Chapter 14
There were three armorers in Vale that Mercury had listed for him as 'primary sources', his best bets at finding whatever it was he wanted. The number one on the list was an underworld contact of his father's by the name of Slate, and he was a few blocks away from the docks they had landed at during their first visit. By the time Aldric found it, it was well into early the next morning, but fortunately for him, Vale's underworld was of the 'Any Hour, Any Day' variety, always available to those who required their services. Aldric also found it somewhat funny where he found himself, after giving out a short passphrase. His best comparison would be John Wick's Continental; despite the place being firmly underground, it was regal in appearance and had an orderly, calm nature to it.
Aldric didn't let this lull him into a false sense of security, however. He was well aware that everyone in the main foyer was either an assassin, murderer, or some combination of the two, and he was willing to bet a lot of them had aura, and could thusly kill him without a second's hesitation. He also attracted more than a few eyes as he brazenly walked down the hall, towards the main desk.
A woman with hair pinker than cherry blossoms was Aldric's greeter, and if she had any reservations at all about an eighteen year old walking into a hotel for assassins, she showed none of it, instead masking it behind a professional air and a practiced smile.
"Welcome to The Garden." She said softly, in a voice just barely above that of the background din. "How may I be of service to you today?" She asked, in a Russian accent, one Aldric hadn't heard before, it giving him pause.
He snapped out of it, "yes." He cleared his throat, "I'm hoping the armure is in?" He asked, using the terms Mercury had provided in his text.
The woman nodded, Aldric noticed ram horns peeking out of her bright hair. "It is a rare day when he is not, sir." She said, "am I to understand that you are a new client?"
It is suddenly occurring to me that I'm in the middle of Remnant's literal and metaphorical underworld, and I'm okay with this, and I'm not okay with this. But Aldric recognized her question nonetheless, Mercury having warned him that 'They', with the capital 't', were wary of newcomers, and this was where the coins came in.
Aldric understood them to be akin to an 'IOU' here in the Garden and its constituent organizations. It was less of a currency than it was a 'I did something to get a favor', with the coin acting as a physical representation of said favor. Mercury explained that with one coin, a person could spend weeks in the Garden, with amenities like food provided. With another, he could get medical attention until whatever it was that required said attention was fixed in its entirety. Any one coin functioned as a favor to be collected, and while they weren't all access passes, favors owed stretched a ways.
I'm going to want to figure out where he keeps these coins... Thought Aldric, as he nodded to the greeter and fished one of the platinum objects from his coat. Mercury had given him fifteen, and if Aldric understood him correctly, he would only need the one to get into the Garden, and the one to get the armor, should he find something they had, that he wanted.
Having favors in the fucking underworld... While arguably immoral, is never a bad thing. He placed the coin on the front desk and slid it towards the ram faunus. And his dad was supposed to be some kind of cross between Agent Forty Seven and John goddamn Wick, especially if Cinder sought him out herself. That means he's got a shit ton of these coins, and since Mercury's not stupid, he had to have brought, if not all of them, then a lot of them. Better yet was the haphazard way he'd seen Mercury handle them - he'd just grabbed a bunch out of his pocket. He was not keeping careful track of them, he'd just looted them, acting like a child with an expensive toy they hadn't had to spend any time or money on.
The faunus picked up the coin and gave it a brief inspection, before she nodded. "Very well, Sir..." She gave him a look.
As tempted as he was to demand she call him 'John Wick', he'd long since promised his pseudonym to a certain other badass. "Drake." He said, "Nathan Drake." And he had a long way before he could ever claim to be approaching John Wick levels of badass; if asked, he would honestly say that he thought John Wick could solve one hell of a lot of this world's problems by himself, through sheer force of will.
Strictly speaking, if Black Widow became an Avenger solely because of how effective an assassin she is, that means John Wick would qualify too, and we all know which of those two would win in a fight. Aldric had to fight to resist a grin, as he thought of Keanu Reeves shooting people in the head in a Marvel movie.
Again, the greeter showed her professionalism in not even flinching at his clearly non-conforming name, simply accepting the coin and nodding once. "Sir Drake." She said, picking up a scroll from its dock behind the desk. "That door right there." She nodded to her right, as she cracked open the scroll and held it to her ear. "Take the stairs down two levels, then go straight through the hall, his is the rearmost door." She said, with a nod and a smile.
"Thank you." Said Aldric, as she began speaking into the phone, presumably to Slate.
He followed her instructions, noting the silence of the stairwell as he descended deeper, his boots echoing with every dull thud. He passed by one other Garden patron - he'd start calling them 'Gardeners' until such a time as he was corrected - who simply nodded to him once as they passed by. Aldric reciprocated the gesture and continued down until he reached the second sub-floor. He entered to find himself in a low-ceiling corridor, not at all like the spacious foyer or wide stairwell he'd just left. It was strictly utilitarian, dare he say spartan, in nature. At the door at the end of a long, narrow hallway, he entered, to find himself in a wide, warehouse like environment. Shelving units stacked to the ceiling and stretching from one side of the room to the other, all along its length and width.
Sitting at a tightly packed desk, he found a lean man with salt and pepper hair, looking up from a thick book. He looked at Aldric from over the thick rims of his glasses, his onyx eyes giving him an appraising look. He wore a simple vest and tie, and had a tan that felt out of place in such a sterile looking place.
He pushed his glasses up the rim of his nose, and stood to his feet. "Mister Drake." He said, with a warm smile. "An interesting pseudonym, sir." He extended his hand, which Aldric shook. "Though I can't say it's one I've heard."
"The best way to hide a secret is under the nose of the people you want to hide it from." Aldric countered, as he sat down in the seat in front of Slate's desk. "Pick a name no one expects to be real, no one will believe it's real." He didn't point out that there was an entire underground hotel for assassins right underneath the capital city of the kingdom of Vale. That took balls.
"True you are." The baritone man drawled, in an accent that wouldn't have sounded too off had Aldric heard it back home in Georgia. "So to what do I owe the pleasure today?"
Right to business, then. "I'm hoping you can help me out with that." Aldric said, "obviously, I need armor." He gave a brief jerk of the head.
"And here I thought you wished for my company, sir."
Aldric shared a grin with Slate, "I'm working with an associate of the Garden, he said this was the place to come if I needed special work done fast."
"Your friend is rather knowledgeable." Slate commented, not even asking who the friend was. "What is it you seek?" The man asked, resting his chin on his knuckles.
"Well -" Aldric cleared his throat, "I'm not looking to shrug off airship rounds. If I'm fighting something with that kind of artillery, even if I had all the aura and armor in the world, it wouldn't help. So what I'm looking for is something light-weight and flexible, let me stay agile." He said, gesturing with his hands. "Something that can defend against small arms fire and moderately sized blades, absorb the impact of punches, and the like."
Slate hummed, narrowing his eyes and looking at the computer to his left. "Sounds like you're wanting to stay away from metal, and that limits us, Mister Drake" He said, rolling forward on his chair and powering up the computer. "But fortunately, within limits are where I work best." He grinned, his rumbly, baritone voice sounding as if it filled the entire warehouse-like storage room. "If I'm to surmise, you intend to allow your aura to take the brunt of most of whosoever it is to face your ire?" He drawled, giving Aldric a brief sidewards glance.
Aldric nodded, "more or less." He said, "the armor is meant to be the last layer in my defense."
"Hm..." He tapped away at his computer. "Since you desire agility enough to completely rule out weighty metal armor, I assume you're more intent upon protecting your core and limbs than you are encapsulating your entire body, yes?" He got another nod from Aldric, "your arms and legs, and your core?" He patted his chest.
Aldric nodded. "Pretty much."
"And forgive me if I sound rude, but were I to take into consideration your age and choice of dress, would style matter at all to you?" He asked, an arced eyebrow.
Aldric was tempted to be snide, but felt it prudent to bite his tongue, instead giving Slate a nod. "Kind of a... Muscle cuirass, sort of look. Black and gray, if at all possible." Aldric gave a half shrug, "I'm a comic fan."
"Well we've all our vices, in this line of work, sir." The man drawled, focusing attentively on the screen. "Alright, I think I've something you may find useful." He grabbed at the edges of the screen and with a practiced motion, turned it to Aldric. "Carbon fiber tri-weave, kevlar reinforcement... Thin and flexible, it can take most Atlesian small arms and standard blades with only moderate damage. Overlaps in key areas to avoid potential separation of the plates were you to make sudden, harsh movements." He pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose again, as Aldric slid forward to look at the screen.
"Padding allows you extra protection against melee attackers... Should give you a few chances to survive anything larger than a boarbatusk." He drawled, "and though I wouldn't try and take point-blank an attack from a Huntsman, wearing only this, by your description this seems the best of what you look for. A good last line, anything that gets through whatever defenses you've already established on your own, may not have enough force left over to penetrate this armor." He leaned back in the seat, letting Aldric give it a look over.
I wanted a batsuit, god damn, I got my ass a batsuit. He said, looking at the dark armor. Gauntlets and vambraces to protect his forearms, knee-high boots to protect his legs, and a cuirass in the approximation of a human torso. If Aldric wanted a batsuit, this may very well be the closest he could get without going hog-wild and asking for the full-body suit of armor. And I'll get my Knightmare look to boot. Aldric idly wondered if he wasn't in a coma, considering how much video game and comic book stuff he was able to pull on and find in this world. Yes, it was an anime world with anime cliches, but still.
"Anything I need to worry about?"
Slate gave a shrug of his shoulders, "well, as I said, anything larger than a rifle, or more penetrative than a standard dust round, and you're looking at projectiles bleeding through. A blade longer than a knife could, in the hands of a skilled swordsman, slip in between the plates and get inside, and this here won't do too terribly much in regards to facial protection, so a skilled marksman could take advantage of that. Aside from that, however..." He drawled, "I would think this is what you're looking for."
The face worried Aldric a bit, but he wasn't willing to dedicate to a cowl, he doubted he could pull that off without looking insane. "Maybe a ballistic face mask, of some sort?" He asked, giving Slate a brief look, before turning back to the screen. He bit back a comment about being more than willing to pull off a Winter Soldier look.
Slate sighed, "that would certainly give you some protection, but stopping bullets wouldn't protect you from the force of impact. Big enough round could still snap your neck."
Aldric nodded, "yeah." He was more thinking about something to protect his identity, when it came time to meet Qrow. "But, this is good." He said, with a nod. "I'll take it."
"Wonderful." Said the man, "I've approximated your measurements, Mister Drake, just give me one moment."
An hour, one coin, and one size adjustment, later, and Aldric found himself in a fitting room, adjusting his new armor. It was strange, looking at it he'd expected a noticeable weight on him, like letting a backpack hang from his front and back, both of them fully loaded with textbooks. Instead, the weight was more akin to wearing a heavy jacket. Moreover, Aldric could hardly feel the cuirass restricting his movements, almost as if it wasn't even there to begin with. Rapping his knuckles on the plates on his chest, Aldric nodded, impressed at how firm and unyielding it was.
Aldric adjusted the fit of the gauntlets and vambraces covering his hands and forearms. Neither they nor the boots had the bladed fins, but he was fine with that. He had initially worried about these interfering with the Power Glove, and these worries hadn't been unfounded, as the nanites were underneath the gauntlets, and thus he couldn't remove the constructs and, for example, throw his shield. However, the solution had been simple: Sliding the gloves off, and reapplying them on these armored gauntlets, and then everything worked perfectly. The boots required a small sacrifice, in him giving up his regular boots, but the trade off was, remarkably, among the most comfortable pair of shoes he'd ever worn.
The end result made Aldric feel like Batman in a trench coat. He lacked the trademark cowl, but had gone for a face mask, instead. He would give Slate credit where it was due - the man had picked out a half-face mask that would conceal his identity and provide him limited protection from gunfire, without the mobility and visibility losses that came with wearing a full helmet. He gave himself a grin, as he nodded at the mirrors he stood in front of. Really, the only thing the whole getup was missing was a bat symbol, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn't justify asking Slate to make the addition, not with him operating on limited time. If he really wanted to, he could add one himself after the fight. If he survived the fight, at least.
Exiting the fitting room, he found Slate standing calmly a few feet away, a neutral smile stretched across his face, and his hands held behind his back. "I trust everything is to your satisfaction, Mister Drake?"
Aldric nodded, "yes, thank you." He said, "have a nice day."
"And you as well." Said Slate, slowly making his way back to his tightly packed desk. "And good luck with your hunt." He added, with a smile that reached his eyes.
Aldric nodded, but said nothing else as he exited the armory. Walking through the cramped corridors back to the stairwell, he found that, coinciding with his stomach growling, that he hadn't eaten since before Adam Taurus.
Alright... Been about a day and a half... Ish... Since I took off from the Aviator... Take about an hour, maybe two, to eat some food, and then get back on the road? He nodded to himself, I doubt Mercury would mind. Dude gave me a fistful of these coins, what does he expect me to do, starve myself? A sidewards jerk of the head accompanied his logic, as he stepped out into the wide stairwell, and turned to the sign that indicated the armory.
One level above, it said, was a dining area, and everything below was the Garden's suites. Aldric began ascending stairs, idly wondering why the place was called 'The Garden', as his new boots made much lighter thunks on the stone steps than he had an hour earlier. It made him chuckle, thinking about how, technically, he had more weight than he did earlier, but was making less noise.
You know... Sound is just air vibrating at different frequencies. Air is just gas, and gas is a state of matter... I wonder if I couldn't project my voice? Be the ultimate ventriloquist? He thought, as he reached the next floor up and entered the door.
He found an environment completely unlike the armory below him. Where the armory had been cold, sterile, and utilitarian, the ceilings hardly ten feet off the ground, the restaurant was filled with warm lights, high ceilings, soft music, and the din of silverware clattering and people talking. The floor wasn't linoleum, but carpeted, and the air was less chilled than the armory's had been. Aldric also saw more than a few people walking around in suits and ties, it made him briefly fear that he may have walked into the Remnant equivalent of a black-tie club.
Fortunately, a tall, thin waitress in a conservative uniform standing behind a podium hardly five feet from the door dispelled these notions. "Welcome, sir." She said, with a nod, attracting Aldric's gaze and prompting him to approach. "Table for one? Or are you here for the bar?"
Oh god no. Last time I was in a bar it exploded. Aldric shook his head, "uh, table for one." He cast a glance around, "I hope I'm not -"
"Oh, no sir." She said, predicting his words. "Are you new here?" Aldric nodded, "if I had to guess, you were recommended?" Another nod, albeit a tentative one. Her smile only grew, "well, the Garden services a great many clientele. It is mostly utilized by workers seeking solace on a neutral grounds, where no business can be conducted." Jesus Christ this really was the Continental. "However this does not preclude those in a more tactical state of dress. You'll find that, during seasons of high Grimm activity, as many will stay that wear armor as will those who prefer formal wear." She explained.
So, armored suits and ties versus actual armor. Aldric began to wonder if this was a hotel for assassins, or one with a more general 'Underworld' function. Either way, at least he knew he wouldn't have to go out and find a suit if he wanted to eat here. "Thank you."
"Of course." Said the woman, with a nod. "Shall I see you to your table?"
Aldric thanked her again, and she guided him through the deceptively huge restaurant. He got a few eyes as he walked through, but otherwise everyone kept to themselves. The waitress made a light hearted joke about hoping he wasn't seeking a corner booth, as the 'corner real estate' had all been taken. It took Aldric a moment before he got the joke - of course assassins would want nothing to their backs, so taking a corner booth meant they could keep an eye on the entire restaurant. He was pretty sure that, had such a thing not seemingly been forbidden here, they probably would have actually fought over such spots. Aldric, however, felt no such desire. With his radar pulse, he could see everything, and none of them would be sneaking up on him.
So, he took his seat with another thanks, and ordered a soda while he perused the menu.
Thank gooood I can read decently enough, now... Aldric thought, frowning at the menu. That would have been awkward... He sensed a few people approaching, one was tall and wore a - Oh you've got to be kidding me. He lowered the menu, and there stood Roman god damn Torchwick and his tri-haired bodyguard.
"You two didn't waste any time." Aldric deadpanned. "Like... At all. I've been here two minutes."
Torchwick's characteristically suave smile stretched across his face as he let loose a light bow. "You'll find, Mister Aldric, that when waltzing into the underworld as you did, you turn a few heads. May we sit?" Aldric noticed an edge to the gangster's normally airy voice, and a firm look in his green eyes, one that had never been there before, and it was the doubt as to whether or not this edge was directed towards Aldric, or something else, that made the fighter nod.
Of course, Neopolitan swirled into the seat closest to Aldric, silently sliding into position and resting one leg over the other, a wide smile settling onto her face, as her employer took up position on the other side of the table. Aldric forcibly suppressed a shudder as the little-miss Mafia Assassin let out another hardly disguised display of interest. It was less that he didn't find himself attracted to Neo - she was definitely an attractive woman - but it was more that a homicidal chick who seemed to carry as many concealed weapons on her person as physically possible, was all but actively trying to get in his pants. He made the analogy of someone knowing a person was a serial killer, having said killer try to kill them, even if it hadn't been for any reason beyond they'd been told to, and then having said killer stopping just short of demanding they remove their clothes. It creeped him the hell out.
Fortunately, Torchwick only gave one amused glance at his guard, before turning to Aldric. "I would assume our silver haired mutual friend gave you this place?" He asked, and when Aldric nodded, he added, "well, I do not know if you've noticed, Mister Aldric, but it is not often someone entirely new enters the Garden. I've been in this business for a very long time, and was only let in on its location a decade ago."
Aldric didn't like where this was going. "You're here, talking to me, to take the edge off, as it were." He was new, people here didn't like new, and Torchwick talking to him served both to annoy him, but also to display to everyone watching that he wasn't an enemy.
Torchwick removed his hat, setting it on his knee, and letting his cane rest against the table "Perceptive." He complimented with a nod, "that is more or less why I am here. These people are professional criminals, Mister Aldric. Hitmen, assassins, disgraced Huntsman, they all knew you were here the moment you stepped inside. But it was your nature as an unknown, and the rules of this little establishment that kept them from doing anything but watch."
Aldric hummed, "I heard one of the rules." He said, as he heard one of the soft songs flow into another one. "No business?"
Torchwick nodded, with Neo looking back and forth between the two speakers. "You'll find that while everyone may be armed, the only open carriers are the Garden's own security staff. Only they can break the rules, and only then, in service of them, and you, my friend, caught their eye the moment you walked in the door. It is a good thing our mutual friend gave you those coins... Else I fear what may have happened."
Their conversation briefly died down as the waitress returned with Aldric's drink, and resumed after the crash survivor made his order. "Well, for what it's worth, I appreciate the help." He said, with a thankful nod. "I seem to see you everywhere, in regards to this little underworld. You own this place?" He asked.
Torchwick laughed, "oh, no, dear boy. That would negate the entire purpose. A neutral grounds cannot be neutral if it is declared territory of a player." He explained.
Aldric nodded, sliding his gauntlets off and running his hand through his shaggy hair, idly noting that he couldn't remember the last time he shaved. "So why are you here in the first place? Hiding out?"
Torchwick shook his hand in a 'so-so' fashion, "somewhat. Some of my activities in service of our other mutual friend have attracted a little attention from some unsavory, holier-than-thou individuals." A beat, "the police." He nodded, causing Aldric to chuckle. "Had my dealings with Junior gone awry this would have been my next stop to acquire bodies with which to conduct our operations, but our friend has requested I not move too hastily, until you've finished your dealings with the White Fang."
And now Aldric felt he'd nailed Torchwick's ulterior motive, he thought he was here on Cinder's behalf. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, but we're still working on that." He grunted, leaning back in his chair. "Partially why I'm here." He knocked on the new armor adorning his chest. "Hit a small snag, had to change plans. Now we're moving into something a little more dangerous."
Torchwick hummed, "I wonder how much something like that may have helped you in your little spat against against your admirer, there." He said, nodding to Neo.
Aldric couldn't avoid giving her a glance at this, she was leaned against the table, her head resting in her hands, her heterochromatic eyes half lidded as she met his gaze. Aldric felt a chill run down his spine.
"Well, you never learn faster than when you get your ass beat." Aldric said, turning back to Torchwick. "So, is she - "He turned back to her, "are you mute? Or... What?" He decided to ask, unable to get the question out of his head.
She gave a long roll of her eyes, as if thinking, before she shook a hand 'so-so'.
"Kind of?"
She nodded.
He sensed Torchwick grin widely, "should I leave you two alone, by chance?" He asked, his characteristic, light, airy tone returning.
Please, God - "No, I'm -" But Neo's emphatic nod seemed to overrule his words, in Torchwick's eyes. Oh ff... God damn it.
Torchwick clapped his hands on his knees, "well... I'm quite aware that happy partners are loyal partners, and I've already eaten my fill." He said, standing to his feet. "Neo." He nodded, "once you're done playing, I'll be in my room. I hope to leave by tonight." He said, sliding his hat back on his head and snatching his cane off of the ground.
Why? Aldric suppressed a groan of terror. You're leaving me alone with... I dunno, Harley Quinn! Do you know what you're doing? Do you know?! He nodded to Torchwick, "I knew you liked me." He deadpanned, as Torchwick circled around the table.
"Oh hush, young man." Said the gangster, as he patted Aldric's shoulder. "You'll find she's quite pleasant when not working." He let out a light hum, "good luck." He said in a singsong voice, as he trailed away with a swish of his coat.
Okay, don't let this die. If she's talking, she's not trying to kill you, you won't get molested by the psycho-assassin chick, and everyone leaves happy, alive, and with their genitals not having been cut off. Aldric cleared his throat, "so... What do you mean by 'kind of'?"
Neo tapped one of her gloved hands to her throat, and then made a slicing motion. Aldric wondered if this was supposed to mean she'd gotten stabbed in the throat, or her vocal cords just didn't work. Fortunately, he had a few moments to think about it, as the waitress returned with a wonderfully large plate of steaming hot pasta. Aldric was more than glad to see that some things truly did transcend worlds, and Italian pasta was among them.
When he turned back to Neo, he saw she had pulled out a scroll, and was typing into it. He got as far as one fork-full of noodles before she placed the scroll on the table.
I can speak. It said, but it is not a comfortable experience.
Aldric frowned, and gave her throat a brief look, before he swallowed the mass of noodles in his mouth. He didn't see any scarring that would suggest she'd been stabbed, so, "wasn't built right?" He asked, "wires got crossed, and all that?"
Another so-so. Somewhat. She typed, in so much that, when I speak, it is painful, but not unbearable. She gave him a conspiratorial grin, and fighting a short assassin that doesn't even vocalize pain throws my enemies off more than you may think. An image is just as deadly as a blade. After that point, it's a game. A pause, and it amuses me. The whole image I have crafted. You have to enjoy the little things, and that my smile terrifies people certainly counts.
Aldric would give her a little credit, it definitely worked. Her just smiling and flaunting around threw him off more than it didn't, and that she genuinely seemed to consider it all a game? This chick was scary. "So you just... What, like fucking with people." He deadpanned.
Her shoulders quivered in a silent giggle, and she nodded once.
"And you stick to me like glue... Because..." He made a circular gesture with his hand, before he leaned back over his plate and took in more food.
She pursed her lips in thought, tilting her head over to the side, before she typed out her response. You're cute.
Aldric stared at her blankly, and she gave him an innocent smile in return. A few more moments in this deadlock, before she huffed, and added more to the scroll.
Okay fine. I've fought a loooooot of people, serving Mister Torchwick. Many stronger than you. You're the only one who actually beat me. That makes you interesting, and I like interesting. She told him.
Oh sweet Jesus, she is Harley Quinn. That's it, I'm dead. I'm a dead man. This is how I die. Does she have a knife down there, too? I wouldn't put it past her! Aldric gulped, "that's it." He deadpanned, giving the tri-haired mute a Kubrick stare. "Really."
She arced her eyebrow and curved up the corner of her mouth, challenging him.
"I think I expected more." He said, with a shrug, as he turned back to his food.
He sensed her giggle again, and a few moments later she tapped his shoulder, presenting the scroll.
Like what, may I ask? Did you expect a horrible story of how all of my previous marks merely laid down to die? How so many easy and quick victories left a void in my heart? Did you expect a story of how my defeat at your hands 'filled' this 'void'? And how I misinterpreted that kind of satisfaction of a fight well fought, and instead thought it to be lust? That I became desperate to find you again such that I could seduce you, and you could take somewhere private and ravish me? Please, Mister Aldric. I'm not so complicated. Give me a person to kill, a job to work, and now hopefully a body to warm my bed, and I'm an open book. Honest. ;)
Aldric simply wondered how she typed all of that in five seconds. He gave her another look, and saw she was anxiously waiting to see his expression, trying to suppress a smile as she tilted her head down, watching him closely. He got the impression she was fucking with him, on some level. This was certainly nothing like talking to Cinder, at least Cinder had the decency to hide her sociopathy, Neo here openly put 'a person to kill' at the top of her list.
"I'm surprised you didn't put 'blood to bathe in' on that little list, there." He deadpanned, his tone low, hardly leaking past their ears.
She widened her eyes, pursing her lips in an amused fashion as she leaned back, her chest and shoulders quivering in amusement as his words registered to her. He saw her type out at lightning fast speeds. She paused a moment, raising her gaze to him and leaning in close, as if inspecting him, before she turned back to the scroll and finishing her message.
Though I did make such a refrain - how else would I keep such a great complexion? - I felt such a thing may be on the wrong end of 'too much' and 'too little'. You're cute, Mister Aldric, but I can tell you haven't lived our life very long. But that being said, I can see it in you - whatever it is you, Mister Black and Miss Fall and Sustrai are involved in, whatever your plans are, I can see in you a willingness to go through with it. It may not be long until you join me in such a bloodbath.
Was that a compliment, or a dig? He couldn't tell. She either saw in him his entire Green Hornet/Ozzymandias plan, or thought he was capable of killing all the people Cinder implied she was planning to do. Or both. He didn't know which was worse.
Aldric decided to deflect the whole thing, "I'll stick to a hot shower, thanks." He said, now nearing the end of his meal.
Her response was almost instantaneous. That sounds great too! When?
He couldn't help but snort. He had to play this carefully, not piss her off; but also, as much as it may not be the sane option here, he also couldn't kill her interest in him. If she had a romantic interest in him, if he ever got into some kind of trouble - be it with Cinder, or Qrow, or anyone else - he may be able to use that, and her, to fall back on. Yes, it meant flirting with psycho assassin, but the rewards may outweigh the risks.
So, he shook his head, "as fun as that sounds..." He rumbled, looking her up and down. "I can't even tell how old you are. What, are you... Like..." What was the rule? Take the number that comes to mind and subtract five? Or was it ten? "Twenty?" He arced an eyebrow.
She gave him an amused grin, as if to say 'Oh, that's how you want to play?', and a few moments later, she slid the scroll back across the table. As are you, I'm old enough and you know it, Mister Aldric. Don't even play that game. She wrote, Besides, in this world we live, and in this job we work, you can die without any fanfare at all. A Grimm could show up and smash apart your house, a certain skilled - voluptuous, I may add - assassin may place you in her crosshairs... A fighter may drop a warehouse on your head. You've got to find what you can, when you can find it. I found you, and - well. I'm not letting go. And to emphasize this last point, she wrapped an arm around Aldric's.
Don't freak out, don't freak out, don't freak out. Though despite the mental mantra, he felt another chill run down his spine. "I get the feeling if you hear the words 'no' I'll get another boot knife in my back." Sometimes when he was asleep he thought could still feel that cold steel in his body.
You are perceptive. She wrote. I like the new look, by the way. The armor fits you well. Goes with the coat, though you could use more color.
Aldric grunted, finishing off his pasta. "Color like, what? White and pink?" He glanced at her tailcoat, but when he got an eyeful of cleavage he looked elsewhere. "I doubt I could pull that off."
An interesting choice of words, mister 'as fun as that sounds'... One moment you feign disinterest, and the next you're staring down my shirt. You enjoy being coy, don't you?
Aldric rolled his eyes, "well..." He said, digging into his coat for the coin that would buy him this food, "I guess you're going to have to wait to figure that-" but, quick as a flash, he felt her hand grasping his wrist, and heard her clapping a coin of her own on the table.
Would you look at that. She wrote, I just paid for your dinner. And Aldric was once again reminded the woman he was dining with was a goddamn sociopath that didn't hide it. I suppose you'll have to entertain me a moment longer, won't you? Her hand slowly slid away from the table, as she let go of his arms and leaned back to her chair, resting her head on her knuckles, her dual colored eyes shining as she awaited his response.
Well... I could leave anyways, but then I'd be pissing her off... Or worse, she'd think I'm playing hard to get. He suppressed a sigh, raising his gunmetal gray eyes to her brown and pink orbs. "I guess I could spare a little more time... But I do have to head back, soon. Got a long flight ahead of me." He ran his hand through his shaggy hair.
She pouted, though he saw the ghost of a smile behind it, as she typed out her response. Well, I guess that means we won't be able to have any more fun than we've already, party pooper. Give me a little while longer and then you can go. K? When she saw him nod, as the wait-staff took his dishes and Neo's coin, and abandoned them, she typed out her next words. Now, I know you can't tell me what all it is you and Miss Fall are trying to do, but maybe you can tell me a little about yourself, yeah? How'd she rope you into all of this? She asked him, eyes shining with interest. Mister Black, I understand. I worked with his father once. Miss Sustrai was a little surprising, but I saw her work, I understand her use... But you? Well, like I said: You haven't lived our life for very long. He saw her rest her chin on her knuckles again, so?
Now this was an interesting little situation. This told him clear as day that she and Torchwick didn't know about where he came from, so now he had to come up with something. He shrugged, "came from a small town, way outside of Vale. It got wrecked by Grimm. Cinder strolled through, saw me surviving without any aura to speak of. Piqued her interest. I was pretty out of it from a bad hit, she and the other two patched me up and offered me a job." He shrugged, "they'd saved my life, so I said sure, been there ever since." Not necessarily a lie he'd have to remember, but also close enough to the truth that he wouldn't forget it. "How about you?" He asked, leaning back in his chair.
She arced an eyebrow, as if question whether or not he was really interested in learning about her, but she typed away regardless, her smirk firmly pressed onto her face. Oh, I'm not nearly as interesting as fighting Grimm without aura. I got in early, had no parents, woke up my semblance when I was ten, bla bla bla. A petty theft here and there, no one could find me because it was never me doing it. It was some faunus, or some overweight gray-haired man, or a thirty year old woman in an expensive dress. After a while I had to kill someone, and Mister Torchwick used that to put the pieces together, he tracked me down and offered me a job. That was ten... Fifteen-odd years ago, I don't remember. But I haven't been hungry or bored since.
"So Torchwick is your boss and your dad." A beat, "kind of." This also told him what he'd thought, earlier: Mid twenties. That scared him more than it didn't, actually, but he couldn't tell why.
She shrugged, and waved her hand again. Kind of. She parroted back. Miss Fall had to have found you recently, if you were still so unskilled when we fought. I saw the footage Mister Torchwick wiped from Junior's club. How have you grown so strong, so fast?
"Well, I don't like to die..." Aldric deadpanned. "That helps. Other than that? It beats the hell out of me."
She pursed her lips, head bobbing from side to side, as if to say 'fair enough'. One last thing. Then I'll let you go, I promise. She showed him quickly, before turning the scroll back to her. A moment later, she turned her scroll around, but instead of a message, Aldric saw an information screen. It took him a moment to realize she'd opened up her scroll's contacts folder. Next to 'Name' was 'Aldric (Cute Ass-Kicker)', and the contact photo was a picture of him he hadn't even been aware she'd taken. She was all but telling him to give her his number.
Well... Shit. Aldric pulled out his own scroll. I mean, I don't think the Legion will have a problem with this... But I'm giving my god damn phone number to a psycho assassin who all but just told me she killed before she was even a teenager. When did I lose control of my life? He found his own contact information, and accepted Neo's scroll, before copying over the relevant data.
She clapped - actually clapped - when he gave her the scroll back and saw everything she needed filled out. After she slid her scroll back into her pocket, she gave him a quick, tight hug. Aldric managed to predict the peck on the cheek this go-round, and soon after, the two parted ways, with her descending down to the hotel rooms with a spring to her step, and an umbrella in her hands that Aldric hadn't noticed until she'd picked it up, and with him going back up to the main floor.
For the Record
I remember reading once, this news story about a cartel assassin. It wasn't one of those two twin brothers from Breaking Bad, but this woman who did work for the Mexican drug cartels. She got caught one day, and didn't even hide the shit she'd done. She explained in gory detail how she would decapitate her targets and drain their bodies of fluids into bathtubs because she liked watching them grow pale, and the blood flow down the drain. Sometimes she said she even went so far as to physically wring out the corpses to the last drop, like a fucking sponge!
And that's not the worst thing, she said that most of the time she'd keep at least one of her targets alive, get them aroused and then kill them, and then have sex with the corpse. She said all of this with a straight face, like she were discussing the weather. "Oh, it's seventy six degrees, I fuck dead bodies, it's a little cloudy right now..."
I remember reading this news story and there was this kind of... Abject fear, that gripped me. Like, that kind of fear you feel when you know that you won't personally experience something even remotely close to that kind of terror, but you're still scared to death of it. People like that exist, and she admitted to doing this. That's a kind of sociopathy that terrified me, when I read about it.
All of that - I feel all of that kind of terror, mixed with perhaps the most confusing arousal I've ever experienced, when I consider that Neo-goddamn-politan doesn't 'seem' to be attracted to me, she is attracted to me.
This is a chick that was dining in a restaurant for assassins, openly admitting that she killed before she was even eighteen, and 'hasn't been bored' since. For Chrissakes, she did it all nonchalantly, too!
"Oh, after that I just had to kill." All casual-like. Like she were saying she had to fix a flat tire, or an EMT saying they had to stick someone with a needle.
"You're interesting." She says. "I like interesting." She says.
She's a few steps separated from a real life Joker, or Harley Quinn - No, wait, better - she's Yuno Gasai. Need I say more? Fuck me.
Back home, I was the single lonely asshole. Granted it probably had something to do with me wearing trench coats to an American highschool (not really a recipe for success, see.), but that doesn't change the point. I had... One? Ish? It's a strange story, but it didn't last long. Here? I've got a woman with a god-complex trying to come on to me, and a psycho assassin actively coming on to me. At least with Cinder I can make the excuse that she's trying to to foster some kind of loyalty, but with Neo? Jesus Christ.
I never expected to have this problem, and now that I do have it, I don't know what to do. Like, at all.
So, if it isn't obvious, I ran into Neo and Torchwick again. Mercury pointed me to 'The Garden', a Switzerland-like neutral hotel/meeting grounds for Vale's underworld. I picked up some armor (rocking the Knightmare Batman look, by the way), and got some food. Then I ran into them, Torchwick saved my ass from the suspicions of the local assassins, we shot the shit, and he played matchmaker by leaving me with the ice cream psycho.
Silver lining? I... Got a girl's phone number? I think? Kind of? I mean, she took mine down, I valued my life too much to ask for hers.
But (tie it full circle) she reminds me of that cartel assassin lady, so I don't know if that's a good thing.
Worse, is that I'm tempted to say a 'sane Yuno Gasai', but I don't know THAT either! I haven't spent nearly enough time with her to judge if she's a saner, tamer Yandere queen, or if she just seems that way because I haven't seen her in action!
Definitely someone to bring home to the folks, though:
"Hey Mom! This is my girlfriend, she has superpowers, almost killed me, and pretty much kills people as part of her day job. Within minutes of our first date she made a joke about literally bathing in people's blood, and I honestly don't know if she was fucking with me or if she was serious. I also think she wants babies, and I would definitely fear for my life too much to say no, if she asked. She's pretty, though! Squint a little and lean back far enough, she doesn't look nearly as homicidal!"
Though, funny part? All else being equal, I'm pretty sure my Dad would have pushed this envelope, if only to watch me squirm.
I miss that fat man.
Boy are these people going to be pissed they took him from me.
But that's all I have to say about that.
Anyways, I'm armored up, got myself a Winter Soldier-style mask and goggles for when I meet up with Qrow, I'm thoroughly trying not to think of the one good look I got down her shirt (I swear it was an accident. A thoroughly confusing, arousing accident. Jesus Christ.), and I'm flying back to the Legion.
After this, I do my best Kratos impression, and pray I can kill a goddess.
Oh, and I made a plan for Qrow. I made a brief pit stop to write down the message.
The plan after the Fall Maiden is to go back to Vale and hide out, while we figure out our next step. Cinder alluded to getting back in touch with Salem. So, I wrote down two notes, one I plan to slip to the Maiden, one I hope I can slip to Qrow himself.
"Qrow Branwen, you are not alone, you have a friend on the inside. A kindred spirit who knows what Salem is doing is wrong, and an agent willing to serve the light from the shadows. We need to meet, before we lose any more Maidens. I'll be in Vale for one week after our attack on Amber, and will wait behind Mogar's Grillin' Bar. Meet me there, I am not your enemy."
And I signed it Nathan Drake.
Hoooo boy. I hope this works.
If I don't make another entry, it's probably because I did a shitty Kratos.
'Till next time.