27 Cylus 719
For two trials Max played an old game she learned from a mentor arcs and arcs ago. Cloak huddled around her where she sat and a drinking tankard a couple feet away on the ground, she did her best to assume her role. It was a simple game really. All she had to do was sit on the street near the Golden Edge's building to gather the information she needed. The kind sailor man had little for her to go off. The only lead she had was that she was looking for a mercenary named Linus. Why the man had fallen onto the Red Ravens' radar was beyond her. She didn't care either. All she cared about was that he would lead her to Marciel. Nothing more. The real challenge was sitting in place.
She lifted the bottle of rum to her lips and drank deeply. It was the sole source of entertainment she had to keep herself sane. At the very least she'd managed to get most of the mercenary roster down. Even so, she wasn't sure how much more sedentary tactic she could take.
"You'd get more in your tin if you put the booze away," a husky voice mused. Max eyed the pair of worn boots and then followed them up to the speaker. Thick with brown leather and sporting a bastard sword on his hip, the stranger's smile gleamed down at her.
"Thanks for the tip," Max answered dryly, gently peeking her head out from the shadow of her hood.
"Happy to help." He turned to walk away before quickly swiveling back her way. "Oh, and rub some more dirt under your nails. Really sells the image, y'know?"
"Linus!" one of the Golden Edge shouted from the opened door of the company's building.
"Yeah, yeah," the stranger called back, waving his peer off. Maxine's full attention snapped up to him then, brow raising.
Well son of a bitch.
Her expression disintegrated back into its blank state by the time he turned back to offer her an apologetic shrug. Then Linus was off, bounding toward the man who spoke his name. In a trill he vanished inside. She leaned back against the building she sat before.
He's not dead at least. It's a start.
More pain-staking waiting began. In about a break Linus emerged with a pack of Golden Edge mercenaries. They adorned their heads with their worn helmets and set off to do the contract of the trial. Max found herself staring at the company's door. She couldn't just sit around. Not anymore. She had to do something...but what? She yanked the hook back to expose her face to the Cylus gloom. While she had the dark on her side, it was time to make some sort of move. Even a bold one.
Fuck it.
Maxine rose from her squat and slipped the bottle back in her pocket. After a quick glance in either direction she crossed the street, kicking her empty tankard out of her way as she moved. The door to the Golden Edge opened easily. Dim candlelight flooded the room. It was small and cramped, a testament to the new status of the group and its limited funding. At a desk in the corner sat a frail man who wore his heavy chainmail anyways. Max quickly shook her fingers through her raven hair, forced a smile, and sauntered to the desk. She braced both palms wide across it. The frail man peeled his stare from the paper in front of him to the quiet newcomer who suddenly dominated his space.
"Hey there," Max greeted him warmly. "I'm hoping you're just the man who can give me a hand."
"Let me guess," the man grumped, leaning back with a roving gaze. "You want to know who else warms your lover's bed?"
"No, actually."
Dammit. What am I here for?
"I'm here for one of yours, actually," she purred her lie smoothly.
"What do you mean?" the administrator asked, head tilting.
"See, Linus wanted to take me to his place rather than our usual spot. Trouble is, I can't remember the address he whispered in my ear." She mocked disappointment and offered a sigh of subtle frustration. A smile bled through it. "Caught up in the moment if you know what I mean. He's a distracting man."
"Ah, I see what's going on here," the man barked his unimpressed laugh. "Save your theatrics and dodging."
"Huh?"
"You're the one he goes on about. I see the draw. Too skinny for me though. No offense."
"The address?"
"Right, right. Apologies. I'll do you one better: directions. Left out the door. Two blocks on your right. He's the only one with the red and blue painted roof."
"Thanks. Just do me a favor? Don't mention to him I was here. It'll ruin the surprise." Maxine turned and headed for the door. Her hand was on the handle when she hear the old man's voice pipe back up behind her.
"I thought he was expecting you?" Max internally cringed at her own mistake. Slowly, she turned, raising a single brow with a suggestive smirk.
"He said where, not when. See you around."
A couple good boots got Maxine through the front door. No one screamed. Not little feet scurried. The door smashed open and she was greeted with the bliss of silence. Cautiously she made her way inside. Frankly, Maxine hadn't a clue what she was looking for. There had to be something. Something, at the very least, that gave her a hint as to why Linus was on Marciel's radar. She rounded the corner of the open-concept apartment and nearly jumped.
Well isn't that something.
Staring at her, head leaned back over the foot of the bed it laid upon, was the pale body of a beautiful woman. Her green eyes were streaked with red and bulging. Deep purple bruises encircled her neck. Her jaw hung open, red-painted lips parted in a silent scream. Max's nose scrunched as she rounded to the far side of the small apartment. She'd seen plenty, but one never got completely used to the smell of the dead.
"Delilah!" Linus wailed out of no where. Max's head snapped to the mercenary, who quietly darkened the room. The man's body seemed to sag at the sight of the strangled woman like all his gear had suddenly grown too heavy. Then he cast his eyes to the stranger who kicked down his door.
"Aw sh--"
"You!" Linus shouted before he lunged toward her. He gripped her by the front of her shirt and shoved her up against the wall. His fingers jumped around her neck, squeezing. Not a trill later she was a flurry of action. She dropped her elbow across the inside of his, breaking the strength of his grip before she fed him another elbow strike to his face. He yelped and moved to stumble back but there was no escape. Max secured a hold on his arm and shoulder, throwing him down onto the floor.
"I didn't kill her!" she hissed down at him, dropping a knee on his back. "I kicked in your door a trill before you got here."
"Fuck!" Linus whimpered. He slammed a fist down upon the floor. His eyes stared laterally at the dead woman in his bed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
"Wasn't me, man."
"Shit!" he sighed, calming into grief and seemingly less focus on fighting her. Max eased her knee of him. He shoved his way to his feet and tangled all ten fingers in his hair. "She was a hell of a mistress, let me tell you that." His hands gradually dropped back to his sides. "I mean, I guess that's one way to clean up an affair. Fuck."
"You did it?"
"I owe some prick."
Loan shark?"
"Gambling debt."
"Yikes."
"You're fuckin' tellin' me. Hey, aren't you the panhandler from outside my--. Wait. You been following me?"
"What does Marciel want with you?"
That seemed to place Linus totally on the back pedal. He peeled his stare from his dead lover and blinked at her. His brow furrowed, gaze distant for a couple moments in thought. The wheels silently turned. Then his face turned beet red, nostrils flaring.
"That cocksucker!" he turned and put his fist through a mirror. Max crossed her eyes, raising a brow as glass shattered onto the surface of the vanity beneath the mirror. He jerked back toward her, knuckles bleeding. "I missed my payment. Third time I did it. Bad idea, yeah, I fuckin' know. The rat bastard made some idle threats. He told me he had powerful friends. I thought he was just some mouthy jerk-off."
Not so idle after all," Max mused with a nod toward the corpse in the room.
"Marciel, that cunt. I didn't know his "friends" were Red Ravens." Linus walked over and sunk beside the dead woman on the bed. His fingers moved about her flesh, dancing about fresh bruises and marks of abuse. Her clothing was torn. "Someone has to pay for this. For my Delilah."
"They will."
"I'm not talking about the Immortals' justice in the afterlife."
"Neither am I."
Linus looked up from Delilah to study Maxine. The ex-convict moved around to stand before him where he sat on the bed. She uncrossed her arms, expression hardening. She could see the questions in his eyes, the ones he was trying to put together while he still processed his grief. She'd make it easy on him.
"Marciel tortured me for breaks. When he was done with me, he had me killed. A sailor rowed me out to seat, attached an anchor to my bindings, and threw me overboard." She could still remember the icy welcome of the water. She could feel the way her lungs burned while she resisted the urge to breath, and how wildly dark everything became the deeper she sunk beneath the waves.
"You're the one I heard about then," Linus stated, perplexed. "They said you drowned? You're supposed to be dead."
"Didn't take."
"The fuck you haunting me for?"
"I got good intel Marciel was onto you. I followed you hoping you'd lead me to him. I owe him some breaks of pain."
"I'll do you one better."
"How?"
The mercenary sighed, and after one last look of longing, turned his attention away from Delilah. He rose to his feet and eyed her for a trill.
"I'm going to help you catch him."
