Sundays are the slowest nights at Chupa Cabra's. There are fewer dancers, fewer servers - even the music isn't as loud. It makes Giriko twitchy. Twitchier. He doesn't deal well with the quiet, doesn't like solitude unless it's just him and a broad or maybe the sound of cracking skulls. He's not a picky guy. Tonight's been far too quiet.
Quiet enough that when his cell goes off and he sees it's Medusa, he doesn't keep her waiting like he would normally. Boredom far outweighs his inherent dislike of the woman.
"What?"
"We have a situation. Meet me in my office." She doesn't even wait for an affirmation, and Giriko glares at the phone in irritation. He wouldn't mind this assignment from Arachne so much if Medusa weren't such a raging bitch all the time. He pushes back from his table noisily, conscious of the wary glances from the few other patrons and several of the staff. He smirks, enjoying their attentiveness and knowing that it's the result of their fear, and chucks back the rest of his Jack and Coke.
He makes his way back towards the private rooms and briefly catches the eye of Blair. There is nothing nice in the way he leers at her, teeth bared. She smiles back, but there's a tightness to her mouth and around her eyes that he doesn't miss. He knows that look and the fear behind it; he knows that the buxom club manager would sooner see him knifed in an alley than have to play nice with him, and he knows that she'd never dare. Giriko is secure in his position - both in Arachnophobia and within Chupa Cabra's. The only one here who could challenge him is Medusa, and she wouldn't dare harm Arachne's favorite lieutenant, especially not while he's only on loan to her.
It's even quieter in the hall, despite the noise of his shoes on the marble floor. He slips into a dead-end corridor and presses and holds down a small, slightly off-colored bit of molding. Giriko grins to himself. He has to hand it to Medusa - if she hadn't shown him this little trick, he's not sure he ever would have found her secret office. After a moment, the wall swings open with a whisper.
For a second, Giriko could swear that he saw something small and metallic flash, but it's gone in an instant, and he puts it out of his mind as he sets into Medusa's office.
She's arranged it so her desk is the first thing he sees as he comes in, massive and made of some kind of dark, shiny wood that screams "expensive" and "I'm overcompensating." Giriko doesn't bother resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Medusa smiles thinly and makes an expansive gesture.
"Sit," she says, and it's clearly not an invitation. He contemplates standing for a moment, just to irritate her, but he's lazy, and at least her furniture is comfortable. Medusa sips at her drink, eyes never leaving his face. Giriko crosses his arms and waits because he's not going to give her the satisfaction of letting the silence get to him. "We've got a problem," she finally says.
"So you mentioned. What about it?"
"You recall your little...incident at the warehouse the other day?"
Giriko grits his teeth. "That wasn't. My. Fault." He doesn't care how neutral her voice may sound, it still drips with accusation in his ears.
She raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "Ultimately, I don't care whose fault it was, it was your responsibility. My shipment is still gone. I sent Chrona to investigate the scene of your failure - "
He can hear the sneer in her voice this time. She doesn't bother trying to hide it, and it might bother him except he doesn't really give a fuck about what Medusa thinks of him. Really.
"Investigate what? I told you, it was that shitty Star clan leftover and his little buddy, Eater."
"So you've said. But it never hurts to be thorough, does it, Giriko? Not everything is what it seems on the surface," she says, lips curling mockingly. "Perhaps that's a lesson you ought to learn."
There's something in her voice, in her words, that rankles Giriko, something more than just the snide insinuation of his shortcomings; he can't quite figure out what her angle is and just what, exactly, she's hinting at. Not for the first time, Giriko wonders why Arachne sent him to watch Medusa if she didn't want the woman killed. He tells himself that he deserves a medal for his restraint. "So, what does this have to do with me?"
"Chrona should have reported back to me more than an hour ago. You're going to go check and make sure that nothing's gone wrong for my little pet."
Giriko knows Chrona, and while he doesn't know everything, he knows that the freak is so far gone on Medusa's specialized drug cocktail that he doubts they still have the mental capacity to remember what orders Medusa gave in the first place. "And if something has gone wrong for your little pet?"
"I'm sure that you'll know how to take care of it, Giriko. That's part of why my darling sister lent you out to me, isn't it?"
He grunts in response and stands. He's almost at the door when he turns and gives her a look. "And what if the problem's with your pet?"
She doesn't bother looking up from the papers at her desk. "Then perhaps it's time for a new pet. It wouldn't be the first time one has outlived its usefulness." Giriko marvels at the cold flatness of her voice. "I trust you'll keep me informed, Giriko."
He grunts again, shrugging a shoulder as he leaves.
The first thing he sees when he pulls up to the warehouse is a bright orange motorcycle that makes his blood boil. Giriko isn't sure whether to feel smug or irritated. He knew that Eater was involved in this clusterfuck, and as far as he's concerned, this just proves that he was the one who made off with that shipment. Grinning, Giriko cracks his knuckles. If there's any sort of justice in the universe, Eater's bike means he's still hanging around, and Giriko wants to see the look of surprise on that albino fuck's face when he beats the shit out of him - this time without any obnoxious sluts or uppity blue-haired freaks to get in the way.
He parks in the street, not wanting to be seen if his prey is still in the area, and slinks into the warehouse compound. Giriko checks inside the warehouse closest to Eater's bike first. This was where the exchange should have taken place to begin with, and he's surprised when he finds no trace of either Eater or Chrona. The warehouse is quiet, too - the kind that sets his teeth on edge. Jaw clenched, he moves through the warehouse. His eyes miss the scuff marks on the floor, but not the fact that the door into the next building has been jimmied - almost expertly - but still jimmied.
Quietly, he unholsters his gun, checking the safety. He's not sure just what he'll find on the other side of that door, and for one brief moment, Giriko wishes he used a gun more often. But hell, it's only Eater, and he's never seen the little prick bother with packing heat before. Why should this time be any different? Besides, what he lacks in aim, he's pretty sure he can make up for in quickness. A spray of bullets will get that little bastard dead enough. Giriko can feel his heart beat just a little faster, senses heightened as he stares down the door.
All or nothing.
He slams his foot against the warehouse door and it offers no resistance, slamming inward. Giriko knows what he's expecting. The problem is, it doesn't even remotely match up to what he finds, which is Chrona in the middle of the warehouse floor, writhing in what he's pretty sure is agony. Giriko finds it hard to judge because the kid is curled against the concrete, muttering non-stop, cheeks wet with tears, despite the fact that both kneecaps look busted. In spite of his dislike of Chrona, Giriko is more than a little impressed.
He takes a moment to check out the rest of the warehouse. There's not a single soul in sight, and very little in the way of hiding places. On the floor, Chrona begins to giggle hysterically, and Giriko revises his opinion somewhat as he puts away his gun and takes out his cell. Medusa picks up on the second ring.
"Yes?"
"I found your pet," he sneers, nudging the figure with his boot.
"And?"
"The kid's pretty fucked up."
"Any idea who the culprit was?"
"Eater's fuglyass bike is parked loud and proud outside, so I'd say that's a pretty good indicator."
"And is Eater still there?"
"Nah, looks like he hightailed it the fuck outta here. Probably with Black*Star if I had to guess." Chrona twists a little, and Giriko notes the broken wrist with mild disinterest. Eyes wide and staring, Chrona begins to mutter loud enough that Giriko can actually make out the words.
"Clean gotta clean she said to clean no ties cutcutcut," the words are hurried and strained. Over the phone, Giriko can feel Medusa's interest.
"What's that?"
"Muttering," Giriko snaps and holds the cell towards his charge.
"Shesaid...said...not supposed to be here, nononoragnarock - made a mess gotta clean Ma - " Chrona cuts off with a strangled gasp of pain just as Giriko starts to get interested.
"Chatty little thing, huh?"
Medusa's voice is eerily calm. "Indeed. Can you make anything of it?"
Giriko rolls his shoulders. "It's all gibberish to me. Your pet's pretty fucked in the head, you know? Way the place reads though, I think I was right about our little friend Eater and his buddy."
"You still think they're trying to scam me? Stealing my shipments?"
He doesn't know what to make of the sudden amusement in her voice. "It looks pretty fucking clear from where I'm standing. Why else would Eater be here?"
At her desk, phone pressed casually between her shoulder and ear, Medusa smiles. This is better than anything she could have cooked up. Why else, indeed. Once again, she finds herself grateful that Arachne saddled her with such a malleable pawn. "Perhaps we do have a little rat in our ranks, then. How badly is Chrona hurt?"
The non-sequitur throws him for a second. "Uhh, shattered knees. Fucked up wrist. Eater and Star were pretty thorough."
"You think they were trying to get Chrona to talk?"
Her words spark something in Giriko, and he looks at the whimpering lackey with new eyes. Could Eater and Black*Star have done this just to get information from Chrona? If so, why didn't they finish the job? "They must've been," he mutters after a long moment. "I bet they got scared off when they heard me pull up, and ran, and that's why Eater's bike's still here and Chrona isn't maggot bait right now."
She doesn't chuckle over the line, but it's a close thing. "Hm," she says instead, injecting just the right amount of consideration and thoughtfulness into her tone. "If they tried to get Chrona to talk, you had better find out just what they know now."
"How you want me to take care of that?" Giriko stares at the pink-haired mess on the floor. He's got a couple of ideas already.
"I'm sure you'll come up with something. I think it's time for a new pet, afterall," she echoes their earlier conversation and Giriko's mouth curls sadistically as he ends the call.
Miles away, Medusa hangs up and pours herself another drink, secure in the knowledge that her not so little deceit is safe.
He's just wiping the blood off his favorite knife - a serrated, nasty piece of work - when the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Giriko isn't the smartest, but he's always been canny and he doesn't ignore his instincts. It's given him a relatively long and very lucrative career as a bad man.
He looks down at the bloody mess on the concrete and wonders for the first time if he's perhaps enjoyed his task just a little too much. There isn't much to look at anymore, just a lot of cherry black blood and the faint rise and fall of Chrona's rasping breath. The freak had been uncooperative at best, though Giriko couldn't really blame Chrona for that. The kid was already so pumped full of drugs, brain addled and rotting, that it's a wonder he got even the gibberish he did. It was frustrating, and he let himself get just a little out of hand.
However, it wasn't like Medusa frequently gave him the go ahead to free-for-all. Really, his enthusiasm was more than understandable.
Confident that he'd gotten all he could out of Medusa's little pet, he traded his knife for his gun. "I figure," he says after a long moment, "you've earned this." Chrona's eyes, pale and gray flicker rapidly and Giriko smiles, cocking the hammer.
Which is the precise moment when the prickle on the back of his neck turns into sirens. Giriko freezes for a moment. His car is on the street. If he goes now, he can get away. Below him, Chrona struggles for another breath. The blood is sluggish, but still flowing, and Giriko knows what death looks like. He holsters his gun once more and eases out of the building. The cops aren't there yet, but he can see the approaching flicker of blue and red.
By the time they arrive, Giriko has slipped into the driver's seat of his car, slumping low enough that he's completely out of sight. He hears the slamming of doors, and the shouts of the police, and starts his engine. It purrs to life, and he eases away from the curb, headlights off. Giriko is not the most intelligent, no. But he's clever and quick, and confident of the job he's done. Most importantly, he's away from the warehouse before any of the officers remember there might have been a car parked on the street.
Kid had worked very hard to not jump to conclusions once he hung up with Albarn, but ultimately, it was a losing battle. He had thrown on clothes and grabbed his shield and carefully pulled the covers up on his side of the bed, all while attempting to keep his mind as blank as possible. He called ahead for a couple of squad cars and thrown his emergency light on the hood of his personal vehicle, increasingly elaborate visions of what was waiting for him dancing in his brain.
The reality is, unsurprisingly, nothing like his overactive imagination. In a lot of ways, he's relieved. In others, he's bone-weary of the song and dance that he and his precinct have gone through in the last couple of years. He wants this Medusa business done and case closed. He wants this to be the big break they're looking for.
Instead, he finds a dilapidated warehouse with Agent Evans' bike out front and no sign of anyone else. They kill the sirens as soon as they pull into the lot, but leave the lights flashing. The flicker against worn buildings is both a warning and a promise. Then, with careful precision, they make their way through the warehouses. When they find Chrona, even Kid's overactive imagination has a hard time coping.
He'd thought he might find a lot of things, but he hadn't expected anything like this. Unless Maka was lying to him, someone else had gotten to Chrona in the hours since Maka and Soul had left. He blanches as the sickly copper smell invades his nose, more familiar than he'd like, and he wants to be sick. He's already got his radio out, calling in the paramedics.
Kid never thought he'd be here again, standing over Chrona's body. The difference is that this time the kid isn't a cop, isn't one of his, and, as far as he can tell, Chrona is still breathing. Barely, but it's enough. He sends the rest of his team to search the other buildings. Since they're here, he's going to get as much as they can from the damn place.
Mind working frantically, he stays with his former officer until the familiar scream of the ambulance arrives, and they load Chrona up. He radios for a small detail to meet the ambulance at DC General, then turns and shakes off the heavy weight on his heart. He's got a scene to monitor, and an exhumation order he needs to authorize.
Chupa Cabra's hasn't livened up much since Giriko left, and he's eager to conclude his business with Medusa and find his own entertainment for the rest of the night. The adrenaline from his interrogation and subsequent successful escape is still coursing through his veins and he wants nothing more than a few corner girls no one's going to miss for the rest of the night and maybe part of tomorrow.
Sunshine's on the stage, but he barely glances at her; Giriko doesn't waste time, just strides to the back of the club and into Medusa's private office, skin twitching. He feels powerful, and he likes that, likes looking at Medusa when he feels like this - like she's nothing and doesn't have control over him.
"Is it taken care of?" She only barely glances up at him, as if sensing his mood and refusing to give him the satisfaction.
"You should probably start looking for a new pet," he confirms, teeth sharp as he grins.
Medusa gives him a secretive smile. "Perhaps. Did you learn what I needed?"
"There wasn't much left in that fruitloop to learn. I got nothing but gibberish out of Chrona, and I doubt Eater got much more than that."
Her eyes narrow. "Humor me. What did Chrona say?"
Giriko shrugs a shoulder. "Spent a lot of time muttering about being clean. Something about someone not being where they should be or who they should be?"
"Any names?" Medusa grips the arm of her chair a little tighter and keeps her voice as even as possible.
"Nothing I really could make out. A couple of half-witted 'ma's." Giriko sniggers a little at that. "Calling for mama - now if that isn't the oldest trick in the book."
"Anything else?"
"Something about a...rag-a-lock," he stumbles over the unfamiliar syllables. "Kept talking about a 'she,' but no specifics. The kid kept talking about being dead." He smirks. "Hey, maybe they was some kind of fortuneteller, huh?" Giriko laughs, but it dies off when he realizes that Medusa isn't sharing his joke. "That's it. I don't think Eater got shit out of Chrona. Fuck knows I didn't, and I spent a lot of time and care making sure that I did. Either way, the kid's not talking to anyone now. I made sure of that before I had to run."
Her eyes narrow. "Had to run?"
"Yeah. Just as I was finishing up, I got sirens, and then I got the fuck out."
Medusa is quiet for a long moment. Finally, she lets out a slow breath and gives her lackey a measured smile. "Well then. Good work, Giriko. You can expect your regular bonus." She pauses, finger tapping thoughtfully on her chin. "And perhaps a little something extra for an exceptional job."
"That's what I'm fucking talking about."
He leaves soon after. Medusa doesn't want to know where he intends to go, and blocks out his cheerful prattle. Giriko's love of wanton violence and sadistic tendencies irritates her, but he's a necessary pawn and she can afford to keep his leash a little loose.
Losing Chrona was something that she knew was going to happen eventually, and she can't complain, really. She got more than her share of use out of her "little pet," and even though her experiments weren't fully finished, she has more than enough data from Chrona's prolonged exposure to Black Blood.
Giriko's comments about the sudden arrival of the DCPD and the involvement of both Eater and Black*Star have her mind churning. She's close to implementing the last few stages of her biggest operation yet, and the last thing that she needs is some undercover fuckheads messing up her plans for Arachnophobia. She doesn't like the idea that they might have been able to glean any information at all from Chrona, but given what Giriko was able to learn, she's not too worried. She's pretty sure that she's the only person who can pull together the garbled nonsense from Chrona's fragmented brain into something that makes sense.
She smiles and stands, stretching. Oh well, she thinks. Forewarned is forearmed, and she's got all the cards neatly stacked in her favor. She's dealt with the DCPD before.
She gets the call from Kid sometime in the wee hours of the morning, and for a long moment, Maka doesn't remember where she is. Kid is telling her something that she tries to focus on, but she's still mostly asleep and trying to not remember the dream she'd been having.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" Kid's sigh is loud in her ear, and she struggles to pay attention.
"I said that we were successful in our extraction. Everything was just as you said it was, and we secured both Chrona and Evans' bike."
She can feel a little bit of the tension in her shoulders ease, though it doesn't do much for the headache she can feel beginning. "Oh, that's...good." Except she's greeted with a heavy silence from her boss, and the tension is back in full force. "Or isn't it? Captain?"
She can hear Kid's soft exhale over the receiver, and she sits up, the last of the fog clearing from her brain. "It's complicated," he says finally.
"How?"
"Someone got to Chrona after you lot cleared out and before we could get there. We're not sure who, exactly, but it was messy. Very, very messy."
Her mind recalls the sound of Chrona's bones shattering and the feel of it through her asp and she thinks that she's going to be sick. She swallows back the bile, and forces her words out. "How messy?"
"Well, Chrona was still breathing when we got there, but it was close. Severe lacerations in addition to the - other damage. And there's no telling what frame of mind - "
"There's not much frame of mind there, Kid," Maka whispers. "There's a reason I had to break bones; it was like Chrona didn't recognize me, even a little. I got the wrist first, and you know that's usually enough to stop someone. Chrona didn't even hesitate - it was like all sense of pain was cut off." She can't even pretend this doesn't affect her.
"I'll let the doctors know," Kid assures her. It's not as comforting as she hopes. "In the meantime, since we definitely know Chrona's alive now, we're going ahead with the exhumation."
"Who'd you find?"
"Erm. Mjolnir was the only one who would pick up."
"Marie 'The Hammer' Mjolnir? I can't figure out if that's going to work in our favor or not. Jesus, Kid."
"She was the only one who would pick up at 4 AM."
Maka can't help but crack a small smile at the petulant tone in her boss's voice. "Well, you're the one who's going to have to deal with her." Kid's noncommittal noise on the other end of the line is not as reassuring as she would like, but she's too tired to fight at the moment.
"The important thing is that she signed the order. We'll start in the morning."
"It isn't morning?"
"Well, at first light. You want to be there?"
For a moment, she's torn. On the one hand, yes. She thought she'd buried her friend, and this was something like closure. On the other, she had a partner who needed looking after, and after the events of last night, she wasn't entirely sure that she'd be able to hold herself together.
"Are you taking the body to Stein?"
"Yes."
She lets out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Ok. Call me when you do. I need to get those pills from him anyway."
"I'll let you know." Kid stops, and for a second, she thinks that they're done. "Good work out there, Albarn. Both you and Evans." He can't see her wince, and for that she's eternally grateful.
"Thanks Captain," she says automatically. She hangs up and slumps back down on the futon.
It doesn't feel like good work. It still feels like failure. Failure to keep her charges safe back then and failure to keep her own partner safe now. Her phone is still loosely in her grip, and she checks the time. 4:45 AM.
She wants to go back to bed, but she's not sure that she can. The ceiling calls to her and when she looks at her phone again, still wide awake, it's only 4:50. With a sigh, she slides off the futon and paces around the efficiency. It doesn't take her long to make a complete circuit...about six times. She doesn't even realize she's doing it until she finds her feet slowing outside of Soul's door.
It's a breach of privacy, and she knows that she shouldn't, but she carefully twists the handle on his door and creeps in as quietly as she can. Her partner's still sleeping, and she envies him that, even if it is a fitful slumber. She worries about that a little - that's he's going to strain something or bust a stitch and be in even more pain. She already feels guilty enough.
As carefully as she opened his door, she reaches out and ghosts her hand along his. He stills, and she fears for a moment that she's woken him up. Instead, he just grunts a little and appears to continue sleeping soundly. He stays quiet, and with a small sigh of her own, Maka slumps down onto the floor. Her head falls to the side, and the side of his mattress isn't so bad and she'll just sit there for a moment and make sure that Soul doesn't start twitching again. Just in case.
He's not sure what it is that wakes him up. His back aches in the way that it does when he's been sleeping on his back for too long, but that's nothing compared to the deep, sharp ache in his chest. He's about to sit up when he hears a faint snore coming from the side of his bed.
Soul's eyebrows creep steadily towards his hairline when he catches a glimpse of pale brown hair peeking up past the edge of his mattress. Carefully, mindful of the stitches pulling at his skin, he confirms that his partner has fallen asleep on the floor, leaning against his bed. He can't help the smile that spreads across his face as he reaches out and rests his hand on her crown.
"Makaaa - hey, Maka," he whispers. She stirs faintly against his palm and he fights faint quickening he can feel in his chest. "Maakaaaaa."
She groans softly and he holds his breath, and then he can feel Maka come awake all at once; her body tenses and her head jerks under his hand. "Soul?"
"Hey." His voice is gravelly from sleep and she recognizes that low tone as what dragged her from her nap in the first place. Her face heats up.
"Is everything ok?" She doesn't look up at him.
"Yeah. Why are you on the floor?"
She doesn't have a response for that that she wants to share. How does she tell him that she was worried and guilty and that she still feels like she's going to be sick? "I - "
"You know, that's a really shitty place to sleep. Uncomfortable as fuck, and I speak from experience."
His words distract her. "Spend a lot of nights on the floor?" she asks, taking a chance to look up at him finally.
"I was actually talking about the futon," he grins. "But the floor's not much better." He doesn't think about the way his fingers have started tangling themselves in her hair, and Soul wonders if she knows she's leaning into his touch.
"It wasn't too bad," she protests.
"Mm. Then why are you in here?"
She tenses again, and for a long moment, he's positive that he pushed too much, and she's going to pull away. "Just checking on you," she finally says, voice carefully light.
He's not stupid. He knows the toll that the last day's taken on his partner, and no matter how much she tries to remain nonchalant, he's not fooled for one minute. He sucks in a breath and takes a chance. "Then check up on me up here." He removes his hand slowly and lets his words sink in.
He has to remind himself to breathe when she finally stands. Her eyes are the greenest he's ever seen, and they make his chest hurt in a whole different way.
"Well? Are you going to move over, Agent Tubs?"