"Concrete dream flesh, broken shell
Lost soul, lost trace, lost in hell."
Arc 1 "Dirty Laundry", Chapter 2/3
CONTENT WARNING:
This chapter goes into a bit more detail about Mafia business. I don't think it's super bad but just as a heads up, expect drugs, murder, and sexual references.
Everyone has to pay the bills somehow.
Bugs were staring at them as they marched through the blue hallways with purpose in their step, all eyes filled with confusion and perhaps fear at the entourage of red that paraded into their home.
Society tends to operate off of a sense of gravity. Where there are more resources, there will be more people. Where there are more people, there will be more resources, there will be more money, more structure, more opportunities, more power.
Hallownestians naturally gravitated towards their shining silver City of Tears, a lone star in an untamed wasteland. More bugs called it home than not.
And now, a blazing-red meteor was homing in on that gravity, coming in hot.
But their leader paused, halting them as he raised a hand in the air. The strange bugs who hailed from lands beyond all stopped and watched as their master walked up to a cool window, crimson eyes gazing over the vast cityscape below them.
Trickles of water from the endless rainfall were pulled down the window.
So this was the Wyrm's pride.
So this was his other half's antithesis.
A low chuckle rose in Grimm's throat, before it poured over into a cackle that left crowds around them staring. Look at them, standing around and staring like idiots at something so slightly unusual like a maniacal godling. Didn't they have places to be? Was his laughter truly enough to throw their precious routine for a loop?
Well, he wasn't going to complain. First impressions were important, and he was curious to meet not only the Pale Wyrm himself, but the people He governed over.
Was there hope for them yet? Or would it not matter if he burned them all away, all for the sake of something that would outlive all the masses?
Grimm put a hand on his hip, turning back to his Troupe (or the ones he brought down into Hallownest's depths, anyway) with a wide, toothy grin.
"Well! I imagine we won't have too much trouble making a living down here!"
High above the city, far away from the Troupe's crimson parade, a bug was lounging in a hotel room.
He lived between several lavish hotel rooms and penthouses, switching around every few days. Moving around helped with security, as only his closest circle would know where he was at any given time.
His closest circle…
At that thought, he waved over one of his mistresses, a cute little thing in a small dress. He didn't even need to look at her to know; Walsh would know better than to send anyone subpar his way.
He had something he needed to discuss with his circle, a critical development that affected them all. He set down the newspaper he received this information from as the mistress walked up next to him and he whispered into her ear.
"Bring the Four-" He paused, his breath hitching in his throat. "The Three Captains here."
She bowed. "Yes, Director Topaz."
Big numbers were good. Too bad that they just stressed him out.
Numbers, economics, that was always the other guy's thing, not his. But due to a recent, ah, transfer of duties, Walsh now found himself with double the resources, double the money, double the manpower, double the territory, double the command.
The downside of this was that he now had double the work, too, and he was busy enough as it was. Maybe he could advocate for one of his own men to be the new Captain, and push half of this mess onto them? But he didn't know if anyone was good enough for that, either, nor was he willing to insult his memory by swapping him out with a cheap lackey.
"We are not advancing our business into the Northeast sector. I've had this same stance for as long as I've been here, and it's the one thing that's not about to change."
But despite the whirlwind he was working through, he could still remember the important things.
They were at the top floor of the Tower of Love, a skyscraper-sized brothel and bar, a shining pillar of depravity and indulgence to the educated puritans of the streets below. He'd admit, most days he hated the place, almost wishing it collapsed one day while he was out of town. But it brought business, a business that the law didn't want sullying its long arms, so only filthy, filthy men like him could manage it.
It was women, mostly. All dolled up and strutting around; walking advertisements. They even helped with the managers upstairs with the paperwork every now and then; even a brothel wouldn't hire anyone whose only skill is sex. He had one girl lounging over the side of his chair right now, silently begging for attention.
In front of his desk, one of his lackeys, a new guy transferred here after the incident, was visibly taken aback by his proclamation. "Wh- B-But sir!" he cried, "You understand the profit we'd be missing out on, right?! We're already spending so much on defending the area, but it's all going down the drain!"
The veterans of this business watched with tired eyes at the new guy's plea. They knew what not to suggest to their boss, and this poor guy was stumbling blind over every line.
"I-It's like taxes, right?!" the new guy said. "We're offering them such a premium public service; why, some say we're even better than the local guards! Isn't it only fair we take what we've earned? A little money here, a few girls there-"
All four of Walsh's fists slammed on his desk, startling the newbie silent.
Everyone in the room tensed.
" 'If your boss says so, then it is so,' " recited Captain Walsh. "That's one of the first rules of this business, no matter who you're working under. Do you understand?"
The rookie nodded.
"Aren't you s'possed to speak when spoken to?!" Walsh roared, backhanding the rookie with a cigar still in his hand. Ashes crumbled down the rookie's front.
"Y-Y-Yes, sir!"
"Yes what?"
"Y-Y-Y-Yes, I understand, sir!"
Walsh sighed, relaxing back into his seat. Good old Deepnestian ancestry at work, keeping all these clowns in line with fear. He didn't intend on actually hurting any of them, but sometimes a good shout was necessary, maybe a smack or two. Intimidation was key in this business.
(The woman hanging off of his side was running her clawtips over his desk and down his chest, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. White noise.)
"I can't allow any fooling around here right now. We're in a delicate position; bigger numbers doesn't mean a sturdier business we're running here. If anything, it makes things even more fragile." And as an afterthought, he added, "I'm due for a meeting with the Boss later today, so I don't want to come home to a fire!"
The whole office (it was a ridiculous excuse for an office; it was a BDSM dungeon turned accounting firm. Of all the bugs here, sitting at desks and filing paperwork and counting money, about a third of them were grizzled mobsters, another third were hookers in flashy getups, and the last third were just normal bugs working a normal day job) went silent at that. The Boss, they whispered, What does the Boss want? What's going to happen?
Captain Walsh shook his head. "You heard me! All ya gotta do is not wreck the place while I'm out! Am I clea-"
Something was pressing into his neck.
Something sharp.
The hooker who was fawning over him a minute ago had grabbed a sharp fountain pen from his desk and had it pressed into his throat, her arm grabbing onto his shoulders in a feeble attempt to keep him from wriggling free. He was being held hostage on the spot.
"T-They say there's a bounty on your head. They say it's worth ten million Geo," the woman spoke, her once alluring voice now shaking with resolution.
Walsh was silent for a moment. "...That's right," he said.
"They say it's enough for me to live comfortably for the rest of my life. For my kids and my grandkid's lives," she huffed.
"That's right."
"A-And all I have to do is kill you, right?" She was pressed right up against his side, and he could feel her frantic heartbeat. "I kill you and I get the money."
Walsh was silent. Slowly, without making any sudden movements, he brought the cigar to his mouth, and took a long drag, a cloud of smoke escaping his mandibles. The entire rest of the office floor had frozen, staring at him in terror, or maybe anticipation.
He didn't want to hurt this girl, nor would he, but that didn't mean he couldn't make an example of her.
"Don'tcha think…" he started slow, "Someone else woulda done that by now?"
The woman froze, confused. The pen was still pressed into his throat, the slightest twitch would draw blood.
"Look at all these people," he said. "They all know what you know. They kill me, they get ten million. But they haven't killed me. Nor will they ever."
He turned to face her, all four hands in the air. The woman didn't have a good angle to threaten him with anymore, but she still held the pen up to his throat like a knife.
"What is it you want from ten million?" Walsh asked. "A comfortable life? If your life's not comfortable now, you can let me know. We're not hurtin'." He stepped closer, "All you have to do is ask. You can be safe here. You can make your life easy. You can get anything you want."
He brought a hand to her cheek, looking into her frightened eyes with his soothing ones. The entire office floor was watching.
"But you can't kill me. That's the only thing. Nobody can kill me."
He could feel her resolve crumbling, her tension melting away under his claws. Cupping her chin, he leaned in until their lips met, mandibles on mandibles clicking together. His four hands ran over her head, across her chest, down her back, pulling her close as their tongues danced. He coaxed her in, playfully biting on her tongue, his hands running under her clothes.
The office workers watched this display, shrugged, and got back to work. This was about the norm for Captain Walsh, who was already blindly leading the heated woman into a door to his bedroom.
He locked the door behind him, whispering into her ear, just as she had minutes before. He had a few hours before his meeting that he could afford to burn.
"So, about those grandkids…"
The ball was released with a clatter. It spun and spun around the wheel, dinking off of little metal wedges as its momentum slowed, drawing closer and closer to the center of the wheel.
The crowd around the table cheered, shouting for their bets to land. Some were watching in silent awe, suspense keeping their chests tight. The gambling table was cluttered with cards and chips, nobody really certain who belonged to who at this point.
The entire grand hall was like this. It was as deranged as it was elegant, tall columns suspending a domed glass ceiling with rain rolling over it, keeping the cold rain out of the extravagant warmth within. Where there wasn't gold, there was color, explosions of bright and attractive hues demanding attention.
It was surprising how easily such a massive hall could be packed to the brim; bugs of all sorts and sizes were crowding the whole area, some intently focused on one of the many betting tables, some walking around aimlessly. A few of them were storming around, a few were parading triumphantly.
The table manager looked back down at the spinning roulette wheel. Any moment now… Careful… Careful…
He pressed into one of the screws on the edge of the table. For just a split second, almost imperceptibly, a tiny pin jutted out of the wheel.
The ball glanced off of the pin, slammed into one of the metal wedges, and collapsed into a green zero pocket.
The entire table was in an uproar. Some of the bugs slammed their fists on the table before storming away, one of them spilled their drink on the woman hanging off of their arm. One of the bugs was cheering, having bet on the zero. He likely had no idea how a roulette table worked.
The table manager pulled out a long stick and began raking chips back into the house (excluding a small pile he reserved for that one guy who won). He bowed wordlessly to the crowd and prepared to spin the wheel again.
An old beetle sitting next to him, half-drunk and almost slobbering all over his drink, pointed a shaky hand at the wheel. "H-Hey," he piped up, "I saw a lil' pin. A lil' metal thing came up, i-ih stopped the ball."
The table manager froze, before turning to the man. "The house takes pride in our games, sir," he recited. "We do not employ such deplorable tactics."
"N-No, I saw it," he said. "I-It messed up my bet. I-It was goin' for red, but it juh-jolteh'd."
A few of the other players were starting to turn and see. This could get bad quickly.
A hand rested on the drunk's shoulder.
"I believe the alcohol in your system is disorienting you, good sir," came a voice, velvety smooth yet with a sharp accent, "Perhaps you ought to head home for today?"
Standing behind the drunk was a butterfly, his wings a deep, royal violet. He wore no real top, his bare black chitinous chest adorned in silver necklaces and warm-colored scarves in a thin, sheer fabric. His hair was long mane of snowy grey, and his pants were baggy and stark white, made of the purest Weaver silk money could buy. His outfit was simple, leaving him half-naked, but it drew attention, screaming at the whole room to put him in the center, under the spotlight. Exactly how he wanted it to be.
The table manager blinked at his appearance. "Ah, Captain Donovan-"
"Oh, hush, I'm no 'Captain' out here," he whispered to the manager before turning back to the drunk.
"This is a proud establishment we run here, my good friend. We pride ourselves for providing the finest and fairest to all who enter our halls. I can understand being wary of such low swindles, truly, I do! I wish only for our players to feel safe with their own games."
(As he spoke, Donovan gestured with his whole body, particularly his arms, dragging the bug's attention all around the air. This wasn't any cheap distraction tactic; he just liked being seen.)
The drunken bug seemed to pause, his brow furrowing as his clogged brain tried to comprehend and think of a retort. Donovan continued the conversation for him, never passing up an opportunity to talk.
"Allowing you to continue playing while under the influence is simply beyond my ethics, sir! I will see that our staff helps you collect your things and escorts you safely outside, and to your home if you have nobody else."
The bug seemed to have no objection with this. "T-That's- hic! V-Very kind of you, mister," he said, stumbling off of his chair. At a handwave, two burly guards came up from behind Donovan and carried the drunk to the doors.
A few moments passed, the table manager and Captain Donovan watching until nobody was paying too much attention to them. Some of the other guards must have asked some of the guests nearby to move to other tables, since this area was suddenly much quieter. The once-crowded table was now suddenly vacant; everyone here knew not to bother Donovan.
"'Oh, we're so trustworthy, we're better than all those other scumbag casinos, finest and fairest!'" Donovan laughed, mocking his own words. "We have every other joint in the City repeat that same line. The illusion of choice is such a beautiful thing."
The butterfly sat on the edge of the table, flipping his silvery hair towards the table manager. "So! Newcomer, eh?"
"I am."
Donovan leaned back and relaxed on the gambling table, violet and blue wings spreading out under him. He stretched out, throwing his leg in the air and his arms behind his head with an easy groan. "That's just fine. We were all newcomers once, you know. Did you know that?"
"I did, sir."
He turned to face him, "Oh, do drop the 'sir', it sounds so pretentious! Makes me sound pretentious, I should say. Even though you're the one saying it. Funny how that works, no?"
"...Sure."
Donovan relaxed on the table again, like it was a bed and he'd just had a long day of work. He spread out, feeling loose chips digging into his spine and running through his hand. He gazed up into the sky, staring out of the domed glass ceiling.
"Oh, but perhaps one day… one day, I will have earned that 'sir.'"
The rain rolled off of the dome like a giant snare drum. He could hear it even over the endless chatter of the crowd around him, and he tuned them all out, focusing on the relaxing sounds above.
"The other Captains, they always ridicule me for dreaming, for believing in greater heights beyond either of us. I'm glad they're comfortable, but I couldn't live with myself if I stopped now, you know?"
Absently, Donovan found himself reaching up, a mortal trying to connect with an invisible god from above, his dark claws grasping for a truth he could not yet see. The Captain's eternal showman grin had fallen, and he stared in awe at the sky far beyond. His claws shook, before clenching, as if whatever he was looking for just barely escaped his grasp.
"One day, maybe I'll be the Director of the Clan. And after that…? I'll keep going up. I have to keep going up. I owe this life that much. I'll stop for nothing short of death."
And then, in a whisper, "Do you hear me from up there, old friend? I'll catch up to you soon."
A serene silence passed over them.
"...Uh, sir?"
Donovan blinked, startling out of his reverie. "O-Oh, do forgive my rambling!" He rolled over and laid on his side on the gambling table, one hand caressing his own hip and another propping up his head, shooting the table manager a sly, seductive smirk.
"I just remembered, I'm due for a meeting with the Boss soon! Oh, how forgetful of me! You see, I tend to get lost in my thoughts when I'm... well, you know…"
Captain Donovan blinked, sticking out his tongue playfully. The two small patches on it, looking almost like scraps of paper, did not escape the manager's notice.
"Merely owning every gambling joint in town can only get you so far! A side business or two never hurt any entrepreneur, no?"
The table manager nodded. Donovan was one of the biggest earners in the Topaz Clan. He owned every major casino, about half of the bars, six wealthy clubs, a handful of food joints…
...As well as the largest drug ring in Hallownest.
"I ought to sober up for my meeting, but would you like to try one? Consider it a gift, I have plenty~!"
The pickaxe slammed into his side, sending the bloodied beetle to the dirt floor. The only light in this back alley was a single rusty Lumafly lantern, barely flickering against the cold. The shadows grew long, splattered with hemolymph and drenched in eternal rain.
The beetle coughed up more blood as he clutched at his chest, trying to plead for mercy, but unable to form words through his broken jaw.
Terrified tears welled up in his eyes, mixing with the rain that trailed down his face.
He could barely make out the figure before him.
An ant, short and grey, gazed down at him with empty, dark eyes. There was no malice in those eyes, no hate, no sadistic pleasure, no pain, no fear, no soul. There was nothing alive in those eyes. The eyes did nothing but observe.
"I don't usually come out on m'own like this," he said. "But I was asked personally. Favor t' a friend."
Captain Luca held the pickaxe at his side, his arms almost limp. He was like a zombie, his face wide and disturbed, like a heartless statue come to life. The beetle scampered away, cornered in the dark and silent alleyway. Even if he could scream for help, it wouldn't save him; the entire block had been evacuated for the next half hour. On his command, of course.
The beetle, his shell scraping over the dirt and gravel, fumbled blindly into a puddle of muddy water, only a few inches deep. The frigid and filthy water splashed as his scraped hand fell into it, the beetle jolting as it got into his wounds.
"Y'see, y'hurt one of his people. Someone from 'is hometown," Luca mumbled. He didn't have any kind of accent; he just barely spoke above a whisper. Even standing above a dying bug, he couldn't muster the effort to raise his voice.
"You're an investor, right? Make big money off'a other people's work. It must'a been a good day for ya, 'cause y'had y'self a woman that night."
The beetle's eyes were wide with blind terror. Didn't these kinds of things only happen to poorer bugs? He was more than wealthy, he was almost living among the elites of Hallownest! What did this freaky ant want with him?!
"Ah'dunno what'cha did with that woman, but it doe'nt matter," Luca explained. "She ended up with some'a your eggs. A'n all she wanted was for 'er kids to know who their father was."
Recognition flashed across the beetle's broken face, the blood being washed away by the rain. He turned over on his stomach, trying to scramble away, only seeing a brick wall in front of him. His body was mangled, his voice was stripped from him, and he was trapped.
"And y'killed her," Luca said without a hint of emotion in his voice. "Y'killed her, and your own children. Stuffed their bodies in an incinerator to hide the evidence."
Frantic breaths escaped the beetle's throat, torn from screaming. He looked over his shoulder at the Captain, holding the pickaxe in his hands.
"That woman was from m'friend's hometown. He loves his home, would give anything for it. That woman never did any wrong, either. ...Do'y'get it? 'S no tragedy, 's a damn atrocity is what'chu did."
Luca raised the pickaxe high into the air.
"But don'worry. You'll be able to apologize to your child soon."
He brought the sharp spike of the pickaxe down on the beetle's shoulder with a tremendous strength unexpected of someone his size. It drove so deep into the bug's carapace that it pierced through and pinned him to the dirt, unable to even wiggle free. Luca stomped onto the back of the beetle's head, forcing his face into the muddy water. The beetle probably swallowed gulps of the filthy puddle water in his panic, trying to cough it up but having nowhere for it to go.
His whole body thrashed under Luca's foot, desperate for air, desperate to even bring his eyes out of the filthy puddle. He didn't want to die here. He'd come so far, and one little woman wouldn't be his end, right?
That's why he killed her. That's why he got her out of his way. That's why he…
The thrashes turned to involuntary spasms, the murky water splashing under the beetle's primal fighting for air. Then the spasms turned to jerks, twitches, and then slowly, the body stilled.
Luca lifted his foot off of the beetle's head. Good riddance.
He turned around and walked out of the alleyway, not even bothering to remove the pickaxe from the beetle's shoulder or the body from the puddle, which was slowly turning to the color of hemolymph. His people would clean it up soon, and then this city block would return to normal.
There wouldn't even be an investigation, not beyond a missing person report that would slowly collect dust and be forgotten about in some dark corner of a law office.
Luca looked up to the rain falling from the dark stone sky, water rolling over his face. ...Oh. He had something to do soon, didn't he? A meeting with the Boss at whatever fancy hotel he was staying in now.
Luca shoved his hands into the pockets of his robe, stalking off to the Boss's place. He preferred to walk.
Director Topaz sighed. "I do enjoy our meetings, of course."
To his left sat Captain Walsh, the Deepnestian with a velvety crimson vest and a cane (even though he was still fairly young and didn't need one).
In front of him was Captain Donovan, the flamboyant butterfly somehow lounging in a chair specifically designed to keep his posture right.
And to his right was Captain Luca, the sickly-looking grey ant that never once twitched in his seat, making perfect eye contact at all times.
(Some jokingly called them The Three Racketeers. It suited them.)
Topaz frowned, "It's good to see you all again, gentlemen, truly, it's just…" he pursed his lips, "It doesn't feel the same anymore. You all understand, right?"
The mood in the warm, lavish hotel suddenly grew cold. All of the Captains looked away, varying degrees of pain on their expressions. Even Luca frowned, his eyes downcast and confused. Topaz could feel frustration in his heart, so he huffed and brought their attention back.
"But back to the matter at hand. I'm sure all of you are aware of the menace that haunts our streets, yes?" (Excluding the Clan itself, of course, but that was a joke he'd keep to himself.)
Meetings among the Captains of the Topaz Clan were rare, and for good reason. Each of the Captain's "Families" had their infighting, sure, and there were occasional territory disputes, as to be expected of an organization of such breadth. But the Families generally preferred to keep to themselves, quietly operating within their own borders and only crossing over for very carefully-regulated business. That, and Topaz would rather let the Families operate independently, so long as they knew who their leader was and paid their dues. Summits like this only happened either to settle disputes that had gone out of hand, or when some kind of major incident beyond their control affected all of the families.
Walsh huffed, gripping the armrest of his chair in a vice. "I am more than aware! They've been parading in our streets, speaking of strange rituals… For Wyrm's sake, their leader's been causing me no shortage of headaches!"
Topaz blinked. "I-I'm sorry?"
"So, about those grandkids…"
He pushed the woman onto the bed, kissing her even more feverishly, pulling away to playfully bite at her neck in ways that made her squeal under him. Her body jolted with giggles and shocks of pleasure, grinding against his chest.
He stood up, grazing a claw under her chin with a seductive grin that told her to be patient. Turning away, he began to disrobe, not wanting to spoil his current outfit for his meeting in a few hours.
A few hours. More than enough time to unwind, more than enough time to fully satisfy himself. He knew how to make the best of every second.
Hanging his cloak up on a rack, he turned around to see-
"W-WHAT IN THE WYRM'S NAME-?!"
The cute hooker from before had simply vanished without a sound. Lounging on his bed was an entirely different bug, in an identical, skimpy outfit. He was taller, had black chitin with a red front, had a white striped face that spoke of sin, and his eyes were a fiery crimson that bore into Walsh's soul.
"So," he spoke in a seductive drawl that made it clear he had the same intentions as the woman, "All it takes is a threat on your life to get you to bed someone? I hope you've got nerves of steel, big guy, 'cause I'll be remembering that~"
Walsh tore his cloak off of the coathanger, which clattled to the ground with a loud thud as he tried to protect his dignity. "W-Who the HELL let you in here? WHO ARE YOU?!" he roared.
"Oh, you'll know who I am soon. In fact, soon enough, my name's the only thing you'll ever even think about. 'Oh, Grimm, be rougher with me, Grimm~!'"
"GET OUT!"
Walsh wrapped his arms around himself, looking away as his face flushed with embarrassment. "I had to chase that bastard half-naked through the entire Tower… He told me his name, I'll find him if it's the last thing I do!"
Donovan, who was lazily slouching but now sitting intently at Walsh's story, laughed at his misfortune. "Bfftahahahahaha! There's no way you'd be fibbing about such a thing, I can tell!"
Topaz tried to pull them back on topic. "G-Gentlemen, if we can please-"
"Why, I think I've met that fellow myself, in fact! For all his eccentricities, he does a fantastic job when he bothers to put in the effort!" Donovan grinned, his violet wings fluttering in amusement.
Walsh's head snapped up. "You are the LAST person to be calling anyone 'eccentric!'"
"I ought to sober up for my meeting, but would you like to try one? Consider it a gift, I have plenty~!"
The table manager hummed, his crimson claws trailing over the thin green fabric of the gambling table. A pleased growl rose up in his throat.
"I can't deny such an offer, can I, sir?" Grimm said. "Why, I'd take a salary in these things if I could, sir! You'd pay me not a pinch of Geo, but I'd get free access to your 'supply', now that would be job benefits to mention in an interview!"
Donovan blinked, taken aback by Grimm's enthusiasm, but not shying away from it. "Ahahaha, so you're familiar? I don't think I could quite afford to pay all my employees in narcotics, though; it takes time to develop, and-"
Suddenly, Grimm dropped to his hands and knees, bowing to the Captain as he begged him with heartbreak in his voice.
"I-I implore you, sir! I have an entire family I need to feed, and I'm just a cheap minimum wage worker! How can I support my children and pay the bills on a paycheck in Geo?!"
Now, Donovan was confused. "A-Ah, let's not-"
"Please!" Grimm begged, tears welling up in his eyes, "I'm a father of three children, two little boys and a big, strong girl! Surely you know how expensive life in the City is, sir?! All of these sharks, trying to eat up every ounce of worth in my tired, worn body! No, I need my wages in drugs, sir! It's the only way I can stay afloat!"
Donovan pursed his lips, secondhand embarrassment making his chitin crawl. Some of the guests nearby were starting to stare and whisper at the scene. Even the guards were on standby, looking on the verge of grabbing Grimm and forcibly escorting him out, but not quite sure if they should do so yet. The crazy table manager was walking a very fine line that caused as much chaos as possible.
"I want to see my two boys grow up strong and become withery little deadbeats!" Grimm cried his heart out. "I want them to lead the life I never could, and I want to see them one day lounging on a dirty old couch and surrounded by empty beer bottles in a run-down, foreclosed home! I want my sweet little girl standing on the sides of streets at night and-"
Donovan waved a hand, and security rushed in.
Now it was Walsh's turn to laugh his ass off. "At least he only got me in the privacy of my own quarters; he somehow weaseled his way into an actual job at your place, and then embarrassed you in front of everyone!"
"Tch!" Donovan said, crossing his arms. "Attention is only sweet when you make it yourself, having someone else draw it to you is never a good thing."
Topaz furrowed his brow. "P-Please, if we can please just-"
"Say," Walsh said, "You handled that favor I mentioned, didn't you, Luca? This Grimm guy seems to get around, maybe you've seen him?"
Luca, dead-silent until now, nodded. "Mhmm, the job's done," he said. "And…"
A shadow fell over him, one that wasn't there before.
Luca froze, turning back to see the lone Lumafly Lantern nailed into the wall high above the corpse he just made. Nobody else seemed to be around, and the beetle's body wasn't moving, still face-down into the muddy water.
The Lumaflies within seemed to overheat and burn to a crisp, small sparks and ash that seemed to erupt into a blood-red flame.
"And with that," a disembodied voice spoke, "The job is done, and this nightmare can finally come to a close."
A pillar of flame exploded into existence in front of Luca, who had to shield his eyes behind his arm. The inferno receded, and in its place stood a black and red bug with a white mask and terrible crimson eyes.
They stood in silence for a spell, staring at each other. Even before the devil, Luca didn't falter.
"What a cruel way to leave this world," he spoke.
"'e deserved it," Luca mumbled.
"Arrogant you are to judge the lives of your fellow mortals," Grimm chided, his tongue sharp, but he sighed. "Though, I cannot deny as much. As man sows, so he shall reap."
Reap.
"As man sows, so shall he reap," Grimm repeated, stepping closer. "What have you sown in this life? What do you expect to find at the end of this path that you walk?"
Luca turned away. "Dunno. Leave me alone."
As he walked, Grimm simply reappeared in front of him.
"A part of me condemns you," he said. "How many have fallen to your cold hand? How many lives were snuffed out before those silent eyes of yours?"
Luca said nothing. Grimm continued.
"Though, I cannot truly hate you," he confided. "What I see before me is not an atrocity, but a tragedy. Whatever choices, whatever circumstances that put you on this road and led you here, they must have been cruel tenfold what you have wrought."
I am sorry that things could not be better for you.
Luca pushed him aside and kept walking, his head down. He was going to be late if this kept up.
Grimm didn't try to stop him, but he did call out. "Are you so certain that it's too late to change?"
Captain Luca found himself pausing. He didn't like questions. He wasn't good with them, he only liked problems he could solve with his own actions. And now this strange demon had appeared and was filling his head with more questions than he knew what to do with.
Luca kept walking. "I don't know."
He didn't even know if he was lying or not anymore.
Luca shook his head. "No, 'aven't seen 'im," he said.
"Huh. Well, thanks anyway for that 'favor'. I appreciate it, truly," Walsh said.
Topaz cleared his throat, demanding the attention of the other Captains, who all shut up and turned to him. His expression was contorted with frustration and impatience, and nobody wanted to see the Boss get pissed because they were goofing off right in front of him.
"As curious as I am about this 'devil,'" he reprimanded them, "I call you all here because we have other problems to worry about. Far more significant ones than some rogue prankster."
The three Captains sat in petrified silence. Walsh coughed into his hand, "Uh, remind us again, sir?"
Topaz sighed, pulling out a report file and tossing it on the table. "This was sent from the White Palace to the City Defence Barracks, and relayed by one of our moles in the force."
A White Palace report. On one hand, the Captains were worried about messing with powers that were beyond them, but they also wouldn't be sticking their fingers in such a high-profile mess if the file's contents weren't absolutely crucial.
"There's been a development in Captain Blue's case. Their top suspect is free on bail."
That got the Captain's attention. Even Luca's tired eyes snapped up in a silent plea for more information. Walsh's grip on his cane was tight enough that it looked like it could snap at any moment. Donovan shot up from his chair.
"W-Well?! Do we know if she did it?!"
"At ease, Captain, I am speaking!" Topaz raised his voice. Donovan froze, before awkwardly sitting back down. Director Topaz cleared his throat again.
"As of right now, we have no clear verification if she was the one who killed Captain Blue," he explained. "So for now, I believe the best course of action is to observe, and then find out if she's guilty. And if she did…"
"'ll take care o'it," Luca piped up.
"No, my friend," Donovan said, "Blue was dear to all of us. If we suspect she is guilty, we will all be there to avenge him."
Walsh slammed his cane on the floor. "Damn straight! He and I have had our spats, but I'm not gonna let his killer walk away!"
Topaz looked like he wanted to object, but only sighed. It wasn't that the Captains were out of his control, but sometimes, he just couldn't be bothered to stop them over something so trivial. "Well, do not act hastily," he chided, "But I'm glad we are all in agreement."
"Buh'sir," Luca mumbled. "They're looking for someone with pale, fleshy skin and a small exploding weapon, right? How many o'her bugs fit that bill?"
Walsh furrowed his brow. "I mean… If one can exist, why not more? Maybe they just look similar."
Donovan didn't seem convinced. "Two beings of such strange complexion, and yet, so similar? I find it highly unlikely, though I suppose they must come from somewhere…"
Topaz shook his head. "This is what I mean. I'll not allow any mistakes in hunting down Captain Blue's killer. For now, gentlemen, bide your time. Vengeance will come soon."
The Director snapped his fingers, and in his waiting claws, a cool drink was placed by one of the cute waitresses. He took a long sip, the alcohol stinging his throat in a way he had grown used to. Just this once, he decided to shoot a quick glance at the beautiful woman behind him…
Standing by his side, in a puffed-up baby-blue dress, was a very familiar devil.
"Did you enjoy your drink, Master~?" Grimm cooed. "I made it with love~!"
"S-SECURITY!"
After Grimm had been chased out, the meeting wrapped up. Topaz had to leave in a hurry, needing to find a new hiding place since this one had somehow been compromised. Dangerous rivals and the authorities had been hunting him down for years, and nobody had snuck past his impenetrable defense until this demonic clown came along.
Back in the abandoned hotel room, Luca picked up the file that Topaz had discarded. His brow furrowed at the name. This woman… Was she really the one to kill Captain Blue? The late Captain was usually their head of information, so trying to find intel on the case was difficult for all of the Families.
It didn't help that none of the case details made any sense…
A disappearing room? How was anyone going to explain that away ?
A hand landed on his shoulder. Donovan gave a comforting smile to Luca, "Don't stress too much over it, friend. We're all thirsting for retribution, but the best we can do right now is wait. Boss's orders."
Luca looked up at the butterfly; he always did treat him like a son, or maybe a nephew. He never knew how he felt about being the youngest of the Captains, but he supposed it didn't matter. Despite their differences and their fights, the Topaz Clan Captains were all pretty close to each other; it made Blue's death all the more painful for them all.
(At least, they all said they were close to Luca, who didn't feel close to anyone. He didn't even feel close to himself. He barely felt like he was alive in his own body.)
Luca pushed these thoughts aside, before tossing the file down in the empty fourth chair next to the other three Captain's seats.
A sorry tribute to those lost, but a promise of vengeance.
SUSPECT: VALLERI CROWES
CHARGES: DIPLOMATIC TURMOIL, HOMICIDE, ASSAULT, THEFT, DISRUPTION, RESISTING ARREST
STATUS: ON BAIL
She stood over his grave, fighting tears in her eyes. She had to wear a heavy cloak just to keep the rain out of her fuzz, but her face got soaked anyway.
She kneeled down into the dirt.
"Hello, love." She choked up, "I'm sorry for not visiting these past few days. Everything's been such a whirlwind, and I can barely keep myself together…"
The bee woman set the bouquet of flowers down in front of his tombstone. Her eyes kept running over his epitaph, over and over again until her eyes glazed over. Sniffing, she wiped her face with her cloak, only soaking it more with the wet fabric.
She took a single, shaky claw, and drew a heart in the dirt in front of his grave. She scrawled out their names:
ANGIE + B
A pained chuckle escaped her throat. "T-That's how you wrote it, remember? Keeping my full name, even though yours is shorter… I teased you, but I… I thought it was really sweet."
Her eyes kept running over that damn epitaph. "I-I wish you didn't have to leave so soon. I… Y-You never did tell me what you did for a living. Everyone I ask says they don't know, either… Y-You were a-always so secretive, my love."
A sniffle. If she didn't go now, she'd break down in the dirt. Maybe she'd mold with it, become one with the earth, and find her love on the other side. She was tempted, but she wasn't ready for that just yet.
(He wasn't ready, either.)
"I-I'm going to keep looking," she resolved. "I want to know who you really were. I don't want you to be forgotten, and if I don't remember you-" her voice cracked, "w-who will?"
She stood up. Angela was almost tempted to say a goodbye, but she'd said enough goodbyes. She simply bit her tongue and tried to blink her tears away as she walked away.
She didn't want to read his headstone again.
BLUE
"YOU CAN'T SAY WE NEVER TRIED"
Chapter name and summary are a reference to Pictures of a City by King Crimson.
Other musical references in this chapter include:
Joe Walsh (artist)
Donovan (artist)
Luca by Brand New
Blue by Sweeping Promises
Angie by The Rolling Stones
the hardest part about this chapter was getting all of the musical references organized lmao
WOOO i am actually SUPER proud of this chapter! I've been wanting to write it for a long time, and now we get a peek at the inner workings of the Topaz Clan! I had a lot more freedom with this one, so while it might've gotten a bit wild, it also came a lot more easily to me and I'm feeling very good about it :)))
You might've noticed I was a bit cheap with the Captain's physical descriptions, especially Director Topaz himself; they're very new characters so I'm still rotating them around in my head ,, I'll work on more detailed descriptions of them later, right now I'm just making things up as I go.
also GRIMM HAHAhaAhh this is it. this is the force of pure, unadulterated chaos i have been waiting for. this is what i meant by him being the Majima of this fic, i can just insert him fucking anywhere with no explanation for shits and giggles. But he does also have some actually serious bits too, like his conversation with Luca. He's not a *complete* clown. he just hides his pain with ironic humor
PLEASE leave a comment, I wanna know what you all think of these new characters! Thank you!
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