"Dragons have long been admired for their physical and magical strength…" ~ Dragon Historia, pg 6
Chapter Twenty-one: The Chairman
At first, when the news that the armored car carrying the supplies for PECOC's newest project had been robbed, he had feigned shock before going on about how it would set everything back.
A setback was certainly within the realm of things he could handle - after all, he wasn't the Chairman of PECOC for show. But that didn't mean he enjoyed handling such setbacks, even if they were minor.
And planned.
Emerald green eyes, set into a tanned face with high cheekbones, watched the recorded security footage. The images played out in the round observation lacrima that sat in the palm of his gloved hand and he watched with mild interest - listening to the sounds, basking in the warmth of the lit fireplace in his office.
The events weren't hard to follow… at least until that brutish asset had come in, smashing the lacrima light panel the recording crystal was hidden inside of. The footage went dark after that, accompanied only by the recorded sounds of the ensuing fight - crates cracking and metal scraping and a Phantom Lord bandit screaming .
The Chairman rolled his eyes. He brushed a long, dark lock of hair behind his ear.
Overkill. But what else could be expected of Dragonkin ? Dragons and their ilk were some of the most powerful and needlessly destructive Etheric races in the realm.
And the asset noted in his files as DKN-008 had a particular knack for excessive force.
The Chairman ran a black-leather covered finger over the lacrima, fast forwarding through the audible carnage - though not flinching from the sped-up noise of slaughter. It wasn't new or shocking behavior, and was wholly expected in context of DKN-008. With such a track record, he didn't know why that particular asset was still running free amongst people .
He glanced at the report in front of him, stopping the recording on the timestamp that had been noted as relevant to the missing supplies.
"They get any of it?" the asset could be heard asking.
Another voice responded: "Five crates of whatever it is they stole."
He arched a single, dark, manicured brow. He hadn't heard that voice before.
The new voice continued: "They didn't know what they were stealing. Just that they were supposed to steal it."
"Car's full of metal. Lot'sa cold iron. The rest is stainless steel and some copper."
"They took mostly cold iron. But they left the copper behind, which doesn't make sense. The copper has more street value for alchemy. You can synthesize cold iron, but not copper."
It wasn't unheard of for DKN-008 to work with others occasionally; though, the records noted that it was far more rare for this asset to willingly cooperate with all but a very select few people. And, with the tone of this new voice, it sounded very much like a willing team-up. DKN-008 was familiar with this person, that much was clear; deferring to this person, who seemed to know a little too much about the street value of precious metals.
"Put it back."
"I gotta taste it ta tell of it's the real deal or the homebrew kind."
"I meant the four bars you shoved into your pockets."
"Hey. My eyes are up here, Slitherfuck," the asset slyly taunted.
The green-eyed man blinked, momentarily taken by surprise. That remark wasn't bluntly delivered, it sounded more like familiar teasing. Was the asset flirting with this new person? Now that was certainly very new behavior.
Who in the world was this new person, changing asset behavior so much?
He sped the recording along until he heard the arrival of Council forces.
"Names?" the Rune Knight questioned them.
"Gajeel Redfox," replied DKN-008.
"Cobra Ophidias," said the new voice.
That name. Where had he heard that name before? With gloved fingers, he shuffled through the files on his desk until he found what he was looking for: an Etheric employment registration form for Fairy Tail, the asset designation tag still pending.
It was the file that had been quietly tucked into a major incident report. The main Magic Council branch had, annoyingly, delivered to his desk as if he didn't have a whole staff to handle such cases!
The picture of the individual in question didn't look like much; a somewhat rounder head, chestnut skin with golden undertones, narrow violet eyes, dark red hair that blended it all together into an ethereal smear that wasn't bad on the eyes. It was hard to believe this young knife-ear was once near the top of the Fioran underworld - but if there was one thing working in PECOC taught someone, it was that the most dangerous preternatural beings tended to be a little on the attractive side while somehow also not looking like very much.
NAME: COBRA OPHIDIAS
DOB: N/A | AGE: 18 | SEX: M
SPEC.: ELF [ELFAERIN]
MAGIC: DRAGONSLAYER | ASOC.: POISON
GUILD: FAIRY TAIL
DESIG.: PENDING
There were twelve Dragonkin assets in the continental PECOC database, though only four in Fiore; all but two of them had Human as the other part of their heritage… There hadn't been an Elf registered in quite some time, not since the days of the dreaded Beau Gwynlyn, who had fled Fiore a decade before the Council switched to keeping records via Magic Archive Storage.
But Dragonkin or Elf: that was the debate amongst the Archive-users on where this asset should be filed. That was one of the shortcomings with using Archive magic to file away everything; an asset had to be recorded as being one thing, it couldn't be recorded as two things or else all the runes in the archival stream would corrupt. Picky things.
Though, the Chairman had a say in where this newest asset would end up. Given this new information, that being a willing partnership with DKN-008, this new asset would probably be best filed away with the other Dragonkin. Making this new one's tag DKN-013.
He set down the security lacrima on his desk and picked up a pen, twirling it between gloved fingers twice before filling in the new asset's designation tag.
"Thirteen. That is quite the unlucky number," the man hummed in agreement with himself. A short, posh chuckle escaped him. "Unlucky thirteen is an all-around holotype. That figures."
But a holotype wouldn't be bad for the Project, now that he thought on it. In fact, it could make the Project all that more valuable in the end.
It was inside a small tavern that the Chairman found the former Saint. In the countryside and far out of the way, it was a neutral place; one of the rare establishments where light and dark could be found in equal measure, passing each other by in ignorance.
Jose Porla was almost twenty-years older than the Chairman, but barely taller, with greasy black hair that was slicked back and freshly-shaven face… which did nothing to change his visually unappealing features. The man had a long face, overly-sharp features - cheeks hollowed out from being magic-shorn for months… and that was when the Chairman had contacted the Ex-Saint while he was still in prison. It would take much more than a shave to change all of it.
"Is everything still clear at Blackgate?" the Ex-Saint asked him. His traveler's cloak rustled as he placed his hands on the table in show that he was unarmed.
"I see you have forgotten manners during your prison stay," the Chairman answered. As he sat down, he felt the tingling wave of soundproofing runes take over their booth in the corner. Porla clenched his fists on the table and the lights in the tavern dimmed for a second or two. "But to answer your question, the guards at Blackgate haven't discovered your fetch yet."
Porla exhaled hard, his teeth grit behind inky lips. "Good, good."
"They're handy, aren't they? Fetches," the Chairman eyed Porla with suspicion. "I had no idea they were in your repertoire of spells."
"You learn some things in prison, make new friends in darker places."
"Mm," the Chairman sounded in modest agreement. "Speaking of some of your new friends, I've heard that you contacted some to assist in picking up the payment I arranged for you." He pursed his lips in on obviously fake imitation of surprise. "I've also heard that your friends had some trouble picking up all of the payment…?"
"Quit acting so haughty, Deedmore. You know what happened."
Elderich Deedmore, the Chairman of PECOC, smirked as he stroked his anchor goatee. "Your quarry found you before you began your hunt."
The lights in the tavern dimmed again as Porla's temper flared and other patrons began to take notice of the slow flickering. Elderich only shook his head.
"While you are certainly a choice for this specific matter, I can't stress enough that, ultimately, I'm paying you for asset containment . Do what you want beforehand," Elderich waved a gloved hand dismissively, "But the asset needs to have a pulse and steady vitals when it makes it into our custody. It's useless if it's dead." He held up a finger, stopping Porla before he opened his mouth to speak. "No, it cannot be reanimated . We do have people that would be able to identify signs of necromancy."
"You have a long list of demands for me, for someone half my age at that," Porla sneered.
"You should know that one does not get anywhere without demands and playing politics. Or making acquaintances in strange places, making compromises, offering bonuses… so on and so forth."
The Ex-Saint frowned. "Consider your hint taken," he said, too heavily on the S-sound at the end. "Is this about the other Dragonslayer from Fairy Tail, the fire one?"
Elderich gave a half-shrug. "You've been… indisposed for a while now. They've become a hot spot of sorts for Dragonkin." He chuckled, amused by himself: "A regular dragon's den."
"So how many does that old Dreyar bastard have under his roof now?"
"Five."
"Five?!"
"Five," the Chairman nodded. "But what's interesting to note is that the specific asset in question is not working alone…"
A/N: Here comes plot... sort of. Elderich is an old OC of mine. He was used in an old Fairy Tail roleplay (shoutout to anyone from Guild Crisis!) and later used beyond.
His name is pronounced El-de-rick. Fun fact about him is that in the original roleplay he was an S-class mage from Blue Pegasus... here he will take on a decidedly more dark role.