Chapter 21: Prices
Mors sucks in the night's cold air and lets out a frosty white breath. Valean's autumn is fast approaching its end, there were signs of snow just a few days back. Winter in Vale doesn't get too harsh, he's heard. But hell, anywhere is tame if one has been through one winter in Solitas.
He brushes one hand over the mask hanging by his belt. Here's hoping he won't have to put it on. But with how things are about to go down tonight, and given how Mors is pretty much in full gears minus Tsvestok, he isn't so confident peace is an option.
It's Friday night, and he's supposed to be on his way driving to a village fifty kilometres south of the city. He'd spend most of Saturday scouting out the area and coming up with a plan, then somehow, prolly using the son as leverage, assassinate Mrs. Brighteyes at some point during Sunday's witching hours. After that, clean up and return to Vale by evening, hand the body off and get back to Beacon by some time near midnight, then let Yang know. That was the plan, his first wet job. But here he is, standing in front of The Cube, very much not driving through the sticks and definitely not whacking a huntress anytime soon. Well, not deliberately.
The past week has been…rough, to say the least. Yang had tried her best to act all business as usual, but she was not okay. She would still sit with everyone during classes and lunches, and would still joke around and be all chirpy and spunky when talked to. But when the attention was not on her, he would often catch her staring blankly at nothing, no more fires in her eyes. She still grins and smiles, but they were more motions than substances, and the usual firecracker laughs didn't sound once the entire week. She avoided interaction and eye contact with him, oh she was very subtle about it, he only noticed because she visibly struggled to keep up the facade every time their eyes actually met. He didn't see her in the morning anymore. Ruby told him she'd been skipping working out entirely; cold weather made her too sleepy in the morning, she said. Blake told Ruby on Wednesday she'd been hearing Yang muffled sobbing into her pillow late at night, when everyone was out.
Everyone on both teams knew the girl was struggling, but they didn't ask; how could they when Ruby had already said it was private? It didn't mean they could act like nothing was going on, though.
Blake had been sticking close to Yang and often seen engaging in deep conversation with her. Ren had mentioned she had approached him to see whether he could use his semblance on her partner. He already did whenever he could, but it couldn't be too effective if he didn't know the cause, plus he couldn't exactly follow her around 24/7. The brunette had been glaring daggers at Mors, too. The girl had not directly conversed with him once since school's start, but she looked absolutely ready to break the streak to drill the story out of him. Tacts and wariness has held her back, so far.
Ruby had climbed onto her sister's bed these past two nights to keep her company; little Red didn't have her sibling's social flexibility, so she looked sadder and more awkward than ever whenever she watched Yang put up a front. It'd make things worse wearing such a long face, she knew, she told him, but the girl couldn't help it. He was grateful she was willing to keep him updated on Yang, while he was keeping her in the dark on how he was going to handle things.
Weiss…well Weiss was the closest of the three to be able to act as if nothing was wrong; she seemed experienced. She still nagged Yang about homeworks, about not paying attention in classes, about her taking too long in the shower. It actually kept a sense of normalcy for everyone in the team, which is prolly what she was going for in the first place, as she backed off unusually quick when Yang snapped back. And unlike Blake, Weiss had no qualm cornering him one time and demanding him to work things out with Yang as soon as possible. That somehow triggered a protective streak in Nora, who in turn demanded why he, the one with the bloody face, has to make up first. The heiress guessed he must've said to Yang something horrible enough to warrant such injury, which was totally correct. It almost devolved into a screaming match, and got physical even had it not been for Jaune, who bodily stepped in between the two irated huntresses, and asked quietly if they were trying to contribute to the already bad tension. Thankfully that got the girls to back off.
To say everyone was stressed would be an accurate assessment. And this was before he'd actually off Mrs. Brighteyes. Mors knows how heavy guilt can be. He doubts Yang would be able to keep up the act when the blade actually drops. The two teams…will prolly fall apart from there…Well, he guesses that might not come to pass now, if the night goes the way he hopes. Big if.
Objectively speaking, going through with Mr. Junior's deal still seems like the best way to resolve the situation: peace in exchange for a stranger's life and a couple of mental scars. But now that he's standing in front of The Cube, this feels like the right thing to do. Heh, since when did he start acting on gut feelings? Maybe hanging with these kids has softened him up a bit, and that's totally fine, good, even. Anywho, the moment he steps through this door over here, there'll be no more doubt to anyone about his stand on this mess.
Let's get it over with.
Mors pushes the door open and walks into the dim, plain but well kept hallway leading into the club. He can hear muffled music vibrating through the air from a much heavier double door on the far side. It's still early, so there's no long line of patrons squishing together in wait for their entrances yet, just a couple of black suit bouncers chatting among themselves. One tries to address Mors, but pauses. He must've heard something from his coms, as he mumbled a few things to no one in particular. 'Should I give him a pat down'... 'Should mark him for watch'... 'Where to sir' and 'Yes sir'. The man then nods to the air. He raises one hand to Mors and sweeps it back at the door.
"Mr. Junior is waiting for you in the third VIP lounge, sir. Go to the back, up the stairs, third room on the left with a big 3 in black. Someone inside will guide you there."
"Thank you."
"Enjoy your night, sir."
Sure enough another dude in black suit was waiting inside. After some polite greetings he indicates Mors to follow him. The ex merc didn't fail to notice the sound of the door behind him being locked, or there was a lot more security lounging around than usual. Mr. Junior acted fairly fast, given Mors only gave him about fifteen minutes standing outside to prep. Reinforcement, heavier hitters are prolly on the way. Their strategy right now is likely to stall for time till they're confident with their forces. After that, who knows. Oh well, anything to make the man feel comfortable with his position. Mors loses either way if the night turns bloody.
They arrive at the VIP room and his guide opens the door to invite him in. He nods his thanks at the man and walks slowly into the room. Sure enough, there are guards on all sides, Melanie and Militia are standing close to Mr. Junior, glaring at him, all tense and poised for combat. The man himself is sitting on an armchair, dragging on his cig, his expression almost unreadable.
"Fuck, kid…I really did like you. So what was it? You suddenly grew some conscience or are you trying to save that friend of yours from a little guilt? No…you wouldn't be here if you had an epiphany on morality and all that bullshit, wouldn't you? So this is all for the girl? You can't be serious?" The crime boss sighs and leans back onto his seat. "What? You got a crush on her or something? Cause I can't imagine you straying shit sideways off the rail like this for just anyone and still make it this far in our world. She knows how going back on a deal like this is going to black mark you to the rest of Remnant, for your entire life? That is one hell of a crush there kid."
"...You wouldn't believe how many time people, me included, wonder how am I still walking this Remnant, Mr. Junior. Yet, here I am." Mors sits down onto a couch, positioned appropriately far away from the man, blocked by a large tall coffee table, whose metal legs are bolted to the ground. "You're aware I haven't taken a single wet job since I started, Mr. Junior, so this is a first for me too, and it's not any more pleasant on my end. Please, we both know I'm not gonna let Mrs. Brighteyes suffers through what you planned for her." He heads the club owner off before the man can retort. "I agreed to your deal to protect Yang as much as to pull you out of the fire. But if there is an alternative that costs zero life, I feel like I should give it a shot, flimsy as it is."
"And the alternative, you walking in here in full combat gear, is going to cost zero life, and protect me?"
"You'd notice I didn't bring my sword. If your people don't jump the gun, we might be able to keep the floor clean tonight."
"Hahaha yeah that's cute. Think you're so in control, don't you? Think you can force things your way because of a little brute strength, right? Think we fight when you say so and sit down for tea when you fucking say so?" The older twin in white and mint, Melanie, speaks up, hers is a vicious smile. "Wanna have a competition to see whose blood is gonna dirty the floor more? I'll give you a kiss if you win."
"Quit it you brat." Mr. Junior groans "This isn't a fight club. If we can keep it civilised we'll goddamn do so."
"And let this fucking backstabber walk and do as he pleases? I told you from the start this guy was bad business! You didn't listen, and now you might get to pick your head up from the ground!"
"Perhaps we should get straight to the point." Mors interjects "Then we'll know for sure how the night will play out. Speculating like this will just stress everyone out."
"...Fair. Alright, lemme hear your alternative, then." Mr. Junior puts out his cig and lights up another one. "You do know threatening me into dropping the matter doesn't even count as a solution, right?"
"I do. I propose something simpler: I pay for the info Yang tried to extort out of you."
"WHAT!? Kid are you nuts?! Even you can't afford that!"
"If it is Mrs. Brawen, no, I can't. But you told me all anybody knows is some blonde girl tried to extort info of a high profile person from you, correct? Then the person doesn't necessarily has to be Mrs. Brawen, does it? From what little I've heard of Mrs. Brawen, she had disappeared from Vale some sixteen years ago; so odds are she didn't actually pay you any hush money on her, did she?" The older man nods, Mors breaths out a sigh of relief. "Thank the Brothers. So the story can be: some woman came to you, inquired about someone important, realized she couldn't afford it, frustration fueled with alcohol, she got rowdy and wrecked the bar. But now, after calming down and sobering up, she's realized she'd fucked up and paid the snitch shield amount and the club damages to have you quietly settle the matter. It's still bad, but now at least it doesn't warrant an ugly death."
"...That might've worked one or two weeks after the incident. But now? With the story's out and everyone's thirsting for blood? No one is going to accept this bullshit!"
"Why wouldn't they? It's not retribution people are looking for, isn't it? It's insurance. Give them that and a good enough excuse, shouldn't they just let it go? Stringing up a dead body can only be so effective, there'll always be doubt."
"...What is this insurance then?"
"Me. I'll be your security, for free, every night, for my entire three years at Beacon. I'll help the girls get to the point they can handle basically anyone I can normally handle."
"Fuck you! Who asked for your help?" Melanie yells.
"I apologize if that sounded condescending. Think of it as me just giving you a few pointers. You are already very capable as it is. I'm…just a bit more experienced."
The older Machalite seems to want to retort, but is cut off by Mr. Junior's raised hand. The man drags on his cig and let out a smoky sigh.
"You're a nice kid, Mors. I'm not trying to squeeze profit out of you, I promise. Hell, if it wasn't my ass on the line, I'd probably let the whole thing slide just on the fact that blondie is your friend. But you gotta understand, it's a matter of trust, and pride, and whatever little honors among thieves we have left. I couldn't care less about what the small fries street thugs think. But the big fishes, even if they have reasons to, they'll have no motivation to resolve it this way."
"...How many big fishes are we talking about?"
"Pardon me?"
"How many people do I need to persuade for you to feel safe to accept this deal?"
"...Are you insane?! You can't be thinking of…If you're going on a suicidal murder spree anyway why not just kill Brighteyes and be done with it?!"
"I won't kill anyone. How many, Mr. Junior?"
"You'll be dead before daylight! And they'll have my head afterwards for pointing you to them."
He quietly stares at Mr. Junior. The silent question repeats itself. They have reached an impasse. Whatever reinforcement the crime boss had called for should've arrived by now. Mors is asking Mr. Junior to choose: either cast his lots in with him or stand opposed to him, both of which will risk the bar owner's neck. It is cruel to the man, but that hardly matters anymore.
He must be putting on his work face, because the info dealer is starting to get uncomfortable under his gaze. The guardsmen in front of him reach for their weapons and grip them tightly. The Malachite sisters take a step back, weapons out, and do their best to not look at him.
After a bit of shifting around in his chair, Mr. Junior slumps down and throws his cig into the ashtray.
"Fine, your funeral, and probably mine, too, I guess. Forty nine people in Vale, those are the people who most likely won't be willing to turn a blind eye. Among them, thirty Greater Council members, three Small Council members, Chief of Vice and Chief of Counter-terrorist in VPD, the Vice Captain of the Valean Knights, the leader of the White Fang in Vale, Head of the Bank of Vale, and of course, all twelve mob bosses besides me and Torchwick."
"Old man have you gone mad along with this guy?!" Melanie exclaims.
"Uncle Junior, please, think this through first." Militia speaks up for the first time. She flickers a look at Mors, bites her lips, takes a deep breath, and looks him in the eyes. "Instead of a clean hit on a stranger you don't even know, you'd go back on a deal, force our boss into a suicidal situation with you, and try to take on what amounts to Vale itself, just for a girl you go to school with. Don't you think that is unfair for us, arrogant of you, and absolute scum of that girl? She came to us. She attacked us, unprovoked. And now we risk annihilation, while she won't even have a little mental scar? And you dictate how we're choosing our fate? We're not the good guys, yes, but even we know our own kind of justice. This. Is. Not. It."
"...I understand your frustration, I do, and that you want to protect Mr. Junior. But we all know talks about fairness are completely lip services, Miss Malachite. Justice, shouldn't Mrs. Brighteyes, who has done nothing wrong, deserve justice the most? And we, were going to get off scot free from murdering her. I'm not forcing you into anything. If you disagree, I'll simply walk out of here without causing any ruckus, I promise. In return, I ask that you let me be free with my choices, even if that means standing opposed to you and protecting Mrs. Brighteyes or any other scapegoats you might switch to." The girl tightens her grips on her claws, face frowning deeply from trying to formulate a retort. She's smart. She'll go far. Just a little green at the moment. Mors sighs and shrugs. " I do not wish for conflict, Miss Malachite. I'm just…trying to keep everyone alive here."
"Fucking Mezziah complex…" he reads Melanie's mumbling.
"Alright, settle down girls." Mr. Junior lights up yet another cigarette. "I know what I'm getting myself into. Don't worry. I'm not betting without anything to fall back on." He points at Mors "I'll tell you where each person is, since this is my ass on the line, too. But that's it. If I give you anymore, there'll be no business left for me to bust my nuts trying to save whether you pull this off or not. You understand? Good. Now, how do you plan on 'persuading' these people? They're not your average mooks you can threaten with a little violence."
"...Let them know I am coming. Let them wall up their best defenses. If I make it through all of that, they'll probably feel they will never be safe from me. Anyone who has families or loved ones, I know the Vice Captain has two children, will most likely back out afterwards. As for the people who don't have to fear for their loved ones, if they're on the light's side, then I'll be their criminal, if they're on the dark's, then I'll be their vigilante. I'm capable, I know I can inflict very heavy damage to all their systems and operations if I go rouge…I'll be Vale's monster." He has nothing he can give to these people to persuade them, so he can only threaten to take.
Mr. Junior and the twins stare at Mors in stunned silence. He can see fear starting to build in their eyes. They know he's not just boasting, he'll go through with his words, or die trying.
"Monty Oum…What have I gotten myself into?...Now I can see why they call you the Deadman Walking. You're not normal, kid. You try to be, you act like you are, but there is something really wrong with you."
"I am well aware."
"...Agh fuck it, once get on the bear's back…You know when the deadline is. Get them to agree by Monday, and pay me before Wednesday is over. If you die, you know what'll happen, right?"
Mr. Junior will claim he was also Mors's target. So if Mors fail, his carcass will be desecrated in part by the info dealer. Then, someone will probably be sent to nab Mrs. Brighteyes and her son.
"I do. Now, how much do I pay you?"
"...Hmm,..." The broker rubs his chin in thoughts. "Like you said, we can make this just a formality pay. Just need to keep this barely legit...Eighty five thousands."
Well fuck.
"Seventy-five, please."
"Goddammit this ain't a bargain, kid! High profile starts at one hundred. I make it any lower, might as well keep your money not paying me at all, because it'll just scream phony to everyone!"
"...Do you know any job I can take?"
"...Not for you merc, no. I know your calibre, but almost, if not everyone here doesn't have a clue who you are. My rep is currently not good enough to recommend some nobody for well paid jobs. And don't you have a fucking Crusade on your hand right now? How are you gonna do anything else? You don't have enough?"
"I'm ten grand short."
"...Shit, kid, I know you mean well but...Maybe you should just forget about this whole thing and make your way to Brighteyes? The odds just seem to keep piling up the other way. There is still time. Or, if you feel bad about it, I can find someone to replace you, no big deal. Just pretend you never heard about this. Live out your usual student life."
That's reasonable, if he walks away here then he can treat this as another unfortunate tragedy of life. People die everyday for more meaningless reasons, what's one more to the count if he has nothing to do with it anymore. Except, the very act of knowing has already condemned him of involvement.
"Thank you for the offer, Mr. Junior, but I'll figure out some way to get the ten k for you. Please begin making phone calls to my targets. I'll start with the Greater Council members."
Perhaps…he'll appropriate some assets of the people he'll raid tonight…murderer to robber, that seems a step up? Of course, there's the question of whether he can actually liquidate those assets without being traced, but well, food for thoughts.
-REST-
Yang stands and stares at the plain entrance to the Cube. A week ago she would've had no hesitation stepping through that door, with attitude and confidence to boot, ready to face any trouble that comes her way. Now, now she wishes she had never entered this place at all.
Ruby blabbed, as per usual. Just like Yang can never keep her lips sealed in front of her sister, lil' sis can't ever hide much, if any at all from her. No secrets between sisters. A remnant of their dependencies on each other. A subtle sign that maybe, in the deepest part of their psyches, there's just them, versus the rest of the world. It's not very healthy, but well, they are doing fine so far. It's comforting to know there's always going to be someone on her side, especially when she's a mess like lately.
She had no idea whether she should be glad that Ruby managed to convince Mors out of killing the unfortunate victim of her stupidity, or ashamed that she should have tried harder to convince the guy, or grateful that the boy is willing to go so far for her, or guilty that she had made his life so difficult. She does know, though, that she'll be worse than garbage if she keeps sitting around wallowing in her misery when Mors is out here trying his damnedest to save her from a mental scar that she completely deserves. It's high time Yang cleans up her own mess.
Well big talk, but it's not like she has a solid plan to go with or anything. Mors has told Rubes the general idea of what he was planning to do. Oum, seventy five thousand liens, and possibly more! Even if this goes through, where does she even get that kind of money to repay him? And that's a big if, too. She doesn't know how the underworld works, but she can tell Mors's solution is flimsy at best. If there was a chance to extort money out of her from the start, Junior would've gone for it, and she would've done whatever it took to pay him. Whore herself out, sell her organs, whatever. Flimsy idea, but Mors is still pushing for it, he went back on a deal to do so, for her. Yang knows better than to step into The Cube right now and ruin her friend's effort. She's standing outside waiting for him, so that if he fails, then she'll go in, gets on her knees and begs Junior to take revenge on her instead. The thought makes her gulps on air, she'd made up her mind, she wants to tell herself she's brave, but fuck she's scared.
She's startled out of her funk by the groaning of a metal door. Mors steps out and slowly closes the door behind him. His face is blank, as in completely blank. Like you'd never noticed there had always been really tiny emotions even on a neutral face until you see one so devoid of them kind of blank. His mouth is somehow stiff and slack at the same time, his eyes open wide and give off the vibe they have not blinked once for a very long time. It's the face he made back then with Cardin, the same one he had occasionally slipped back into during their fallout last week. He looks inhuman, it's beyond unnatural, gives anyone who takes one look at it the biggest creeps of their lives. A few weeks back, Yang would've steered right clear of that expression, and told Ruby to stay away, too. But now, she's starting to realize it's the face Mors would make when he's trying to push his feelings aside, doing his best to be all rational and stuff.
It just makes her throat clamp up with sadness now, especially when she's the cause of it.
He sees her shortly after taking a few steps away from the club. The scary face disappeared as soon as his eyes locked onto her, even before he stopped mid-stride. He gets confused for a second, then drops his head and lets out a big sigh. She shuffles around on her bike seat, suddenly feeling like that time Dad caught her sneaking home late at night.
"Hey Yang, how are you holding up?" He asks as he walks over to her.
"...A bit scared you're angry with me and Rubes."
"Don't be." He chuckles a dry laugh. "I'm not. It par for the course, I suppose. In a way, it's sweet that you guys don't hide anything from each other. I take it Ruby has told you what my plan was?"
"Yeah…How did it go?"
"There are some conditions to be met. But Mr. Junior is willing to get on board." He said the first part almost too quickly.
Well that isn't ominous at all.
"And those conditions are?"
Silence. And all of the alarms in her head go apeshit crazy. Mors looks away from her for a moment, and that was enough to send her stomach sinking.
"What are the conditions, Mors?"
"...Just a few miscellaneous works, nothing I can't handle."
A lie, or rather, a half-truth. She knows he's been telling her half-truths or things out of context as a way to get around lying to her. She can't do much about those, but this one was apparently so close to an outright lie that it was easy to notice. Her panic swells.
"Dammit Mors! I'll go in there and beg Junior to tell me what the deal was if I have to. I can't just sit around while you're apparently doing something really risky to save me! Tell me, please, it's selfish as fuck, I know, but please."
Mors closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He indicates towards her Bumblebee, asking for a seat. She scoots over to one side to make space for him. The boy plops down onto the front seat, barely fitting into it. They sit shoulder to shoulder.
And he tells her how it went.
As she listened to her friend, her feet started to get colder and colder, her knees started to get weaker, and there was a numbness slowly spreading throughout the back of her head. The scale of what he's planning to do seemed so unreal that for a split second she thought it was all one big joke. He kept talking about avoiding making enemies out of the entire Vale last week, and now he's going to do just that. Sure, it's not exactly the whole might of the Vale kingdom, only a fraction on the legit side of the law in fact: thirty out of two hundred, three out of twenty, two out of fifteen police chiefs, a Head of a bank, and one out of five Vice Captains; but all the big shot positions are there. It's one man against the whole system for all intents and purposes. It's clear suicide, and Mors is going through with it.
"...L-look….let's just forget about this whole thing, okay? You don't…you don't have to do this. I'm here, I'll go in there and offer myself up…" He just gently shakes his head. They've been over that. But what is she supposed to do? Let her friend walk into his death or let an bystander die for her sin. Damned if she does, damned if she doesn't. She can feel her eyes getting damp, but she refuses to shed anymore helpless tears. "I'm coming with you."
"Yang, I will tie you up and lock you somewhere remote if that's what it takes to prevent you from coming." Another half-truth, his tone was as if he was wordlessly pleading her not to make him do it.
She kicks the ground in frustration. She can feel her temper starting to flare up.
"Why? You can't tell me you're confident doing this alone! I can fight, I won't weigh you down. Having someone watching your back can't be making things worse! It's my mess, I can't just sit back and just wait to hear you either make it through or dead!" She doesn't know what she'll do if he dies, for her, and she did nothing. Ruby still needs her, so offing herself is out of the question. But she'll probably slip back to cutting herself, and she'll never pick up her gauntlets again.
"You can fight, yeah. But you can fight with Ember Cecilia, which is a very distinct weapon, Yang. It's not going to be hard making the connection back to one Yang Xiao Long at Beacon, who is a capable Aura user, and a blonde. It was a damn miracle that the info on Mr. Junior attacker's weapon was not leaked somehow. If it was just the average gangs and thugs, I'll be okay with you using a shotgun or something. But we have the Vice Captain of the Valean Knights on our list. If you can't fight at your best, you shouldn't fight at all."
He's right, the blonde bites her lips, he's fucking right. She has to be rational here, she's done enough damage being stupid. She feels a slight sting coming from her right palm. Opening it up, it comes a little bloody. She has dug her nails into it. The wound healed itself as soon as she paid attention to it, but she knows it was a sign she's starting to fall back into the old self-harming habit, hence her Aura didn't stop the cut. She kinda knows the reason. She's just really realized what a great person this big guy sitting next to her is, and she's starting to let him get close, too, how could she not, when he's going this far for her? And she might be losing him soon, another one that got away. Her fists tighten up.
A large hand gently covers hers, and massages its knuckles. Mors has taken off his metal gauntlet. His hand is rough with callouses, crisscrossing with scars like cracks on glass, but it is amazingly warm.
"...Do you…do you really need to come with me? We…might be dead by the morning. What happens to Ruby then? She'll be devastated."
"I know…I know…" She croaks "I know…But…I…I can't just sit and do nothing and wonder what's happening to you, Mors. It might be the best if you actually lock me up somewhere."
"I…" Mors slumps. He cranes his neck and stares at the sky, the moon, in particular. The boy absentmindedly draws circles with his thumb on the back of her hand as he's lost in thoughts. She resists the urge to open her hand to lace her fingers into his. Not the time, not her normal mental state, and wouldn't be right at all.
"Fine…" He breathes out. He's backing down. Another hard compromise, for her. There was no joy, but she could feel relief washed over her. And Mors felt it too, through her hand. His mouth quirks up in an ironic smile. "What the hell, the Mors the merrier, right?" She chuckles dryly.
"Sure, let's go all in and do this with a Yang."
Anddd I think this is a good point to stop the chapter. It's quite liberating to sidetrack from canon a little bit. But with it comes the risk of characters getting to OOC and creating plot holes. Sure was fun, tho.
I'm kinda torn on whether to involve Ozpin and Glynda into this arc. True enough that children should go to adults when they're involved in something way over their heads. But Mors is not exactly a normal kid. And Yang, well, seeing how badly she's involved Mors into her mess, surely has some reservations on troubling anymore people. But who knows…it heavily depends on where the story leads. If things got too messy, I might have to pull a Deus Ex Machina.
RnR