Artemis was reading the local paper in the hotel's lobby as he enjoyed the provided continental breakfast, when the concierge approached him.
"Mister Fowl?" he asked. Artemis raised an eyebrow, and gave a curt nod.
"A package was left for you at the front desk," he said with a smile. He presented a black box, with a note tied to it with a red ribbon. Artemis knew that color scheme, and he had a feeling he knew who'd sent the package. His first thought was to refuse it... but if it turned out to be dangerous, then he'd be leaving the first person to get curious to deal with the consequences. He cursed mentally. This damned conscience was beginning to be a problem.
"Thank you," he said. He took the package, then folded the paper and set it aside. He drained what was left of his coffee, and returned to the room. Holly was already up, preening her feathers. She was reaching over her shoulder, carefully smoothing and adjusting one feather after the next. Every few feathers she'd dip her fingers in a small tub of coconut oil, then return to the work. Surprisingly, Holly never found it tedious. She'd described it as kind of instinctively soothing, almost meditative.
"Coffee still on?" She asked, not looking up. Artemis thought quickly. If this was a bomb, it would be better to try to disarm it while Holly wasn't in the room. If it was an inhaled pathogen or toxin, he could isolate the room without harming her. But she'd never leave if she knew.
"Last I checked," he started, sitting down on the bed and setting the package down on the floor. He spoke again, to cover the sound as he slid it beneath the bed with his heel. "A bit burnt though. You may want an extra spoon of sugar."
"Mmm." replied the former Captain, still focused on her preening.
Good. She hadn't heard it. She'd be safe. Artemis laid back on the bed, fiddling with his scroll while he waited for Holly to head down for breakfast. He answered a few queries from the team he had renovating the building, opting for the better rated locks and selecting a few color swatches. He checked to see if anyone had answered their ad for a Hunter, and found nothing. He sent a query to the library for books on Aura as Holly finally smoothed her wings down and headed out of the suite for breakfast.
Artemis retrieved the box and set it on the desk, pulling out the knife from the day prior. He hadn't actually realized he'd stolen it at the time, he'd merely pocketed it when he'd finished with it out of habit. He'd discovered it last night and cleaned it. He was glad he had.
Carefully, he sliced through the edges of the box lid with the tip of the knife. He gently pried it up a crack, peering into the box under the desk light. No trigger mechanism, so not a bomb. Or at least, not that type of bomb.
He grabbed the baggy t-shirt with the cereal mascot, and soaked it in the bathroom sink. He tied it around his face. Not a gas mask, but it would catch most of any powder based poison. He finished cutting off the box lid. Inside was a gun. Not just any gun of course, this was the very gun from the shop last night. An S.D.C. Arms Fractal Classic. The sender had even included accoutrements, including a spare magazine, a neat array of .45 rounds, and two empty vials of the type to be slotted into the weapon. All arrayed neatly in a foam block. Still suspicious, he sliced away a side of the package, and peeled up the foam to check its underside. Nothing. A gift, not a curse. He picked up the accompanying note, and freed it from its small envelope.
"To Whom it May Concern,
Please accept this gift to express my gratitude on behalf of my employees. Thanks to your restraint and compassion, they were liberated from the prison and the hospital instead of the morgue. The shopkeeper claimed you were interested in this pistol, and I just happened to come across one. Use it in good health.
-J"
Artemis smiled. It was a familiar, vampiric smile. They had managed to fumble their way into the good graces of one of the local gangs. And judging by the lack of news coverage about a breakout, one that could influence the local law enforcement. He checked the serial numbers. The ones on the gun itself had been filed of course, that was as traditional as it was practical. However they had missed the ones on the magazines. Artemis smiled, looking forward to tracking down their mysterious benefactor.
"This seat taken?" Downstairs, Holly had been enjoying a tray of fruits with her coffee when someone had approached her table. It was a familiar face: caramel skin, amber eyes, dark hair, and a gold badge. The officer on scene from the attempted robbery, wearing a friendly smile.
"Not at all," Holly said. "I didn't get your name before, Sergeant...?"
"Royal," she smiled and sat at the table. "But please, call me Scarlet." She took a sip of her coffee and cringed. Artemis had been right to suggest the sugar, but even after four packets it was still on the bitter side. She found herself taking everything sweeter than she used to these days. She reasoned it likely had something to do with her newfound heritage. It felt strange to even think about. Holly slid the small rack of packets forward, and the sergeant gratefully began tearing open sugar and powdered creamer.
"I'm not here in any official capacity," Scarlet said. "But I saw you in action in the security footage. It was brilliant! Quick, clean, and damned impressive." She took another sip of coffee, frowned, and added more sugar.
"I learned from the best," Holly smiled with nostalgic pride. Her Recon days seemed so long ago now.
"Clearly," the Sergeant smiled. "That's a curious accent by the way. Where did you walk your beat?"
"Haven," Holly said, reflexively. Her stomach dropped a notch when she realized that she'd told the truth. She lifted the coffee cup to her lips to try and hide the brief moment of panic while she tried to think of what to say next.
"Oh you're from Mistral!" She grinned. "Beignet owes me a thousand lien. He thought you were from Vacuo." Holly made a mental note to work on her accent as she breathed a sigh of relief. "And no wonder you're a badass with a beat like that," the cop continued.
Holly shrugged "It is what it is." Of course she had no idea what 'it' was.
"So how'd you get the boot?" Royal said, leaning back in her chair. She crossed her legs under the table. "They had to have had a good reason to let someone with your skills walk." Holly thought quickly. She didn't know anything about this world's Haven. It had to be a decently sized place if it was so well known. She couldn't make anything up... but she could play off her assumptions.
Ironically, her wings came with some heavy baggage. Her kind only had equal rights after a revolution that was fairly recent. Discrimination was rampant. It was like dwarves vs goblins all over again, only this time she was a goblin. Not that the analogy was perfect. Goblins brought most of their problems on themselves, they were power hungry and confrontational by nature. But Faunus were just people. They were different, they were outnumbered, and unfortunately that seemed to be enough. Holly shrugged, and fluttered her wings a bit. "Guess."
Royal frowned. "That's just not right. You put in so much time and effort, and one backward thinking neanderthal ruins everything. Criminal."
"Speaking from experience?" Holly asked.
"You could sssssay that," Royal smirked, stretching a thin forked tongue from her mouth as she drew the word out into a hiss. She then blinked in confusion for a moment. "Coconut?"
Holly nodded, flexing her wings. "You could call it conditioner," she said. "Wings are pretty high maintenance."
"They're so pretty..." Royal said wistfully... "You ever try to fly?"
"I can manage about ten minutes or so," Holly said, sipping her coffee. "I'm working on improving my endurance though" Royal's jaw fell open.
"Wait, seriously? I was kidding!" She said, aghast. "You can actually fly? Not gliding?"
"Yes?" Holly said. "Is that strange? I haven't exactly met anyone else with wings."
"I knew a guy with bat wings a couple years ago. He could glide as long as he liked, but he couldn't fly without dust. And even then he wasn't that good at it." Royal jumped out of her seat, her coffee forgotten entirely. "Come on, you have to show me!"
Holly would have been glad to of course. Anybody who'd ever strapped on a decent pair of wings was always up for an exhibition flight. But at that moment, her scroll rang. Only one person had the number of course.
"I need to take this," Holly said. She slid the gizmo open. "Short."
"If you're finished with breakfast, you've received a package that we ought to discuss." Artemis said. She could almost hear that damned smile over the phone.
"Can it wait, Artemis?" Holly said. "I'm in the middle of something."
"Someone sent you a firearm," Artemis said, bluntly. "Anonymously. The same type you were trying to purchase yesterday." Holly took a moment to swallow her surprise.
"I'll be right up," Holly closed the scroll. "Rain check?"
"Got a fire to put out?" Royal asked, sympathetically.
"I hope not," Holly sighed.
Holly emerged from the elevator a few minutes later, after swapping numbers with Royal. She swiped her keycard at the door and found Artemis at the desk with the gun laid out on the table next to a mound of severed cardboard, and a note. She skimmed it.
"Did I just get a 'thank you' note from a gang?" she asked, incredulous. "There's no way that gun is clean."
Artemis nodded. "The pistol itself had its serial number filed, but they didn't file the magazines. I queried the company, and the gun was legally purchased this morning. It seems our mysterious benefactor didn't pilfer it."
Holly raised an eyebrow. "So why file the serial number?"
"Tradition mostly," Artemis said. "It started with stolen arms of course, but most goods that even touch the black market are scrubbed regardless of their legality. Prevents them from being tracked no matter what the wielder gets up to."
"So potentially not a criminal?" Holly said doubtfully.
"Definitely criminal adjacent." Artemis said. "Filing serial numbers is not a habit one acquires by accident."
Holly picked up the gun, inspecting it. She suspected it was the very gun she'd examined in the shop, but there was no way to know for sure. She began loading the bullets into the magazine. "So who purchased the magazines?" Holly asked as she thumbed in another round.
"According to the receipt I requested, it was purchased with a company credit card," Artemis said. "A nightclub in a seedier district. Care to pay them a visit?"
"Probably for the best, " Holly sighed. "Best to know who we're dealing with."
Artemis smiled. "Then we have some preparation to take care of. There's a few clothiers nearby that do on-site tailoring. We'll both need that."
"For what?" Holly asked, wondering why she suddenly felt like she'd stepped in a bear trap. "You already have a suit-" it clicked. "Oh D'arvit. You can't be serious."
"I am quite serious. It's a classy place, so you'll need something fairly formal. Perhaps a backless cocktail dress?" Artemis smirked.
"Oh I'm sure you'd love that, mud-boy," Holly sneered. "I'm sure I can find something more modest."