A/N: So Adel, as we know, took over and cleaned up the family business after his father died(Rose is still pretty shady, of course.) That being said, Adel, even in the source material, never struck me as 'lawful good' so much as maybe more 'chaotic good.' (Even his friend Heidern seems to run the Ikaris as 'good guys who are willing to break some rules sometimes.' Remember he got Whip off the hook for going AWOL, which was definitely breaking the rules for a good reason.)
I like to HC Adel as knowing that you don't just completely pack up and leave a business like this 100%, especially one as far-reaching as his father's. Power vacuums are a thing that can happen. So I can see him as trying to maybe take the business more 'light gray'-still with a leg in the underworld, but dealing with more light things like running numbers and the like(and if arms are dealt with, making sure they go to more legit sort of places.) It keeps them in power, but puts his resources to better use instead of evil, and prevents any sort of nasty power vacuums from causing damage.
Anyway, with that out of the way, I imagine he HAS had run-ins with some of the world's criminals. Here's a small one-shot about the time one Mr. Big underestimated him.
This was not a call I wanted to get , the young man thought to himself. His shaggy, blonde hair blew in the spring breeze as he moved down the streets of South Town, a place where he did not often frequent from his luxurious, ridiculously huge airship home, normally parked somewhere in Germany or Austria.
Somewhat out of place in the dingy city, Adelheid Bernstein undid the fastening on his long, black coat as he continued to move down the streets, the trash skittering by around in the evening light. He was in the USA on some business, and while he was here, he had gotten a call.
Apparently, some guys he was protecting-number runners mostly, occasionally dabbling in some light substances-had run into some trouble. There was a possible casualty, but the message was not terribly clear about this.
Sighing, he wished he could pull himself all the way out of this nonsense, but he knew that would not be a good idea.
Adel understood power vacuums. He was well-educated in matters of business-both light and dark-and had seen them happen with his own eyes. They could become horrid, bloody affairs, and after much deliberation-also knowing his sister also wanted to keep the money rolling in as well as enjoying her position of power-he turned the family business around into something less sinister after his father had passed. At first, he wanted to pull out completely, but in his heart-already seeing an uproar in the black market-he knew that it would have horrific backlash if he did. So, after some talking(arguing) with his sister, he finally came to a decision. He funneled some resources toward better purposes, but also kept an eye on the underworld and made deals he could cope with on the gray side of things. He knew his sister messed with things that he disapproved of, but as she was a young adult herself, there was only so much he could do. Indeed, it was a source of friction between them.
All that said, he was not above using his vast physical strength to clean up some of the uglier parts of the underworld. Using his resources and network, he could sniff out nastier types-arms runners, human traffickers, and the like, basically people who would have worked voluntarily and gladly with his father-and put them down violently. Adel was a good man, and would never harm a hair on an innocent person's head, unlike his father…well, assuming the strange rage didn't take hold of him. He was still trying to figure out what was going on with his developing power, and that had never turned on someone completely innocent…yet, thankfully.
But if he ran into some of the true scum of the earth, he would not hesitate to crush them. Despite the young man's tall height, massive build and frightening strength, there were still people who would insist on underestimating him because of his usually gentle nature, thinking him a pushover. Perhaps being only twenty-two with a rather pretty face didn't help matters much.
Several ex-colleagues of his father found out the folly of their ways when they did so. Or would know the folly, if their heads weren't smashed in. Kind and soft spoken to most, he was nonetheless terrifyingly thorough in a lethal fight and had little desire to keep anyone who was evil enough to respect his father alive. It was not common knowledge, but Rugal was capable of forming loose alliances with like-minded individuals; you didn't get to be a billionaire arms dealer otherwise, no matter how good you could fight.
He thought that perhaps one day he could pull out completely. Until then, he would do what he could to at least make things a bit nicer, even if he had to occasionally get his hands dirty doing it. His father had forced him to fight for his life against a guard when he was twelve, and he succeeded, terrified as he was at the time. He was certainly capable of burying grown, evil men, even if he didn't relish it.
Arriving the place he was called to-a somewhat out of the way deal that was mostly just a pool hall on its surface-he stepped inside to see what exactly had transpired.
Nodding to the bartender-who he knew was sort of 'in' on what sort of place this was-he went to the back corner to see three men, all in various states of disarray.
"What happened?" he immediately asked.
One of them-in the best shape, only with mostly a busted lip, black eye, and some bruising-shook his head. "Big's men," he said.
"Big?" Adel blinked. "What did he want?"
"Said we were on his territory. That he wanted in."
"He isn't welcome," he said.
"Yeah, we told him as much," another said, a bit more busted up than the first.
Big, he knew, could get himself involved in more nefarious things. While he wasn't on his father's level-not many were, not even Geese Howard, who had a sheet thirty miles long-he was a rather unlikable fellow who wasn't above nastier things like kidnapping, arms smuggling, and the occasional bit of murder. Drugs did not concern Adel-he sort of felt like they shouldn't even be criminalized anyway-though he didn't particularly like the killing that went into running them.
What could be dangerous about Big, however, was that he could get desperate sometimes. Everyone knew Geese Howard ruled the roost in South Town, and this made Big mad. Occasionally, when he got mad, he would get petty, and start doing some really nasty, underhanded bullshit, somewhat out of a hidden desperation to keep a piece carved out; a piece that wasn't something Geese allowed him to keep, but one that he earned himself.
The men in front of him did not work for Adel, per se; were their own little syndicate who mostly dealt with running race numbers, some non-violent substance smuggling, and a bit of white collar embezzlement. But he had offered them some protection when he had met with one of them during an underground fight he was scoping out one night. Everyone in the underworld knew of Bernstein-most, of course, still feared that name given the immense pull his father had-he supplied full governments, after all. One thing led to another, and he had decided it was people like this he did not mind working with to keep the name 'known', so to speak. Being able to keep a hold of something in South Town would be beneficial, even if it was no longer the illegal arms deals.
"Did he come after you right then?" Adel asked, his voice neutral.
"No. Came into the hideout last night. Or, I should say, sent a few of his nastier goons. Not Jack or anyone-didn't even know these creeps. They was armed though-took out Scotty and Will. Beat the rest of us. Will managed to plug one of them in the arm, at least."
"I see," he said, his voice rather dark. "Do you know where they usually run out of? Big's headquarters?"
One of the men-the one who looked the most messed up, with a bandage around his eye, leaned forward. His voice was a bit messed up, likely, judging by the bruise on his neck, from being hit with an object.
"I think these three like to frequent Shay's."
Adel shook his head. "I…apologize that I do not know this place as well as you." The big blonde looked quite out of place even here; while he was not dressed fancy-he was wearing a long, black coat, heavy, armored black boots, loose trousers and a tank top-the way he carried himself and spoke was definitely not from someone of the seedier places.
"Real nasty place, it tends to attract all sorts of scum like them," the man next to him said. "I'd look there. If they frequent it, it probably means they drink there damn near every night."
"I'll go," he said. "I told you all you have my protection." And I don't take kindly to people messing with those under my protection.
"You sure? Those guys won't think twice about putting a bullet in you."
Then I won't think twice before striking them down, either, he thought. "I'll be fine. Lay low. I'll take care of it. Got an address?"
"Here," one said, rummaging in his wallet for a card. "Bar's near this place. They probably have a hideout nearby, given how much they drink there. Keep a lookout for four guys. Suits, probably. Middle aged. One heavyset. One of them had a pretty nasty scar on his eye. Another is gonna have a messed up arm."
The quieter man spoke up. "They love jewelry, too. Necklaces, rings." He touched his face, clearly torn up by one of their rings, and winced.
"Thanks." He nodded, standing. "I'll contact you later, after I have a chat with them."
"Be careful, kid. He wants that turf and he was willing to kill to get it. Big ain't messin' around."
"Neither am I," he said cooly, heading out. He did not know these guys well or anything-but they ran relatively sane operations that he could use to keep somewhat of a hold around this area, without doing anything nasty. Plus, he did tell them he'd protect them.
Checking around, he looked down at the card's address; it didn't seem too far away, though he suspected the hideout proper would be around. His plan was to hit up the bar, scope out the guys, and then actually attempt to have a chat.
If they tried anything on him, he was not going to hold back.
Sitting at the end of the bar, he sipped his beer. It was low-quality and not to his liking, but it was a good spot to sit to overlook the place.
His eyes were following four men, who fit the descriptions given to them…down to the one with the broken arm, having taken a bullet. He seemed to be knocking back shots rather efficiently.
He almost wanted to go over there now, but he didn't want to drag anyone undeserving into it, as if they were armed, he imagined-judging by how they were speaking and how they were either groping people or bullying others-that they'd have no issue escalating. Many seemed to steer clear of them, fearful expressions on the faces of people in their vicinity. Those around seemed to not want to make eye contact.
What he was waiting for was them to possibly leave, so he could follow them. They had to leave eventually; if they didn't, it meant their hideout was under the building somewhere. Either way, he would follow them to perhaps ask some pointed questions.
"I see you eyeing them," a voice said next to him. Turning, a nondescript looking man was leaning over a shot.
"Hm?" he asked.
"Don't fuck with them, boy," he said. "They're filth. Big keeps 'em on hand to scare people. He knows they won't shy away from anything," he said.
Adel just shrugged; he acted nonchalant, but the man's words were enough to reinforce his mission. "I'm capable of taking care of myself."
He just shrugged. "Ain't my ass," he said, tossing back his shot and waving another over.
The bartender was scoping the men out too; looking somewhat nervous around them, he seemed like he'd want nothing more than for them to leave. "I used to have more workers. They quit after those guys started coming here."
Eyeing them again, he could tell their actions. Brazen, as if they owned the place, and had everyone around them scared. When one pushed a woman to the ground who had started to say something, no one helped as she scrambled back and stood, moving quickly to the other end of the loud, smoky bar.
He grit his teeth, quashed the anger in his gut, and kept waiting out the evening.
It took about another hour and one more beer-the second one he got was a bit more palatable than the first-but they finally left. Paying his tab and discreetly sliding the bartender a very healthy tip-his eyes boggled at the amount-he slipped out the door. Despite not being trained in stealth, and much preferring to charge in, he followed them nonchalantly to their hideout. It too seemed to be a bar of sorts-or was. There was no one working there, and it simply seemed to be a cover for whatever went on. Probably in one of the side or back rooms-he knew how these places worked.
When they disappeared, he carefully snuck in; they didn't bother locking the door.
Taking his time to look around, he suspected they went toward the back-he could see a doorway there, which probably led to a few back rooms. Likely once used for gambling card games or some such thing, they were probably holding whatever meeting they were in the back. He knew where Big's hideout itself was-not far from here-but he knew they'd hold other places. This bar may have actually been in use at one point a few months back, but was taken over.
Exhaling, he decided to go see what he would find in the back. As he walked back there-trying to keep his footsteps somewhat quiet, though his heavy boots made this difficult-he spotted a light under the door. He decided to not even bother being careful at this point, going for the element of surprise to see what these guys were really made of.
Busting into the back room, Adel looked around at the four men. Knowing how filthy they were at this point-the bartender had told him, after some pressing, a few more stories that he wished he could have forgotten-he was not feeling particularly generous. He had told himself if they so much as pretended to threaten to kill him he would be fighting back with lethal force.
"The fuck are you?" one said, starting to pull a knife from his coat, the others scurrying to stand up.
"Did you go after the five at the racing place yesterday?"
"The hell is it to you? Who…"
"I said, did you go after the five at the racing place yesterday?" He stood, steadfast.
"Kid, get the fuck out." One of them stood, pulling a jagged knife out; he recalled one of the two yesterday was killed by getting his throat slashed.
"Answer my question," he said, unwavering, "And I may leave." That last part was sort of a lie; after the stories he had heard, he sort of didn't want these guys around anymore.
"Who does he think he is?" the man with the broken arm sneered.
"I got this." The man with the knife-known for being not only rather nasty, but rather hotheaded and impulsive as well-started to run at Adel, having no idea who he was...or what he was capable of. Deftly dodging two of the man's swipes, he knocked his arm aside and swept him down…
…before greeting him with a single, massive, axe kick between the eyes; its force was such that it caved in his skull with a sickening, wet crunch. He had used this move on many who had tried to kill him; it was usually enough to get the rest to back off.
The man with the gun jumped, as he was right behind the guy and had some of the blood spatter on him. Blood pooled quickly around the man's head; unfortunately, he was not face down, and they couldn't take their eyes off of him.
"Who the hell are you?" one yelled. The strength it took to do that was…not something you see everyday.
"I asked you, did you go after the men?"
"I…Jesus Christ -what the fuck-"
Adel said nothing at this point; he took his loose, relaxed fighting pose, keeping a close eye on the other man with the gun, wondering if they would get the point or seal their fate trying to kill him.
He had a feeling he knew which way this was going to go.
"Yeah?" the man said.
A rather shaken looking fellow stepped up to Mr. Big's desk; the bald man looked up at him, wondering why he looked so terrified.
"Sir," he said.
"The fuck is your problem? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Someone's here to s…see you. The Bernstein boy."
"B…wha?" Mr. Big shook his head, his hand going over to the sticks on his desk for a moment, though releasing them. "The blonde kid? The hell does he want?"
"A…apparently, those guys that got hit last night…"
"Yeah? I knew he was trying to nose in here. Where are my men?"
Before he could finish, the door was kicked open, and Adel walked in, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floor. Trailing behind him was a little bit of blood still, though most of it had already come off on the street as he walked to the building. He did, however, still have some spattered on him. It was hard to see on his coat and heavy cargo trousers, given they were black, but the bluish green tank top he wore clearly had some, as did his hands. His armored boots, given his fighting style, bore the most.
"Leave," Adel told the other man. "This is between me and your boss."
Seeing the state he was in, he nearly tripped over himself stumbling out the door, immediately heading to the closest bar to hopefully start sucking down alcohol as quickly as he could. It was clear that Adel did not just beat these men up; you didn't get that much blood on you just beating some asses.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Big said, slamming his hands down on the table and standing. He was about Adel's height, so he couldn't look down on him. His shades hid the fact his eyes were slightly disturbed at what he saw, however.
"I should be asking what you were doing," he said quietly. "You hurt some people I was protecting. Killed two, even."
"Those guys? They were on my turf."
"It wasn't yours. You wanted it."
"Yeah? And they didn't give it up." He looked around for a second. "Where are my guys, anyway?"
Adel removed his hand from his pocket, with Big reaching over to grab his sticks, though thinking twice about this, for some reason. Perhaps it was his gut instinct. In his hand were several pieces of jewelry-a couple of necklaces, a watch, and a bracelet-all rather familiar looking.
They all belonged to his men…and they were sticky with blood.
"I am not a bad man, Big," he said quietly. "I don't want to hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it. Unfortunately, if you go after people who I am looking after-and even kill two of them-I tend to think you deserve it."
"W…where are my men, Bernstein?" Big asked, not moving his hand off of the sticks yet…but nor was he attacking.
"You don't want to see what's left of them," he said, dropping the bloodied pieces on the man's desk. The kind young man's red eyes looked cold; at this moment, one could see where that tiny bit of his father had gotten into him, though it was being used for far different circumstances right now.
Mr. Big swallowed hard, looking first at the jewelry, and then to Adel, who had a fair amount of blood spatter on him. Behind him on the floor, was yet more blood that he had tracked in, though it wasn't much. It took him a moment, however, to realize that Adel had to walk from wherever it was he killed his men to his hideout, which meant there was likely a lot more at the scene if he had managed to track it all the way here.
At this point, he sat back down in his chair, though looked up at him. More warm, spring breeze blew in through the open window in the back of the hideout, though he did not seem to notice. It blew some of the young man's hair about his head.
"What do you want?" he finally asked.
"Stay away from anyone I'm looking after, and I won't come after you next time," he said flatly.
"You sound like your father," he said. To give the man credit, he did a good job at hiding his fear. He was a tough fellow, but he suspected, judging by the mess, that this young man had his father's strength.
Already, at half his age.
Adel stepped forward-heavily-his boot slamming on the floor, causing it to creak. Big jumped at this; now Adel could see he was somewhat scared.
"I am nothing like him," he said calmly. "My father liked working with scum, if you recall. And he enjoyed what he did. I did not particularly enjoy kicking their heads in just now, even if the area is a little bit safer having done it." That last part was perhaps a massaged bit of truth; after hearing what they were about, there was a tiny bit of satisfaction there, though he quashed it.
When you had to keep control of a nasty side of yourself passed on via your bloodline…you had to.
"You…killed them," he said. Seeing the blood, he knew there was no way his men were alive, but actually hearing it…
"They came at me armed. They also killed two people I was protecting and could've done for the other three." He leaned forward, placing his hands on his desk. "It was self defense. More than what you could say with those guys last night. They were unarmed."
What Big could say was nothing; at this point, he decided that messing with any Bernstein-even, or perhaps especially, one that wasn't on the bad side who was probably capable of killing him in a single blow-was not a prudent thing to do at this moment. Adel continued.
"Stay away from anyone under me, and I won't take the fight in here next time," He stood up, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Have a nice evening." Turning, he walked out, shutting the door behind him and leaving the crime lord alone with the remnants of four of his men. He was too speechless to even call in to clean anything up.
As Adel made his way down the street-taking the back ways, back toward a seedy bar that he could wash up in before going back to South Town's most expensive hotel, he sighed. He truly didn't like this part of it, but he wasn't about to let more people like his father raise up. He knew that it was better to let these syndicates sit; destroying them would, unfortunately, cause a similar power vacuum as him pulling completely out of the underworld would. There was a delicate balance to maintain, and he knew that if he could at least keep the worst of the worst under his heel, things would at least be more tolerable.
If he had to deal with them himself, he would. He knew that many ran under the law, but he was able to run around it. Bloodying himself on scum was the least he could do after his father's reign of terror.
Looking up at the night sky, he let the warm breeze wash over him again as he walked, his mind wandering back to what would pop up next in his still-turbulent life.
A/N: I mostly was inspired to write this when I was hashing out headcanons that dealt with that other side of Adel; the side that dealt with the cleaning up of the family business, and how he decided to run it as he did; mostly just light gray stuff, leaning toward protection…but also taking out truly evil people so no one like his father would strike back again. I like the idea of Adel being more of an anti-hero than a full hero, since even the game sort of implies he's not a total boy scout in 2003, but more of, again, a more chaotic good type.
I don't know if I have a time window on this one, but it may have been earlier on, before he even met Seirah and finally discovered some normalcy in his life(well, as normal as those two get. They're at least there for each other as rocks to lean on through all of the craziness.)
Anyway, hope you enjoyed another little look into Adel's near-past/other life, which I don't think gets discussed enough.
There are a few names and places made up for the story. I'm sure South Town has any number of seedy bars that are unnamed in the lore.
