10 Ashan 719
"This place looks like a shit hole," Max said with arms crossed, looking across the street at their pathetic destination.
The buildings was two stories tall. The wood paneling on the outside was a deep brown, marred and uneven from top-to-bottom. The bricks of the chimney were crumbling and the roof looked ready to cave.
"That's 'cause it is a shit hole," Linus remarked with a half grin. He led the way across the busy street, nearly jumping out of the way of a carriage haphazardly speeding down the path. He gave two knocks upon the front window and then three upon the door.
The door swung open and a bald, meaty man loomed in their way. Max locked a challenging stare upon his pudgy face. He didn't seem to care much for the intensity in her eyes. Instead he was solely focused on the mercenary who knocked. He grunted his irritation at the very sight of him.
"Reginald," Linus greeted the bouncer with that charming smile of his.
"Fuck yous want, Linus?" the bouncer questioned with a threatening undertone. "Pay what yous owe or pound salt, mate."
"How about double or nothing?"
"How's yous like chewin' wit' no teeth?"
"Alright, alright," the mercenary rolled his eyes. He dove a hand into his pocket and fished around until he presented a sack of coins. He dropped it in Reginald's extended palm. As soon as the weight of the sack hit, the bouncer snapped his fingers shut over it like a claw. Linus took a step forward. "For my debts. And more. It's enough to get us in the door. Count if you like."
Reginald bounced the coin in his hands a couple times. His beady eyes locked right onto Maxine then. For what felt like far too long, the two stared at each other in tense silence. Then Reginald looked back toward Linus, shaking his head.
"Jerome doesn't like new faces," the bouncer reminded Linus sharply. "She looks like trouble."
"Oh, Reginald, come now," Linus guffawed. "Does every woman make you sweat? If you're so nervous you should call another friend over here."
"Fuck yous! 'Sides. I know her from somewhere. Where do I know you from?"
"She's a good player!" Linus cut in quickly. "I need a partner to help me win back my losses."
"Fine. In then."
Reginald stood back with a grump, but the door was opened to them nonetheless. The mercenary gave a mocking head bow before sauntering past. Maxine was slower to move. Her eyes followed the bouncer as she advanced, challenging him all the way through the door. Across the threshold, the place wasn't much nicer than its exterior. Dim candlelight lit the large room. Here and then some tables and chairs were scattered about. Only two of those tables were filled with card players. Beyond them was a staircase going up.
The private rooms.
"High stakes is upstairs," Linus whispered, practically reading her mind. "Third door on the left."
"Good," Max whispered back harshly. "I'll go get the prick."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Linus put a hand on her shoulder, faking a grin for any watching. "Not so fast."
"Why the fuck not?"
"Sometimes kicking down the door ain't the best way." Linus subtly guided her toward one of the new tables. He pulled out a chair for her and she withered him with a glare. "Just humor me. Please." He dropped down in a seat across from her. A dealer made their way over as well as a pair of newcomer rivals. Between grit teeth Linus added, "Same team, remember?"
"Fine," she growled her reply before sinking down into the chair after all.
A half break in, the table was in an intense game of poker. Some stacks dwindled. Others, like Maxine's seemed to have tripled in size. Hand after hand, the odds just kept seeming to play in her favor. Of course it wasn't just dumb luck. On the hunt or not, if she was going to play she was going to play to win. One of their rivals, a man in a busted brown fedora, slammed a frustrated fist upon the worn poker table.
"Fuckin' horse shite!" the man cawed. He pointed a finger at the dealer. "You in on this? I thought you were an honest lad, Terry, but the shite doesn't add up!" The poor dealer shook his head wildly. His busy hands went back to shuffling and dealing. Linus peered briefly toward Maxine. The lie he told at the door didn't seem to be much of a lie after all.
"Hey, now," Max scolded him with a smile. "It's not the dealer's fault you're a shitty card player."
"Just deal!"
Her ego was sky-high with amusement as she watched the cards fall upon the table again. Face-down or not, she knew her dwindling luck would still result in the same outcome. She'd take her win and walk, and the man would be free to steam and stew over the turn of events at his own leisure. She had bigger fish to fry. Across the table she felt Linus staring at her. She narrowed her eyes, catching the meaningfulness of his gaze, and darted her own to look over his shoulder. The stairs nearby thumped with someone's weight. Maxine settled deeper into her chair, leaning forward and ducking her head a bit lower. Then she heard the name. That name.
"Marciel!" a voice boomed from above.
"Oh, fuck off," the Red Raven waved it off as he descended onto the main level. "I gotta piss. Fuck's sake. We'll talk more business when I come back." He rounded past the sorry sods throwing their money away and knocked open the back door. Max couldn't tear her eyes from his back. Linus tried to quietly get her attention, but she hadn't the time to listen to his antics anymore. Her instincts told her a different plan. It was that plan she was going to follow, everyone else be damned.
"Hold the game," Max said suddenly, rising from her chair.
"What do you mean hold the bloody game?" the rival gawked angrily, looking to the dealer to intervene.
"I'll be right back."
"Terry, stop this. This is a cheater's trick!"
"Quit your bitching. My partner can take my earning and whoop you ass with them. Two on one not good enough odds for you?" She roughly shoved her chair back in. "The weakness of this age's men. I can't. All the bitchin' and whinin'." Linus had a tortured look on his face where she left him, entangled in the cloaking strategy he'd come up with to begin with.
Max hustled through the room to the back door. There was no finesse in her strategy. No stealth or caution. The marked woman hurled the door open, smashing it into Marciel's back. He stumbled forward, dribbling stream disturbed by her unruly exit. He didn't have time to drop his manhood and find a weapon. Her arm was already looked around his throat, crushing his windpipe and bloodstream at the same brutal time. He was limp in a trill. Linus burst out the door a moment later, a hand coming up to stifle the laugh when his eyes set themselves on their rather exposed, unconscious target.
"Well?" Max hissed at him. "Are you gonna keep oogling him or are you gonna help me? If anyone from that table is gonna come bounding up behind you, I'm gonna count the bones in the human body by breaking all of yours."
"Relax!" Linus rolled his eyes and tugged Marciel's pats up over his parts. "I told them my mistress was probably having morning sickness or something."
"Your what?"
"It was a good excuse! No one wants to mess with that!"
"Too bad it's the middle of the god damn night, you fucking moron"
"...Shit."
"Yeah. Besides, being your mistress is bad luck apparently."
"Low blow."
"You'll live."
The culprits grabbed Marciel by either arm and hoisted him up from the ground. Their ploy was simple in its genius. Both slipped under either of the man's arms, carrying him between the two of them, and merely walked down the street. Marciel's head hung pathetically between his shoulders. His feet dragged irritably along the cobbles. Their journey wasn't long. He'd rouse quickly. Hustling was their only strategy. That, and not getting caught.
"Too much to drink there, Charlie," Linus boomed his joke too loudly just as he noted a passerby moving into earshot. Max just kept her head ducked, noting the stranger though it didn't seem they cared to question whether they truly were escorting a drunk home. In a couple bits they made it to their destination.
Linus kicked open an old, wooden cellar door. Max all but threw Marciel's unconscious body down the steps. As soon as she let go his body tumbled down the short descent with an apathy that even made the mercenary cringe. Maxine's shadow darkened the cellar for a moment before she began to follow after her mark. Linus glanced about and slammed the doors shut behind her. Chains rattled along the outside. Then came a metal sound: the finality of a lock.
They were completely alone.
"This place looks like a shit hole," Max said with arms crossed, looking across the street at their pathetic destination.
The buildings was two stories tall. The wood paneling on the outside was a deep brown, marred and uneven from top-to-bottom. The bricks of the chimney were crumbling and the roof looked ready to cave.
"That's 'cause it is a shit hole," Linus remarked with a half grin. He led the way across the busy street, nearly jumping out of the way of a carriage haphazardly speeding down the path. He gave two knocks upon the front window and then three upon the door.
The door swung open and a bald, meaty man loomed in their way. Max locked a challenging stare upon his pudgy face. He didn't seem to care much for the intensity in her eyes. Instead he was solely focused on the mercenary who knocked. He grunted his irritation at the very sight of him.
"Reginald," Linus greeted the bouncer with that charming smile of his.
"Fuck yous want, Linus?" the bouncer questioned with a threatening undertone. "Pay what yous owe or pound salt, mate."
"How about double or nothing?"
"How's yous like chewin' wit' no teeth?"
"Alright, alright," the mercenary rolled his eyes. He dove a hand into his pocket and fished around until he presented a sack of coins. He dropped it in Reginald's extended palm. As soon as the weight of the sack hit, the bouncer snapped his fingers shut over it like a claw. Linus took a step forward. "For my debts. And more. It's enough to get us in the door. Count if you like."
Reginald bounced the coin in his hands a couple times. His beady eyes locked right onto Maxine then. For what felt like far too long, the two stared at each other in tense silence. Then Reginald looked back toward Linus, shaking his head.
"Jerome doesn't like new faces," the bouncer reminded Linus sharply. "She looks like trouble."
"Oh, Reginald, come now," Linus guffawed. "Does every woman make you sweat? If you're so nervous you should call another friend over here."
"Fuck yous! 'Sides. I know her from somewhere. Where do I know you from?"
"She's a good player!" Linus cut in quickly. "I need a partner to help me win back my losses."
"Fine. In then."
Reginald stood back with a grump, but the door was opened to them nonetheless. The mercenary gave a mocking head bow before sauntering past. Maxine was slower to move. Her eyes followed the bouncer as she advanced, challenging him all the way through the door. Across the threshold, the place wasn't much nicer than its exterior. Dim candlelight lit the large room. Here and then some tables and chairs were scattered about. Only two of those tables were filled with card players. Beyond them was a staircase going up.
The private rooms.
"High stakes is upstairs," Linus whispered, practically reading her mind. "Third door on the left."
"Good," Max whispered back harshly. "I'll go get the prick."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Linus put a hand on her shoulder, faking a grin for any watching. "Not so fast."
"Why the fuck not?"
"Sometimes kicking down the door ain't the best way." Linus subtly guided her toward one of the new tables. He pulled out a chair for her and she withered him with a glare. "Just humor me. Please." He dropped down in a seat across from her. A dealer made their way over as well as a pair of newcomer rivals. Between grit teeth Linus added, "Same team, remember?"
"Fine," she growled her reply before sinking down into the chair after all.
A half break in, the table was in an intense game of poker. Some stacks dwindled. Others, like Maxine's seemed to have tripled in size. Hand after hand, the odds just kept seeming to play in her favor. Of course it wasn't just dumb luck. On the hunt or not, if she was going to play she was going to play to win. One of their rivals, a man in a busted brown fedora, slammed a frustrated fist upon the worn poker table.
"Fuckin' horse shite!" the man cawed. He pointed a finger at the dealer. "You in on this? I thought you were an honest lad, Terry, but the shite doesn't add up!" The poor dealer shook his head wildly. His busy hands went back to shuffling and dealing. Linus peered briefly toward Maxine. The lie he told at the door didn't seem to be much of a lie after all.
"Hey, now," Max scolded him with a smile. "It's not the dealer's fault you're a shitty card player."
"Just deal!"
Her ego was sky-high with amusement as she watched the cards fall upon the table again. Face-down or not, she knew her dwindling luck would still result in the same outcome. She'd take her win and walk, and the man would be free to steam and stew over the turn of events at his own leisure. She had bigger fish to fry. Across the table she felt Linus staring at her. She narrowed her eyes, catching the meaningfulness of his gaze, and darted her own to look over his shoulder. The stairs nearby thumped with someone's weight. Maxine settled deeper into her chair, leaning forward and ducking her head a bit lower. Then she heard the name. That name.
"Marciel!" a voice boomed from above.
"Oh, fuck off," the Red Raven waved it off as he descended onto the main level. "I gotta piss. Fuck's sake. We'll talk more business when I come back." He rounded past the sorry sods throwing their money away and knocked open the back door. Max couldn't tear her eyes from his back. Linus tried to quietly get her attention, but she hadn't the time to listen to his antics anymore. Her instincts told her a different plan. It was that plan she was going to follow, everyone else be damned.
"Hold the game," Max said suddenly, rising from her chair.
"What do you mean hold the bloody game?" the rival gawked angrily, looking to the dealer to intervene.
"I'll be right back."
"Terry, stop this. This is a cheater's trick!"
"Quit your bitching. My partner can take my earning and whoop you ass with them. Two on one not good enough odds for you?" She roughly shoved her chair back in. "The weakness of this age's men. I can't. All the bitchin' and whinin'." Linus had a tortured look on his face where she left him, entangled in the cloaking strategy he'd come up with to begin with.
Max hustled through the room to the back door. There was no finesse in her strategy. No stealth or caution. The marked woman hurled the door open, smashing it into Marciel's back. He stumbled forward, dribbling stream disturbed by her unruly exit. He didn't have time to drop his manhood and find a weapon. Her arm was already looked around his throat, crushing his windpipe and bloodstream at the same brutal time. He was limp in a trill. Linus burst out the door a moment later, a hand coming up to stifle the laugh when his eyes set themselves on their rather exposed, unconscious target.
"Well?" Max hissed at him. "Are you gonna keep oogling him or are you gonna help me? If anyone from that table is gonna come bounding up behind you, I'm gonna count the bones in the human body by breaking all of yours."
"Relax!" Linus rolled his eyes and tugged Marciel's pats up over his parts. "I told them my mistress was probably having morning sickness or something."
"Your what?"
"It was a good excuse! No one wants to mess with that!"
"Too bad it's the middle of the god damn night, you fucking moron"
"...Shit."
"Yeah. Besides, being your mistress is bad luck apparently."
"Low blow."
"You'll live."
The culprits grabbed Marciel by either arm and hoisted him up from the ground. Their ploy was simple in its genius. Both slipped under either of the man's arms, carrying him between the two of them, and merely walked down the street. Marciel's head hung pathetically between his shoulders. His feet dragged irritably along the cobbles. Their journey wasn't long. He'd rouse quickly. Hustling was their only strategy. That, and not getting caught.
"Too much to drink there, Charlie," Linus boomed his joke too loudly just as he noted a passerby moving into earshot. Max just kept her head ducked, noting the stranger though it didn't seem they cared to question whether they truly were escorting a drunk home. In a couple bits they made it to their destination.
Linus kicked open an old, wooden cellar door. Max all but threw Marciel's unconscious body down the steps. As soon as she let go his body tumbled down the short descent with an apathy that even made the mercenary cringe. Maxine's shadow darkened the cellar for a moment before she began to follow after her mark. Linus glanced about and slammed the doors shut behind her. Chains rattled along the outside. Then came a metal sound: the finality of a lock.
They were completely alone.
