(I have a beta now! Please, ladies and gentlemen, welcome bryanlimhongzhi into the fold! He's been a real help in polishing many, many bits of this fic, so he's as much of an integral part of this insane trip as I am.)
The Continental had been in what somebody would have called the 'good' part of town. Clean and well-policed, the downtown district had proven to be rather safe and clean - at least, before cultists had invaded the hotel. From what Icarus was seeing out of the window of the taxi they were in, that was not the case for the harbourfront district.
Maybe it was because the driver had wound down the driver-side window to freely indulge in a cigarette, and, even though he could speak decent enough English, had been endowed with such a thick Mistralian accent that Noctis had given up and decided to converse with him in Mistralian anyways?
Maybe it was because the high-rise buildings he had become used to in Vale and in downtown Argus had gradually been replaced with an alternation of the grimy apartment blocks, the trademark of underfunded government housing, and run-down shophouses?
The colour of the world outside seemed to have bled away as they had left downtown, even though the tropical sun was shining overhead and the sky was a harsh blue.
"What's the deal with this place?" Icarus muttered, staring out of his window. Lapis, Carmine and himself were cramped into the back of the taxi - luckily, Lapis was quite a petite girl outside her armour and Carmine had a slight build herself - while Noctis was situated in the front passenger seat. "It's like two different cities, but they're connected by a few roads."
"Argus is made up of three different parts; the International Settlement, the Valean concession and the Old City," Noctis replied from the front. Normally, Icarus would have begrudged him for having so much space to himself while his teammates were packed together like sardines in the back, but this arrangement was out of necessity - Noctis was the only person present who could speak and understand Mistralian.
"Could you give me a general rundown on what these places are?" Icarus asked, trying his best to reduce his movement as much as possible since Lapis had decided to fall asleep on his shoulder a while ago.
"Of course. The Continental was in the International Settlement, which also happens to form the core of Argus's business and trade relations. The Valean concession is the most affluent yet bohemian part of the city, and the majority of the people staying there are rich Valean expats. The Old City, where we are going now, is both the largest part of the city and where most of Argus's locals stay."
"What forces would we expect in each part of the city?" Carmine suddenly asked, having been mostly silent for the majority of the trip. Surprisingly, her burns had yet to recover completely; the cauterised and flash-burned regions seemed to recover much more slowly than usual, although she would probably be fully healed within the day.
"The Atlesian military detachment in the city holds total jurisdiction over the International Settlement to secure Atlas's economic interests there, while the local police enforces the law in the Valean concession and in the Old City. They mostly do their job in the former, but for the Old City… let's just say that it's a bit on the lively side."
Icarus sighed. "Let me guess, you went deep enough to find out exactly how lively it got."
"Pretty much, yeah."
"What did you do? Did you do part-time wet work?"
"Kind of, but not really at the same time…" Noctis dropped off, gesturing subtly at the taxi driver. "Could we talk later?"
Icarus took the hint. "Alright then," he said, staring out of the window.
Now and then there were entire gaps in the buildings, the fragments of bone still embedded in the ground evident of Ariadne shelling, and those gaps were filled with shanty towns made of plywood and corrugated metal. He got occasional flashes of eye contact with the denizens of those shanty towns, his own war-torn gaze meeting with the dead eyes of those beaten into submission by poverty and squalor.
"It's not really as bad as it seems on the outside, you know?" Noctis asked rhetorically, his gaze following Icarus's to glimpse the slums they were passing. "Argus really is quite a nice city. It's just that the Troupe passed by a few years ago, sometime before I arrived here. They're still reeling from the destruction that those bastards left behind."
"That explains the fragments. They're clear evidence of Ariadne bombardment."
"They are," Noctis said simply, letting the conversation lull into nothing yet again.
The taxi twisted and turned through roads that slowly saw a decrease in the number of cars in favour of hordes of motorcycles, along with the roads themselves becoming more crowded, before finally slowing down in front of a somewhat better looking apartment block - it had glass doors, for one.
"This looks… surprisingly decent," Carmine noted, elbowing Lapis in the ribs to jolt the other girl awake.
"Wha…?" Lapis sleepily muttered, glancing around with bleary eyes. "This place doesn't look like much."
Noctis had gotten out already, waving off the admittedly shifty-looking taxi driver and seemingly determined to wrangle with their team's luggage by himself. Luckily, his cybernetic arm seemed more than adequate to tackle the task by itself. Passing around the bags to their respective owners and closing the taxi's doors one last time before it drove off to parts unknown, he opened the glass doors and slipped inside before holding said doors open for his teammates to follow.
The hallway smelled of boiled cabbage and old rag mats. At one end of it a coloured poster, too large for indoor display, had been tacked to the wall. It depicted simply the upper half of a man, more than a metre wide; the face of a man of about forty, with a heavy black moustache and ruggedly handsome features coupled with prominent musculature and the uniform of a high-ranking military officer - maybe a general or something. The forefinger of the right hand was pointed at the viewer with an outstretched arm, and the poster was one of those where the eyes were so contrived that they follow one wherever they go. There was a caption beneath the man's depiction, but it was in Mistralian.
"What does this one say?" Icarus asked, pointing a finger at the poster.
"Join the Mistralian armed forces. That's basically the gist of it, if you ignore the rest of the nationalist rhetoric plastered all over the thing."
"Ah, I see."
"I'd just ignore the posters if I were you," Noctis called out to the rest, walking towards the staircase that loomed in front of them. "They were put up during the Faunus Rights Revolution, and therefore some of them probably haven't aged well. Most of them are propaganda posters anyways, so you aren't missing out on much."
"Why don't we try the lift?" Lapis asked, her voice still sounding tired.
"Even at the best of times it seldom works, and whoever's in charge of repairing the place seems to have died in a ditch somewhere," Noctis replied. "It's better to stick with the stairs, in my opinion."
"Stairs? Seriously?" Carmine said under her breath, the resignation in her voice still as clear as crystal.
The flat was seven flights up, which would have been a challenge for anybody who wasn't a Huntsman. Even then, the trip had turned out to be quite an exhausting one.
"Here we are," Noctis said, with something remarkably close to apprehension in his voice, before he unlocked the door.
The first thing Icarus noticed was the lack of a shoe rack, or anything suitable for that purpose besides a conveniently built shelf next to the door. The second thing was how empty the house was; nothing was set upon the counters or on the table in the kitchen. There was a bookshelf against a wall, near the couch, but there was nothing upon said bookshelf. There were no pictures in sight, while the air held competing scents of dust and furniture polish.
Icarus felt his stomach sink into a shallow pool of uneasiness. This wasn't someone's home, not even a temporary one… it was a dollhouse. Just an arrangement of furniture pretending to be a living space.
Noctis caught his teammate's stare, while undoing the belt that secured his greatcoat to his waist before hanging the garment on a thankfully present coat rack, and his face shifted into a vaguely guilty expression. "It… probably needs a bit of work. I haven't been here in years, and when I left I went ahead to clear everything out since I thought that I wasn't ever returning..."
Icarus turned to Noctis, who was currently dressed in the uniform that went under his greatcoat. It was in his signature terrifying shade of black, save for a right upper sleeve that was an ivory white - one that seemed almost blindingly bright in comparison to the rest of the garment. The top was surprisingly not tucked in, which contrasted with a pair of black trousers that were tucked into a set of equally black steel-toed combat boots.
"Are you sure that the four of us can truly fit inside here?" Carmine asked.
"Yep. The bed here can fit two people, while the couch over there can be converted into a couch-bed that can fit two more. We'll have to talk about bedmates though…" Noctis trailed off, taking off his gloves before meticulously placing them on the bare table. His hat came off next, and it was placed just next to the gloves.
"The arrangement should be simple," Carmine said confidently. "You and I shall claim the bed for ourselves, while Lapis and Icarus shall take the couch-bed."
Noctis flushed a deep red at that, his face taking on a blush that almost caused Icarus to burst out into sniggering right there and then, before he seemed to return from his previously flustered state. "W-well… okay, if you insist…"
"Looks like he's finally getting it, eh?" Lapis asked quietly, the question more directed at herself than to anybody in particular. "I still can't believe he called Jaune oblivious. The pot really does call the kettle black."
"I'm fine with taking the couch-bed, just in case y'all were wondering," Icarus said, breaking the rather concerning tension that had overtaken the room. This was… honestly not that bad. It reminded him of the old days when Blake and Adam ended up in a locked room together - without the subsequent traumatising sound effects, of course.
One could argue that the two were precisely the kind of people whom should have never met, especially since both of them had turned out to be kinky bastards.
"I'm okay as well," Lapis said, moving over to the sofa - an expensive-looking leather one - and sitting down. "At least you have good taste in furniture, boss."
"I pride myself on being a man of culture," Noctis said.
Icarus moved over to the kitchen and opened the fridge there, revealing that it contained nothing but cold air. The adjacent cupboards that he subsequently checked, instead of containing the obligatory dried foodstuffs, were also equally empty. "We'll have to go out and buy some supplies," he noted.
"At least water and electricity is still being supplied," Carmine replied from the living room.
Icarus moved over to the sink and opened the tap, allowing water to flow out and therefore proving Carmine's statement. Reasoning that the fridge was probably being supplied by the aforementioned electricity, he shut the tap back off and moved to rejoin his team.
It appeared that his team was already making themselves at home. The bookshelf was currently being enthusiastically stocked with familiar yet foreign names - Austen, Tolstoy, Balzac, Dostoyevsky - and others that he didn't recognise, but it seemed that most of the books were being supplied by Carmine. Lapis meanwhile was already making herself comfortable on the couch, slouching back and clearly already asleep, while Noctis sat next to her while playing a game on his scroll.
A cursory inspection revealed it to be some sort of warplane flight simulator, and Icarus watched as Noctis's virtual plane - a slender propeller-driven plane with elliptical wings - outturned an opponent and subsequently tore it apart with wing-mounted guns. His plane then suddenly exploded in mid-air, prompting his leader to swear under his breath as the scene on his scroll's screen suddenly cut to a still firing anti-aircraft gun. He quit the game and moodily stomped to the bookshelf, simultaneously choosing a random book with a nondescript black cover while shoving his scroll back into his pocket.
"Are there any spare mugs in the kitchen?" Icarus asked. Carmine, seemingly finished with her work and oblivious to Noctis having taken a book for himself, walked to the bathroom and shut the door. The sounds of showering soon followed.
"Yep. Luckily for us I apparently had four of them, so one for each of us. Just take care not to break them," Noctis said casually in reply. He settled back into the sofa, taking a sip from the gently steaming mug of tea that was on the coffee table, before cracking the book open with relish.
"Alright, boss," Icarus said. He walked over to the kitchen again, fishing out a sachet of coffee from the hoard that Noctis had amassed after raiding their former room's minibar, and soon enough he returned with a mug full of caffeinated elixir of life.
"You wanna grab a book? We're gonna be here for a while," Noctis asked offhandedly, waving his free hand at the recently stocked bookshelf.
"Sure," Icarus replied, scanning the texts presented to him while trying to find something vaguely familiar. He grabbed one of them at random - Pride and Prejudice, the cover proudly proclaimed - and started at the first page. He plopped himself down next to his leader, and began to read.
A few minutes passed, with Icarus making it through the first few chapters before he was suddenly interrupted by a small squeak from Noctis.
"What's wrong?" Icarus asked, turning towards his leader. That same vibrant blush had returned to Noctis's face, colouring his cheeks a deep red. With the bulging eyes that accompanied it, his expression made Icarus wonder what exactly was in that book that he held.
"N-nothing…" Noctis stammered, averting his eyes from Icarus's own gaze. "It's just… Well, this is unexpected…"
"What's unexpected?"
"Well… I didn't expect Carmine to be a fan of this sort of stuff, that's all…" Noctis continued awkwardly, finally resuming an uneasy eye contact with Icarus. "I mean, this is definitely a yaoi novel, but I didn't expect it to be so… blatant… about the subject matter."
The bathroom door opened, revealing Carmine wearing a surprisingly dressed-down t-shirt and shorts. She came out still drying her hair off with a towel, the relaxed smile on her face silently proclaiming that life was good. That smile froze when her eyes registered the book in Noctis's hands, and then it slid off of her face when she saw Noctis's expression of awkward embarrassment.
The heir to Cainhurst's throne leapt at their leader a second later, red-faced and screaming like a banshee.
/-/
Lapis snorted through a mouthful of noodles, quickly swallowing her food before bursting out into laughter.
"What is so funny?" Carmine snapped, turning her head towards the laughing girl.
"Of all the people I'd had guessed was a fujoshi, you were never among them," Lapis said, still trembling slightly with amusement.
Carmine turned to Noctis, who seemed to shrink down into his own chair. "What is a fujoshi?"
Noctis sighed in resignation. "Fine… um… a fujoshi is a female fan of boys' love, also known as yaoi…"
Lapis chuckled. "Heh. I had that phase once, but that was years ago. Wouldn't have imagined that you like that stuff, though, especially since you're… you know, you."
Carmine clutched the black book to her chest, her face going red once again. "Could we perhaps cease discussing my personal tastes in literature?"
Icarus just rolled his eyes and continued eating his noodles. To his credit, they were pretty good noodles - thick rice noodles served with a liberal serving of fish slices, all in a delightful soup composed mainly of fish bone stock save for the addition of a small cup of rice wine. Somehow the rice wine just elevated the taste of the broth to an entirely new level, which in turn elevated the entire dish.
Noctis sighed again, bringing his gaze up to stare Lapis down in a reasonable impression of the thousand-yard stare usually associated with war veterans. "Yes, indeed. Could we perhaps change the subject? Anything but this, please."
Lapis huffed in mock anger. "Alright, fine. Do you have anything to bring up?"
"First, Carmine. Could you perhaps not put your… 'private' literature on a shared bookshelf?" Noctis asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. Carmine turned to him, her expression full of betrayal. "Be like Blake and put them somewhere where only you'll find them."
"Wait…" Icarus piped up. "Blake-"
"She has a stash of… questionable books. Don't ask me how I found them."
"When did you find them?"
"Remember when that whole clusterfuck with the supposed White Fang mole happened? I decided to snoop around a bit in team RWBY's room, and found her repository while I was at it."
Lapis was now the one to stare at Noctis, her face becoming as unimpressed as a face could possibly be. "You snuck into the dorm room of four teenage girls? Seriously?"
"To be fair, they weren't actually present in their dorm. And it's investigating, not sneaking around."
"Fine, I'll take your word for it. You're mature enough to to not do anything stupid, at least."
"Talking about investigating…" Noctis began, standing up from the table. The owner of this particular restaurant had recognised Noctis's face and had granted them the usage of a parlour room for their own purposes. Now, he was closing the doors of said parlour. After sliding them shut, he took out a card of some sort from his pocket before sliding it on the table. "Here. I found this on what looked like a high-ranking cultist."
It was a rigid card made of expensive paper, coloured a dark red bordering on maroon along with gold leaf highlights. One side, in gold leaf lettering that was set in both English and Mistralian lettering, read as 'The Crouching Tiger Club', while the other bore the club's address as well as leaving white spaces for the member's particulars and date if joining. Noctis had apparently managed to blank out the presumably dead cultist's personal particulars by pasting strips of white paper over the spaces left for said particulars, which should stand up to anything barring abnormally intense scrutiny.
"It seems like some of them frequent this club, which happens to be in the old city as well. I found two or three more cards on others that died at the Continental, but this one was the only one in usable condition."
"So you want to investigate this club?" Carmine asked, her face becoming serious once again. "Perhaps it will give us some more leads, especially if the cult truly frequents there."
"Exactly, but what do we do?" Icarus added, finishing his own bowl of noodles with a loud slurp. "There must be some immediate objective, after all."
"Alright, then," Noctis replied, leaning on his end of the circular table and resting his weight on his prosthetic arm. "Here's what we're gonna do. Carmine and I will infiltrate the club ourselves, attempt to steal the membership register, and basically try to gather as much intelligence as possible. Icarus, you will provide overwatch. Basically you'll spot incoming threats for us in real-time, and if necessary you'll be taking a few shots at whatever or whomever needs to be eliminated."
"Then what do I do?" Lapis suddenly asked.
Noctis shrugged. "The same thing as last time, I guess. You provide heavy support if it's needed, especially since you're by far the most physically powerful out of all of us. Since you apparently can fly now, you could also help us follow people if we need to."
"So I basically circle around and above everything until you need me to swoop down on something?"
"Correct," Icarus replied. "If you feel yourself slipping again, don't hesitate to tell us and pull out before things get serious."
"I cannot overemphasise how important that is, Lapis. We are definitely not in a shape where we can fight and defeat your armour again if it goes berserk, especially since we're going to be splitting up."
"Are you sure that you can do this?" Carmine asked. "If your abilities are unstable, it would be advisable for you to sit out on this one."
"I know, it's just that…" Lapis broke off suddenly, her breaths suddenly heaving for a moment before they normalised. She sniffled, rubbing at her eyes with a hand before visibly steeling herself. "I just need something to do! I'm not a cripple, for fuck's sake!"
Her last words came out in a strangled shout, accompanied by the chattering of crockery as she slammed her hands into the round table. The other three stared at her, all stunned by the outburst.
"I'm not incapable of combat, I'm not a casualty, I'm not a liability for you three to shunt around!"
"We didn't say you were a liability," Noctis said carefully. "Are… are you okay?"
Lapis rested her head in her hands for a moment, her posture hunched over and defeated while she trembled from emotion, before looking at her teammates. Tears were streaming down her face, to the surprise of the other three.
"No. No, I'm not," she said quietly. She raised her left hand, the sigils on the back of said hand glowing a bright red. Her aura flared in response, but, instead of the usual shimmering field that used one's soul as a shield, her hand was covered in the white armour that had nearly killed everyone present only the night before.
"Mother of God, no…" Noctis muttered, his voice distressed. Icarus for his part only stared in shock.
"What exactly is wrong?" Carmine asked, turning to her leader in worried confusion.
"Remember what I told you about aura coming from the soul?" Noctis replied uneasily. "That was Lapis switching her aura on."
"Wait. So you mean…"
"Whatever took her over last night… it changed her soul, warped it into this…"
Lapis forced out a sardonic chuckle, before continuing. "I don't even have my own semblance anymore. Look, just look," she said, before extending her hand to the side. The field of concentric orange octagons burst into life once again. "My soul. It touched my fucking soul."
"Lapis, I don't know what to say…" Icarus said, looking at his partner with concern in his eyes. "But… will whatever happened last night happen again?"
"I wasn't possessed, not in the way that something from outside took me over," Lapis explained agitatedly. "It came from within."
"Lazuli?" Carmine asked.
"He's gone. Lazuli wasn't Lazuli at all, but Bardiel."
"Bardiel? Who's that?" Icarus prodded further.
"The thing that was in the pilot's seat last night," Lapis replied. "It felt so alien yet so familiar, like it was a part of myself that I didn't know about before. But to think that it changed my soul, who I am…"
Noctis grimaced, pushing himself off of the table before sitting back down into his seat. "This happened in a dream, correct?"
"Well… yeah."
"Remember when I went berserk as well, and when Carmine opened my locker everything turned out to be different?" Noctis asked, gesturing at his own uniform. "I still hate this outfit, by the way. Bloody thing still chafes like hell since I haven't managed to break it in yet, and I've been getting weird looks in the streets as well-"
"Get to the point, boss," Icarus growled, glaring at his leader.
"Okay, got it. My point is, this might be the same sort of phenomena that induced my own set of changes. My one question to you is this; did the transformation happen after a dream?"
Lapis suddenly jerked upwards, appearing to pay much more attention to Noctis than before. "Huh? What do you mean?"
"Did… you know, Bardiel, happen after waking up from some fucked up nightmare?"
"Well, yeah…"
"Perhaps they're related then. Did anything in particular stand out to you?"
"I...I saw you!" Lapis suddenly exclaimed, pointing an index finger at Noctis. "Your old outfit, the one with the skull mask! He was wearing it?"
"Him? Wait, you saw him as well?"
"The Troupe Master?"
"No, some kind of monster wearing my body!"
"That's exactly what I mean!"
"People, cool it!" Icarus yelled. Noctis and Lapis both jumped slightly in response, before seemingly simultaneously realising that they had both stood up and pointed fingers in their excitement. "Would you mind enlightening us on what the hell you both mean?"
"We both had the same entity in our dreams that tried to mindfuck us," Lapis replied. "It's dream stuff, you won't understand."
Icarus sighed. "Fine. Get on with it then, but for God's sake, restrain yourselves. You aren't children."
"Alright, daddy," Noctis replied offhandedly, before blushing. "Damn book's scarred me for life…" he muttered under his breath.
"Back on topic, then?" Lapis asked, beginning to sound like she regretted starting this conversation in the first place.
"Yeah, yeah. So the faker on your end turned into the Troupe Master?"
"Yep. Yours?"
"Turned into a giant tentacle monster. And no, it did not in fact try to sodomize me with tentacles."
"Shame. I would have preferred something like that, especially compared to what I got."
"Too much info, people!" Icarus blurted out, frantically waving a hand between the two teammates to intervene once again. "Yes, I know that we're in Mistral, home to the most questionable kinds of media on the face of Remnant, but remember that there's such a thing as too much info!"
Noctis sighed again, slapping one hand over his face but not really managing to mask his abashed expression. "Stupid yaoi book…" he muttered darkly.
"So… any more common ground?" Lapis asked awkwardly.
"Well, this isn't exactly common ground per se, but… um... Fenrir says hi?"
"What."
There wasn't even any emotion in Lapis's reply, instead just being a flat exclamation that somehow still managed to get her meaning across.
"Yeah… he kind of knows who you are?"
"Fenrir, as in the one from the Grimm Troupe? You know, the crazy wolf-man-Grimm creature with the giant sword of 'fuck everything'?"
"Yep, that's the one."
Lapis threw up her hands in frustration. "I don't even understand this anymore! You know, this just gets more and more confusing the more I think about it…"
"Yeah, I get you."
Carmine exhaled heavily, getting up from her own seat to slap Noctis on the back of the head. "We have entirely lost the original focus of this conversation, which was to infiltrate a social club. Save the dream talk for after we work out the logistics, yes?"
"Alright-" Noctis began, before Lapis interrupted him.
"I'll be sitting out for this one, boss," she said unhappily.
"Why?"
"I've thought it over, and… I can't be one hundred percent sure that I'll remain in control if I bring out the armour. The risk just isn't worth it, especially since we're working in a heavily populated area."
"Are you sure about this? I mean, really sure about this?"
"Yeah, I am."
I mean, it's your decision, so I'll take your word for it," Noctis declared, before turning back to the rest. "Icarus, all you'll need is your usual combat equipment. I'll probably stick with my uniform, but Carmine…"
"Yes?"
"Do you have any formal attire? This is a gentlemen's club we're infiltrating, so we'll need to dress up."
"Oh," Carmine replied simply, without betraying any trace of emotion.
She walked over to Noctis, grabbed his left arm and began to effortlessly drag him towards the currently closed door of the parlour dining room. The servos in Noctis's prosthetic arm gave out distressed-sounding squeals as they strained from the sudden decompression, marching Noctis's own exclamation of surprise.
"Wait, where are we going?" Noctis protested, trying to regain his footing and resist the pull but failing miserably.
"We are going shopping, dear leader," Carmine said evenly, the obvious smirk on her features a grim omen towards Noctis's financial health. "Did you not say yourself that it was necessary?"
"You didn't bring anything along?"
"Not at all, dear leader, but that means that you get to buy something for me."
"A-Are you going to drag me into the fitting room again…?"
"Maybe."
"Can you not? You know I don't have a fashion sense worth mentioning, and besides, it makes me uncomfortable for a number of reasons…" Noctis trailed off, his face turning red once again.
Carmine rolled her eyes. "Very well then. You still have to go with me, though, because you happen to be the one paying."
"Slow down, dammit, my wallet is in my coat!"
Carmine yanked Noctis's greatcoat off of the nearby coatrack, tossing over the garment and allowing the somewhat miffed young man to wear his greatcoat before continuing to pull him along for the ride.
"We'll meet up at my place later! Probably five or six in the evening, give or take a bit, but definitely not before that!" Noctis called out over his shoulder, already receding from the immediate view of his two remaining teammates. "For God's sake, can you slow down a bit?"
Icarus heard the clattering of footsteps down the staircase that separated the parlours from the main restaurant downstairs, at least before even that eventually faded away. He got up from his own chair, contrasted by Lapis sitting down, and walked over to a window.
"They're adorable together, aren't they?" Lapis asked cheerfully.
"Yeah, they are," Icarus replied, looking out of said window - one that happened to overlook most of the surrounding area by virtue of the restaurant they were eating at being situated on top of a hill.
The view outside was interesting, to say the least. Over the busy streets below was a veritable spider web of electrical wires; the Old City seemed to lack the underground electricity grid that the richer parts of Argus had, instead relying on an older above-ground system to supply energy to the population.
The lack of colour comparative to downtown, which Icarus had noticed from the taxi, had proven to be more than made up by the cultural vibrancy of the city itself. One could hardly turn a corner in the Old City without coming across some kind of music or art, from the street buskers that played music or performed acts of sleight-of-hand to those selling art pieces and handicrafts from little shops.
"This place kind of reminds me of Vacuo, in a way, but it's more peaceful," Lapis interjected, jarring Icarus out of his contemplative fugue. "Reminds me of when I used to survive by selling art myself. It's difficult, to be sure, and luckily my work for the Legion usually proved enough to pay for most of the things that I needed."
"You sold art?" Icarus asked, looking at his partner in surprise.
"I might not look the part but, yeah, I can put some paint on canvas. Made a decent amount of lien doing it as well, but most of that went towards the bills."
"At least you have some kind of talent. I sold cabbages, and you can probably imagine how that business venture went."
"I mean, you must have learned from trial and error along the way," Lapis said, shrugging as she did. "We all do."
"That's true," Icarus replied.
Lapis got up from her own seat and pushed in the chair before moving to leave, but then she paused. There was a nondescript black book on the table, the hardcover book lacking any perceivable identifying features save for some dog-eared pages. She picked up the book, looking at it in her hands with equal amounts of confusion and curiosity in her eyes.
"Huh, Carmine left this behind," Lapis noted innocently. "I should probably keep this safe for her."
Icarus turned toward his partner, registering the book and recognising it for what it was, before he blanched. "Are you sure you want to look at it? I mean, it's Carmine's book…"
"I'm sure a little peek won't be a problem…" Lapis said smoothly.
"No, I mean… the content might not be appropriate for someone of your age…"
"Hey, I might be small but I'm as old as all of you. I can deal with a little smut."
In Icarus's defence, he was indeed two years older than his teammates, but he found it appropriate to not bring the fact up at this exact moment. He winced as Lapis flipped the book open to one of the dog-eared pages, and he could only watch in growing horror as Lapis's expression morphed from surprise into dawning realisation and then into one of clear interest in the subject matter at hand.
"Huh, she dog-eared all of the steamy bits…" Lapis noted softly, more to herself than to her teammate. "I can't fault her for that, that's actually pretty efficient…"
"Lapis?" Icarus asked cautiously, unsure as to what he was in for. Was it going to be yet another instance of his partner rambling about her love life for what felt like hours, or something even worse?
Lapis sniggered to herself, her gaze becoming unfocused as she began to reminisce. "Ah, this brings back memories. I still remember how he reacted when I first tried this on him… oh, his face when it first went in-"
Yep, it was worse. Icarus immediately started his attempt to block out the words that threatened to tear his comparative innocence into pieces, at least without plugging his ears with his fingers and singing to himself like a child. He simultaneously offered his condolences to one Solis Aurum, reflecting on the numerous sacrifices the poor kid must have made in service of the world at large.
"I didn't know that he'd react like that if I hit that particular spot-"
Right now, Icarus's only worldly desire was for a pair of earplugs. Alas, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
/-/
The Crouching Tiger Club turned out to be situated in a slight overlap between the Old City and the Valean concession, an area where rich locals and foreigners rubbed shoulders very frequently indeed. The frequent intermingling of Oriental and Caucasian features that Noctis observed for himself confirmed his first impressions, but honestly it didn't matter - the cultists from the other night had been a relatively even mix of all races.
Luckily for him, though, it also happened to be very near to Argus's main shopping street. Carmine's shopping spree a few hours ago had given him the opportunity to scout out the area, at least when he wasn't being held hostage in a fitting room and forced to give his partner fashion advice. Luckily for the purposes of their current operation, her burns from the previous night's battle had fully healed by the time they had decided to embark to their current venue.
"Anything wrong?" Carmine suddenly asked from beside him. They had ended up deciding on a nice maroon dress that - in Noctis's opinion, at least - matched the colour of her eyes. Carmine had agreed suspiciously readily to that advice, but anyways here they were. He was short of a decent sum of lien, and his partner had a wonderful new outfit.
"I was just thinking… since we can't actually make it for the dance at Beacon, why not we have our own one here?" Noctis asked quietly. "I mean, we might as well have some fun while we're here, after all."
Carmine regarded him silently, causing him to feel as if his heart had stopped for a moment, before designing to reply. "I see your point," she said. "Maybe we shall."
Dinner had also been a relatively short and simple yet sweet affair, with Noctis using the limited ingredients he managed to buy from a nearby wet market to cook something homemade. It wasn't anything fancy; just a spread that included stir-fried spinach with garlic as well as an omelette made with preserved radish, along with braised chicken in soy sauce and bowls of rice for everyone.
What? He was proud of his cooking, that's all.
"How do we bring in our weapons?" Carmine asked. "The common practise, if I understand correctly, is to leave them outside with the reception."
Noctis shrugged. "We smuggle them in, of course. You still have your boot knife, correct?"
"Yes, I do have it."
"Excellent. And your claymore?"
"We shall leave it at the front desk; if a fight breaks out, the chaos should give me the opportunity to obtain it."
"Even better. And as for me…" Noctis trailed off, removing his sheathed cane-sword from his side. He twisted a section of the weapon, and clamps locked the sword in its sheath before the sheath itself extended to cover the seam between the two parts. Now, the cane-sword was indistinguishable from any other normal walking cane. "Aha! This should work."
Carmine stared at him, her expression utterly disapproving. "Is that not the most cliche method of hiding weapons?"
"Yes, but I have this," Noctis replied, using his flesh hand to emphasise his metal one.
"The loss of an arm does not cause a sufficient loss in mobility to necessitate the usage of a walking cane."
"The injury is psychosomatic, or so I say."
Carmine pinched the bridge of her nose, before sighing. "I shall not argue with that reasoning, and I dare say that it should deceive most people."
"That's the point."
Currently, they were situated outside a tea-house - said tea house was literally down the road from the club itself. Surprisingly, Carmine had gone for the house brew - an extremely strong black pu'er tea - while Noctis had decided to go for the more demure option of jasmine tea. Between them sat a piece of half-eaten steamed yellow sponge cake - again, a speciality of the region - that laid idly on a ceramic plate that also had two forks resting on it.
Indeed, the whole situation would have appeared normal if not for the sheathed zweihander leaning on the wall next to them. The numerous sixty-round drum magazines on the side also tended to distract from the relaxing atmosphere.
"We have one more thing to discuss, though," Carmine said, taking a sip of her tea.
"What's that?"
"Our cover story," she said, gouging out a chunk of cake with her own fork and placing it in her mouth. "To avoid too much scrutiny, you see?"
"Right…" Noctis mused, taking up his own fork to carve out a hunk of the spongy dessert for himself. He pushed the cake into his own mouth - noting that the steamed cake was very soft, sweet and chewy - before swallowing and continuing to speak. "Any ideas?"
"We could enter as a couple."
Noctis stared blankly at his partner for a while, remaining so still that one could have mistaken him for a wax figure, before reacting with almost disproportionate excitement.
"What?"
"Shh… not so loud!"
"You could have told me before we left the shops!"
"Wait, why?"
"So that I could have bought you a ring!"
Now it was Carmine's turn to stare dumbfounded at her partner, red eyes boring their way into Noctis's very being with unidentifiable emotion, before her hand reached over to flick Noctis in the forehead.
"Ow!" Noctis exclaimed, flinching back more from surprise than from the negligible pain of the impact. "What was that for?"
Carmine sniggered. "For being a romantic idiot," she replied, the smirk on her face hardly distracting from her reddening face.
"I mean, it was just for the cover story…"
"I know," his partner replied, rolling her eyes. She looked like she didn't believe him, which was… worrying. "But really, do you have a better idea?"
"I was thinking that I'd be your bodyguard?"
"That will not work," Carmine stated simply. "They would recognise you immediately. Your work as Pyrrha's aide was public, correct?"
"Yes, it was."
"I see. So shall we use my idea, then?"
"I don't have the ring though…" Noctis said guiltily.
"The ring is optional. I recall hearing a term thrown around in Beacon… we could be… boyfriend and girlfriend?"
Noctis gagged on his cake, prompting Carmine to get up from her chair before walking around to pat him on the back until he cleared his windpipe.
"Are you serious?" Noctis asked, his tone rife with conflicted hope .
"If it is any consolation, we only need to hold up this facade for as long as we need to infiltrate the club."
"I know, it's just that…" Noctis trailed off, before seemingly mustering his own confidence and continuing. "Maybe this isn't a facade at all?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's the same thing, with us being a couple and all, but… instead of giving it up after the operation, we continue indefinitely?"
The silence that immediately followed his question made the cake on the table distinctly less appealing, and Noctis was about to stammer out an apology when Carmine grabbed his shoulder, pulled him to his feet with sheer strength, and pinned him to the wall with both her hands on his respective shoulders. For all intents and purposes, he was effectively immobilised unless he decided to teleport away - an unwise move for a multitude of reasons, one of which being the sword leaning on the wall that could very well be transformed into a LMG.
"Carmine?" Noctis asked uneasily. Carmine's eyes now held that same unidentifiable emotion as before, and honestly the close proximity was becoming somewhat uncomfortable - it was getting warmer, especially under his uniform, for some reason. "Are you okay?"
"So… we can stay as a couple forever?" Carmine asked apprehensively, her face somehow reddening even more.
"Um… i-if you want…" Noctis stammered, still too caught unawares by the entire situation to do anything more than acquiesce. The sheer improbability of the scenario only became more evident when Carmine began to giggle like a schoolgirl. Probably out of nervousness, but still.
The buzzing of Noctis's scroll in the pocket of his greatcoat, and the accompanying gentle chime of his chosen ringtone, only served to startle the two of them even more than they would have otherwise. Carmine stopped pinning him to the wall and jumped back in surprise, her expression becoming one of sheepish abashment. Noctis sighed, noting that the call was from Icarus before he brought the device to his right ear.
"What is it, Daedalus?" Noctis snapped, surprising even himself by the sheer ferocity in his tone. He certainly wasn't very happy about getting interrupted, in any case.
"Sorry, Ahab… I know that this is a bad time to call, but the club is about to open."
Noctis checked the clocktower on the nearby church, and it was indeed 6pm. The Crouching Tiger Club's opening hours were from 6pm to 1am every night of the week, according to the details on their purloined member's card, and their current plan was to stay inside for as long as possible to gather information.
"I understand. Do you happen to have a clear line of sight on the club's interior?"
"Look up at a sixty degree angle, about three o' clock from where you're currently facing."
Noctis glanced up in the stated direction, and sure enough there was a faint glimmer of light - one he knew full well was reflected off of a single lens. The light came from the rooftop of an antiques shop directly across the road from the club itself, which was where Icarus had evidently set up his sniper nest.
"Alright, I see you. You were saying?"
"I think it's time for you and Carmine to go in, boss. Remember that Lapis won't be providing air support today," Icarus said. "Honestly? I'm still somewhat doubtful about whether or not she'll be okay with this in the long run, though, especially if things go to shit today…"
"Her sitting out today was her own judgement call, and you know it," Noctis said, his voice taking on a hard edge. "In all fairness, she's the one who's in the best position to judge whether she's operationally ready or not. If she says that it'll be too dangerous for her to take part in this, then that's final."
Icarus sighed. "It's just that… we have to include her somehow, you know? It would be more damaging to her psyche if we were to force her to continue to sit out than if she plays her part sooner rather than later, if you ask me," he said unhappily.
"I know, but the risks involved are slightly too high to risk her getting possessed again. You know how close we cut it last time."
"I'm just speaking from the perspective of somebody who's been her partner and friend for months now when I say that she's very much a doer, not a thinker."
"I just have concerns that it may happen again, and now would be a horrible time for that."
"She knows that, boss. Lapis might be impulsive as hell, but she's got a good head on her shoulders."
"Let's hope that she'll be able to get back into the field, Daedalus," Noctis muttered. "Continue your overwatch, and be prepared to notify us if anything happens on the outside."
"Understood," Icarus replied. "Should we activate comms first just in case?"
"No, we'll synchronise the beads after we get into the club proper. I don't want the reception to see them by accident."
"I see. Well, I'll wait for you two to get yourselves in then. Over and out."
"Roger," Noctis said, shutting off the call and stowing his scroll back into his pocket. He glanced in Carmine's previous direction, being slightly surprised when he realised that she had moved, and sighed in amused exasperation when he saw that she was back in her seat.
"Yes?" Carmine asked through a mouthful of steamed cake, her attempt to keep a straight face somewhat undermined by the fact that she was currently devouring the rest of the cake. She moved to wash it down with the remainder of her tea before swallowing.
"You do know that I wanted to eat that cake as well, yes?" Noctis asked evenly, his own attempt to keep a straight face being doomed from the outset by the sniggers that threatened to break his calm facade.
"I indeed do," Carmine responded. "Shall we get going, then? I would suggest that you finish the rest of your tea first, though."
Noctis sat back down to stare into his own cup of tea, beginning to ponder about what could possibly happen inside the Crouching Tiger Club. He'd had a similar experience in Junior's Club back in Vale, albeit marred by his first, very painful, meeting with Yang. Who could he meet here and now, in Argus, his old stomping grounds?
"Have I missed out the possibility of tea as a visual art form?" Carmine asked semi-irritably. "I would have thought that one is meant to drink tea, not to stare at it as if the secrets of the world are engraved on its surface, but I could be wrong."
Noctis shrugged internally, finishing off the rest of his jasmine tea before placing the now empty cup back on the table. Safe in the knowledge that they had already paid for their refreshments, he got up and smoothed over his coat. Carmine rose soon after, adjusting her dress to allow for it to fall over her comfortably before moving over to retrieve her weapons.
"Ah well," Noctis mused under his breath. "I've had some tea, all's well with the world."
/-/
The Crouching Tiger Club, rather conscientiously, was sealed off from the outside world by a stout iron door. Carmine watched as Noctis rapped on the door with the knuckles of his prosthetic hand, and in response a viewing slot almost silently slid open.
"Do you have membership?" The doorman within asked, the only feature of them that was visible through the slit being their eyes.
"I happen to have a card, thank you very much," Noctis replied, taking out his stolen membership card before pushing it through a slot in the door.
The viewing slit slid shut for a moment, and the sound of muttering could be barely heard through the door before it suddenly stopped. The slit slid open once more.
"Everything appears to be in order, sir. But… may I assume that your companion is your plus one?"
"She is," Noctis replied evenly, but not without an ever so slight moment of hesitation. Thankfully, the doorman didn't seem to notice.
"Hmmmm… well, just come in first," the doorman said. The loud clack of a latch being opened echoed throughout the immediate area, and, accompanied by a tiny grunt of exertion from the doorman, the door to the club opened.
Carmine's immediate impression was that of Oriental opulence, with expensive wood panelling in place of the more ubiquitous and cheaper options of paint or wallpaper. A number of large gleaming mirrors were strategically placed around the space to make the room seem larger than it actually was, both serving to make the club feel more open and to make the patrons feel less cramped.
The doorman turned out to be a young girl about their age, seemingly of Mistralian descent like her leader while dressed tastefully in a red and gold cheongsam. She seemed to be somewhat terrified of Noctis's uniform - apparently she hadn't really gotten a good look at it through the door's viewing slit - and glanced pleadingly at Carmine as if she was beseeching her for help.
"My partner does not bite," Carmine said soothingly. Noctis glanced at the girl's fearful expression, before turning to Carmine in confusion that slowly turned into dismayed realisation. He sighed.
"I know the uniform looks a bit intimidating, but I didn't actually have time to get something civilian and formal," Noctis said, gesturing at himself. "I hope you understand, and I'm sorry if I scared you."
"No, no, it's okay," the girl said quickly. "It's fine. I totally understand…"
Noctis sighed once more, taking off his peaked cap and cradling it in one arm before watching as the porter retreated back behind the reception desk.
The girl took a deep breath, as if calming herself, before continuing, "Now, as I was saying, membership. Club policy necessitates that each patron of ours is a member; we don't allow for plus ones, unfortunately."
"I see… what shall we do, then?" Noctis asked, placing his cap back on his head before grasping the outer lip of the desk with both hands and leaning on said desk. As far as Carmine could tell, this rather concerning mannerism was done subconsciously.
"Ummm… you could always pay for membership…" the girl said uncertainly, seemingly becoming more frightened by her partner.
Carmine, deciding to intervene before her leader accidentally made the poor doorman wet herself, put her hand on his shoulder. "You are scaring her," she whispered in his ear.
Noctis glanced at her, before checking his own body language and stepping back with a sheepish grin on his face. The doorman turned to her with relief plain on her features, and Carmine flashed a quick apologetic smile in response.
The girl sighed herself, appearing to regain her confidence once more. "Okay then, now that's… out of the way… membership. Right, membership. Your plus one's membership will cost…" she dropped off, that look of fright returning to her, before continuing in a much more apprehensive tone. "Two hundred and fifty lien."
"Two hundred and fifty lien?" Noctis asked, his voice going deadly quiet. Carmine not so gently punched him in the arm, causing him to look apologetic once again. That sheepish grin returned, and his right hand moved to rub the back of his neck.
"The membership price will be fine," Carmine said decisively, subtly grabbing Noctis's collar in a grip tight with frustration. Noctis, acquiescing, took out his wallet and handed over the required figure. The girl, thankfully, couldn't resist a quick snort of amusement at her idiot partner's expense.
Soon, there was another membership card - this one was going to be legitimate, at least - in the process of being created. A short pageboy cut of black hair gently bobbed as the doorman scribbled relevant details like the current date on the back of the card, before she stopped. The girl looked up again to ask, "May I know your names? It's so that I can put your details in the card and the membership register, of course."
"I am Ishmael, and he is Ahab. Captain Ahab."
"Ah…" the girl replied. "A military man, then? That explains a lot…"
"Oh, did I scare you?" Noctis asked abashedly. The fact that Carmine still had his shoulder in a death grip seemed to help matters. "I'm so sorry about that…"
"No, it's fine. Now, before I allow you two to enter, could you leave your weapons at the front desk?" The doorman asked, posing the inevitable yet expected question.
Carmine glanced at Noctis, who was currently hanging his greatcoat on a provided coat stand - the sheathed fighting knife was still strapped to the left sleeve - and Noctis subtly nodded in response to her handing over her own zweihander. The girl looked apprehensively at the massive sheathed blade before attempting to carry it, but only managing to ever so slightly lift it above the table before dropping the weapon with a loud thud due to its sheer weight.
"Do you need help?" Carmine asked, picking up her sword with one hand and leaning it on her shoulder while placing the drum magazines on the table.
"Um… yeah, I do…" the girl said hesitantly, watching with what looked like wonder as Carmine scooped the drum magazines back up. "Just put them in an open cabinet over there," she continued, gesturing to point inside what appeared to be a military-style armory in a back room.
"Can I keep this?" Noctis suddenly asked, presenting his disguised cane to the doorman.
The girl suddenly looked simultaneously uncertain and exasperated - the latter emotion being one that Carmine could really empathise with - and scrutinised the cane for a while before asking, in a clipped tone, "May I ask why you're bringing in a walking cane? Forgive me, but you seem about a few decades too young to need one."
Noctis stared at her for a moment, seemingly pondering his response, before calmly pulling back his left sleeve to reveal his prosthetic arm. The doorman went pale, taking a step back, before appearing to compose herself.
"Oh… I see…"
"The injury is psychosomatic, you see, so my leg goes stiff sometimes. I don't actually need the cane that badly, but it's just there in case I need the extra support."
"Then it's fine, I guess?" The doorman replied, though her tone still sounded somewhat questioning. "Are there any hidden functions that might pose a danger to other patrons, though?"
"I don't believe so, no. At least, there really isn't any cause for uncertainty in my opinion," Noctis replied.
"What do you mean?"
"He means nothing," Carmine replied curtly, slapping the back of Noctis's head. "Tis just stupid male posturing."
The same amused snorts returned with a vengeance, and an understanding smile emerged on the girl's features. "I see. Well, everything seems to be in order. Enjoy yourselves," she said, waving them into the club itself.
After wishing the hapless doorman good day, they entered the club proper. It was a surprisingly small affair, with a central corridor branching off into three rooms; to the left was a coffee room where more substantial food and beverages were served, while to the right was a drawing room where club members relaxed and enjoyed the company of one another. The central door, which the couple had passed through, led to a large ballroom.
The ballroom was a large, mostly empty room. To their immediate left was a bar where patrons could grab alcoholic drinks, while on the far side of the room was a stage on which performers were situated. Currently it hosted what appeared to be a Mistralian version of the opera, and there were already rows of luxuriously cushioned chairs on which interested club members could sit to watch the show.
"Ah, nearly forgot these," Noctis suddenly exclaimed, fishing out two comms beads from a pocket in his uniform. He offered one to Carmine, who took it and set it up as required, before he stuffed the other one into his ear. "We are in," he said into the newly set up comms channel.
"Great," Icarus's voice said. "Lapis has run into some… unforeseen delays, and will be a few minutes later than planned. Other than that, we're on schedule."
"What do you mean by… delays?"
"Oh, it's nothing too concerning. She's just trying to get her bearings back, that's all."
"I hope that you know what you're talking about."
"Relax, boss, it'll be fine. Just sit back, relax, talk to some people and steal the member register. It should be almost criminally easy in an establishment like this."
"I know. Over and out."
"Roger."
They seemed to be drawing annoyed stares from some of the patrons at that point, probably because they had burst in during the middle of the performance.
"Shall we enjoy the show?" Noctis asked quietly, gesturing to an empty row of seats. "I'm guessing that people here won't exactly be receptive to conversation before the curtains fall."
"Agreed," Carmine said, sitting down in one of the seats. Noctis sat down to her right and leant back in his own chair to achieve his desired level of comfort.
Unfortunately for her, the opera appeared to be scripted entirely in Mistralian - a language she actually did not understand. That, along with the ostentatious and brightly coloured costumes they wore, practically guaranteed that she would have no idea at all as to what was happening on stage.
"What is going on?" Carmine whispered to the side. Noctis, on the other hand, was watching the show with a special kind of knowing disinterest that could only have come from having seen the entire story before.
"This particular opera is called 'The Generals of the Yang Family'. It's centred around a military family that lived long ago in feudal-era Mistral, before the kingdom was unified by warlord emperors to create the precursor dynasties that set the stage for what exists now," Noctis explained enthusiastically. "Considering that mankind has been at war with the Grimm for essentially as long as human history has been a thing, it's understandably a very popular story."
"That makes sense; a constant state of conflict inevitably results in culture embracing the nature of conflict itself. That is in itself brought about by familiarity with continuous war, and consequently manifests in a war-like culture."
"Correct. The continual nature of this war results in the glamorisation of it, if only to preserve morale lest people stop signing on as Huntsmen..." Noctis said, trailing off before sighting wistfully. "Holy crap," he muttered.
"Anything wrong?"
"I've only just realised how fucked up our system is… we have structured an entire education system around raising impressionable teenagers… no, not teenagers, children… and railroading them into becoming Huntsmen, where they'll fight and die against an enemy unending in numbers and fresh bodies to throw into the fight. You'll get what I mean when you see a Grimm spawning pool for the first time," Noctis muttered quietly, his dead black eyes fixed on the actors atop the stage. "And for us? Straight from basic education to the primary combat schools, and then to the Huntsmen academies, and then off to the battlefield. From the neighbourhood kindergarten to the elementary school, and then to Sanctum, and now to Beacon…"
"Hey."
"It's a war of attrition, one we're doomed to lose. We'll never be able to match them numerically, and they don't have any morale to lose besides. On the other hand, we actively get attacked if our morale falls since Grimm are attracted to negative emotions, and we can't boost our numbers significantly enough to matter before entering the realm of eugenics - and that's one step that, in my opinion, should never be taken. Don't you see what I'm seeing, this fucked up system where children are literally led from their cradles to graves on some nightmarish battlefield? I don't even know why we even try anymore..."
"Respectfully speaking, partner of mine, seeing you act like this, talk like this… it frustrates me beyond words."
"Why?"
"You beg the question? Why do we even try? Well, I believe that we try because of this," Carmine replied sharply, gesturing to the performance in front of them. "To protect what is irreplaceable; human culture. Human civilisation. Is that not why you became a bodyguard - to protect that which is precious to you? Huntsmen do that, but on a much larger scale. You say that this system is 'fucked up', as you put it, but is this 'fucked up' system not necessary?"
"I…" Noctis said simply, staring at Carmine with unrestrained shock and awe. Come to think of it… this was the first time that she had ever sworn, but what was done shall remain done. All that she could do now was to use that shock to carry over her message.
"It is a matter of pragmatism, is it not? A fighting force must be raised, and sadly your kingdoms lack the technical expertise of glorious Cainhurst to manufacture artificial humans to rival conventional Huntsmen, so there is no other option but to funnel young boys and girls into institutions that shall transform them into the soldiers needed to fight the war eternal."
"I get what you mean, I really do, but… it just doesn't sit right with me."
"Maybe it does not, but it is necessary," Carmine said, "But for now, answer my question?"
"Yeah?"
"Would you rather lay down and accept your fate, or die standing on your own two feet?"
Noctis smiled wistfully - it was more of a regretful grimace, to be honest. "If you had asked me that a few years ago, I'd have gone for the latter without blinking an eye. But now? I've known people who wanted to go out on their own terms… sure, they died standing, but only because there were so many rabid Grimm hemming them in that their bodies literally had no space to fall…"
"Noctis…"
"You might think that I'm brave, and you won't be the first person to make that mistake. The fact of the matter is that I'm absolutely fucking terrified - terrified of what might happen to those I care about if I make a single mistake. I've seen shit that would seem otherworldly to you because it's really that messed up…"
"Like what?"
Noctis snorted derisively. "How about people being torn limb to limb by Grimm hordes? Perhaps crazed former Huntsmen turned serial killers vivisecting still living children in front of their parents and vice versa? Or…" he began, before choking up.
"Or?"
"Or maybe control freaks using their daughter's combat prowess to elevate themselves by sending her to dangerous tournaments over and over again… expecting her to win, throwing her into the wolves' den time and time again to reap the profits when his prized 'champion' comes out on top once again…"
"Wait, Pyrrha didn't want to be a champion?"
"No, she did. Have you not seen how driven she is? Honestly, she's too good to be related to someone like me. She's righteous, selfless, has everything covered morality-wise… she's smart, patient, modest, hardworking… she's basically everything I'm not."
"You do share some characteristics with her, I would think," Carmine said, her voice taking on a weird middle ground between being stern and being comforting. "Take being selfless-"
"Me? Ha! I'm not selfless, I have a death wish!"
Carmine grabbed his collar and yanked Noctis towards her, suddenly bringing them face-to-face and dangerously close to each other.
"Answer my question. Do you wish to protect your sister, or go against her?"
"T-To protect her," Noctis stammered, clearly surprised by Carmine's sudden action. It looked like her manoeuvre had worked; her partner had clearly been snapped out of his depressive funk by now.
"And therefore, to protect her, you do not need to emulate her. She has her own personality, and you have yours. You have to remember; you are your own person beyond your sister."
"I know… we went through this before the warehouse op, remember?"
"But clearly it did not sink in. Did you finally apologise to your sister, by any chance?"
Noctis went silent, averting his eyes.
"Did you?"
"Actually… no, not yet."
Carmine sighed. "I know that you are scared that she will hate you, but that risk only becomes greater the more time you spend running away. Tell me, did you accept this mission in part because you wanted to get away from the situation at Beacon?"
Noctis stiffened, but at least he resumed eye contact - albeit reluctantly. "To be honest, yes."
"Are you actually serious?" Carmine asked, her voice deadpan.
"Um… yeah."
Carmine slapped the back of her partner's head. He winced for a moment, before looking more apologetic and guilty in response.
"Foolish idiot. You will have to confront that problem eventually, you know?" Carmine asked frustratedly, pulling harder on her partner's collar. "You simply cannot run away forever."
"I know… but what if she isn't willing to forgive me? I nearly killed her, after all, not to mention what happened with Sun…"
"Okay, this is what I am going to do. The second we touch down in Beacon after this stupid mission is over, I am dragging you over to team JNPR's room."
"What?" Noctis all but shrieked, only just managing to restrain himself by virtue of being stuck in the middle of a performance.
"That is right. No excuses, no distractions, and no leaving until I personally see you apologise and make up with Pyrrha. Try and stop me, if you wish, but you should know how well that will go."
"Um… alright," Noctis muttered, his face somehow appearing to darken in the dim light of the club. "I mean, there isn't anything I can possibly do to stop you, is there?"
Carmine smiled, but the smile was an uneasy one. "Not really, no."
Why was it suddenly so warm? The club was relatively well ventilated, and she was wearing only a frilly red dress instead of her usual multiple layers of thick padded leather under composite plate armour, so why did she suddenly feel like she was wearing full winter gear in the middle of a desert?
"Carmine…?" Noctis asked hesitantly.
"What?" She snapped, too focused on her own internal turmoil to pay him much mind.
"Could you, you know… let go of my collar?" Noctis continued apprehensively. "You're choking me, and it feels weirdly appealing for some reason…"
Carmine noticed that she still had a decent handful of the black wool that comprised her partner's uniform, and promptly let go with almost indecent haste. "Forgive me, I just happened to be caught in the heat of the moment!" She exclaimed apologetically.
"I-It's alright…"
Then they returned to watching the opera, but not without a healthy new degree of awkwardness.
Although she was now privy to the basic outline of what was going on with the opera story-wise, she still had absolutely no idea as to what was going on. She couldn't keep track of who was who on stage barring their rather unique and almost painfully flamboyant costumes.
Indeed, barring the immediate fact that one of the main characters was currently killing himself by caving in his own head with a stone tablet, she didn't know what was supposed to be happening.
"Um… what do the colours on the characters symbolise?" Carmine asked discreetly to her right. Noctis, seemingly past the stage of despair he was previously at, turned towards her.
"Well… how do I explain this? The colours they wear on their face paint and on their clothes reveals the age, professions and personalities of their characters. Take the three core colours of Mistralian opera for example; red symbolises positive martial values like loyalty, integrity and courage. Black on the other hand symbolises firmness and impartiality along with suggesting a serious and taciturn character, while white represents brutality and cruelty - essentially, the main villain."
Carmine turned to regard him, taking in his almost entirely black uniform save for the white upper right sleeve, and couldn't help but find some sort of analogue between her partner's attire and the actors' costumes on stage. Her own clothing right now, that frilly red garment that currently replaced her blessed armour, also somehow took on some kind of symbolic meaning as well.
"Do other colours also hold some kind of meaning?"
"Of course. Purple conveys solemnity, serenity and a sense of justice. Yellow represents intelligence and calculation, or bravery when used in warrior roles. Blue shows uprightness and stubbornness, green indicates bravery and irascibility, and gold and silver are used to indicate the supernatural like celestials and demons."
"I see… that really is interesting. This art form seems to have quite an important visual aspect, rather unlike the traditional Valean form of opera."
"Valean opera focuses more on the musical aspect, of course, being centred around singing."
"That is correct. An astute observation, partner of mine."
"You know, I can't tell whether you're being sarcastic or not."
"Does it matter, in the end?"
"I suppose not."
"Then let us enjoy the show."
They resumed watching the opera in silence. Eventually, despite Carmine's continual lack of understanding which was salvaged in some way by her new knowledge of colour symbolism, the show drew to a close. The actors bowed one last time, before stepping off the stage amidst roaring applause - apparently most if not all of the patrons of the club had a vastly superior understanding of Mistralian opera compared to her own - from an audience that then dispersed.
The majority of them dispersed to either the coffee room or the drawing room, but a decent number of those present had seemingly decided to linger in the ballroom. The current crowd was gathered around circular standing tables, sipping alcoholic drinks obtained from the bar to the left of the main door.
"What shall we do next?" Carmine asked, glancing at her partner. Noctis shrugged in response.
"You find a way to get the register, while I ask around."
"Understood."
"Mister Argent?" A new voice rang out behind them, high and clear, prompting the two partners to turn around to inspect the new presence.
It was a thin, pale man dressed in the cossack that denoted him as a man of the cloth. The easily recognisable white garment, decorated with gold embroidery, only served to make the newcomer seem only a tad bit… off for some reason. The fake smile on his face and the unsettling glint in his gold eyes only solidified her first impressions of the priest - a dangerous man that could not be trusted.
"Heads up," her comms bead suddenly chimed in, carrying Icarus's voice at a nearly imperceptible volume. "The priest is a Faunus; his aspect is a scorpion tail that's currently under his clothes. Remember that the animal aspects of Faunus can still be dangerous; take the Bloody Crow for example-"
"What?" Carmine asked, directing the response to both her sniper teammate and the dangerous newcomer.
"Yeah, your dad. Apparently he got into a fight with two rogue Huntsmen in a bookshop a while ago - I was browsing old news articles that I'd missed," Icarus explained. "I got bored, don't ask. Anyways, apparently they came off worse for it, especially since they found blood and weaponised feathers all over the place. Witness statements corroborate as well."
Carmine sighed, starting to move away when she paused.
"Ishmael? You okay?"
"Later."
"Understood."
The comms shut off, allowing her to pay more attention to the developing scene before her.
The priest offered his left hand to Noctis, practically forcing him to return the gesture with his prosthetic arm. The handshake happened, and Carmine couldn't help but notice the calculative smirk that was on his face - it was as if he were evaluating the artificial limb.
"Good grip strength. One might even call it vice like," the priest said, raising an appraising eyebrow. "The limb is artificial, I presume."
"Prosthetic. I got it replaced in my youth," Noctis replied curtly.
"Hmmmm, how... unfortunate. Surviving such a trial is truly an impressive feat for one so young. But where are my manners?" The priest asked rhetorically, the apparent indiscretion seeming too deliberate to be an accidental one. "Father Callows, at your service. But please, call me Tyrian."
"Father Callows it is, then. I dare not wish to presume familiarity, after all."
"A shame, Noctis. However, as a man of the cloth, I am not supposed to indulge in such pleasures of the flesh as what we see here," the now named Father Callows said, gesturing around him. "I am here for a very specific purpose."
"What is that purpose, then?" Noctis asked evenly. "Go on. Get it over with."
"I am here to pass you this," Father Callows said, passing over a small piece of paper. Carmine couldn't help but notice that it was angled directly away from her, so that a blank side was all that she could see. A photograph, perhaps?
Noctis took it anyways, taking the paper with his right hand and looking at it. His expression instantly hardened, and visible tremors seemed to seize his remaining flesh arm.
"Where did you get this." A flat statement, not even a question, but an accusation all the same.
"Why don't you find out?" Father Carrows - no, Tyrian - replied, gesturing to the bar. "Perhaps we could have a small chat? And as for your partner, Miss Reinhardt-"
"What about me?" Carmine snapped. "You seem to have forgotten that I am here.'
"My apologies, Carmine. You know, I've heard that you wish to obtain the club register," Tyrian noted. "An ultimately useless venture, but an admirable one. If I were you, I'd go and get it now - probably within the next five minutes, lest you miss your opportunity."
"What opportunity?"
"You'll find out."
"Carmine," Noctis ground out. "Please."
"I… understand," she reluctantly replied.
"I wish you luck," Tyrian said dismissively, waving her away. "Now, Mister Argent, as we were saying?"
Noctis subtly passed the photo to Carmine, seemingly unnoticed by the priest. "Shall we go, then?" He asked.
"Very well, then," the priest replied.
Then, the two of them walked off to the bar, one with the relaxed posture of a man with the upper hand while the other one was stiff with apprehension.
Carmine finally looked at the photo, and froze herself. "Motherfucker," she said, her voice tight with shock. Again with the milestones - this was the first time she had unironically sworn in her life - but that could be addressed later. "Daedalus."
"Yeah?"
"The mission just got very personal."
Indeed it was, if only because of what was on the photo.
"For whom?"
"The boss."
"How personal?"
"Enough for him to level the entire city if he has to."
"Fuck."
Icarus had aptly managed to sum up the situation with that one word, because what was on the picture was an image of Pyrrha - obviously unaware of the person taking the picture, and wearing her Beacon uniform.
"Let me guess, it's his sister."
"You have hit the situation right on its head, teammate of mine."
The fact that the picture was taken through the scope of a sniper rifle didn't help matters as well.
(Evil cliffhanger is evil, I know. You might notice the conspicuous lack of murder in this chapter, but don't worry, you'll get your fill next chapter - that, I promise.)
