The room was lit by a pair of lamps, casting the three men occupying the room in a gloomy light as they quietly discussed their current transaction.
Sitting behind a large and imposing desk was a stern, suit clad man whose dark hair was swept down across his brow, a missing eye hidden behind an eyepatch. He was clearly getting into his middle years, from the lines wearing his features and the tired air that he carried about him.
Opposite him were two bespectacled young men, who were watching the stern man as best they could, due to the nature of their negotiations.
One of them was blond, had blue eyes, and was idly blinking behind his glasses as they'd caught the light and were giving off quite the glare. He wasn't the tallest of men, or the most muscular, but he clearly put work into staying fit and ready. His hand rested at a holster by his side, which contained what looked to be a game system, rather than any sort of weapon.
The other man had black hair and brown eyes, and unlike his companion, he was trying his best not to let any of his nervousness show on his face. His build was leaner, lacking in both fat and muscle, but he wasn't so thin as to look like a slight breeze would knock him over. He had both hands on his lap, though, one was idly scratching at his pants, trying and failing to get rid of an itch that just wouldn't go away.
"The fact of the matter is that the two of you are currently necessary to the Kirijo Group's operations here in Tatsumi Port Island. Originally, we'd planned not to bring in people who work with your… coworkers…," the eyepatched man trailed off there, his mouth twisting in distaste as he said the last word. "But, we've recently had to deal with incursions by people referring to themselves as 'members of the Cult of Gaea.'"
"That is…" the blond narrowed his eyes as he thought on the matter. "Rather disturbing, in all honesty. Did they say just what they were doing in the area?"
The cyclops leaned back in his seat, the shadows casting his face in a grim cast as he answered, "No, they were incredibly uncooperative outside of the name of their group."
"Concerning, to say the least." The black haired man frowned, before leaning forward slightly. "I hate to say this, but if they're around, then that probably means the Order is in the area too..."
"The Order?" questioned the older of the trio, his sole eye narrowed in contemplation.
The blond nodded, "The Messian Order, they're essentially the opposites of the Cult of Gaea. The so-called 'law' to the Gaeans 'chaos.' Neither side is necessarily evil, but they don't exactly have the best of intentions for humanity in the long run."
"That's a good enough summary, to be honest." His companion interjected. "They're both extremists, with all that connotation entails. Not good news in the slightest."
"That would mean that there's more troublemakers on their way, which is something of an issue, given that the Kirijo Group are currently investigating a rather sensitive subject. Additionally, they keep bringing coworkers akin to yours, which makes it all the more difficult for us," the middle aged man groused.
"Things could get hairy with both groups around, definitely," the lean man breathed in, a tiny bit of annoyance leaking through. "It might prove to be a delicate situation, but we could definitely do something about it."
"Is there no way to push them out completely in a small amount of time? Given how… Expanse-born beings can affect the space-time continuum, having the likes of these cultists around would make current investigations difficult," inquired the dark haired man as he tapped a folder sitting on his desk, scowling at it.
The blond leaned back in his seat as he steepled his fingers, thinking on the subject as he muttered, "The issue is that they clearly have some sort of goal, and they're unlikely to falter in pursuit of it unless the heads of their respective groups are cut off. Even then, their leaders are usually quite good at flying below the radar."
"True, though we can still hamper their operations and investigate just what is it that they want this time around," the black haired man mused. "I must say that strokes of luck that would allow for a hard push like the one you'd require are not unheard of, though. Especially in our line of work."
"The fact that such pushes are usually accompanying apocalyptic events is something of an issue though," the blond muttered out the side of his mouth, keeping his volume low enough to keep the other person out of the loop. He then leaned forward, hiding the lower half of his face behind his hands as he continued, "To be perfectly honest, we would be willing to help you out with your current issue as best we can, if only due to a natural animosity towards the cults."
The eyepatched man didn't make a sound as he studied the two for a few quiet moments, eventually letting out a sigh. "It's not ideal, but if keeping two Expanse experts on hand will deter the incursions of others, and their Expanse-born, it would likely help keep things from spiralling too far out of control."
The two nodded in response. Truth be told, if the Gaeans and Messians were involved, then it very likely would spiral out of control real hard, but getting involved might be enough to make sure the spiral didn't land in either of the ends of the spectrum of horribleness.
"While I would prefer to handle this in house, as it were, needs must and the ASSW program has been suspended for good reason," the man grumbled as he pulled a sheaf of papers from his desk, placing it down on the side near them. "I'm willing to hire the two of you on to deal with them, as it appears that it is necessary."
The younger men shared a look, and the blond took the pen that was offered to them, readying to sign his name.
"We accept this fate of our own free will."
His companion had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes right there and there.
'Trent, you absolute Drama Queen.' Alphonse thought wryly.
The two men left the building at a steady walk. Alphonse sighed loudly even as a smile formed on his lips.
"Well, we did it," he remarked. "I honestly thought it would be a lot more tense, but I'm glad it wasn't."
The blond shook his head as he shoved his hands into his pockets, an easy grin on his face. "Well, on the upside, we won't have to accept that offer from the Thule Society."
His companion shuddered upon hearing the organization's name. "Yeah, no. Thank God we didn't have to do that." He glanced at Trent with a lopsided grin. "Sides, it was you who got the offer, not me. So I would have been your...slave? Manservant? Gimp?"
"Only in uncultured company, I assure you," Trent joked, his fingers idly tracing the portable computer weighing heavily in his pocket. "Besides, what the actual fuck would we do with a job that pays in silver pieces? In this day and age? In this economy?"
"Maybe exchange it with them? Kind of as if it was a company paying in its own bonds," Alphonse hazarded a guess, "or maybe we'd need to go to Spain and exchange it with some guy in a trenchcoat asking us what are we buying."
"I highly doubt that we'd be able to fence the arms we'd acquire from such a transaction, though it's an interesting idea. The first one's a farce and a half, and you know it," the Canuck retorted, eyes focused ahead as they ambled away.
"It is and that's exactly why I think it'd be like that, man," the Mexican shrugged, "either way, I'm glad we landed this job instead."
The blond hummed, and after a moment declared, "Maybe they'd pay you in shares, in order to keep you in their nefarious slavery-grasp…"
"And no, we don't get to exchange the shares for anything else." Alphonse mused. "Brilliant."
"For next job, why don't we see if anyone wants to tear down the Thule Society?" Trent offered as he fished a pack of gum out of one of his pockets. He wanted to chew on something at that moment, and gum was better than grinding his teeth.
"Sounds like a hoot and a half, but first we gotta run recon." The Mexican added the caveat while rising a finger. "It wouldn't do if it turned out that the Last Battalion existed and it wasn't just because it got retconned into existence by all that Sumaru city horseshit."
"Quite," the blond murmured as he popped a spearmint stick into his mouth, chewing it quickly into a malleable blob and blowing a small bubble. "Now, the issue will be whether or not the Gaeans and Messians will be easy to kick out or not."
"We can only hope it's the former." Alphonse sighed and shook his head before putting both hands into his pockets. "But it'll all depend on whether or not we're looking at one of the big incidents in the making or not; as long as we don't find Lou or Met around, we're probably good."
"Those are the two to be wary of, but then again, it's not unlike them to work through intermediaries before actually hitting the stage themselves," Trent replied as he cracked a knuckle, somewhat disquieted by the idea of running in with the high ranking demons.
They headed towards downtown Iwatodai, intent on gathering their things before heading to where they'd be stationed for the duration of the operation. It had been a small, cheap hotel, but either way they'd planned to be out of it quickly, regardless of how the job interview went.
Eying the skyline, the blond hummed, "So, you think 'Lanta would be willing to run recon around the general area, or should we wait until later this evening and do a half and half run around the city?"
"She'd probably be ok with it, but I'd say we first introduce ourselves and our partners to our co-workers," the Mexican said, "that way they won't get spooked if they run into them."
"If they get spooked by Dul and Bryn, they're cowards. Only cowards are scared of tall women," Trent declared definitively, raising his nose into the air with a haughty sniff.
"I mean, no shit," Alphonse shrugged, "but you know what I mean; to normal human senses, they're...interesting-looking, but unremarkable besides. To supernatural ones..." The man let the words hang in the air.
The blond chuckled a little, "Oh, you mean like that minor medium we encountered in Wichita, who ran screaming from me because I have 'death looming around me like a dear friend?'"
"That and that one time a guy started convulsing and frothing at the mouth over at Yucatan because he caught a glimpse of Dogo." The dark haired man scratched at his chin. "Didn't even know what he was, but it was pretty uncomfortable all around."
"Their weakness is only their sin, not ours," Trent declared with a finger wag. "It's not our job to coddle the many psychics and medicine people of the world, only to yeet demons from it."
"True as that might be, it's our job currently is to keep a bunch of cultists out of the city where our employer's daughter is based on," Alphonse replied, "and while there weren't any instructions to coddle her, I don't think the cyclopean man will be too pleased if something of the sort happened with her."
"I'm fairly sure that she'll be used to Dul loudly complaining about the lack of death and maiming in rugby matches by the end of the first week," the Canuck snorted, remembering just how the demon in question had acclimated to present times.
"She will have to, but we're losing the thread of the conversation, Trent." the Mexican rolled his eyes. "I'm fine with having 'Lanta scout around if you really want her to, but I think it'd be better to wait until after we've introduced ourselves. I'm leaving the call in your hands."
"Hm, probably best just to hit them with the full shock and awe of our… mortally challenged allies, see if they break or not, before actually starting up the scouting," the blond conceded with a shrug, blowing another spearmint bubble. "Hopefully this lot'll be made of stern stuff."
"If 'Mitsuru's' anything like her old man, she'll probably be." Alphonse shrugged, taking a look around him. The city was buzzing with life, as expected, and with any hope it'd stay that way until the job was done.
A thought occurred to the Mexican as they approached a bus stop.
"So...we'll be the dormkeepers." He said with a smile before stretching both arms, the limbs giving a satisfying crack. "Now that I think about it, I guess that means I could take over the kitchen without looking too weird, huh?"
"Probably, though I've no illusions that the children won't find their own ways and reasons to complain," Trent agreed with a bob of his head. "Then again, they'll probably also eat through the deserts I'll be baking so… suffering for both of us, in unique ways, as it were."
"Hey, if they want to have a whacky pizza party instead of eating my stuff, I won't begrudge them," Alphonse snickered, "but as long as I get them to eat one of my family recipes, I'll call it a win."
"What a low bar to clear," the blond chortled, blowing another bubble as he shuffled his coat on his shoulders against the brisk March winds.
"It's Mexican food, man. What might seem like mild spice to me could be some serious anus-destroying concoction to others." With a smirk, the dark haired man shrugged one last time. "There's a good reason I'm setting it this low."
"Those are the ways and words of cowards, as you know," Trent declared snootily, a small grin playing across his lips. "They shall be tested, and if they are worthy, they shall remain. The unworthy, shall gulp milk like bitches."
"Such is the way of things." Alphonse replied with a chuckle.
The two strode into the city they would be calling home for the foreseeable future, their camaraderie and joviality masking worries about their opposition, all while trying to plan as best they could. Despite the image of courage they presented, they both knew just how terribly vulnerable they were, and thus worried quietly.
But when one's path is as dark as theirs, then it falls to them to joke and laugh to light it up.