Gallery Nine was certainly a different looking beast during the day. No music throbbing through the first floor club, no rainbow dance of lights painting all over. The slick architecture still left the exterior with an alluring appeal. Even when not drawing in the clubbing crowd, there was still something about the building that screamed 'come to me' or 'you want me' or even 'let me show you what real pleasure is'. Arthur didn't think a building should rightly be able to project such an aura, yet Gallery Nine did.
All while covering up its dirty little secrets like the painted whore it was.
Taking in a deep breath Arthur smoothed out his clothes. He knew there was no reason to be nervous about his appearance; he didn't suppose that it was a requirement for clients to be overwhelmingly attractive. However, as before, his clothing had been very carefully bugged. That… ah… that is… ah yes, Alfred's brother had very carefully worked the small bugs into the seams and folds of the clothes again, and even should he be forced to remove his coat, there would still be a functioning wire on him. Very clever fellow with surveillance equipment that… Matthew was.
Striding up to the door, he remembered the drill from when he'd come to drop off his application. He knocked on the solid wood that Arthur suspected was reinforced with metal on the inside of it all and waited. Soon enough a slot in the door opened, revealing an aggravated pair of eyes and nothing more. 'If I didn't know that there was another guard, I'd call that a rookie mistake, just opening up the slot. Well, that and the outdoor camera on me already.' Arthur shoved aside his professional thoughts and popped a meek grin to his face. One he hoped looked appropriately hopeful and nervous.
"Ah yes… I'm Gareth Doyle… I have an appointment here today, about the second floor?" He knew from past experience that if he didn't speak up, the man on the other side would merely stare at him until he did. Or slam the slot in the door shut. The man didn't take his gaze off of Arthur, but no doubt the other guard was looking at the appointment list and the information on the cleared visitors. Arthur counted his breaths while he waited, staying alert and trusting his team to react if, for some reason, something when sour right now. He'd been called back for his preparatory meeting… where he'd discuss what he wanted and negotiated a price.
It could mean he was clear in their books… or it could have been a lure to get him. They may have figured out his true identity. Arthur would simply have to trust Antonio was as good at his undercover operations as everyone said he was. Another slot in the door opened, lower, and Arthur fumbled with his wallet, pulling out Gareth's license and passing it through the slot. More time elapsed; tense seconds stretching across Arthur's nerves.
The door was at last opened, and Arthur's body shifted in readiness, internally wishing he had a weapon. Sadly, there was simply no good way to conceal one at the moment, not if he was thoroughly searched. The guard ushered him inside, and in a series of grunts indicated he was to raise his arms. A metal detector was passed over him carefully, hands patting him down carefully and with trained precision. No, there was no sneaking a weapon in here. Not without being creative in a manner that would be highly uncomfortable. The bugs were just plastic enough to escape detection.
"Upstairs, come on," said the guard, returning his identification and motioning with his head for Arthur to follow. Arthur smiled politely and did so, his green eyes sweeping over the look of the club with great interest. Without any dancers in it he could see the layout remarkably well, and he tried to drink in every single detail he could. Any doors, any passages, any blind spots or possible points of concealment were vital to find as soon as possible. If things turned to a raid, this would be valuable information to have indeed. 'Or, if I must make a hasty retreat from this meeting of course…' It was best to be ready for the worst.
The table he'd first inquired about the second floor at was empty, and he was led to a room just a short ways down the hall. The guard knocked a short series of five taps, Arthur memorizing the pattern and storing it away immediately. Of course he continued to try to mask his keen interest in everything around him, and certainly kept his glances further down the second floor hallway as discreet as he possibly could. How wonderful would it have been though, to catch a glimpse of Alfred right off? It was early though, only eight in the morning. Arthur doubted there'd be too many patrons coming in at this time of the day for pleasure.
There was no reply from inside, but the guard opened the door and stepped aside so that Arthur could enter. The room was very small, a simple office affair. It was warm and inviting, with a plush plum colored carpet covering the floor and tall potted fronds in each of the corners. There were no windows (Arthur regretfully noted), though beautiful yet generic paintings served as decoration. There were no file cabinets and no desk, but at the heart of the room was an antique yet well maintained coffee table. A loveseat rested facing the table and away from the door, while a leather armchair sat opposite.
The blond who'd greeted him sat in that chair, painting his nails and staring at Arthur with a rather sardonic smirk. He blew on his nails for a moment before waving Arthur in, and after just a few steps the door was closed behind him. The guard wasn't still in the room, but Arthur doubted he'd go even a foot away from the door. It wasn't difficult to surmise that Arthur was to sit on the loveseat, and without further ado, he moved and did so even if having his back to the door made his insides churn.
There was a manila file folder on the table, along with a tea setting. There was also a pitcher of iced water with a couple of glasses. It was all rather hospitable really.
"So like, I guessed you'd want tea or something since you sound all Brittishy and stuff." The blond crossed one leg over the other, the propped leg bouncing and bobbing in front of Arthur. The hospitality with the tea aside, the wagging appendage was going to drive Arthur crazy if it continued. His hands all but twitched with the need to reach out and grab it still. He stared at the other blond's green eyes with great determination, trying to ignore the aggravating motion.
"That's very kind of you… ah…" He trailed off, having no name to address the man with. Unfortunately his pause did not prompt the man to offer up a name, the other instead going back to painting his nails with a clear coat of polish. The first coat had apparently been pink with glitter in it. At least today the male's attire seemed mostly appropriate for someone of the masculine persuasion. "I don't believe I've gotten your name…" Perhaps this would encourage the other to introduce himself at last.
The other blond arched a brow, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. Arthur hated the expression the man seemed to live in, as if he was both an utter idiot yet thought he knew more than you, as if he could see through you yet blatantly was only thinking about himself and what he felt like talking about.
"Hmmm…" The man across from Arthur drew the sound out, as if this was actually something to debate over. With a small move of his head he tossed his hair out of his face for a moment, the long locks simply sliding back into place a moment later. "You can so totally call me like, Poland!" The man started to laugh, and at Arthur's rather dumbfounded expression (he certainly didn't need to feign this emotion), the man simply snickered and laughed even more. "It's like, an inside joke."
Arthur stared at him, struggling to keep his temper in check here. 'Calm down Arthur… remember what you're doing. Gareth Doyle wouldn't get angry at this… Gareth Doyle is simply desperate for a shag… yes yes… focus on that now…' His lips stretched… was he smiling? If he could force a smile when Alfred was being an idiot, he could do it in front of this idiot as well. "Mr. Poland… then…?" He was hopeful the man would correct him with an actual name, even if it was simply a pseudonym. Sadly, his hope was wasted.
"Just Poland, 'Mr. Poland' so totally makes me sound like some old man." Arthur tried not to sag. 'Well… it makes sense I suppose… without a name, I can't possibly research this man's background.' Regardless, Arthur knew to proceed with caution. If Gallery Nine forced the employees to use a false name, they were obviously always on their guard.
Twisting the cap back onto his nail polish, 'Poland' sat forward, snatching up the manila folder. He opened it up and gave it a quick glance over that told Arthur clearly that the man had already memorized the contents and that the perusal was simply for show. Idly he wondered how much of this 'interview' was for show as well. Arthur sat up straight to attention all the same. The man brought the folder up high enough so that only his eyes peeked over the top. "So Mr. Doyle… aren't you so totally excited? You get to meet a host and have all your fantasies come true."
Arthur nodded eagerly, trying to slide more and more into his role. Keeping up a consistent character was key here, so at the apparent realization that he was acting very eager, 'Gareth' suddenly looked rather embarrassed with himself, dipping his head down in shame. There was snickering from behind the folder, which either meant Arthur was pulling it off or Poland found his acting that laughable. "Y-Yes… thank you for accepting my application."
"Sure sure," the man replied casually, and Arthur bit back his comments about his attitude carefully. "Like, we don't just accept anyone… but that also means that we treat the ones we do like, super amazing. You'll be so totally satisfied with your visit, for sure."
Arthur simply gave the man a hopeful smile, trying to follow his lead.
"Anyways, I've never failed to like, pick the perfect host for someone. I'm awesome at reading people, so like, don't worry, I can so totally see right through you." Flat green eyes locked onto Arthur's own, and for just a moment he felt his blood pressure shoot up. Arthur wasn't going to show his hand here, but suddenly he got the impression that this seemingly frivolous man just may be more dangerous than he'd first judged. 'Arthur you idiot, he's their first line of defense! Of course he's not just an airhead.' A dangerous smile crept across the man's lips, all but screaming at Arthur, all but taunting 'I know who you really are' at him.
Arthur kept it cool… on the outside at least.
"You're so totally gay. Gay and a total bottom." The words were punctuated with the waggling of eyebrows.
The triumphant statement caught Arthur off guard, causing his mouth to drop open like a stupid fish. He stared at the man blankly while his head's expectations attempted to resolve with what had actually just happened. Here he'd thought the operation was blown and instead… instead… this? That's all he'd meant? That he could tell Arthur was gay, and submissive at that? 'Wait one minute! I'd most certainly be on the top! I mean d-damn it!' His face turned crimson at the insinuation, though his anger and outrage was mistaken by the other as acute embarrassment. The other laughed while Arthur sputtered.
"No need to get so worked up, it's like… way ok, ya know? We get all kinds here, and we cater to like, everyone! So it's totally cool." Poland waved his hand in the air, as if to dispel the awkward air about them. Arthur cleared his throat, drawing in a fierce breath through his nose and fighting for composure, all the while reminding himself that presenting himself as gay and, well, submissive, was possibly the only angle he could play to get an appointment with Alfred. Not that Alfred and gay had ever been connected in Arthur's mind before… but who knew just what his childhood friend was dealing with in here.
Poland seemed to sober up a bit, smiling away. "You can relax, seriously. I've been doing this since Gallery Nine opened and I've never not picked the perfect host for someone. So chill, kay?" The words, if you subtracted the tone they'd been said with, were probably meant to be comforting. Arthur sat back in the loveseat and nodded. It looked like it was business time at last.
"Right, so. Gay, yes?" Poland arched his brows, waiting expectantly for his 'brilliant' conclusion from before to be confirmed. Grudgingly, Arthur nodded his head.
"Yes… or at least… I think so…" He averted his eyes, trying to look properly sheepish.
"Oh… one of those. That's fine, you can so totally figure out if it's time to bail from the closet here. We get that sometimes… curious people. So you're like… a virgin down there and stuff?"
Arthur's cheeks flamed red. 'A virgin 'down there' and bloody well going to stay that way!' Internal tirade aside, he was careful to keep his voice soft. "Yes… that won't be a problem will it?"
He could hear the sound of a pen scratching against paper, his interviewer writing on a paper in the folder. The man just shook his head, shrugging it off. "Nope, like, weren't you listening? We get all sorts, we're ready and stuff. You'll just have to sign an extra waiver because like… you know, butt sex can so totally hurt the first time."
Arthur simply didn't have the words to respond to such a statement. He truly didn't. 'I'm going to be exhausted after this interview… who knew someone could tax my head more than Alfred?'
"Mmk, so… we're looking for a guy to pop your cherry… umm… prefs? Like, hair color, body type, eye color, etcetera…?" The pen was held at the ready, and Arthur took a moment to scratch pleasantly at the back of his hand.
"Well, I mean… I don't suppose I have a set type… I… you don't have pictures I could look at?" Searching for Alfred aside, the possibility of confirming the visual identity of some of the hosts would be invaluable. Sadly, a shake of Poland's head told him that once again Gallery Nine was not so foolish.
"Sorry. But don't worry, we have all types! And like I said, I'm like, totally perfect at matchmaking. Just tell me what you feel like, I'll get it right." The man certainly seemed confident about that.
Folding his hands in his lap, Arthur considered his options here very carefully. Now of course he knew it'd be suicide to perfectly describe Alfred. That was obvious. The trick was trying to find the right balance of traits that would give him the best odds of meeting up with his old friend. First he'd start with harmless traits… generic enough ones that'd been asked for specifically.
"I… I do prefer blonds… and though perhaps it's a bit cliché… I do think blue eyes suite blonds the best. Perhaps because I don't have them…" He looked at Poland who was simply scribbling down his answers. "Body type… well that is… well… perhaps someone fit?"
The other blond didn't look up from his writing. "Taller than you?"
"I suppose… yes… that could be nice…" Was the man leading him here? Arthur remained cautious.
"Like, are you into younger guys?" There was just enough interest there that Arthur knew to back off a bit. He gave a slight shrug.
"Ah, I don't suppose it would matter too much… that's more something I would consider for… well… not for this." It wasn't a yes, it wasn't a no. He was pleased at his vagueness there. The other man kept on writing, and Arthur couldn't help but wonder at how he seemed to be getting paragraphs out of his very simple answers.
"Well, do you want someone wild? Someone careful? Like, give me a personality here." Poland stopped his writing and fixed his green eyes directly to Arthur's. The undercover agent knew he couldn't hesitate too much here, but this would be difficult. To describe Alfred without describing Alfred. Arthur knew well enough that even at his best, Alfred's acting wouldn't have given him a complete personality make-over.
"Well… confident… someone… well, bold perhaps. He doesn't have to be 'wild' as you put for it will be my f-first time and all but… I… do not want to have to make the first move. A… a vibrant person…" There was one more trait to ask for that he thought may be safe, staying away from such easy 'give-aways' as 'heroic' or 'cocky' or even 'talkative'. His next request was generic enough, a trait many people looked for. "I'd like him to have… a nice smile." Possibly it was too much… but he kept his voice as casual as possible.
Poland scratched his pen against the paper again, bringing it up at last to chew on the end with a thoughtful hum. Arthur waited as the other man's eyes remained glued to the papers in the folder for a bit. At last he seemed satisfied, for he suddenly whipped the folder around, displaying the contents for Arthur to see. Needless to say, the agent's jaw dropped.
"Like, what do you think? It's the best pony I've drawn ever!" Yes indeed, there scribbled on a blank sheet of paper was a rather poorly drawn pony-shaped blob, surrounded by flowers and… rainbows? Arthur lost his composure yet again, staring at Poland and seriously wanting to throttle the man. Had he been taking anything in this seriously? Could Arthur have been sitting here asking for a purple haired Cyclops and gotten the same responses?
Before he could do anything, the man stood up, smirking away and gesturing for Arthur to rise. Numb as he was Arthur obeyed; shocked when suddenly a different paper was pulled out from behind the pony sketch. It was both an appointment schedule as well as a bill. Perfectly painted nails graced the top of his shoulder as he was guided towards the door.
"So like, that's the time and date we've reserved for you, just a few days away. If it doesn't work for you you'll need to tell me now so we can reschedule it. For like, your bill," A sparkling pink nail tapped at the written down amount. Arthur's eyes nearly bulged at it, but he knew that the Gallery was expensive. "That's the amount you need to post to the account provided by tonight. Ok? Like, if the funds don't get there before your appointment you'll be totally in trouble."
Arthur was about to respond when suddenly there was a loud noise above them. He jerked his head up to look at the ceiling, Poland doing the same. For a moment the two men remained mute, staring at the ceiling and listening to the frenzied commotion above them. Arthur's blood ran cold. In his line of work he'd heard such sounds before… he'd heard the sounds of a fight, of a struggle. It took all the willpower he had in his body not to charge out of the room, try to get up to the floor above them. Without a doubt, that had to be Alfred! Arthur just knew it!
Hands started to push at his shoulders, Poland trying to urge him out of the room. He looked over his shoulder at the man, surprised by the serious look that hadn't quite been wiped away yet. "Oy… what was that sound? What's going on?"
"It's nothing, just chill." Arthur wasn't about to be brushed off that easily.
"I'll have you know that as a customer, I have every right to inquire on this! If this establishment isn't safe…" Poland started to wave an aggravated hand at him, his smirking mask slipping back on as Arthur was still shoved to the door.
"Like, a bookshelf probably fell. Don't worry about it. We're totally safe." Arthur had no more room to protest over that lie, for the door was reached and the burly guard was escorting Arthur away in seconds. Flustered and annoyed, Arthur strained his ears, hoping for some sort of encouraging sound. All he got instead was Poland's voice calling after him. "Like, remember… I totally always hook the right people up! You can count on it!"
Arthur doubted this highly. There was nothing else for it though, for he found himself outside and under the sunny morning sun. 'Well… bollocks.' He'd gotten his appointment at any rate. Striding away from the Gallery towards his car, he carefully avoided even glancing at the convenience store where no doubt his fellow agents were watching him. There was no need to give them a signal of any sort; with the bugs on him they'd at least heard everything. Embarrassing as that conversation had been, he'd put a call to them once he returned home to go over their plans in the interim of his appointment.
x x x x x x x x x x x x
Alfred had risen early this morning, which was quite a feat considering how long his appointment had run last night. Still, his resolve hadn't wavered a bit (or was it he hadn't grown any less desperate? He chose to go with strong resolve, more heroic), thus he was committed to cracking this case here and now. It wasn't like he'd wasted his six or so months here, he'd been snooping… but he just hadn't gotten anywhere where he had conclusive evidence to present to a court of law. The proof that he needed to get to make this mission a success, he'd finally get some at last.
Today it was time to be bold, today it was time to take all the surveillance he'd been sneaking, all the schedule memorizing he'd been trying to do, and all the chumming up to the staff he'd engaged in and put it to good use. He rose early, took a quick shower to get his mind working, then tossed on some workout clothes; a simple cotton tank top… a soft pair of knee length shorts… and importantly his well worn and not squeaky running shoes. He was off to the gym, nothing suspicious there at all, right? So his clothes were comfortable, quiet, and easy to move in. Nothing wrong with that, right?
Casual as he could be, Alfred sauntered towards the private third floor gym (sauntering was casual in his book). The clear glass door let him see inside very easily (and had always allowed him to see out just as nicely). There it was, his favorite treadmill, in all its conveniently pointed at the door glory. Man he'd spent a good number of hours on that treadmill, building up his cardio while getting a great view of the movements on the third floor.
Stepping inside, Alfred was a little surprised to find that he wasn't alone. There were already a couple of gym occupants, which wouldn't really throw a wrench into his plans. Berwald wasn't the sort of guy who'd go saying things he shouldn't (considering he rarely said more than a couple words together at a time), and Feliciano… well.
The naïve little chatterbox wasn't quite as naïve as he was supposed. Alfred would rely on the Italian's never dying desire to get out of the gallery to keep that tongue of his from spilling anything troublesome. Besides, listening to Feliciano's escape attempts had given him good information, even if he hadn't come clean to the other as he had with Francis. He gave the pair a hearty wave, suppressing a smirk at the sight. Was Feliciano seriously trying to bench press? It was only the bar and a light weight but… still. At least Berwald was there spotting him. The poor guy was struggling like crazy.
"Yo Berwald! Feliciano! How many reps ya at?" He received grunts from both men actually, Berwald's probably meant to convey the number one and Feliciano's, well… that was just a grunt of exertion. Letting the Italian off the hook, Berwald's hands closed about the bar, easily lifting the weight from Feliciano and settling it back to the metal holder of the bench. A word of thanks was cast up, and the tall blond simply nodded his head, expression serious as ever.
Climbing atop the treadmill, Alfred adjusted his glasses, looking Feliciano over. He'd heard about his injuries, and it was good to see the other up and attempting some exercise. Alfred wasn't worried about getting injured himself of course, hell no. He was an agent, after all. He wasn't afraid of pain, he wasn't afraid of getting injured in the line of duty. But, so far as Alfred knew, all the hosts here were just regular civilians. Seeing any of them harmed just fired his blood hotter, made him more determined.
"Ve… I think I'm going to go lie down now…" The Italian grabbed up a towel, wiping his brow and smiling at the two blonds in the room. "Thanks again for helping me Berwald! Let's all spend time together sometime soon!"
With that, the gym was down to two occupants. Alfred started up the treadmill, setting at a medium speed and a mild incline just for warm ups. Berwald took to doing some free-weight bicep curls. The gym fell silent save the sound of the treadmill and Alfred's footsteps. It was a comfortable enough silence, and it gave Alfred plenty of opportunity to do what he'd come here for: watch for the tiny window where he could make a break for the fourth floor.
"G'd l'ck…" Alfred almost didn't realize Berwald had spoken to him, and even then it took him almost a full minute to translate out the mumble. Blinking his eyes at the other and struggling not to misstep on the treadmill and go flying backwards, Alfred was surprised to notice that Berwald was getting ready to leave. He'd been watching through the glass so intently, it seemed more time had passed than he realized.
A sober, scrutinizing gaze was radiating off of the other man, and Alfred had the unpleasant feeling of being looked through. The agent had never come clean to Berwald about his real purpose here, so the comment caught him off guard a bit. Had Francis been blabbing to the other hosts about him? No… Francis seemed to want him to really succeed… so he wouldn't be stupid enough to risk telling others. Maybe Berwald had figured it out on his own? 'Oh that'd just be great!' He gave a mental eye roll at the thought. Maybe he was being wished luck on his workout?
"B' caref'l…" Ok, treadmills were dangerous (and spawned a few hilarious internet videos), but they didn't warrant someone telling him to be careful! Though Alfred smiled his hero's smile back at Berwald, he felt a sinking despair hit his stomach. Yet another reason to finish his mission today… too many people were on to him!
"T-Thanks…" The two exchanged nods, though once alone Alfred cursed low under his breath. He was tempted to turn the speed up higher on the treadmill so that he could sprint off some of his frustration at himself, but held himself back. If he wore himself out now it'd be dangerous when he went to the fourth floor. He couldn't be exhausted. 'Still… it should be about time for it… come on, where are you?' His eyes peered out intently, shining behind his glasses. Each thud of his feet on the treadmill seemed like a horrible countdown, ticking away his chances at success.
"There he is…" Alfred whispered, finally seeing a suited guard walk very discretely past the glass gym door. The two spared a pleasant smile back and forth. There wasn't anything special about that guard in particular; it was only what his passing signified. Right now Alfred had about a two minute window to get up those stairs before the new guard's patrol would lead him by the stairs again. It was a tiny shift change, a miniscule margin to work with. He'd in the past judged it too slim…
… but no chance was too small today! Punching the off button on the treadmill Alfred leapt off the machine quickly, stumbling a little on the solid non-moving ground before dashing quickly through the glass doors and towards the stairs. In his head he began to count the seconds, timing himself as he made his break. For as fast as he was running, his steps were as close to silent as you could get. Just because he normally made a ton of noise in everything he did didn't mean he couldn't be quiet. It was time to be serious here, after all. Stealth was key. As it wasn't something that came naturally to the blond, he worked at it even harder.
His feet hit the bottom of the staircase to the fourth floor, and with a swift glance over his should Alfred started up. He trained his eyes to the ceiling, peering for the familiar red dot of a hidden camera. If he hadn't been snooping so much, and looking for one specifically, he never would have found it. As it was, Alfred carefully moved and positioned himself to avoid the lens's wide frame. Swiftly lunging up the last few steps Alfred leapt forward and with a roll suited for the movies came to a crouch by a small potted plant. Maybe the roll wasn't exactly necessary, but it made him feel cool so there ya go.
'Sweet… step one completed, the fourth floor has officially been reached.' His adrenaline was pumping, his spirit singing and soaring, filling him with a feeling he hadn't realized he'd lost. All this time, getting drawn into the feel and flow of Gallery Nine… he'd forgotten how good it felt to actually actively do work like this. He missed getting to do busts, missed physically bursting in or snooping about to stop the 'bad guys'. It almost made him cringe just how much he'd been distracted from his work, the more he thought about it. 'Well, no more, no more. I'm on target again now.'
Swiftly he moved to the first door he reached in the hall, his eyes sweeping about constantly, looking for both hidden cameras and guards on patrol. Carefully he tried the door, not at all surprised to find it was locked. He would have been more on alert if he'd easily breezed inside. Debating the importance of this door, and wondering if he should go deeper into the fourth floor, Alfred hesitated. He didn't have a lot of time before the guard patrols would sweep past here, and there was always the chance of one of the bosses passing by. Loitering about wasn't an option. Even if it was something small, if this room held some evidence it'd greatly speed up his expedition up here.
However… Alfred didn't want to take a chance on not getting something absolutely conclusive. If things went truly wrong, this could be his only crack at the fourth floor. Anything he gained from up here had to be solid. It had to be absolute irrefutable evidence that Gallery Nine was up to no good. It needed to be the blade that would slice through the thick hide of this monster, the sword that could cleave into the belly of this beast.
'I have some time… another door.' Quickly he darted forward, keeping to the walls, always scanning and listening. He was truly in his element here, his body moving with ease and confidence. Alfred hadn't risen through the ranks purely through flashy heroics and over the top gun fights. That sort of thing didn't often lead to promotions. No, he took his work, his 'heroing', dead serious.
A pungent smell caught his attention by a new locked door, and Alfred crouched down by it. He sniffed carefully, nostrils registering the faint traces of something sweet and smoky. It tickled at his nose as much as it did his memory, and his brain worked feverishly to identify it. It was certainly not perfume, no, but it was a smell he should know. It was a smell he'd been exposed to from work, one he'd been trained to look out for quite some time ago. 'Opium?' It was a good possibility, and Alfred decided this was his door.
Reaching to the band of his shorts, he drew out a small hairpin and a paperclip. Hey, you collected what you could when you were all but a captive. Kneeling down, Alfred set to work on the lock, ear pressed close to the door as he listened and felt for the tumblers to give. He tried to keep his breathing even and low, kept it quiet as he could. Splitting his attention between the lock and listening for footsteps was a bit unnerving, but it was the sort of stress Alfred could run and thrive on.
"Yes! Awesome!" The lock gave, and Alfred very carefully turned the knob. He cast a glance down the hall, hearing the telltale sounds of steps and crept inside the room. Very cautiously, silently, he closed it again, taking feather light steps back. The smell was stronger here, sweeter and more pungent. His eyes stung slightly, the smoky haze in the room not terribly thick but enough to tickle at his throat and lungs. He brought a hand up to his nose, covering it as he listened to the guard continue past the room.
He let out a small sigh of relief, and turned around. While he'd been expecting some sort of store room, some sort of space lined with drugs packed and ready for sale, he was instead greeted with a sight that belonged on the second floor. The room was ornate, a distinctly Asian flair to the décor. The light was dim yet the candles set about kept an easy and inviting atmosphere. There was some incense burning, adding to the hazy feel of the room and also working to mask the smell that'd drawn him in here.
He wasn't a narcotics expert, but he was still suspicious of the smell. He crept further into the room, and paused, heart making a leap when he suddenly realized he wasn't alone. He wasn't alone, and he was being watched.
Reclining on an ornate daybed, Alfred stared at what at first glance looked like a gentle Asian beauty. Ink black hair trailed over one shoulder, tied in a small ribbon. The clothes looked definitely Asian, traditional… hell, the clothes of different cultures wasn't Alfred's strong suit. He supposed, when it came down to it, the clothes didn't really matter. What he wouldn't give for his gun right now.
He locked his eyes with the other man, tensing just in case he tried to get up, call out in alarm. As the moments went by, though, Alfred realized that wasn't going to happen. Though he wasn't smoking any at the moment, no doubt this man was the reason for the smell of opium here. The man looked dazed, lethargic, depressed. He was probably trapped in the lows of withdrawal. The eyes locked on Alfred seemed only barely lucid, perking up only slowly. A sinking feeling clutched at Alfred's gut, a little different than before.
He'd never seen this man before… and yet this room filled his head with only one notion about its occupant. He wasn't a host like Alfred had become and yet… this room was like an ornately painted and gilded cage. It was as if this man was on display as a treasure, a fine exotic bird that only the most deserving were allowed to see. Was he another captive?
Alfred came closer to the bed, the man watching him, never rising further up on the pillows that propped him up in elegant repose. There was just a hint of curiosity in those eyes; just a small sparkle shining through the film that drug had painted over those orbs.
The man's lips moved, words Alfred couldn't understand breaking the silence. When all he did was continue to stare, the words came again, slightly different but still in a language Alfred couldn't speak. He shook his head.
"Hey buddy, do you speak English? I can't understand you…" He tried to keep his voice calm, neutral. He still wasn't sure if this man would call for help or not. There was a lethargic blinking of the eyes from the one on the bed, the man struggling to rise somewhat.
"You should not be here…" Well, hell if Alfred didn't know that! Seeing how much the other was struggling to rise, Alfred rushed over to the bed, trying to lend a hand. The man frowned at him, trying to shove his hands away. "You must get away from me… leave now."
Alfred frowned, shaking his head. "I can't just go… who are you? Are you… are you here against your will? Are they—" So many questions, and before any could be answered the chilling sound of the door clicking open filled the air. 'Shit shit shit…' He realized, much too late, that he hadn't scanned this room for surveillance. 'Rookie mistake Al!'
Alfred turned, feeling almost in slow motion, to see one of his bosses standing in the doorway. Behind him were two men, but they were not nearly as intimidating as the silvery blond with the prominent nose. Alfred had met the bosses only once… only when he was 'allowed' to start here as a host. He felt his throat go dry, the muscles in his hands wanting to go for a gun he didn't have. His boss strode in calmly, his tall and heavy frame commanding respect and authority even if his face was only filled with the most pleasant smile of a child.
"This room is off limits," he said simply, not an ounce of anger in his voice. Like over protective hounds, the guards moved with the boss, never falling too far behind him. Violet eyes locked to Alfred's blue, a smile was met with a fierce scowl.
"Yeah, well, you should have put a sign on the door or something." He knew tossing an attitude here wasn't a good idea, but there was no believable ignorance he could feign for breaking into a locked room. The man hummed in the back of his throat, as if considering the idea.
"Perhaps we will. Though I had thought the rule that hosts are to stay on the third floor unless summoned was very clear." Standing right before Alfred, the man continued to smile down at him pleasantly. "I will consider this as I escort you where you belong." As softly as it was said, the finality in the tone was biting and cold, a chilling warning to Alfred not to struggle.
Weighing his options, Alfred sighed, raking his hand through his hair. The boss hadn't said anything that specifically led him to believe he was about to be 'taken out'… so perhaps for now… this was going to be overlooked? 'No… no way it will… but for now I'll go along with it.' There wasn't much he could do in this room faced with three very large men. He cast a glance back at the Asian man on the daybed, wishing he knew his story.
The hand that roughly grabbed his arm jerked him away from those thoughts, his boss pulling him along like a child with a disobedient puppy. Alfred resisted digging in his heels like a child. Sure he was going to get in trouble for this, but if at least his cover wasn't blown, then perhaps he'd just end up like Feliciano during his escape attempts. He could deal with a beating and hell… it'd get him off the active host roster for a while. Staying away from clients would give Alfred time to think, if nothing else.
"You know… I believe I understand why you were up here. Unlocking locked doors. You are very lucky, by the way, that it was I that noticed you there." He cast a very meaningful look to Alfred, his childish face seeming absurd trying to make such an honest and conspiratorial gesture. "Your other boss would be most unhappy."
As much as Alfred wanted to know more about that subject, he was more terrified at the first part of that statement, the part that could very well mean his boss knew what he was up to. Their eyes remained locked in a stare down as they walked, and unfortunately Alfred couldn't voice the question. If he seemed too curious about it, would he look suspicious? Thankfully, reaching the top of the stairs to go back to the third floor, his boss continued on.
"It is because you have too much free time. As you are so new, we have been kind to you, yes? We have given you few clients, easy clients. I think it is time, yes, to expand your workload. Now you will not be bored!" The childish glee in his boss's voice at that was worse than any sort of threatening growl. The way his face seemed to light up like a delighted child seemed grotesquely inhuman. Before Alfred could respond, before he could open his mouth to get even one word out, his boss suddenly shoved him forward.
Alfred could only thank his body's quick reflexes in getting his arms up as he tumbled down the stairs. Cradling his head and protecting his neck, he grunted and let out yelps of pain as the sharp edges of the stairs battered and stabbed into his sides. His knees collided painfully against the solid steps, his back throbbing and pinching at each painful strike of a corner. The jarring motion left his mind reeling as he tumbled, making a noisy and speedy pace to the floor. When he hit the bottom he groaned, trying to roll over to rise despite the almost electric jolts running through his spine at the attempt.
He was saved the effort by a hand jerking him up to his feet, by two sets of arms starting to haul him up. His boss was soon standing before him again as the guards braced him up. The smile was still on his boss's face, but it had matured, it was thoughtful. It was, however, still very much pleased.
"Do you know why you disobeyed my rules, Alfred? Do you know why, even though you were told it was wrong, you ventured where you should not go?" The lack of a pause made it all too evident his boss didn't care if Alfred had his own thoughts on the matter. "It is because you are like a dog. You can be trained, but if you are not watched carefully, you are likely to disobey. Do you know how you can train an animal not to perform a behavior?"
Those violet eyes pierced into Alfred deeply, teasing him with what was coming neck. "You punish it of course… you punish it and make it fear you." His boss reached out, patting Alfred's head. "You disobey the rules because you do not fear me. If I must, I will change that. I would rather we stay friends though, it is much better that way."
With that the guards started to roughly pull Alfred along the corridor to his room. Many of the doors of the other hosts had opened, his fall down the stairs having startled many. He saw Feliciano rush to Francis's room; saw the Italian start pounding on the door. Alfred didn't have much time to watch out for others. It was all he could do to keep his feet as he was jerked roughly to his room, body wanting to lash out at the two men holding him. All the while his boss followed behind, watching and smiling, even waving pleasantly to some of the other hosts.
When they got to his room the guards all but ripped the door from the hinges as they forced it open and threw him inside. Alfred stumbled forward, hitting his table and falling to the ground. The guards were on him in moments, kicking at him while he was down.
Every fiber of Alfred's being wanted to fight back, to use his training and kick some ass. Instead, for the sake of the mission that hadn't failed just yet (he hoped), he curled up and took it. His teeth were clenched tightly as blow upon blow assaulted his body, knocking the wind from him and making him ache.
"Ah… no no… he has work to do, work he needs his body for. Come, he will behave for now, won't you Alfred?"
No one waited for his answer, his door closing with a soft click. Alfred coughed and hugged his sides, rolling over and trying to breathe through the pain. His heart ached with the thought that he'd failed, that the stakes had gotten that much higher. At this rate he wasn't going to be the hero after all.
x x x x x x x x x x x x
There was a pounding noise at his door, and Francis groaned, rolling over. He was exhausted, and it was much too early in the morning for someone to come and disturb his beauty sleep! He tried to ignore it, knowing full well there was no reason for him to be up at this hour today. He had no appointments, and as much as he very much loved to socialize with the other hosts, they would simply have to wait until he was properly awake and composed. Francis was simply not a morning person.
However, the pounding on his door simply wouldn't stop, and with a snarl the blond stomped out of his bed, pulling on a silk robe only on the off chance that someone important might be calling. He barely tied the sash about his waist, so it was very touch and go how well the robe would stay closed. He cracked his door open just slightly, an almost murderous aura about him as he peered out to see his visitor.
"Big brother Francis, big brother Francis!" It was a very panicked Feliciano, a rather terrified one. Francis opened the door a bit more, his confusion and concern outweighing his foul temper for the moment.
"Feliciano? What is it?" His was answered by a tug at his arm and a finger pointing down the hall. Francis poked his head out of his room further before his eyes went wide. Swiftly he grasped the Italian's arm, forcefully jerking him into his room and behind him protectively. With Feliciano safely in his room and out of sight, Francis watched as Alfred was dragged forcibly into his own room by two of the Gallery's guards. 'No… what has that fool done?' There was a distinctly unpleasant flutter in his chest, a feeling as though the small butterfly of hope was being caught in a cat's paws.
Alfred disappeared from Francis's sight, and the older blond swallowed heavily, fear weighed down on him with icy fingers. Hesitantly he looked to his boss, stared at Ivan. The other man met his gaze, supposedly cheerful and yet Francis could never say he'd know what the other was thinking at any time. His boss waved, and Francis waved back with a stony look in his eyes.
He watched from his doorway until the guards and Ivan had returned to the fourth floor before shutting his door and retreating into his room to sit on the edge of his bed. Feliciano followed him like a terrified pup, not knowing what to do. Quite honestly, that made two of them.
Rubbing his forehead, Francis tried to pull himself together. 'Alfred is a professional… he is an agent. Though his acting is terrible… he will not break from a little violence… and they would not drag him back to his room to kill him.' The blond man looked back up, reaching out for Feliciano to offer him a hug and some support. Quickly the auburn haired youth had attached himself in a hug, nuzzling into Francis's chest.
Yes, Alfred would recover from… from whatever had happened… and Francis would give the idiotic youth an earful for doing something so drastic. Whatever it was that he'd done that is, he'd have to get the story from Alfred's lips soon. The hopes of getting the hosts out were resting on Alfred's shoulders… and though Francis thought the man understood that, perhaps he needed to be reminded. 'Perhaps he also… could simply use some support.' Anything he could do… anything he could give to Alfred… Francis would do it if it could just lead to freedom.
x x x x x x x x x x x x
"Toris? Like, what just happened up there? I was totally in the middle of an interview and like, had to lie to the dude about stuff falling over." Feliks stormed up to the third floor, staring at the brunette who was looking down the hall rather somberly. Toris turned his head, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh. It was a sigh filled with just as much agitated frustration as it was filled with regret.
"Alfred was caught on the fourth floor… he was 'escorted' back down. By Ivan. Personally." A small shiver raced over his body, a faint sensation that was gone as quickly as it'd come. He opened his eyes, watching the blond arch his brows.
"So like, what does this mean?" Feliks propped his hands on his hips, highly annoyed it seemed. Toris gave a rueful laugh.
"I've been asked to tell you that Alfred will be accepting male clients now as well, and that there will be no break in his schedule from… this event." Toris had expected some sort of snide or sarcastic comment to come from his friend and confidant, and was most surprised when he saw absolute joy spark in those flat green orbs.
"For serious?" Feliks was positively bouncing. Reaching out to grab the blond's shoulders, Toris pinned him with a serious gaze. This really wasn't a laughing matter here, and he found Feliks's reaction highly inappropriate, and even a bit heartless.
"Yes, very serious… why?" His friend was up to something, and Toris wanted to know. Thankfully, Feliks was never one to withhold something of this nature from the brunette. An excited rush of words met Toris's ears, whispered close and quiet. He could feel his heart race a bit, thudding as the realization of his friend's words sank in.
"So, like, you see? This… this… is so totally perfect…" Feliks started to clap his hands, looking like he'd give a spin if he'd been in a dress. Without another word the blond rushed back down the stairs, no doubt to schedule an appointment between a certain Mr. Doyle and Alfred.
Toris turned, staring back at Alfred's door, his mind a blur at the possibilities. Was this… was this finally the break they'd all been looking and waiting for? Toris turned his eyes back towards the stairs to the third floor, deeply conflicted even though he knew what was the proper thing to do. 'One step at a time… you won't find the way if you don't take the journey.' If only things at the Gallery were black and white. If only there wasn't so much grey.
If there was an easy solution to all of his, Toris would have acted by now. As it was… well… he'd have to remain alert.
Author's Note:
It's a little weird having such short little sections at the end like that… and yet… even if I'd saved them for the next chapter, they wouldn't have been lengthened. Ah well. It seems like things may be taking a turn for the better eh? But the Gallery is a deceiving place, and oh we're not even close to the end of this ride.
Not that I think anyone cares, but one of my favorite songs to listen to while I write this fic is 'The Great Shipwreck of Life' by IAMX. It's very suited for the Gallery I think, maybe, I dunno. No need to go and listen, it was just a random thing I thought I'd share down here.
I wonder, has anyone guessed who the second boss is? I haven't really set out too many hints really, and quite frankly… I'm expecting people to be a little 'wtf' when they find out. Then again, perhaps no one will care at all. XD
Reviews are loved, and thank you to those who send them to me. Hopefully those reading this continue to enjoy it~
Next chapter should have lesson 2. 'wink wink'