Descent into Nothing

[Mandaz]

Once the man’s voiced rose, the gypsy’s heart sank. Maladi started shaking his head from side to side, wishing this would all stop, that everything would go away and that he’d wake up from this terrible dream. But it was real, he was here, shaking yet determined to protect his shades and find Edii.

He didn’t like any of the ideas Cyril presented to him. If one of the choices was to disappear he would have gone for that, but the three actual options were what he had to choose from. He looked down to Notte, then Baht and Voght, finally back to Cyril. Running sounded really good, but Cyril was injured and his shades had a hard time keeping up at their walking pace. They’d be caught up with for sure, and then a fight would ultimately break out. But if they tried to reason, and these men didn’t sound like the reasoning type, a fight would break out for sure. It was a horrible predicament. Fight or flight without wings.

“T-t-talk.” He nodded finally, speaking a bit louder than a whisper, what did it matter if they were going to reveal themselves anyway. “B-but if things don’t go well we run…okay?”

[Nayt]

As soon as the middle-aged one raised his voice, Notte became extremely frightened. He had already been trembling in Maladi's arms the entire time, but now he had started to whimper and claw up Maladi's chest, trying to get to his shoulder, where he wanted to crawl up and hide in the gypsy's hair, not realizing that he was far too tall to do that. Maladi did not have enough hair to allow such!

The fox was nervous, and Baht was shaky. She looked up at Maladi, and then to Cyril, with a slight pout of her lips. It was almost as if they could either understand what was going on, or at least sense trouble when it was beginning to make its way into their lives.

And trouble it was.

Baht was likely going to need to be held again, and if they were going to be mobile on a regular basis (assuming that running was a distinct possibility), she might even have to sit or hang somewhere that she could be for some length of time, without hindering the carrier--like Notte was doing. The best place was a shoulder, where she could hold onto a person's shirt for leverage, and stay there regardless of the person's movements. It might wind up making her dizzy, but considering how rough Voght was when he always tried to buck her off of him, she could take it without losing her grip and falling--so long as the carrier was at least a little conscious about it.

[Ramlock]

Cyril drew his pistol, but would remain in the hidden spot, feeling no need to broadcast any more information than was possible. If they decided to enter the alleyway, they might well experience the shot to the face that at least one of them had trivialized in considering it for his girlfriend...

"What's your angle!? Let's figure this out, hopefully with everyone walking away here."

The first statement wasn't necessarily angry: it was a sincere question. Everyone had an angle. There was no reason to be ashamed of that. In fact, it took honesty to simply state what you were looking for in entering a situation. They had been ordered here for some reason, whether it was payment, interrogation, or some other incentive. They were also unlikely to desire a fight... At least with an unknown. Some people enjoyed a controlled fight, but it was rare to find someone who wished to risk their life against the unknown on a regular basis...

[Mandaz]

Notte was digging his long claws into Maladi’s shoulder like a scared kitten. It made him wince in pain, but also sympathize with his fear. They were both afraid. The gypsy helped Notte onto his shoulder for now, though he would have preferred to keep him in his arms where he knew he could keep him safe. But if Notte was more comfortable smothering himself into Maladi’s dark hair than so be it. Baht looked worried to, he could feel it. He knew what they were feeling without even looking at them because he felt it to. Was it just the moment, or was he sensitive to their emotions? He and the shades seemed to be deeply connected, it would make sense if he was feeling what they felt, or vice versa. What if Maladi’s fear was making them afraid? That was a horrible thought, to know that he was causing such distress inadvertently to these creatures. He had to be brave, for them, for Cyril, for Edii.

Maladi clenched his dark clawed hand while keeping his eye on Cyril, waiting for him to make the first move. His other hand, however, tapped the wall behind him softly as a sort of way to get Baht’s attention and have her come to his side. If those two were close to him he’d feel much better, still wary about letting Voght romp about on his own, but the shade was a very stubborn and free spirited thing.

[Nayt]

Upon Maladi's tapping on the bricks, trying to get Baht's attention, the little shade girl started towards him. With Baht on Maladi's shoulder, she wasn't going to fit up there, but at the very least, she was able to come stand by his legs. With how short she was, though, she had to strain to reach up for his hand--after all, the top of her head was almost level with the bottom of Maladi's kneecap.

As soon as Cyril replied to them, the semi-accented one called out in distinct surprise: "Whoa! Hey, were you just fuckin' with me when you said you couldn't smell?"

"Huh," the middle-aged one replied, sounding truly, genuinely surprised. In fact, there was more surprise in his voice than their was in the other's. "No, actually, I wasn't. I really do have a cold. It's a real pain, too."

"What? You mean . . . you didn't smell 'em?"

"Nope."

"What the hell? Then, how did you--"

"It was a shot in the dark."

"You're serious?"

"I guess I'm a good shot."

And so, the irony of the situation: the middle aged man hadn't actually discerned that Cyril and the others were nearby. He was guessing. He was bluffing--and he was surprisingly good at bluffing. But it wasn't like his was an uneducated guess. It was pretty obvious that the house had been abandoned very recently.

To business, though! The middle aged one then called out: "Our angle is necessary curiosity. You're in a city you shouldn't be in, and we're trying to find out why. It's as simple as that, really."

"And who you're workin' for!" the semi-accented one added.

"You . . . what did I say about letting me do the talking? That detail was supposed to come later!"

[Ramlock]

Cyril couldn't help but smile at his own defeat. He'd succeeded in outsmarting himself. The man hadn't sensed them at all... He'd overestimated his opponent. That was the safe thing to do in most circumstances, but... Here it wasn't. He'd pointlessly revealed their position. It meant their opponents weren't necessarily supernaturally gifted, though. They could talk on a similar level...

"You know, Achren told us that exact same thing, then attacked us. We're not here because we want to be, I promise you that. I'm not even really sure where we are or how we got here. We're looking for someone, though. Any other intruder you might have, goes by the name of Edii. If we find him, we'll be all too happy to leave. If we get a lead on him being somewhere else, we could leave, too... Without any more bloodshed, even..."

Cyril wasn't too worried about giving out Edii's name. If someone talked to Edii enough to know his name, Edii would be fine. At least, the situation wouldn't be made worse by Cyril's mouth. He really had no interest in fighting these people if possible, especially because he was sick and wounded, and the nature of the city made it difficult for him to recuperate, and even dampened his eyesight...

[Mandaz]

Maladi’s limbs were a little gangly for his age. It was almost as if he never really grew out of being a teenager, just grew a bit taller, his proportions never really filling out. Because of this, he only had to hunch his back a little for his hand to be able to reach little Baht on the ground. Her tiny hands clasped around his larger fingers like a newborns, it was a bit touching, but now wasn’t the time or place to be in awe.

“Cyril! They think we’re working for someone. Maybe this really has been one big misunderstanding! See if maybe they can take us to whoever’s in charge around here. That’ll probably be a lot more help than asking every homicidal shade person we see on the street!”

He whispered, hopefully the others couldn’t hear, it was a statement directed to Cyril and Cyril only. He had a point though, so far they weren’t getting anywhere by stumbling through the dark. If they could talk to someone who actually knew about what was going on, they’d have a much better chance of finding Edii and surviving.

[Nayt]

"Edii? That's a pretty weird name," the mildly accented one remarked.

The middle-aged one ignored this. "That's because that's Achren you met, anyways. We don't just go bludgeoning people to death with shovels because it's fun or anything--"

"Actually, we kinda do."

"--it's more or less a necessity thing. If you were, say, a threat to the stability of the city or something, well, we might just be inclined to hit you with shovels until you stop moving, but hey! Think of it this way: if you don't feel guilty, you don't look guilty. That said, if you have nothing to worry about, and it seems to be the case, then . . . think of us as friendly escorts. Besides, the only reason you were attacked without warning was, well . . . Achren was a bitch. There's no color coating that one, but I'm pretty sure you guessed that much."

"A hot bitch, though."

"What?"

"She was pretty smokin'."

"Is that even relevant right now?"

"No, but I'm just saying: she was the real deal in looks, man."

"She was nothing but a bitch, though."

"That's what I mean. I woulda tapped that a few times, but not for the personality. What? What? Don't look at me like that. I'd have ditched her after the fact."

"Or killed her."

"Well, that, too."

"Why didn't you earlier, then?"

"That's just rape. I ain't cool with rape."

"How the hell else would you have gotten into her pants?"

"Y'know. The usual."

"The usual? I'm pretty sure Achren has the sex drive of a female dust mite."

"I could've probably done it. Charm, man. I'm a smoo~the operator."

"Charm? Hah! You probably couldn't even charm your way onto the Xexorian throne."

"'tch, I have evidence right up here. Even had a little hoo-hah with Usurii awhile back."

"Now you're just full of it."

They had practically derailed from the subject at hand--no, not practically. Completely and utterly. The two men seemed more capable at bickering amongst themselves than they were at actually getting a job done, but there was no evidence that they weren't good at whatever they did. Some people had strange habits and social mannerisms during a job--Cyril would have known this better than anyone.

The middle aged man conceded at that point: "Why don't you guys just come out? That might make this whole conversation so much easier."

[Ramlock]

Cyril listened to the banter of the men in an almost annoyed fashion, knowing full well what it was about. It was a good thing, though. They weren't extremely serious, which meant they were either underestimating the two of them, or honest. Besides, they'd beaten Achren to death. That was... Well, aside from the horrible implications of that, it meant they weren't on her side, necessarily...

"Let's go meet them. We can always fight them later if we have to, but if we have a chance..."

Cyril put his pistol away into its hidden position, not intending to brandish a weapon he wasn't going to use. Maladi's appearance was likely to help them as well. However, he wasn't going to volunteer Maladi for a situation that might well be more dangerous than just a fight. He wanted to have his friend's opinion first...

[Mandaz]

“But but Cyril! They killed one of their own. What’s to stop them from killing us? Or the shades?”

Maladi’s number one priority was keeping the children safe. If these men committed the brutal acts they were bragging on about, he could only imagine what sort of horrible things they would do to the rest of them. These didn’t seem like the type of people to reason. Then again, neither did Achren. The young man was starting to wonder if everyone in this town was hostile. From the looks of it the population was much smaller than what the city had the capacity for. Could the handful of shade people all be out for their necks? It was a horrifying thought, as was the idea of stepping out to speak to these people. He trusted Cyril though he wasn’t sure how much fighting he could do in his condition. And if there was one thing Maladi didn’t trust, it was this foreign power eating away at his own body.

Still, what choice did they have? They were at the disadvantage of being lost and fatigued. Maladi did a quick head count on his shades, making sure they all stayed within the proximity of his ankles. More importantly his shadow. He had been able to save himself from Achren by dipping into its depths, perhaps if worse came to worse he could at least save them. With a nod, the gypsy placed all of his trust in Cyril’s plan and confirmed that he would follow his lead. Even if it led to the end of them.

[Ramlock]

"The thing stopping them from killing us is that we're going to be hard to kill. I can make sure of that. They're not even going to try unless they have a pretty big incentive..."

Cyril was essentially trusting his life to this... His theory that these thugs were there to make the easy choice. They'd beaten Achren, after all, which was something Cyril and Maladi had only really barely done... But still, it wasn't like he was ever going to turn his back on them. And if it came to it, at a distance of ten to fifteen feet, he had complete control of the situation with a pistol...

"Hey! We're coming out! For a little conversation, you know? We can talk about how this is going to proceed."

Cyril would walk out from behind the cover, his steps confident. There was still more debris in the alleyway, if he needed to hide, but for now... The best thing was to show that he wasn't afraid. And it was true... These guys... He didn't understand the place. He wasn't in perfect shape, and he was only going to be in worse shape the longer they remained in this city. But he could control the situation like no one else...

[Nayt]

"Great idea!" the younger one shouted, "Haha, I'm up for a little chitchat, what about you?"

The older one must have shrugged his shoulders, because it took him a second to reply. "There's nothing harmful about a civil discussion, so long as it stays that way, right?"

There was a bit of a snicker in his voice, but not nearly as much as his colleague's. His colleague sounded a little bit crazy, in fact; not that there was anything wrong with that in this city. A city in eternal darkness, illuminated only by the constant flashes of heat lightning in the eternal storm in the sky . . . how could a person not go a little crazy after living there long enough? It might not even require more than a few weeks, and if these guys had been living there their entire lives . . . well, any sane outsider, might not even see a problem with them being a little crazy.

They weren't dressed the part, though, that much was for sure.

The older one stood six feet and one inch tall, and was tall and thin--lean, but judging by the way he was dressed, he still could have had a good amount of muscle mass, albeit simply toned rather than excessive. He wore a black double breasted jacket over a button down white shirt, black slacks, and a pair of well shined dress boots. His clothes were well kept, tucked in and fully buttoned, almost exclusively without wrinkles. He also wore dark and thin leather gloves. His hair, hidden under a black and somewhat wide brimmed fedora, was a bit on the gray side, and his dark gray skin had a few traces of preliminary wrinkles--he looked like he was in his late thirties, albeit with awkward dark gray skin, orange eyes, and elongated and fairly lengthy ears.

His colleague was dressed quite similar, except he failed to tuck his undershirt in, the top two buttons were undone (as were his sleeve cuffs), and didn't wear any gloves or a hat. His clothes were a bit more wrinkled and not quite that well kept, but they weren't dirty. He was short and stocky, husky and muscular, the kind of guy that upon hitting someone with a shovel, that person didn't get back up--forever. He had lighter gray skin, closer to the middle of the black and white spectrum, and unlike his partner, who had no facial hair, the shorter one had a bit of a five o'clock shadow. He was five feet and nine inches tall and his short, black hair was parted on one side. His eyes were red, unlike his partner's. Both men still had bloody shovels with them.

They weren't just thugs. They were professional thugs. The kind of thug that could unload twelve rounds a piece into a lineup of enemies and walk away without anyone even suspecting them of the crime. Cyril, who had been in the "business" for quite a long time, wouldn't even need to see anything other than the way they were dressed to potentially discern this: they got rid of Achren, and regardless of their casual attitude and messy job, they were going to get away scott free. As messy of a job it was, neither had a single splotch of blood on them. Indeed--these guys were professionals.

"Well--what's the first order of business, then?" the older one inquired as he watched Cyril and the fox leave the alleyway first, soon to be followed by a few others.

[Mandaz]

Just by the way they were dressed; Maladi knew there was going to be trouble. They looked like the kind of men he was always told to stay away from. The kind of men who know other men who knew other men; men who knew the right strings to pull. A simple nod from one of them could make you a king or a bloody heap on the ground. Almost immediately after seeing them, the young man wanted to shirk back into the shadows. He kept quiet, shakily standing behind Cyril with his horrible arms uneasily twitching behind his back. With eyes cast down to the ground, Maladi held back his fear the best he could and concentrated on the creatures at his ankles. As long as they were safe, that was all that mattered. He wondered at what point that became it number one priority, but he supposed it didn’t matter now.

“Edii” he whispered, it was more to himself that anything, but it was something he wanted Cyril to pick up on. Since he planned on letting the braver of the two do the talking, he only voiced his opinions and thoughts into small whispers and head movements.“Where’s Edii?”

[Ramlock]

Their taste in clothing belied their nature. They were going to be quick, brutish, and unfortunately effective. Cyril wasn't sure entirely what to make of them, but they certainly seemed like they could be a problem. They were very business-like, though. That could be an advantage, depending on their orders. If they'd been ordered to investigate, Cyril and Maladi could well walk away. If they'd been ordered to apprehend... Cyril didn't doubt his skill. At least, he hadn't doubted it before. Here... In this world, he was just becoming weaker and weaker. At least the city wasn't as bad as the darkness, but still... There was never going to be rest or recuperation for him here. He had to try to talk his way through trouble.

"Well, the first order of business is your business. We don't really need to know what you're doing, unless it concerns us. We're here for own business, and I'd like to know to expect from you."

Neither had really made an aggressive move, after all. And they weren't sneaking up from behind as they did with Achren. Cyri maintained his distance, still, talking loudly while staying close enough to Maladi that he could still talk quietly and silently. So long as he covered his mouth from lip-reading, that is, which he fully planned to do.

"I don't know. But they don't either. Or if they do, it's a very bad thing."

They weren't going to have the information unless it applied to their jobs. In either case, they weren't going to be sharing it...

[Nayt]

Baht stood next to Maladi's left leg, gently holding onto his pants, while Notte hid behind Maladi. Voght and the fox were both quick to take position in front of Maladi and Cyril though--just in case. Truth be told, if these two men wanted to attack them, there wasn't much that Voght and the fox could do other than take the brought of an initial attack, but they took point nonetheless. It wasn't so much a superiority deal as it was protection. They couldn't do much, but they had their hearts in the right place, that much was for sure.

It was something that caught the attention of the two Ersatzshad. Shades were rare to see in the city; they never entered. Only once or twice in the past had they, and it was noticed quickly. How could these three small shades be in the city without them noticing? The taller one made note of this.

"You're fast," the shorter one stated bluntly.

"Almost like he knows this sort of business," the taller one shrugged his shoulder.

"Think so?"

The taller one shrugged again, but said nothing more to his partner. "It's hard to say what you can expect from us, really. It all depends on the kind of person you are."

The shorter one chimed on: "Yeah. If you're a magnacunt, we're going to bash your brains in."

"Indeed. And if you're civilized, we might even invite you to have a discussion over some coffee, for which the most you'll be able to expect is some free coffee, smokes, and some insight."

"So? What's it going to be? Tanner and I both like coffee just as much as we like shoveling idiots. We're not going to complain either way."