Pike, hands clenched into fists. He had done as the rebels had bid and wandered around the anchorage, trying vainly to blow off steam. It was possible that Kirkland was done breaking his deal, but it was also entirely possible that the pirate was still blathering on to Dirie endlessly. He shoved his hands into his pockets. He hated this whole situation.
Not just the fact that Dirie had Lili, of course, though that was by far the worst of his problems. He hated being a prisoner of the rebels, hated being at their beck and call because of how deep-founded and intense his desire to get his little sister back was. He hated Barkhado Dirie herself, for thinking that she had the right to tear his family apart and take the one person he cared about most in the whole world.
He sighed, moving to sit on the balcony outside rather than stepping inside immediately. For all her condescending words, Hedervary was right about one thing, he did need to calm down. Going charging in there would solve nothing. And besides, it was custom to let Miris know what your intentions were before you actually did anything. It was the one rule on the anchorage that everyone actually respected and followed.
There was a part of him that wanted nothing better than to charge in, grab Dirie and squeeze the life from her. She had ruined his life over a stray bullet.
He hadn't even meant to kill the man whose death she was holding against him. Okeriete Abara was a crime lord and a mogul, but no-one had asked Vash to kill him, so he hadn't bothered. He had been in the bar that night to kill someone else. He had gotten them, yes, and for two weeks, he had thought he was successful. Abara, at the time, had been an accidental but not entirely unfortunate casualty. It happened all the time. Collateral damage was part of any criminal career. He hadn't given the mogul's death any real thought, and nor had he spent time worrying over the enraged, vengeful young woman with him at the time.
He'd been made to understand two weeks after the fact. He had gotten a phone call from his parents at what had, for him, been 4am. At first, he hadn't been able to make out anything they were saying. After a while, he had figured out what they were trying to tell him, though.
"I don't want to speak to you ever again. I have tolerated this behaviour, but I want nothing of it. If you show your face around here again, I'll give you some of your own medicine!" That was what his mother said, shrieking her fury and indignation into the receiver. He had been baffled and confused. A little hurt, yes, but he had tried to dismiss those feelings to get to the bottom of his parent's distress. His father, normally so calm and collected, had screamed the reason over the phone. Three sentences that made Vash's blood go cold.
"Lili! That fucking pirate took your fucking sister! She's been taken from us because of you!"
He knew it was Dirie, because that day, he had received a message from her detailing exactly what measures he had to take to get his younger sister back. Her message had been brief, simple and chillingly to the point.
To one Mr 'Vash' 'Zwingli',
As your aggrieved parents may have already informed you, I currently have your sister in my custody. This is reparation for the murder of Okeriete Abara. I won't kill her, if you abide by my conditions.
My late boss's bank account held approximately 13,405,667 marks at the time of his death. I anticipate receiving this amount, either in full or paid in increments. Once your balance is even, I will return your sister to you. If you try to track me down and take her by force, I will let every member of my 113-man crew rape her, slit her throat and toss her body out into open space.
I await your first payment.
Barkhado Dirie, Captain of the SS Larcenist
He still had a copy of that chilling message, or at least, he had up until the fire that had wiped out his apartment. He hardly needed a paper copy, though. He had long since memorised every letter of the message. He had been trying to scrounge up the whole amount that Dirie was looking for for the last two years. The amount that he had paid to her currently sat at 13,405,567 marks. He was just a hundred marks short, which was the amount of money he currently had on his person. He was so, unbearably close to his goal that he could practically see his sister, being dangled in front of him like a prize as she was.
He didn't know whether his sister would ever forgive him, but he didn't care if she hated him like none other. So long as she was safe and out of Dirie's hands, she could hate him as much as she wanted.
Sighing, and resigning himself to a state of intense inner fury, he stood from his seat and pushed open the door. He was nodded through by the bouncer, and, scanning the bar, noted where the others were seated. He raised an eyebrow when he spotted the Spades. He hadn't expected to see them here. He could see Kirkland sitting in a booth over on the other side, obviously talking to someone. He gritted his teeth. Dirie was here. He couldn't see her face, but he could see a hint of dark hair. He forced down his anger and walked over to where Elizabeta, Matthew and Gilbert were seated. They all looked surprised at his presence, but Gilbert shuffled over silently so that Vash could drag a stool over and join them.
They all seemed on edge, and Vash followed Elizabeta's gaze over to where the Spades were seated. Matthew leaned forward.
"They look like they're gonna be trouble." The rebel muttered. Vash hummed.
"What did they order?" he asked. Elizabeta blinked, but Matthew looked oddly satisfied.
"Bloody marys. Why, does that mean something?"
"Of course it does. Most drinks here have a hidden meaning." He said. "It's all about intentions." He tapped the half-finished screwdrivers that they had ordered. "This lets old Miris the owner know what you're here for." In sync, the three looked down at the glasses.
"And what do screwdrivers mean?" Gilbert asked. Vash shrugged with one shoulder.
"It means that you're here with someone else. Another party that, by all appearances, you aren't associated with. It's essentially code for 'I'm not here to start shit, but I will if necessary'." Matthew nodded thoughfully, then inclined his head towards the Spades.
"And bloody marys?" he asked. Vash examined the gang of thugs for a moment before responding.
"It means that they're here to kill someone." He said. "Did they say anything else?" Matthew and Elizabeta bit their lips, but Gilbert answered immediately.
"They asked about what was new-"
"Code for anyone important in the bar."
"And the guy seemed pretty reluctant to tell them-"
"Obviously. He's friends with half of the pirates and assassins who come through here." As if on cue, Miris, lingering behind the bar, which had it's forcefield activated, locked eyes with him. Vash gave him a brief nod and tapped at one of the screwdrivers meaningfully. Miris nodded and turned away.
"He mentioned a few in particular." Gilbert said, sounding a little annoyed at getting interrupted continuously. Vash raised an eyebrow.
"Very specific types of alcohol are usually code for specific people." He explained. "Do you remember what they said?"
"The bartender mentioned…fuck, what was it…" Matthew snapped his fingers as he remembered, "Nymian bourbon, Blackjack rum and Pyndaphian gin, I think." Vash nodded.
"Okay. That's just Miris letting them know who's in the building. Did they say anything after he told them?"
"He said he might have some of the gin later." Gilbert supplied. Vash cursed sharply. Matthew's eyebrows rose in alarm.
"I take it that that isn't good." Elizabeta lamented. Vash shook his head.
"Yeah. Pyndaphian gin is what Miris calls Kirkland." He jerked his head at the table of Spades. "And he ordered a blood mary right after asking this?" they all nodded. He shook his head, glad that he had chosen to come inside after all. "That's a message. He's intending to go kill Arthur."
"Fuck." Matthew muttered. Vash nodded.
"Yeah, fuck. If Kirkland has closed his deal with Dirie already, then he should get back to his ship." Vash moved to stand. "One of us needs to warn him." No later than the words had come out his mouth, the leader of the Spades got to his feet, and, sticking his hands casually in his pockets, he began to stroll over to the pirates, crew trailing behind him.
"Fuck." Matthew groaned.
2:02pm
Arthur heard the scrape of chairs as the leader of the Spades got to his feet, and he swirled his vodka tonic absently. Barkhado and Jack had been drilling Alfred about their relationship when he had slipped back into the booth, as he had expected from the both of them. He had been gone longer than he had intended, but neither of them had seemed to notice. Arthur had been quick to throw back more of his drink to disguise the scent of vomit on his breath.
As he had watched Barkhado continue to talk to Alfred, Jack had leaned in his direction and warned him about the Spades and, more specifically, what their drink order had been. That had made him raise an eyebrow. He wasn't well acquainted with the Spades, but he knew that they enjoyed increasing their own infamy by killing people who had earned a high-profile in the criminal world. It seemed rather lazy, to him. They weren't working for their notoriety, or even contributing to the criminal underworld. If anything, they were stalling business by trying to take out major players like pirates and assassins. An annoyance, really.
He had hashed out the last details of his deal with Barkhado, and felt relief flood his system as she wrote down all of the details and promised to get back to him as soon as she had secured the slave's identity. Not long after they had all relaxed back into their chairs and started to talk more casually, the Spades approached them.
Arthur glanced over at them briefly, eyes sliding sideways to the bar. Miris had activated his forcefield. He clearly knew that the Spades were looking for trouble. A closer examination of the bartop, however, revealed that the bartender had also propped the weapon he owned known simply as the 'splicer'. No-one was entirely sure where it had come from, or how it had been made. All that anyone knew was that, if shot with it, it killed you slowly and extremely painfully, and given that Miris was a sharpshooter and one of the quickest draws in the Galaxy, no-one wanted to clash with it.
"Captain Kirkland." The man leading the group said, mouth curving into a grin composed of yellowed teeth. Arthur made a face that he hid partially with his drink. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I would just like to–"
"I know what you want." Arthur snapped. "Bloody marys. And an interest in gin." He tilted his head back and examined the man. "If you're that determined to get rid of me, I dare you to try."
"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you." The man said, still grinning, eyes now glinting malevolently. "You have no idea the sort of people I've been able to kill."
"Well, if I have no idea who they are, then they musn't be too impressive." Arthur said dryly. "And, I will warn you, you've never fought me, before." He downed the last of his drink, swirling the melting ice around in it for a moment. "Alfred, go and stand by the bar with Miris. This is going to get very messy in a second." Alfred hesitated, looking very reluctant to leave his side. Arthur gave him a look that said trust me on this. It was sweet of Alfred to be concerned, but he had never seen Arthur really, really fight before. Sparring on Nyma didn't count. Alfred hesitated a moment longer, but did as he said.
He heard Barkhado and Jack get to their feet behind him. The man eyed them, still smiling in that same, unsettling manner.
"We aren't after you two." The man sneered. "At least, not today."
"You indeed aren't," Jack said cheerfully, "but you are interrupting our conversation, which I consider the height of rudeness." Jack's friendly exterior fell away, and his smile hardened into the frightening expression that he was known for. Jack, Arthur's friend, was gone for now. Kelly the pirate was here. Barkhado was smiling too. She jerked her head at Jack.
"What he said." she said cheerily. "Fucking with my friends constitutes fucking with me."
Arthur pulled one of his knives from the interior pockets of his coat, examining the sharp edge briefly before returning his gaze to the band of thugs. Two of them stepped forward, grinning cruelly. Arthur raised an eyebrow and carefully picked up the glass that he had been drinking from. He swirled it for a moment.
"Alright then," he sighed, "let's get this over with." And without a word, or even the slightest sign of warning, Arthur lunged.
The two men who had approached him, for all their arrogance, were not properly trained. Arthur didn't have brute strength on his side, and especially not now with his condition, but what he had always possessed was speed. People attributed Arthur's success to his cunning, and his stealth, and a million other factors, but the simple truth was that Arthur fucking Kirkland was extremely fast.
Before the two closest to him could take more than a step, he shattered his glass with blinding force on one's face, and pivoted before plunging his knife hilt-deep into the eye-socket of the other. He ripped it free as blood gushed violently from the man's decimated eye, and spun back to the first man, who was dazed and bleeding heavily but still very much so alive. A flash of silver lanced across his vision, and blood was flooding from his throat as he crumpled to the ground. Arthur stepped over them calmly, not bothering to clean away the blood on his knives and coat. It really was luck that he had chosen to wear his red coat today.
Some of the Spades lingering near the back looked stunned and he grinned ferally at him. Let it never be said that he had gone down without a fight. He heard Barkhado cackle madly.
"Ohhh, that's the Artie I know and love!" she exclaimed before throwing herself at the man nearest to her and burying two knives in his sternum. Jack grinned cockily and also leapt into action. Another man ran at Arthur, fist swinging around rapidly. He ducked and slammed his knee into the man's stomach. A glance into his peripheral vision revealed that their table was covered with shattered glass. He seized the man by his hair and slammed his face onto the broken glass, ignoring the sharp cracking noises that rang through the air as he did so. He released his hair and jumped over him, darting up the stairs so that he could be on equal footing to the rest of the Spades.
Three others lunged at him; one crumpled when Arthur slashed his throat open; another fell to the ground, eyes wide in panic after he ducked down and tore his knife through the man's Achilles tendon; the third staggered away in pain and shock, gagging and choking after Arthur plunged his knife directly into the side of his neck. He could hear Barkhado and Jack attacking the other Spades with glee behind him, and he ducked through the madness and violence up to near the main parlour. A loud bang rang through the air, as he felt a bullet graze his temple. Momentarily stunned, Arthur staggered as someone seized him around the neck from behind. He saw a flash of metal; a knife headed straight for him, undoubtedly, and let his entire body go limp.
Unprepared for the sudden weight change, the man holding him slackened his grip, and he twisted away, slamming his foot into the guy's knee until it bent in sickeningly. Breathing heavily, Arthur drew another knife, so that he had one in each hand. The leader of the gang was marching towards him, blood dripping from his temple and a savagely displeased look on his face. Arthur grinned, raising his knives in anticipation, eager to cut the bastard into countless little pieces.
The Spades' leader was a much better fighter than most of the rest of his gang. Arthur found himself ducking and dodging far more. But even this guy wasn't too hard an opponent. He felt the guy's gnarled, blood-soaked nails rake their way across his scalp as he ducked, leaving the skin stinging and feeling raw. Arthur slashed upwards with both knives, catching the asshole in the arm.
He stumbled backwards, pressing his feet against the bar and using it to propel himself at the man. For all his pompous airs and confidence, the guy really wasn't too good a fighter, especially considering that he was trying to take on some of the most talented criminals in the Galaxy. Arthur slammed his head into the ground, snapping his jaw sharply, before also crushing the man's face beneath his boot. His nose caved inwards, crunching as blood ran down his opponent's face and he moaned pitifully.
His now badly injured foe was reaching for his knife when an unbelievably loud shout echoed out through the bar.
"EVERYONE, STOP!"
Arthur was so surprised that he actually went still. That was Miris' voice. Miris never shouted. He turned to look at the bar. The owner of the Red Pike had emerged from his forcefield-protected area, clutching his 'splicer' in his hands, expression hard and authoritative. Arthur's mind raced. Miris only ever got this angry if one of his rules was broken. Murder and fighting were allowed and expected, so he wasn't sure why the Metteoan man was so indignant.
Arthur did pay any debts if he caused damage here, and he was yet to leave any bodies inside this bar. Since they were still fighting, it was unlikely to be either of those. There was no drink-buying going on, so he hadn't violated that custom…
His stomach sank as a small flash of pain rippled across his scalp, where the Spades' leader had raked his nails along. Given that the man had access to his scalp…he reached a tentative hand up. His beanie was gone, and his grey, Chalydrantis-ridden hair was on full display. Arthur examined his hands. He had removed his gloves at some point earlier, probably a result of feeling too comfortable with his old friends and forgetting himself. His darkened fingernails were visible too.
Miris stalked past him and grabbed the Spades members, shoving them in the direction of the door. "Get the fuck out. You violate the rules of this bar, you eat the dirt outside. That is the one thing I will stand by. You fucking bastards violated the rules. Get out. I don't want to see you on this property ever again." Barkhado and Jack had their eyes on Miris, both looking puzzled but not displeased with the turn of events. They hadn't seen him yet.
A part of Arthur wanted to desperately locate his beanie among the carnage and chaos on the parlour floor, but the rest of him didn't know why he was even considering it. What would the point be? The other patrons of the bar had already seen him, and some were openly gawking. Considering how many eyes and ears both Barkhado and Jack had planted around, even if he somehow escaped their notice right now, they would receive the news within days.
Since he had no real avenue out of this, he might as well enjoy it. He felt a sudden, unbidden rush of affection for Miris and his Metteoan customs. He really didn't appreciate the bartender as much as he should. He smiled a little wryly, looking down at the man whose nose he was still crushing under his boot. He laughed a little at the situation. This really wasn't how he had imagined this meeting with Barkhado going. He watched Miris shove the injured and disgruntled men out of the door, grin widening when he saw that Miris was making them take their own dead with them. That would save him some heavy lifting later.
Arthur stepped off the gang's ringleader, looking down at his destroyed face for a moment before leaning down to talk to him.
"If you ever come after me, or Dirie, or Kelly again, I'll make sure that all that's left of you is a bloody smear." He hissed, straightening up and marching away from the man as his disgruntled and confused subordinates stumbled over to pick him up and take him with them. Barkhado and Jack were still looking at Miris, not him. He sighed. Well, he had to rip the bandaid off at some point. Miris looked over at him, and grimaced.
"And here I was thinking that terminal illnesses didn't have their perks." Arthur said, wiping his bloodied hands on the lapels of his coat as he approached them. They both turned around, and finally caught sight of his grey hair. Jack's eyes widened in horror, and he took a step back as he raked his gaze up and down, eyes catching on his dark nails. Barkhado's face shifted, expression changing from open to closed as all emotion seemed to suddenly lock itself away.
"You…" Jack trailed off, expression crumpling from shock into sadness as he registered Arthur's appearance, and what exactly it meant. Arthur made a non-committal noise, raking his hands through his grey hair as he smiled ruefully.
"Yeah, I know." He turned to Miris. "Thank you, by the way." Miris shook his head.
"It is customary to defend the ill." Miris said, tone soft. "I knew you were looking thin." Arthur smiled, mouth razor-sharp.
"I've always been thin, Miris." He retorted, rubbing at a sore spot on his jaw. Barkhado's eyes were cast downwards, toward the ground.
"Aren't grey hair and dark nails indicators of lethal levels of Chalydrantis toxins?" she asked quietly, tone obviously struggling to stay neutral. Arthur shrugged.
"For most people, yes. I'm not dead yet, though, and I doubt I will be for a while." Arthur gestured at their half-destroyed booth. There was blood splattered around the seats and table, and broken glass and splintered wood from the furniture scattered around. He brushed off the spot he had been sitting in and collapsed back into the seat. "It's a very long story." Barkhado raised an eyebrow.
"I'm sure it is." She eyed him. "This is why you've been absent the last few months?"
Arthur shrugged again. "Not really. I've had this for 5 years." Jack's jaw went slack and Barkhado stared at him. "I've just had a lot of strange run-ins since Fybwari."
Jack looked astonished, and ready to ask a million questions, when the same member of his crew from earlier, Daniel, if Arthur remembered right, stepped through the door of the Red Pike. The man blinked in surprise but stepped towards his captain anyway.
"Captain Kelly, we've registered federal ships in the area. They belong to Kirtik." Jack hesitated a long moment, eyes still glued incredulously on Arthur, before he turned and acknowledged his subordinate.
"Are you sure that they're Kirtik's?" he asked. Daniel nodded. Jack cursed, pressing a hand to his forehead. Kirtik was a name that the pirate had mentioned earlier. It was the name of the federal agent assigned to bringing Kelly to justice. Apparently, the guy was relentless and ruthless. They all knew what that meant; if Kirtik was approaching, Jack had to leave.
Arthur's old friend bit his lip, shaking his head slightly. He raised his head again, stepped forward and pulled Arthur into a crushing hug. He spoke to Barkhado as he did it.
"You tell me everything that he says, okay?" he said, voice shaking a little. He drew away just enough that Arthur could see his face. "Stay alive, alright? I wanna see you properly again after this. Don't let me get some notice from some stranger that you've gone and kicked it." Jack's gaze flickered uncertainly up to Arthur's grey hair again before he released him. Turning to the side, he jabbed a finger at Alfred, who Arthur realised was still standing by the bar. "Take care of him." Alfred nodded. Jack maintained eye contact for a long moment, then broke it, nodded firmly at Barkhado, then darted out of the bar, following his subordinate. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind him. Arthur stared at it for a moment before turning to look at Barkhado, who had sunk down to sit on the seats as well.
"So ever since I've known you…" she trailed off, clasping her hands together, "the entire fucking time that I've known you…you've been slowly dying?" Arthur tilted his head to the side as he also sat back down.
"Essentially." Barkhado stared at him.
"Are you going to die soon?" her voice didn't crack, but it got quieter the more she spoke. Arthur sighed.
"I don't think so. I'm not taking malthecs. I found someone willing to give me an alternative treatment that works better if I did jobs for them."
"And that is where you've been since Fybwari?" she asked, he nodded. Barkhado made a small humming noise.
"I see." She pulled the papers he had given her from her pocket. "I'll try and fast-track this, if it's for this 'friend' who's providing this treatment." He nodded slowly.
"I would appreciate that a lot, thank you." He murmured. Silence fell between them. A part of him felt like he should apologise for not telling her, but it wasn't in line with his personality to do that. They just weren't the type of people who apologised to each other.
He heard footsteps behind him, and when he turned, he saw Vash standing there. His expression wasn't as harsh and angry as it had been this morning, but he didn't look pleased either.
"If you're done with big revelations," Vash muttered, "I'd like to have a word with you, Dirie."
Barkhado smiled hollowly. "I'm sure you do, Zwingli. Let me guess, your sister?"
Vash's expression didn't change. Barkhado laughed bitterly. "You're about five minutes too late. I offloaded all of my cargo, including prisoners, on Kelly so I could avoid the feds." She pointed out the window; where Jack's ship had been just previously, there was now only an empty space. "He just left."
Vash's hand moved to his belt, where he undoubtedly had a gun. Dirie's hand twitched towards her own weapons. As Vash's hand curled around the holster for his gun, a thin hand snaked out of nowhere and caught hold of the assassin's wrist.
"Before you shoot her, Vash, I'd like to ask her something." Arthur blinked in outright shock. A young man, who, at closer examination Arthur realised was in actuality only a teenager, had appeared at the Pyndaphian's side. He blinked in surprise as he took in the teen's bedraggled appearance. The somewhat grungy clothes were a staple on the anchorage, but his appearance was unusual.
He had light olive skin, round, golden eyes and, poking out from under a dark wool cap, was vibrant red hair. Arthur felt a shock go through his system. The kid was Syhvvanian. Arthur had seen Syhvvanian people before, obviously, at the rebel headquarters on Nyma, but he had never seen any outside of the rebel camps. It was bizarre to see someone of that ethnicity in such a mundane setting. The boy had his eyes fixed on Barkhado Dirie. Vash, who had looked around at the boy, seemed to be frozen in shock and, if Arthur was not mistaken, recognition.
"You took part in the Three Days' Reign on Rela last month." The boy stated. "Did you capture a Syhvvanian man at any time?" Barkhado looked initially like she didn't want to answer, but, obviously physically and emotionally worn out, she caved.
"One Syhvvanian. About 20 years old, darker skin and hair than you, constantly looks angry." The boy nodded. Barkhado sighed. "Let me guess, kidnapped…" she examined him, trailing off, "…brother?" The boy tilted his head to the side slightly.
"Spot on." He said. Barkhado grunted.
"Yeah. Kelly has him, too." She sighed. "Go annoy him if you want the guy back." The teen stared her down, nodding slowly.
"Alright then." He said, tone heavy. Vash seemed to be recovering from his shock.
"Wait, Fel-"
The teen pressed his hand over Vash's mouth, sending a level stare at him before dropping his hand, turning on his heel and marching out of the bar, leaving stunned and confused silence behind him.