Inside, say a prayer as the light leaves your eyes
Or scream all you like, your Gods can’t hear you
About Kaci
Name: Kaci // Nemo
FC: Lauren Tsai
Age: 25
Motto: Either I find a way, or I make one.
Anthem: Obituary - Carpenter Brut
Personality: Unobtrusive / Efficient / Quick-thinking / Affable // Whimsical / Abrupt / Unorthodox / Solitary
Interests: Ophelia, The Saint
i. hang'em all
Kaci heard Cairan on the phone when she came to, and rather blearily realised she’d done the one thing she hadn’t done in a while: forget to set her alarm, and let herself wake up something like ten in the morning. Usually when she was back at home, it wasn’t a problem. But when she was in a very foreign place, with someone she sort-of trusted and with so many people being assassinated left, right and centre, it would’ve been far safer if she didn’t sleep completely dead to the world.
For the briefest moment, she debated walking out in her set of ratty pajamas and bedhead, decided that was not a look she needed the man to see her in, and made her way to the ensuite bathroom, looking at herself. She didn’t look atrocious - her eyebags weren’t prominent, and she at least looked half-well-rested. A scrub and a quick outfit change, she emerged into the parlour area, just as Cairan put his phone away. He nodded to her as she came in.
“Good morning Kaci.”
Kaci went for her bracer, then froze when the screen remained completely, utterly dead. She prodded it a few more times, and with a sinking heart realised: it was probably out of battery. Or broke. And at short notice, she wouldn’t be able to procure the parts she needed to fix it. Well, her assessment of being well-rested and unaffected was completely off the mark. Signing was probably out of the question, so she nodded to him, then gestured to the phone tucked away in his pocket.
“No bracer?” he asked, sounding somewhat amused. She poked it a few more times then shook her head. That got her nowhere, so she reached for one of the notepads sat on the side of the table, a pen, noted the One66 logo emblazoned on both, and hazarded a guess it’d be safe to use.
“Dead,” she wrote out, the pen heavy in her hand. “I’ll get it fixed later in the day. Anything urgent?” Cairan shook his head.
“I won’t stay long this morning - there are arrangements to make, in light of the newest round of tasks. The Loot has gotten very interesting.”
Kaci tilted her head, one eyebrow raised.
“Several lieutenants are dead,” he answered, by way of explanation. “The Loot assigned the competitors to eliminate them, and most have completed their tasks.”
Most? She didn’t need to write it, but likely the question was writ plain on her face.
“Jin Ah of the Midnight Club is dead, as is Boris of the Collective. Both trusted confidants of the leaders - Ophelia and Alteo respectively.”
Kaci tapped a finger against her lip, thinking. Whatever Ophelia had felt, she’d be more distraught now - or worried because of the last round. She thought about what she’d learned through the days, and through poking her nose around and through listening to others. How much history was embedded in this place, and even with what she knew - was it enough?
She pushed those thoughts aside, and wrote out, “Did you lose anyone?”
“No. Unless you count Verity, in which case…” He shrugged. “I had hoped to speak to her after the Loot. It is impossible now, but never matter. I can make a few safe deductions.”
Her death was convenient, Kaci thought, but did not - or was unable to - speak the thought out loud. Just as well - Cairan seemed inclined to go further with his explanations.
“So. How much do you know of the last Loot?”
“Three died,” she answered - or rather, scribbled out, the pen still awkward and ungainly in her hand. She listed them out in three bullet points: “There were irregularities. Verity eventually won, sponsored by the Boutellas. Then she vanished until now.”
“Hm. Who told you about the sponsorship?”
So the actual sponsor itself wasn’t common knowledge. Yes, it was a semi-open secret certain contestants would have been sponsored by criminal families. But the original sponsor themselves… Oh. That was a slip, wasn’t it?
She did not know the man well enough to know how he’d react if she’d come clean. But she also knew well enough from both the files and his irritation to guess what would happen if he found out that she had been digging through the files and she didn’t tell him.
He must’ve read something in her hesitation, because the man leant back, hands interlaced, as if waiting for her. To confess? To come clean? The thought of it - disappointing him - made her feel like a naughty child again, to be scolded by a parent. It was an uncomfortable feeling, given she hadn’t had a parent in… years. A decade. Did Jiejie count as a parent?
But Jiejie had never disciplined her too badly, had never scolded her, tried to take her away before it all went to hell at the workhouse. Kaci’s ribs still ached at the memory. This wasn’t Jiejie, and she was acutely aware she was sitting in front of very possibly an actual cult leader who tried to get Verity back to “deal with her”.
The one who got away, she remembered. Both decisions were bad, but honestly, she shouldn’t have been poking around to begin with. No good way to answer this question, and short of her expression being contrite there was nothing for it.
“I looked at the database on your tablet,” she said finally. Said wasn’t the right word - scrawled was closer to it, and Cairan closed his eyes, steepling his fingers. But his reaction - it wasn’t anger. More like he’d been expecting her to say it. Did he already know? Then again, given her hesitation and his perception, she’d be more surprised if he didn’t pick up on her discomfort.
She waited, fighting every urge in her to squirm in her seat. Also to chew on her lip. Or twist her hands. This was ridiculous, she’d never been to school and oddly, ten years after she’d meant to have had proper schooling, she was experiencing what it was like to be in a hypothetical principal’s room.
“I’m sorry,” she wrote out. “I was curious about Verity and why she died.”
She poked it across the table as an odd sort of peace offering, waiting for him to open his eyes and work through - whatever was going across his brain. He wasn’t angry, which was a start. Or at least, not the same sort of palpable anger when they detoured to One66.
A few seconds too long later, Cairan opened his eyes, and she registered disappointment. His eyes flickered down to the paper, and he shook his head.
“I rather you asked,” he said finally. “While curiosity is understandable, accessing confidential information without asking is not.”
She nodded, feeling appropriately chastened. He opened his eyes, still leant back and considering a point just above Kaci’s head.
“Which file did you read?”
“Verity’s.”
“Anyone else?”
Kaci shook her head.
“Are you certain?”
She nodded again, maintaining a death grip on the pen. Nerves? Probably. But she wasn’t lying. Even if she did want to see what sort of information he might have on her.
Eventually, the older man leant forward, and there was a gleam in his eye, arms resting on his lap. It was - an odd halfway point between anger and disappointment, but there was a twist to it Kaci didn’t know if she liked.
“I will not insult you by repeating that tired idiom. The ones about cats and curiosity, or Pandora’s boxes. But to be cleaar: there will be no second times. Understood?”
He phrased it like a question, but she heard the bite in it, something he seemed to be consciously holding back. She nodded a second time, and whatever he had seemed to settle. It wasn’t reassuring in the slightest, and Kaci very cautiously sat back in her seat, every muscle in her body screaming.
“So. You know about Verity’s relationship with Angelo. I will also assume - given you’d read her file - that you knew what she did, what she stole, and the rules the late Angelo Boutella broke.”
Another nod. Then, carefully, slowly, “You said it was related to the last Loot.”
“The Loot,” Cairan began, settling into something more comfortable, “Began as a contest of skill. Power. The most stylish kills, the most creative and imaginative ways of getting to your hit. I don’t mean torture. I mean its accomplishment, its - fulfilment. Angelo Boutella decided in the last Loot to corrupt all of that.”
And he told her. Whether it was because he wanted to forestall another chance of Kaci trying to go through the databases, or because he genuinely understood - or was putting on the appearance of genuinely understanding - her lack of answers, she couldn’t tell. But by the end of it, Kaci’s head was spinning, just a little bit. Between Mikhail’s death to Ophelia’s involvement to the involvement of an FBI agent and everything else…
“But he must have known,” Kaci wrote out, when Cairan had finished the entire retelling. “Angelo Boutella must have known something was coming.”
“He did. He didn’t expect it from Gia - certainly not an illegitimate child.”
“And so now Gia and Melina are using it to clean up.”
“That about sums it up.” At Kaci’s expression, he smiled, a thin, cruel thing. “I would not shed any tears. Raphael has ambition, but the man will use everything and anything to get what he wants. That was how he married Ophelia - and the two have been pilfering the Midnight Club’s coffers.”
“The Midnight Club does well.”
“Yes, but a good portion has gone to the Songs.” Cairan placed his hands in his lap, looking at Kaci quite seriously. “If he had any sense of honour, he might have come out with the information. He chose to conceal it, and use it against Angelo.”
“I’m amazed Angelo didn’t kill him.”
“Oh, knowing Raphael? He had contingencies in place. Perhaps a dead man’s switch.”
Kaci nodded. It made sense - perfect sense, actually, from the picture he painted of Raphael. Affable, yes, but at the same time - ruthless. Cairan described it as having no boundaries.
“And Verity?”
“She was ambitious. Useful, but with hindsight - double-edged. Nothing mattered so long as she came out on top with what she wanted, which likely was why Angelo was drawn to her. Besides - he always enjoyed the idea of having “one up” on me, and Verity gave him the chance to do it.”
Kaci hmmed, except her throat could not make the noise, and it came out as a croak. If Cairan noticed it, he gave no indication. Finally, Kaci scribbled out another question: “Where does Alteo fit into this?”
“His disregard for everything, really.” The way Cairan said it, he sounded like he was dismissing a particularly uninteresting piece of gossip. “The way he operated - he preferred bloodshed and pain, as much as possible. The hits he did were often - drawn out, torturous affairs. Together with his unreliability, which turned the governments against him.”
Cairan chuckled, a husky, mocking sound. “Not that they’d say it out loud. The Collective has its fingers in several pies, and they do worry about Alteo’s unpredictability.”
And apparent sadism, by the sound of it, but that would be as obvious as saying the sky had been formerly blue, and grass used to be a nice, healthy shade of green.
The conversation wound down - moreso when there was a knock at the door, and someone came in. When he saw Cairan, he bowed slightly, and in a hushed voice informed him that the meeting could take place, whenever he was ready. Cairan stood up, straightening and re-buttoning his suit jacket.
“And I leave you to your own devices,” Cairan said finally, eyes still cool, hard. “Remember what I told you.”
Not that Kaci was about to forget anytime soon. She stood up, wondering if she ought to say thank you for not booting her out of the suite or worse - but whatever she wanted to say died on her tongue as Cairan strode out without giving her a second glance. The newcomer looked askance at her, but Kaci stood stock still until the door had shut.
She slumped back against the sofa, and only then realised how tense, how worried she’d been up till this moment. She survived that one, fortunately. But whereto now? There were no tasks to be announced - not yet.
She went back to her room, her mobile phone - the one she used for professional work - buzzed. She was about to hop over, hoping for a job that was at the very least good enough to distract. No such luck, but a message was flashing.
It was marked J, but the way it was written left Kaci absolutely no doubt that it was Jax on the other end. It read: “Still stuck with the Saint? Come find me, if you can get away. Or if you want.”
That surprised her - she hadn’t spoken to Jax since the last task, since Verity’s death. What had he been up to - especially since he dropped? That thought in mind, she replied in the affirmative, and got a thumbs-up and a location sent to her. She took note of the time, and looked at the room around her.
One more thing to do before she went about her day: to go to Ophelia. Whether it was professional courtesy or concern, she couldn’t tell - but it couldn’t hurt.
ii. 347 midnight demons
Ophelia’s bodyguard held out an arm to stop her, and without her bracer she could not say a thing. This man wouldn’t understand sign language either, but that resolution was quickly resolved when she heard a voice call out:
“Is that Kaci? Send her in.”
The man turned his head back towards the sound of the door, back to Kaci, and sighed.
“Well. In you go, but don’t cause any trouble.”
The most trouble she’d be having today was being completely and utterly unable to communicate save for sign language and maybe holding up a placard with her messages on it, risking complete and utter humiliation. Well, if today was any indication, maybe the Loot would be over soon - and with the denouement of the chaos that had taken place today.
She pushed the door open, and nearly ran into Raphael Song on the side. The man glanced at her, and nodded.
“Kaci.”
She returned the greeting with a wave, then signed: “Sorry. Bracer’s broken, so I’m reliant on my usual.”
Raphael Song smiled faintly, then shook his head. “None necessary. I would stay and chat, but I have arrangements to make.”
Kaci stepped aside, and took in the room in front of her. There were two pieces of luggage already waiting near the door, one door very much open. The other one was shut, and she thought she could hear voices inside.
“Ophelia is arranging her own affairs,” Raphael said by way of explanation. “If you wish to see her, just knock.”
She accepted the explanation, then stopped to look at the man.
“How did you know I was outside the door?”
“The guard was having the most one-sided conversation I’d heard. I’ll be seeing you.”
The way Raphael said it, it sounded like a formality than anything else. Kaci wondered if he even believed it - or if she was talking to a dead man walking. After all, when the Loot seemed to be targeting everyone’s closest friends and rivals. And by what Cairan had deigned to share with her - after everything - she thought she had some idea of who might be next.
But she held her hands close, still by her side, and walked past Raphael to where Ophelia stayed. She held her breath a moment longer, knocked on the door, and heard Ophelia’s voice call: “Come in”.
It was still as steady, reassured as she remembered the woman ever being, and so Kaci pushed open the door. To her surprise, she was in another study, and Ophelia looked - exhausted. Much more exhausted than she’d ever known the woman to be. Her hair was polished, yes, but her finger was rapidly tapping against the desk. One thing struck Kaci the most - the woman had been crying. Her eyes were puffy, and her breaths seemed - uneven.
She raised one hand in greeting, and Ophelia looked up, saw Kaci, and relaxed marginally.
“Just you?”
Kaci nodded, standing by the doorway. “Thought I’d check in with you.”
“So you’ve heard.”
Another nod. “Cairan told me this morning. He also said it had something to do with the last Loot.”
Ophelia listened to the information, taking it in and giving little to no reaction. Kaci lowered her hands, watching the woman in her seat, and finally, Ophelia sighed, gesturing for her to sit down.
“What else do you know?”
Kaci folded her hands in her lap, staring at the interlaced fingers. She thought of the conversation this morning, abrupt as it had been, thought about what she’d been told of the Loot, Verity turning her back on Cairan and the group (cult, a voice prompted, and she acknowledged it in its proper way, reminded herself of the dangers). Of the roles played.
She was not in the habit of lying to people outright - usually only by omission. She knew how to lie by keeping quiet, letting others fill in the gaps for themselves as they were wont to do. But she did not like to Cairan, who despite everything was still providing her with some measure of safety; she would not lie to Ophelia either, who gave her her first lifeline after she escaped from her servitude. So she looked up and signed: “Most things, I think. How Verity left Cairan’s - group. Cult. Both, likely. How Angelo gave her protection. How she made her way into the Loot last year. How she won.”
“Then you also know what I did.”
Kaci shrugged. “Yes.” When she saw Ophelia’s expectant look, she frowned “And...?”
“You’re taking this quite calmly.”
“I’m not sure of my own reactions. It’s been a lot for twenty four hours,” Kaci signed, fighting every urge in her to cross her legs. That was the truth: she didn’t know how to even react yet - there was honour among thieves, and in Cairan’s retelling, Ophelia had none of that, leaving her vulnerable to Raphael’s blackmailing. But Cairan’s revelations had been two scant hours ago, and she was still trying to process it, trying to let it sink in. That, and Jax’s message to meet her around noon “for a quick lunch”, as everything seemed to be rushing to a conclusion or falling apart.
She felt - nothing. No anger, no fury, just a quiet acceptance that this was one more thing Ophelia was, and that perhaps, just perhaps the woman wasn’t as principled as she thought she was. She considered it: but loyal and principled were two different things. Or perhaps she’d feel the full force of this tangle when she had time to breathe and not really - worry. When she was safe, far away, preferably with large sweeps of security measures around her.
“Does your organisation know?”
“No. But with what’s happening in this Loot…” She stopped tapping her finger on the desk, and Ophelia’s shoulders slumped marginally. “I do not know what will come next. And I don’t know how to plan for it.”
“I’m not talking about plans,” Kaci signed, stilling for a moment. Then, with as little hesitation in these circumstances: “How are you feeling?”
“Me?” Ophelia looked up, finally meeting her eyes since they started this conversation. “Exhausted, mostly. Uncertain.”
Kaci might have added “worried”, “concerned”, and potentially “grieving’, if the news about the victims were anything to go by. But Ophelia hadn’t made any mention of Jin-ah, and Kaci would not prod too deeply at a wound as fresh and as deep as that one.
“I also noticed Raphael packing.”
“He is making preparations to leave,” Ophelia said quietly. “I don’t blame him - in other circumstances, I would do the same. One66 has become a death trap, and whoever is behind this has crossed a line even I consider anathema.”
“The no killing or violence rule.”
“Yes. Jin - the targets - were all taken out on One66 territory. Whatever safety the place has is gone at this point.”
“So why are you staying?” Kaci looked at Ophelia, and was grateful ASL could not convey things like tone and emotion and concern. “The Ophelia I know would’ve made contingencies for it, left before it escalated.”
“Well, as I mentioned - up until this morning, One66 was safe. And -” Ophelia cast a glance behind her, and Kaci turned her head to follow the line of sight. There was another closed door beyond the study - not the one she’d gone through, but this one was sealed shut. When she turned back to face the woman, a small, sad smile was playing around Ophelia’s lips.
“She’s still here. I’m not leaving until she does as well.”
“You two could leave together,” Kaci suggested, her hands just the slightest unsteady as she made the proposal. Gia might not spare you, she wanted to say, but did Ophelia guess that as well? So instead, she opted for: “There’s enough time.”
“They’ll be keeping track of where I am.” Ophelia’s expression turned grim - determined, even, and in that moment, the uncertain, worried girl was gone, the cool, steel-spined woman in her place. “There’s no place for rashness, not when our host has planned everything to the last detail. You don’t need to worry about me.”
Well, bugger her for having some ounce of concern. Lucky for her then, that her voice was almost non-functional and that no therapist got to her before the muteness set in almost permanently. Or that she wasn’t doing no-filter pen-to-paper either, otherwise she’d have done exactly what she did to Cairan (herself?) a little while earlier. Because otherwise, Kaci had the distinct feeling she would’ve said it out loud.
“Of all people, you might be the safest placed with Cairan,” Ophelia continued, seemingly oblivious to Kaci’s internal monologue. The other woman laughed - short, amused, but unhappy all the same. “That, and the host would have no reason to target you. Unless your skeletons involve the Loot.”
Kaci shook her head. “I cleaned up after the mess was done, but otherwise…”
“I see.” They lapsed into silence, neither speaking and Kaci weighing these moments. A re-shuffling - against those who sullied and broke the code in the Loot. Was she talking to a dead woman walking as well?
“I won’t keep you any longer,” Kaci signed finally, when the silence stretched on for too long. “Do you need some time to do your thing?”
“I would appreciate it.” Ophelia stood up, and Kaci followed suit, understanding the audience was at an end. But something made Ophelia stop, look at Kaci strangely.
“What did you do?”
“What did I do?” Kaci smiled.
“Kaci. Don’t play fool with me - you mentioned you had skeletons.”
Even at the end of all things, Ophelia would be asking questions, picking up on things, even as she withheld so much from her. But it was not in Kaci’s place to judge - not yet. Not when she had yet to parse everything. So she smiled, and replied with: “One for one?”
“I’d think it was fair.”
Kaci thought about it, and in that moment, she remembered the smell: blood, rust, and synthetic sweet-sick from the incense they’d burned in that party. It had made her eyes water, even through the mask. Stood in One66, it was only the room that reminded her she was not there - otherwise she’d have to claw her way out of memory lane again.
Ophelia said: fair was fair. But how much “fair” Kaci wanted to offer was for herself to decide.
“I have killed,” she signed finally, eyes boring into Ophelia. “Once.”
Ophelia’s eyebrows went up. “You never said you took a hit before.”
“Wasn’t a hit.”
“Murder is even unlikelier, Kaci.”
Kaci shrugged. Murder was about… right. Was it? Could you call comeuppance murder? Yes, in the strictest sense. “I took no pleasure. But I don’t regret it.”
“We rarely do. But that’s hardly as bad a skeleton as you make it out to be.”
“Not when you help to kill ten in one go.” She winced. “Or more. I don’t remember the exact number of corpses I had to haul.”
Ophelia stopped, a little taken aback. Then, as if remembering herself, she nodded.
“Alright. Should I ask why you did it?”
“It was that, or eternal servitude. I had no appetite for the latter, and neither did the rest of us.” Kaci smiled. “I don’t know if they deserved it, that syndicate. But I know they burned down our workhouse, our home and took several of us as trophies to serve them. I was lucky. They made me a janitor. The rest weren’t.”
And now she remembered: the head of the triad - syndicate - laughing. The syndicate leader - their host dying, and his lieutenants following shortly after, as girls and entertainers sprang away. How she’d stood in the corner with her fellow Cleaner and just - watched, accepting what was to come next, what had to be done.
Much like how Verity had died, except Verity died in silence. The syndicate’s upper tier had died to horror and fear, hand reaching for the spilled glass and falling limp.
Bitter bile. Blood, The silence. Relief. She remembered only the day before, when Ophelia visited her in her suite, that she mentioned watching the poison take effect.
Ophelia seemed to remember it to.
“You said you recognised poisoning. Because you’d done it yourself.”
Kaci nodded just once, and that was all the answer she would give Ophelia. To say anything more would be to insult her intelligence.
The two women looked at each other - Ophelia, polished, put together, Kaci a little cleaned up, but still with the traces of being a street urchin. Stood here in a safehouse that was a death trap, and too little time to suss out whatever secrets they each had.
“If we - if I survive this -” Ophelia began, and caught herself, shaking her head. “No. We’ll speak after this.”
Kaci let Ophelia walk her to the door. As she made to leave, Ophelia had one more remark to make.
“You know, all this time and you didn’t even ask about your contract once.”
Kaci did laugh then, mute, but very much breathy and scraped at her long disused throat.
“I assumed it was cancelled in light of everything else.”
“It is. I do apologise for the inconvenience.”
If Ophelia had been confident enough to continue with said contract, she might’ve called her reckless - or that there was more at play than Kaci had reckoned for. Or that Cairan had told her. Was Kaci disappointed? Yes, but like so many other things, it had yet to sink in. Just one more upset for the day.
She could not muster any reply to Ophelia. Not to so many uncertainties. If Ophelia survived this Loot unscathed, there was a chance she’d have to live the rest of her life running, hiding, exiled. But this was a maybe, and Kaci doubted their host would be merciful to let Ophelia live.
She took her leave of Ophelia with a nod, and headed out of her suite back to where she was staying in One66. One more person to see then - and Kaci wondered what Jax would have to say to her.
iii. escape from midwich valley
In a way, it was a relief to leave One66, the paranoia and the stifling atmosphere. After the deaths in the morning, coupled with her conversations earlier, the streets of New York - with its neon, its rain, the dark, cloudy skies above and the shouts of fighting and gunshots were a relief. Not enough of a relief that Kaci could sleepwalk through her surroundings, but Kaci breathed easier - better.
Still no bracer, but she’d finally picked up a notepad, a pen, and her phone with a text-to-voice feature. It’d be slower, make her look he she was texting not stop, but it would have to do.
Jax had asked to meet her at a diner across the street, tucked away in a little alley. For an alley, it was surprisingly… clean. Clean, save for the rust-red stains and the awful graffiti spray painted on in whites and reds and painted over again and again and again.
The entrance way had surprisingly few bullet holes in the door frame, the staff at least not bothering to insult her when she made her way in. Her phone buzzed.
“I see you.”
And tucked into a far booth seat, very much out of sight unless you were actively looking, was Jax, clad in a sleek-looking bomber jacket and a white t-shirt. He grinned when he saw her, but that too was a ghost of the man she’d known most of her career as a Cleaner. She nodded as she slid into the seat opposite him, setting out her phone on her desk.
Of course, Jax noticed the lack of a bracer on her wrist, and raised an eyebrow.
“What happened to your voice-bracer?”
“Broke. You’ll need to put up with this one,” Kaci keyed out on her phone. The voice that the phone blared out was even worse than the one she’d had on her speaker, but she had to shoulder it - and if it failed, if she could just fall back on to good old-fashioned pen and paper. God she should practise her handwriting, because this was getting exhausting and her chicken scratch was… quietly embarrassing, actually. Funny how these things mattered now, best to serve as a distraction.
The man snorted, shaking his head, then pushed the menu towards her.
“Order something first. We can talk while you eat.”
The inflection didn’t slip by her, and Kaci’s eyebrows furrowed.
“I eat?” she typed in, and Jax nodded.
“What, I’m not allowed to treat a close acquaintance? This is a diner, if you haven’t noticed.”
“You’re not eating.”
“No. After I see you, I’m leaving immediately.”
Kaci tried to remember if Cairan had mentioned any part that had Jax’s involvement. When she came up blank, her furrow deepened, and she looked askance at the man.
“Well, I dropped out of the Loot after I saw the task the night before,” Jax said by way of explanation. “So I’m not a participant anymore.”
“They’re not going to kill you. For dropping out,” Kaci tapped out, and the jarring, unfamiliar voice grating to her ears. “Fiona dropped out. She’s fine.”
“I have my reasons,” he said. “I don’t have the backing of a group behind me. Not formally, at any rate, though the Boutellas have hired me on occasion.”
She considered what she’d heard from Cairan, putting the pieces together. Maybe Jax did mean what he mean - that he was just leaving, given the Loot was no longer of any concern to him. It made good, logical sense: why hang around what had essentially, likely in the eyes of everyone else, become a death trap? And as Cairan had said, following Reina’s use of the Loot to avenge her lover Jae, it was a free for all - even if Jax hadn’t known it. Or did he know already, and he was just one more person holding the cards close to his chest?
“You speak like you’ll be dead. Soon.”
“Maybe. I might be.”
She studied his face for his trademark cockiness, playfulness, and found none. That worried her.
“It’s trouble isn’t it.”
“You always ask the questions I can’t refuse Kaci,” Jax said, and a faint smirk formed on his lips. The faintest shade of the man at the start of the Loot. “What is it in you?”
“My nosiness,” she answered, and Jax did laugh then.
“You could’ve pointed out you were charming.”
Kaci pointed to herself, then her face. “My charm. Jax, really.”
“If you were less snarky and disapproving, you’d be perfectly charming.”
“And I thought you liked me.”
“I do. Sometimes.”
She shook her head. “Right. You said I was charming. I say I’m nosy. What did you do.”
“Can’t go around giving my secrets.” That lasted a good two seconds before Jax’s face turned serious. “Order. We’re sitting here chatting for too long, and I’d rather not draw more attention.”
She wasn’t about to say no, so she ordered herself a biscoff shake. The waiter stared at the two of them, and Jax hid a laugh behind his hand. Kaci rolled her eyes, and asked for one straw.
“I could order for you.”
“Don’t mind me. So.”
Kaci nodded. “So. Trouble.”
“Right.” Jax shifted in his seat, and the last remnants of his teasing vanished, his eyes like pinpricks of stone. “One of my - former colleagues is dead. As a result, I’ve been compromised. So. I’m leaving before anything else happens.”
“Former colleague.” Kaci’s expression, she thought, fairly spoke as to her unamusement at the vague answer. “As part of this Loot.”
“That’s all you’re getting out of me Kaci. Besides, I didn’t get you out here to talk about me.”
As he said that, a medium-sized milkshake with fairly passable imitation cream was plonked unceremoniously on the table, almost spilling its contents on the table. Kaci prodded it very cautiously, then remembered that this area likely was also within the purview of One66 - and so the chances of the food being actually food were much higher.
That, and the biscoff tasted acceptably of biscoff, so she took an appreciative sip. She waited for Jax to continue, still sipping delicately.
“You’re still shacked up with the Saint, yes?”
She exhaled. “I’m staying in his suite. Not shacked up.”
“Terminology. Point is - given you’re still stuck with him, I wanted to ask if you wanted to get out of what you’ve gotten into.”
Kaci stared at him, and Jax rolled his eyes.
“Look. If you’ve been hanging around Cairan, then you’ll probably know a little bit about him and Verity. Or at least, what went down. It’s not easy to disappear from him.”
“I know. Boutella broke rules to protect her.”
“How did you -” Jax stopped mid-sentence. “Did the Saint tell you?”
“Yes. I also poked into some files.”
“And how did he react?”
“Hm. Let’s just say. I won’t be doing that again.” Yet, Kaci thought to herself, and wondered if the Saint would let a second chance like that happen - or if she ought to take him at his word. Of all the players in this game, he seemed… at least, he had a code. A code of sorts, the very least.
Jax took in the information, and finally looked at her.
“Basically, I’m saying is this: if you need help getting out or away from Cairan, I can do it. There are still strings I can pull.”
That took Kaci by surprise, because of how sincere Jax’s offer sounded. Was. Both, perhaps. She wasn’t blind to Cairan’s danger. No, not with the glimpse of whatever it was that morning when she came clean about poking into his files. But he’d settled it, told her not to do it again (like a disappointed teacher, really), and while he wasn’t happy… he did tell her there wouldn’t be a second chance. And she was inclined to take him in good faith.
And so far, the man seemed - fine with her doing her own thing. Her own choices. A false sense of security? Or simply because she hadn’t gotten deep into his group, to the same extent Verity was?
She might be able to walk away. And she had vanished before. She might be able to do so again, and if she went with Jax… it’d be easier, certainly. But where would that leave her? With the knowledge she had, with what Cairan had told her, she might be a target too.
Her heart was thumping treacherously, and a thousand people were screaming in her head it was a terrible idea. It was. But the alternative…
“I think I can leave. On my own, I think. Don’t think I’m the same. As Verity and Cairan.” She stared at Jax, and for a moment, was sharply reminded of her own conversation with Ophelia earlier in the morning. “But you should leave.”
“Ah, I will don’t worry.” Jax’s cheerfulness resurfaced, replaced by something close to genuine concern. “You’re sure you’re staying.”
Kaci breathed in, weighing the option. It was there. Out in the open, waiting for her to step through. But her gut instinct had served her well thus far - and it was a consequence she’d willingly bear.
“Yes. But thank you. Truly.” She winced. “Sorry I can’t talk.”
“Yeah, but I’ve known you this long. I can tell.” Jax stood up, and as he did, clapped one hand on her shoulder.
“You watch out for yourself.”
She looked up at him, the strange, handsome man that she’d known to flirt and seduce and vanish in order to get what he wanted out of life, out of his job. She put one hand over his and smiled.
“You too. Don’t die.”
“Nah, I won’t. When this is over - let’s go for a drink again.”
Kaci nodded, and Jax headed for the exit, paying at the cashier. He ducked through the not-very-bullet-ridden glass doors, and vanished into the seething swarm of people, leaving Kaci alone in the booth seat, a large portion of the biscoff milkshake in front of her. Still, she could not get the dread out of her mind.
iv. obituary
When Cairan got the invitation, it was as if someone had pushed a reset button in him - and suddenly he was the host Kaci remembered him being, even if at the moment she knew he was still disappointed with her. You learned to read your employer’s moods, to make sure you could get out safely - and here, now, she was reading his mood to make sure she could get out before anything untoward happened to her.
She’d opened up the coffee table book of Dante’s Inferno when the news came in, flipping through its pages and dragging together what little she could understand between the translation and the original Italian. She’d taught herself to read, encouraged by her mentor after she’d fled from the syndicate’s murders, and knew how to spend nights next to a dictionary. She’d been getting onto the third circle when a slammed door startled her out of her concentration.
He didn’t tell her what it was outright, but by the phone calls he was making, the pacing in the room - between his, to the parlour, the anger flashing in his eyes, she gathered enough: Reina had returned, but the world had collectively suffered a major data breach - and the cozy, quiet structure built up around the Loot, around the sacred rules (what was left of them, she remembered Cairan saying, and pulled it back to herself) had been thrown into the open. And by some hellish miracle, the Saint’s cult too had been exposed in the light to see.
It hadn’t been pretty. He’d been furious - and it made his anger in the car look like a tiny temper tantrum. So when the invitation to Talon’s Loot came…
She wasn’t sure if his sudden calmness was a welcome switch, because right up until the envelope arrived, Kaci very much felt like she’d been caged in a -
Beast wasn’t the right word for it. No, because beast implied a lack of self control, a lack of purpose. Cairan might have been bridling his fury, his rage, but she could feel his purpose bleeding through his pores. Murderous purpose, but purpose nonetheless. No, this was - anger. Fury. Murder. The threat of cruelty just over the horizon.
Monster was closer. Monster. Monstrum. She remembered someone telling her the root. She did not remember its meaning. But - yes. Closer. Caged with a monster, just reining himself in in polite company. On good days, it simmered, content, sated. In moments like these…
She couldn’t blame him - not really. People seemed to be streaming away from their groups, their organisations, and Kaci hadn’t had the nerve to ask if he’d lost anyone after this morning. And she ignored the flashing tablet on the desk, focusing on the news streaming in on her own phone all the while.
Still, it was enlightening: he seemed to ask less after any potential leaving members and more about his technology - and if there was anyone in his closest circles who’d sold him out to other organisations. She didn’t pay much attention to the answers.
She almost expected to hear him smash something on the table, and didn’t know if he was holding back because such violence was beneath him, or if it was because he still held some tiny, fraying thread of decency that he had a guest - even if said guest had disappointed him today.
“I was beginning to wonder if Gia would send the invitation.”
Kaci looked up, and saw Cairan approaching her, the cream envelope in hand. She inclined her head towards the invitation.
“Well. At the end of all things now. I suggest we head to One66’s hall - the denouement should be one to be remembered.”
He was smiling - not the placid, polite smiles he offered her in the past. This was - genuine. Almost bared teeth, like a predator approaching wounded, cornered prey, and he would be the first to bite down on his victim’s jugular. Or eat them whole. Devour them, and leave nothing but bones and the last bits of sinew behind.
If she had her bracer, she’d have tapped out “We?”, but it was still broken and unresponsive, and her phone was a little further away than she’d have liked. Cairan, after the display morning, seemed to be waiting for her with a touch of impatience, so she nodded, getting to her feet.
The hall was quiet, intimate, and Kaci wasn’t as sharply or brightly dressed as she had been in the past. No one seemed to be in the mood to celebrate, but she didn’t miss how Cairan seemed to be the only one of the leaders present. Ophelia, Raphael, Alteo - all were conspicuously absent. In the spotlit pedestals were five boxes, and Kaci watched as the remaining contestants opened them one by one: a gun, a video-watching device, and a tracker tablet. No Verity. No champion. No instructions.
“They’re taking their time, I see,” Cairan said beside her, voice soft and almost gentle in the dark. It send a shiver down her spine, and she couldn’t tell if it was nerves, pleasure, fear - or a combination of the three. She looked up at him, and for the umpteenth time in the day, wished her bracer worked so she didn’t need to observe this in silence.
She knew who Cairan referred to. So it was little surprise when Gia and Dove emerged, smiling like satisfied cats at their cream. Then came the story - the same recital Cairan had given her, but conspicuously absent of his observations on the facts, on the people involved. Gia gave her plan, offering each of the contestants their choice.
Their decisions didn’t matter to Kaci. Why should it? Save for the discomfort she felt when Blaise - a little too enthusiastically - agreed to go after Ophelia, she felt - nothing. Just watching it all like a morbid trainwreck unfolding. Beside her, Cairan was equally silent as offers were accepted and rejected.
“Hm. Interesting.”
Kaci turned to Cairan, who had his arms crossed and was watching the proceedings with some interest. She raised an eyebrow, and despite the dark, he seemed to see it.
“Oh, I was observing some of the behaviour our contestants are showing.”
She kept silent - her phone lighting up now would be a dead giveaway. The man, however, seemed to be talking to himself more than her.
“Funny, don’t you think, that some have suddenly decided to grow a conscience after spending the past few days taking out their targets?”
She nodded, though she could not say anything more. She knew none of these people - only that whatever it was, power didn’t seem to tempt them when - what. Confronted with the choice to kill someone they knew or were friends with? Or was it a deliberate ploy by Gia: how much would you sacrifice to get where you were?
Kaci had no answer. She’d killed once - ten, twenty, her recollection always varied. But in the end, she was not like the assassins and the killers here: she was simply a carrion-eater, tidying up after them, keeping their mess quiet, contained, and to a minimum.
(Was that going to matter, when the news had everyone’s faces spilling on primetime TV? Was she compromised too?)
She couldn’t stay for the aftermath. When all was said and done, when the Loot was finally, finally over, she realised Cairan was no longer by her side. Somewhat alarmed, she cast her gaze around the darkened hall, the few guests remaining talking among themselves, and caught sight of a familiar, disappearing figure heading down to a secluded corner, where another person was waiting. Gia.
They exchanged a few words. Kaci stayed put, and was rewarded by the man returning, a grim look on his face.
“So. What did you think?”
Kaci smiled, tremulous and faint despite herself, and pulled up her phone.
“I agree some contestants are trying. To self-rationalise.” She paused, and let the voice play, and winced. God she hated that voice, more than her speaker-bracer. “It’s interesting.”
“Oh?” Cairan’s interest seemed piqued, and it felt like the early days they met once again. “Why is that?”
“It’s the old system. Gia’s still using it for her own gains. As is Dove. And everyone else.” She paused. “Even those who rejected her. Though they’re not as amoral as they pretend.” Another pause, then she added, “No morals till it affects them. You’d think they have the grace. To be honest about themselves. And their motivations.”
If Kaci could sign, she’d simply say there were no morals right up until they caught feelings. Or attraction. She’d also use a cruder word, but ASL had never been designed for crude language.
“Well. Philosophising is interesting, but we have more pressing matters.” He turned his head towards the exit. “Whatever happens here will be forwarded to me. Gia and I have.. An arrangement. But more importantly, the news leak caught the attention of the Federal Bureau of Investigations.”
Oh. Oh, that.
“News is that they’re on their way. I have made arrangements to leave, before it - ah, all goes to hell. And while I am… disappointed in some of your behaviour -”
Kaci kept a still, poker face, and ignored the twinge of regret - together with the same, uncomfortably squirming feeling she had earlier this morning when she came clean.
“ - There is a helicopter. I will be boarding it shortly, but you are free to join me if you wish.”
She stared. Then, she asked: “Where to?”
“I haven’t decided.”
Somewhere deep inside, she thought to herself as she heard his answer: he knew. Because Cairan was never one to go by halves, and that he knew exactly where it was going.
“It’s an offer, with no strings attached. If you wish to go your own way - well. I will not stop you.”
She considered his words, his offer, but the answer came to her faster than she’d have liked. Because at the end of the day - she knew where she stood. She knew what risks she ran, what she was doing. And even if it meant she would have no backer…
Well, she’d have to rely on her own street smarts again, wouldn’t she? Besides, it’d be far less conspicuous for her to leave than in a large helicopter with an unknown destination. And Kaci was weary of unknowns. Too many things had happened - and all she wanted was to go home, decompress, and pick up a few jobs.
Hell, a multi-body clean-up job seemed positively relaxing at this point.
So she shook her head with a gentle, weary smile, and looked up.
“Thank you,” she typed out, and the phone blurted the words accordingly, just about heard over the hubbub. “But I’ll see you again, perhaps another time.”
He gazed at her, and for the first time in a long while, she held it, steady, unafraid - clear. It was the clearest thought she’d had all evening, and already she was spinning how to get to where she needed to be, how to slip out - all the skills she’d learned, she’d honed, she’d put it to use. Maybe write an obituary to what had happened here, all the people dead in the name of pursuing justice, of wiping the slate clean.
(It wasn’t really justice. Gia and Dove and Melina were all fooling themselves. But so were those who rejected Gia’s offer and tried to claim a higher ground for it. Because they were all assassins and hitmen, and Kaci was just a carrion-eater feasting on the gory remains.)
“You are certain.”
She nodded, and took in a deep breath. He did not try to persuade her otherwise. She hadn’t expected it. The guests were still calm, peaceful. News hadn’t reached them yet, but it would soon enough. Cairan accompanied her out of the hall, but by then someone was already in the hall waiting for Cairan. There was someone waiting for her too - with her duffel bag and suitcase. She took it, and if the woman handing the bag to her was surprised - she did not show it.
Cairan held out a hand, and Kaci took it. His hands were calloused, scarred, but the handshake was firm, steady. Almost trustworthy. “This is where we part ways.”
And then he was gone with his entourage, headed towards the elevator. She watched him go - just as she heard the murmur go through the crowd - along with the police siren. Instinct and adrenaline kicked in, and she pulled the luggage and her duffel bag into a nearby service room, and got to work.
There was no need for any uniform: here and now, any sort of uniform linking her with One66 would mark her out as a target. Her ideal way to depart would be: find a back exit, slip into an alleyway unnoticed, catch the first public transport, then buy herself a last-minute ticket out of the city towards home. She spared a thought for Jax, who she hoped was far, far away from here; for Ophelia, who likely would escape with Fiona; for Cairan, though in all honesty it was more sentiment than anything else. After all, between the three, the man had held to Gia’s sense of honour, held to his own code. He would be fine. He wouldn’t be punished.
She did have to dive into a janitor’s locker - narrow, thin, and barely enough to fit herself into it as a team of heavily armed men thundered past. They had bulletproof vests on, assault rifles at the ready, and did not seem to notice the discarded luggage outside. Then she heard the barking in the distance and thought, “Oh good God.”
But it was too late for regrets now - not when she knew how to disappear. Besides, the barking wouldn’t be here - yet. So she ought to get out, as fast as she could. Another hallway, another stairwell, until she was met with a fire exit and a stairwell to go down. Picking the lock was fast, and so far, there was no one down below. What she did see were the police sirens already flashing on one side of the room, and she already heard yelling and the sound of footsteps from the hotel itself.
No perimeter. Not yet. And even if there were, this was a rough part of town - already she could see criminals skulking out of the darkness, towards the newest interlopers. She could use it. She could use the impending chaos she could see.
When she got down the stairwell, gunshots had run out. By the time she exited the alleyway, she could see a helicopter leaving the hotel - and curses and swears and megaphone shouting in the distance. She ducked into another dark path, barely lit, keeping her things close to herself, keeping an eye out for anyone.
But whether it was good fortune or if it was sheer, dumb luck, the police presence had drawn out - or scared of - most of the criminals in the alleyways. Heart still pounding in her ears, she made it to a bus stop far enough, flagged down a bus - then hopped on, putting in a few quarters. Once safely cocooned in a bus seat and reassured she was (1) getting way from the scene and (2) not going to be shanked, she pulled out her phone, and started to hunt for the closest motel to stay the night and plane tickets.
She couldn’t relax. Not yet. Not till she got home. And maybe then she could put this Loot and everything that had happened behind her.
COMPLETE
Last edited by Jadis (04/09/2022 at 20:43)
