Silicon grit and dirt crunched under the tires of the travel worn roadster as it shook to a stop, the engine protesting in its old age. The dented and rusty fender pulled up mere inches from what was, no matter how unlikely so, an old adobe building. Amazing that, even now, something like this could still stand. A slender hand reached up to wipe a trickle of sweat away from an arched eyebrow, sunglasses slung low on the bridge of the nose. It was scorching... maybe the sun had just burnt the buildings into place for eternity, turning them into indestructible stone, not mere mud-brick buildings. How else could they stand, when so much around them had fallen?
The amount of force it took to open the rusted, aging door was only exceeded by the screech of protest let loose by its hinges. The raucous cry resounded off the buildings, making Faye Valentine wince. So much for being inconspicuous, but, then again that had never been her style. A trio of aging vaqueros quit their heated, rapid fire arguing to look up and see what all the fuss was about. She swung her legs out, her feet finding little comfort in the heat that came from the packed earth and seemed to burn its way through the soles of her boots almost instantly. Mewling noises came from under the car as a fat black and white tabby brushed against her ankles and twined through her legs before wandering back to the old men. Wrinkling her nose in an attempt not to sneeze, she looked around at this place. It wasn't right to even call it a town anymore, if it had ever been one to begin with.
"This had better be worth it," she bristled inwardly.
Why anyone would bother with this town, much less the entire stupid planet was beyond her. She kicked the side panel of the car and smirked in subdued glee when it left a blue centered dent in the dust covered monstrosity.
Slowly she headed in the direction of the porch where the men sat, stationed around an old circular card table. It had once had a green felt top, but like the rest of the town, was now covered in the same neutral tones as everything else. Even the old men themselves seemed to blend in to the essence that permeated everything in this town. Head down, Faye walked into the shade of the overhang and casually pulled her sunglasses to the top of her head, pushing back sweat drenched bangs in the process. She attempted to smile in what she thought was a non-predatory manner and approached the table. Thankfully, the men's attention never seemed to focus above chest level. She leaned over, splaying her fingers across the edge of the battered tabletop. Faye could have sworn all six eyes across the table from her increased perceptibly in diameter.
"Dónde está Juan Raphael?" she asked, her voice silky but more loud than was probably necessary. Silently she hoped that they'd just point in the general direction, since she really hadn't prepared herself with more than one phrase, and wouldn't be able to understand the answer anyway.
"Quién desea saber?" came a voice unexpectedly from her left.
"Shit," muttered Faye as she straightened herself and glanced left towards the weathered screen door. It figured. Crossing her fingers she replied in English. "I'm looking for Juan Raphael? My name's Faye. Faye Valentine."
A deep chuckle carried out to the porch. "Be right with you... Faye Valentine."
The accent wasn't as heavy as Faye expected it to be. She folded her arms across her chest, unconsciously drawing attention to just how tight the yellow fabric really was. Trying not to look disgusted, and failing miserably, she eyed the door and waited, her impatiently tapping toe stirring up little dust clouds and turning the tip of the white boot an unpolished tan. Sighing audibly, her eyes had just begun to roll upwards when the door creaked in greeting and... she forgot to breathe. He had to be at least six-foot-three, with long black hair pulled back in a ponytail that reached just how far down she didn't know. His eyes were dark as coffee, and the dust that seemed ingrained in everything around didn't seem to even have touched him. Eyeing him coolly she took in his tight white T-shirt and faded old blue jeans, following the line of his legs down to... were those really snakeskin boots? Did people honestly still wear such things?
"Miss Valentine?" That voice again, knocking her out of her reverie. "Please, follow me. Things are a bit more hospitable inside."
Shaking her head imperceptibly to clear it, she followed him, heels of her shoes tapping staccato on the weather-beaten boards of the porch.
Inside the building there were piles of items, glass cases, and what looked like an ancient cooler with a faded red and white logo on the side. As if this had once been a store in another life, and simply had forgotten to be what it was. It wasn't any nicer than it had been outside, and the air was stagnant and oppressive to boot. "Unbelievable," she thought, "I can't believe I talked myself into this." A million woolong wasn't worth this much hassle. It'd been over three weeks since she had started tracking this latest bounty, and she doubted that she'd feel clean again for at least two weeks after she was done.
Weaving in between stacks of things long since useless, they came to a door near the back. As Snakeskin Boots opened the door, Faye was hit with a rush of chill air. A breath caught in her throat as the cold soaked through her sweat drenched outfit and raised goose flesh on her arms and legs. Suddenly she missed the red jacket she had left outside.
"In here," he beckoned to her, graciously allowing her to step in first.
Faye eyed him warily. "Where's Raphael?" she demanded. There was no way she was heading into a darkened hallway with some guy who still wore snakeskin boots.
He laughed, and a chalk white grin split his tanned face. "Me disculpo... I'm sorry. I thought you knew by the way you just followed me in here. I'm Juan Raphael," he said, holding out a strong, callused hand.
Faye grasped his hand firmly, her annoyance at being laughed at coming out in the strength of her grip. She felt like she was squeezing hard enough to break it, but somehow he didn't even seem to notice she was even remotely upset. Those deep, dark eyes just settled on her face, his smile lighting them up as he said, "I'm pleased to meet you finally."
"Yeah, buddy," she thought, "The pleasure's all yours," while she tilted her face to give a coy smile and murmured, "Charmed, I'm sure."
Raphael let go of her hand and propped the door open with his boot heel. "After you, Miss Valentine, please."
Feeling somewhat more secure she took two steps into what was actually a hallway, her footsteps striking a flat, bass sound on industrial metal flooring. She felt Raphael's arm come up around her back and brush her shoulder. She gave a nervous jump, and he chuckled. Damn him. Did he laugh at everything? Faye's cheeks flushed a pale crimson and her eyes narrowed in disgust. A plastic thump was followed by bright fluorescent lighting further down. Raphael once again took the lead as she followed him to a staircase that appeared to lead far down under the adobe structure.
How long had it been nothing but lights and stairs and concrete and those broad shoulders in that tight white shirt? Faye had since noticed that his thick, crow black hair reached all the way to the middle of his back. She had already decided that he wasn't her type. Then again, most men weren't. That didn't stop her from appreciating the sights though, did it? Stifling a yawn, Faye rocked back on her heels as they stopped on a landing possibly six (or had it been five?) floors from the hallway where they had first started. The door was impossibly complex looking and seemed almost a paradox considering where they had walked here from. An Encrypchip key card scanner was placed to the left, with what looked like a well used Printmatch/Voxmatch combination set on the right. Faye furrowed her brow briefly, scowling. "This is some setup. I wonder just what all he's got in here?" she mused to herself.
Raphael fished around in the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out a card with his left hand. He placed his right hand in the slight indentations on the Printmatch reader and swiped the key card through the scanner on his left as he simultaneously spoke a phrase into the door speaker. A series of beeps ensured the machines were working, then two green lights - one from each machine - showed that indeed he had permission to pass into the area beyond. Removing his hand from the plate and tucking the card back in his front pocket he turned to Faye and beckoned her to follow. Faye trailed his footsteps to the chamber inside.
Her jaw dropped involuntarily as her eyes widened and her pupils dilated.
