Finding Disaster and Vice [Hahvoc x VitaObscura]

[Hahvoc The Decepticon]

The Underworld. Everyone knew about it and most people stayed away from it. It was the ‘thing’ that was discussed behind closed doors with gold-slicked palms and crooked grins. It was the ever-growing silent beast that represented the underbelly of society’s sins. It was a haven for murderers, rapists, prostitutes, and thieves. Loyalty was always hard to come by and respect was fought for. After years of infighting amongst the dogs of filth, figures began to rise up and carve out territories, controlling countless people within each. They were simply called The Lords. The number of them had swelled with the coming of the Victorian Era, becoming bloated their status and greed, feeding their debauchery and vices. They traded for guns and powder instead of just daggers and swords. They built arsenals and trade routes, businesses and connections. It became a network of criminal pleasures and few ever left. Those who did were better left staying away and pretending the Underworld didn’t exist, because if you tried to return, you had a blood debt just waiting to be paid.

Every lord had a title, something simple. Few in their fold knew their actual names and it was better that way. There was Executioner, Shadow, Sniper, Booker, Stitches, Rogue, Noble, Shredder, and Captain. So far, the nine lords had singled out nine territories with one being neutral. It was called The Brig. It was where the lords met up to discuss any incidents, threats, and conflicts to be solved. They kept themselves in check and controlled the populace of the Underworld. No one lord had more power than the others and that was how there came to be nine. With the coming of steam-powered machines, and the newest guns and inventions slipping down into the cracks of society, the lords were prepped for new adventures and battles. There was new blood to find and money to be made. And as they settled into their seats in The Brig, they began to discuss the newest course of action with outsiders.

“Someone kidnapped a woman from my territory…” Rogue started, his voice soft even in the quiet of the room. The room was large but worn with age, chairs scattered in a rough circle, books lining the walls from floor to ceiling along with random but beautiful pieces of artwork. Otherwise, the room was barren except for sconces to light the room and the people that occupied it. The large oak door was sealed shut. No one could listen in. Like his name suggested, Rogue was a thin man, tall, with only a bit of muscle on his frame. He had sharp hazel eyes and a laid back manner that spoke of his many days as a thief. He had an easy air about him, and his clothes hid his occupation well. His hands were free of gloves, and his clothing was loose and darkly colored but cared for. His black boots tapped the floor lightly, signaling that he wanted an answer before he had to speak again. He was patient, but this wasn’t a time for it.

“You act as if one woman is something we care about,” Executioner said with a laugh. He was a large man, around six and a half feet tall, bald, with scars on his once-handsome face. His green eyes were mirthless and filled with impatience. He was always without a shirt, showing off his large muscles, scars, and tattoos, as if his sheer size wasn’t enough of a deterrent. Like his name suggested, he carried around his Blade, which was about as tall as he was, the blade being as long as his arm. It could slice a person clean in two, if he ever decided it would be fun enough. His snapped one of his suspenders as if to make his point more clear: He didn’t understand the point of this meeting.

“He wouldn’t have had mentioned it if she meant nothing, have a heart,” Noble said with a little bit of snark, adjusting his pocket-watch as if he too couldn‘t wait to leave. He was dressed far above the rank of most Underworlders, which had caused the origin of his name. He had a fancy blue vest and white shirt, blue spats, polished black boots, freshly cleaned pistols. It was his eyes that gave away his animosity and vice. They were almost black in contrast to his pale face. His smile was never full and never with joy, and if he did smile, it was because someone was either dead or dying. He watched everyone in the room before his gaze snapped over to the one known as Shadow. She hadn’t spoken along with several others, her face half obscured by her mask, her beautiful red hair hiding one of her vibrant green-blue eyes. Today, she was wearing all green: Green corset, green bustle skirt, green boots, remarkable green stockings with little black stitching in rows, and green gloves that went up to her shoulders. It was almost her signature to wear one color in varying shades and Noble always noticed. Everyone did, and yet they never quite remembered why or when. That was how she got her name.

“Oh, do tell me that women are somewhat important…” She then said, lifting her captivating eyes to the rest of the room. Her voice was soft through the mask yet it pierced the growing unrest in the room as surely as a hammer would strike. All eyes turned towards her as she reclined in her chair, fiddling with the watch chain that was attached to the shorts that she wore beneath her skirt that connected to her stockings. Captain cleared her throat through her mask, wanting to speak, and yet she still remained silent. Captain was a slight little thing yet looked like a woman any noble gent would want on his arm. She was a sultry brunette with a sharp tongue, but today she was oddly silent. Peculiar.

“Captain, you never hesitate to speak unless you know something…So please, grace us with your wisdom,” Shadow said, staring the other woman down. Shredder and Booker were the only other women in the chamber, and they looked as if they wanted to speak as well but held their tongues. It was a common thing: Shadow was someone who had arrived from the mists and settled over everything, never to leave unless the winds took her somewhere else. The Underworld had been her hunting ground far longer than she’d been a Lord and far too unpredictable for their tastes most days. But even she had connections they couldn’t touched and never crossed her. She was nice. Some days.

“Well, the only thing I can surmise would be if the woman had something important on her or is part of something bigger than just a kidnapping…I’m not quite sure but the only reason to bring something up would be…” Captain trailed off, her eyes looking at Shadow. They both knew.

“Unless someone was trying to draw someone out from Hiding,” Shadow finished, templing her fingers.

“That’s forbidden!” All of the other Lords had stood up, shouting in unison as they looked at both Captain and Shadow. Soon, words were being thrown, accusations made, the usual dramatics that gave Shadow a headache as she watched the look on Captain’s face. They were going to have to collaborate on getting the woman out from wherever she was located, and Captain had the best connections in that area: Location. Her little army would do well searching for this girl, especially with Shadow’s help.

“Enough.” Silence fell as the men and women who had been shouting quieted and put down their weapons. The chamber was much too small for these things. Someone could lose an eye, and not the intended victim. Shadow forced herself to a standing position, stretching to crack her back, eyes serious as she looked at everyone in the room. It was said that the Lords had shared power, but in this instance, Shadow held all the cards. It wasn’t a comforting feeling.

“Captain will locate the woman in question with some of my assistance. Booker, Stitches, Shredder, and Noble will infiltrate the Topside and find out any information about this woman. Rogue, you will provide any details you know about this woman, including her appearance and possible connections. If she is your consort or lover, be wary of whom you can trust. Executioner and Sniper will track for any foul play and take care of any interrogations. Any questions?” There was a moment of silence before Noble tipped his head up, smirking a bit before he spoke.

“And what will you do, oh fearless and self-appointed, leader?”

She grinned from behind her mask, letting her intent show in her eyes.

“I will go Hunting for the person looking for her, of course.”

 

[VitaObscura]

The Topside, the world at large, the polished facade where the mundane was welcomed and often encouraged as the rat race took on an enviable persona. His past wasn't meant to come here, it had been buried in the darkness where it belonged, a courtesy from one professional to another to abide by the accord. It'd been years, a lifetime ago and yet the secrets he had garnered in his time in the Underworld had been until now what had kept him and his sister safe.

He had buried his garments in a cast iron box, beneath the back slab steps that led to a small quiet garden. It was a place he hardly visited though his sister used the space to plant rose bushes, pruning them and placing her scarlet petaled bounty across their home. Since then the roses within had wilted and fallen, his rage and depression growing with the passing days. The heavy weather worn leather trench coat clung to him like a second skin as the slouch hat he wore cast a hard shadow upon his face.

His leather gauntleted fists throbbed with the dull ache of use, the calluses that had once hardened his knuckles and palms had subsided beneath the white collar work he had so freely chosen, softening beneath the ministrations of lotions, detergents and inks. He had enjoyed working at the printing press, rearranging letters by hand, creating art through the use of a reversed lettering and steel etched images.

He removed his boot from the man's throat, though would use his heel to strike him squarely upon the sternum as the man beneath him relearned how to breath again, "Have you seen her?" He held a lithograph in front of the gasping man.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" He gestured to his former compatriots, their blood mixing with the cast off rain water that collected like small gurgling brooks between the cobbled stones of the road. He had killed the first one with contemptuous ease, though the strike could have been better as he readily admitted to himself that it had been messy and unrefined, lacking the finesse he had once held. The second had been neater and concise, a quick kill. The metallic taint of aged copper hung in the air, "Three, two. . ."

"One of the nine!" The man barked, his remaining eye filled with terror. "I don't know which one."

"Verily." He said, the glistening flash of tarnished silver came forth as the body beneath him fell silent, a head rolling away into the gutter.

The gentle clip of boots upon cobbled streets fell beneath the gentle patter of falling rain, this district never spoke to the law, so these bodies would go unclaimed, becoming part of the forsaken bastards this city so readily made. Though Devlin knew better, they were the middle men, the money hustlers and taking them out sent a clear message that they should have known and respected.

Don't fuck with family.

Everything happens within a territory for a reason, nothing happened without a caller giving the go ahead, they in turn would often mitigate the fallout with a few silver tongued lies and gold coin placed in strategic dead drops. They knew about him, they had taken his sister.

Cold blue eyes would peer out from beneath the brim, scanning his surroundings before he would remove a piece of chalk from an inner pocket to write the words "Io sono qui" upon a dry stretch of brick wall, eventually encasing the phrase in a giant 9.

Devlin Hampton had once been an enforcer for the Underworld, though he had wanted out to protect his sister and while some of them had scoffed at the idea, they had respected his wishes. He was after all a man of his word, he had only wanted the best for his sister, his family.

The white noise had returned, the killing silence as he looked up at the sky, gray clouds dancing beneath the illuminated glow of a full moon. Wide unflinching eyes would take in his surroundings before he disappeared from view, shifting into the shadows with practiced ease.

Minutes later a loud whistle would break the silence, the law would come upon uniformed heavy footsteps and haggard breaths. They would see his handiwork, the chalk warning removed by whomever was upon their payroll and that would eventually lead back to them.

 

[Hahvoc The Decepticon]

Knock, knock, knock

“What?” There was a shuffling of blankets, a muffled curse, and then more shuffling.

“Shadow, there’s been activity in the Red Territory. Rogue is here to see you.” Cursing some more, Shadow soon slipped out of her bed, jostling the hound that slept next to her every night. He lifted his black and white furred head, blue-brown eyes staring at his mistress with a disgruntled look. She rolled her eyes at him before stroking between his large ears. Even for a Great Dane, he was a big dog and could meet Executioner’s eyes while on his back legs. Probably why she kept him around, besides the fact he was fiercely loyal and smart. Throwing on a dressing robe with not much finesse and her mask, Shadow called out to her guard.

“Let him in.” There were some muffled sounds and soon the door was opened and then shut, Shadow having turned her back to settle on her bed and pet her dog. He made a gruff sound before flopping down to expose his belly to his mistress. The silence grew until Rogue finally spoke.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve you in such a state. Not concerned about me revealing your secrets to the others?” She glanced up at her once-lover, shrugging her shoulders softly as he leaned back against the wall by the door. He was handsome, always had been, but not in a typical sense of the word. His hair was a bit too long, his mouth a little too thin for his face, but his roughness mixed with his gentleness was what had appealed to her. Until their time together had ended and new lovers were found. Granted, Shadow would claim otherwise. Rogue hadn’t been her last lover, but it had been quite some time since she’d had one. Still, she knew why he was here and she had yet to come up with any information, and so he would be providing all the details of the woman who had been snatched.

“You’ve seen what lies beneath the mask but old habits are hard to kill, as you know. What news do you bring me that made you leave your own territory to do so? Is Willem at the helm while you visit?” He nodded, shrugging his shoulders as he kept his steady gaze on her. There was no malice or ill-feelings between them, just an understanding that as Lords, they could not remain as they had been before they’d been set in their territories, their titles.

“Four men in Shredder’s district were killed…and there was a message left calling out the Nine. It seems that this woman has a man coming to look for her from the way the bodies were found and the wounds left behind. He’s probably tall, pretty strong, and possibly…a guard or someone of higher standing in the Underworld,” Rogue’s hands clenched and it made Shadow raise her brows in curiosity. Perhaps Rogue had much more of a standing with this woman than he was giving off.

“Have you fucked this girl?” She asked, staring at him blatantly. He stared right back, mouth set in a thin line. Ahhh, so he had been with this woman. No wonder he was so up in arms. She had to be an Innocent from Topside. That was news, indeed.

“Your posture speaks volumes. I’m guessing it’s a member of her family and you’ve left a mark that she is not to be harmed or taken, which is why you brought it up at the meeting last night? Someone is definitely going to be giving us the run-around. Probably someone after your title or just the Nine in general? I wonder if it could be a Topside official working with the Underworld low-lives. Or perhaps…it’s someone who doesn’t recognize your mark, meaning it could be anyone from any territory not knowing what they have. They could panic and kill her, you know.”

“I know that!” Rogue yelled, making Shadow smirk behind her mask in amusement until it faded as seriousness took hold. Clearly, he was upset and just more than upset about losing a lover or even someone he was protecting.

“You love this girl, don’t you? I’m guessing she doesn’t know about you as a Nine or even an Underworlder,” Again, there was silence as he clenched his fists, almost daring her to question his motives and she just had to sigh. She stood up and clapped him lightly on the shoulder, watching the tension leak from his body at the simple gesture. She stared at him, that seriousness never leaving.

“He’ll head to the Gray District, and Captain’s got plenty of brothels I can infiltrate. It does help that no one has seen my face and wouldn’t recognize me with a little powder and paint. We’ll find the one who’s killing in the territories and locate this woman of yours. It will not be easy, Rogue, I hope you know what you might be facing.”

“I do know, and thank you for your assistance. I’ll inform Captain of what is to transpire and then relay a message back to you this evening. Until then…” Rogue gave a little bow of his head before slipping out of the door and Shadow watched him go. This man who had infiltrated the Underworld and left such a message was not some novice who was wet behind the ears and had no clue as to what he was doing. No, this one had to have been part of the world…and probably one who had gone into Hiding.

Musing over the news, there was a soft bark that brought her head around to look at Grigori, who was looking up at her expectantly. She smiled and shook her head, moving across the room to pet between his ears.

“Yes, dearling, we’ll be heading out today, but you’ll be following me, understand? I need to be inconspicuous, not a beacon for disaster.” He barked and wagged his tail, making her laugh as she went about dressing in blacks and blues. She called for one of her women to come and tighten her corset before she went out into the City wrapped up in a hooded cloak that hid the brilliance of her hair. Her home was located Topside but the ways leading out went to Underworld, and that was where she needed to be. Her hound followed behind her, silent as the grave even on the cobbled and uneven streets. The air down there was dank and stifling, mildewy and stagnant. Passages led to all the different territories that were half Underworld and half Topside. The corridor she took would lead her to the Gray district which was mostly settled in Topside because who would think to go down into the dark for a fling with some prostitutes? Certainly not aristocrats and other nobility.

As the sun hit her face as she reached Topside, Shadow took in a deep breath. Grigori stretched out his body until they headed to a small and dilapidated looking house. It was one of her many check points that were scattered all over the territories. She could become anyone in these little houses, and that was what she planned to do. The house had lost whatever color had been on it, just splotches of dull gray and brown marking the wood slats. The stoop was missing steps and the windows had been bordered up. The roof was slouched with age and it leaked fiercely when it rained. There was no yard to speak of and the wood floor inside creaked with even the slightest pressure, unless you knew where to step. Pushing open the door once she had navigated the steps, Shadow disappeared inside with her hound, ready to begin her transformation into the sultry delight that would have men tripping over themselves to pay for her time.

But only one man would be found in her company, and she needed to dress just right.

 

[VitaObscura]

The leather coat still dripped from the coatrack on one corner, in the beginning scarlet pools had gathered and hours later all traces of that bloody encounter were no where to be seen. The gentle splash of each drop would fall into a steel basin, the metallic echo a dim sound beneath the crackling logs of the fireplace, a warm glow cast upon Devlin as he sat cross legged before a leather placemat, a collection of tools, weaponry and oils entranced him.

The blades and throwing knives had garnered a layer of patina and yet with enough patience they would soon reclaim the shine that he cherished so much, with every passing moment Devlin would become the instrument he had once sworn never to embrace again. He was vengeance personified, though this time he would claim the heads of those that had slighted him and his, no longer would they be offered to a caller in a burlap sack or silver platter, the Nine had a penchant for theatrics.

A brace of Revolvers sat holstered within a leather vest, it's insides bound by steel chain mail that was capable of stopping handheld blades and most pistol calibers, both of which had been useful when he had been a top level enforcer. He had gained a reputation amongst them and this had earned him a name, though Devlin refused the honor of such as superstitions were peculiar like that, believing that if people were to know the name of an alias, that they in turn would eventually know who he was. In the end, he was the void after the spoken word, the calm within the storm, silence.

The very last weapon was something he cherished, it wasn't exotic in any stretch of the imagination, it's components consisting of things that anyone could find and create. A steel lined garrote bound within handles had just been finished, it was his preferred method of dispatching his foes. In the beginning he had found it to be exhilarating, watching them struggle and fade before him, the once the newness of the method had faded he had found a sense of respect for the killing dance and his victims. If they were fond of religion and their assorted ideologies, he would often say a benediction for them as they died.

Once done he would rise and place his belongings where they needed to be, the clothes he had worn earlier were laid out to dry, the leathers had been treated and polished. In the end he would stand bare, his svelte form held a series of scars from years of physical conflict, each keloid wound detailed in the recesses of his mind.

With blade in hand he would sleep upon a cot, his mind numbing beneath the gentle sounds of crackling logs and dripping water.

When the morning broke through his curtains, the warmth of the sun lingered upon his features as he arose, his body popping with every movement as he stretched and tested his balance by placing all his weight upon his heels. In moments he was dressed and weapon clad, his boots clipping softly upon the hardwood floor as he left the room, the scent of burnt logs lingered upon his senses for just a moment longer before he wandered through the busy streets, paying for an apple, pickled herring, a few hard boiled eggs, a wedge of cheese and half a loaf of sour bread. If anything he needed the energy after last nights excursion and what would come in the coming hours.

He needed to find a brothel, not for pleasures of the flesh, but because one of the Nine could at times be found there. He just wanted his sister back, that was his primary goal, secondary and tertiary pleasantries could be accomplished at a later time, but the Nine would die by his hand, that was a given.

 

[Hahvoc The Decepticon]

Black would always be her favorite color, but she knew to lure this man, black was not the color to dress in. She had to pick something that just said she was worthwhile without trying too hard. It was actually difficult for her because she was so used to wearing men's trousers and things of that nature rather than actual dresses. Petticoats and bustle skirts were her favorites otherwise, but dresses? They were such a hassle unless they were being removed. She had an array of colors in the upstairs closet of the rickety house, the room mostly bare except for a cot, a side table, the wardrobe, and a mirror. It was always different going about without her mask because the only people who had seen her face saw it in the darkness, not the light. She also always altered her appearance with makeup tricks she had learned from a brothel-owner when she had been quite young. The man had once been a circus performer and his troupe had always worn different styles of makeup. In his company, she had learned to blend in. And now, she was doing what she knew how to do best: Deceive. She used thick lines of coal to brighten up her blue-green eyes, painted her lips a sultry golden color to compliment her hair. She then added faint scar lines along her cheeks, enhancing the sharpness of her cheekbones. As a final touch, she removed the makeup that covered up the tattoos on her faces that no one had seen since she had gotten them: Little brassy colored watch gears. Two of them went down from her left eyebrow to rest near her eye while the last one rested atop her cheek. It helped that the ring in her nose also altered her appearance just a touch. The final touch was dusting her hair with a little bit of powder to make it darker, a little more red. Adjusting the bodice of her dress, she looked herself over and mentally congratulated herself. There were subtle differences in her appearance, but no one would recognize her as one of the Nine.

Her dress wasn't too fancy, for she never visited the higher-priced brothels, too many people could somehow remember her. She was fond of hiding out at the Cat Tails Brothel, one that had a middle-ground clientele: Not too cheap but not too fancy just like her dress. It had a high skirt to show off her legs, a low cut bodice to emphasize her cleavage, but wasn't made of the highest silks or fabrics. It was just enough to settle her into the brothel without anyone batting a lash - she'd been there before anyhow. As much as black was her favorite color, she had chosen a rich purple. Most brothel girls usually wore varying shades of red or blue, sometimes throwing in more innocent colors like yellow and ivory. At the end of the day, the outfit only drew a man, it was what lay underneath and what you did that made him pay well. Grabbing the matching parasol, Shadow left the dysfunctional house to make her way to the brothel. With a little black fan, she hid her face, making note of the men who eyed her. None of these were the men she needed to attract but what could she do? She was dressed to lure, and hopefully, the bait would catch the fish she was looking for. Grigori remained in the house but she knew he wouldn't stay in that house for long. He was smart enough to know when to leave and so she stopped thinking of her beloved hound as she made her way down the street to the brothel that would hopefully land her catch.

 

[VitaObscura]

Devlin had taken a moment to enjoy his meal, feet dangling over the edge of a building as he watched the people beneath him go about the business of daily life as he sat in the shadows of a weather worn gargoyle. He envied their industrial rat race and for a moment he missed the tedium. At least the proclivities provided from such a lifestyle could be quantified into a handful of preordained situations, in his mind there was salvation in monotony.

Once done he pushed off the ledge, pivoting in place as he bounded off a nearby pipe that lined a side alley, his feather footed steps barely sounding upon the cobbled road as he stepped out to disappear into the crowd.

He had ghosted in and out of a few brothels, finding nothing of particular interest. Devlin had feared he would find his sister drugged up and tied to a bed, a slave to narcotic euphoria; thus far such fears had been relegated to a nagging tug that brought him to the one that sat before him.

Cat Tails Brothel

One particular woman caught his eye, though it was the color of her hair that made her rise above the rest. There was something off though and he couldn't place it on anything in particular, but years as an Enforcer had given him a sixth sense and even though he's been out of darkness, the predator sense knew when to follow its instincts.

Devlin notched the brim of his hat lower before walking forward, slipping through the crowds with ease and in time he found himself within the rather polished building that gave an all to obvious air to what it truly represented.

 

[Hahvoc The Decepticon]

There was a trick to letting yourself be prey: Never act alarmed. She could feel it, the person she was looking for. It was like a sliver of cold water down her spine while heat suffused her shoulders. The instinct to turn and face the person following her was strong but she trampled it down as she stepped into the brothel, lowered her parasol, and smiled at the brothel owner. She knew her quite well, but only as a fluttery girl who disappeared from time to time. She never questioned her disappearances and never made note of when she was in or out. When she was available, that was the only time there was note: And she never was unless she said otherwise. Smiling broadly, Shadow grasped hands with the brothel owner. The taller woman smiled with cigarette stained teeth but her eyes were a luminous blue, and her hair a beautiful shade of mahogany. Her age had slimmed down her figure, but she was still a well-sought after woman.

"Marybelle, it is good to see you working so hard. How is business?" Shadow asked, her tone light and lilting. Some of the other brothel girls cast a wave in her direction, which she returned. They weren't forced to stay here, as Captain made it perfectly clear that any of the girls could find other places of employment within her territory. They were just treated very well and so they chose to stay. It was a good life, wasn't it? Or so it seemed. Marybelle, gripped Shadow's fingers with a smile that for once wasn't strained with worry about her job and the strange men that sometimes came to visit - strange being troublesome. Business must of been booming then.

"Business is going so much better. Captain is a wonderful woman. She made sure that none of those...people will be bothering us any longer. How have you been fairing, Rue?" Rue. A name she had used off and on for the longest time. It wasn't her actual name, but just another alias of which she had a few. But this was one of her favorites and so it was close enough to be her real name. Still, it had been a long, long time since someone had uttered the syllables that made up the name she had been born with. She gave the woman a soft smile that spoke nothing of the troubles that were brewing amongst the Nine.

"I've been traveling around the territories! You know how the leaders like to travel and check in with each other. I swear, I've learned so much! One of these days I am here, I will have to tell of them, but for today, I need to ask you something. A favor, if you will." At the tone in her voice, Marybelle leaned in close so that no one could listen in on their conversation. After Shadow felt a nod, she continued to talk.

"A man is following me, and I need to lure him to a room. You know which one. As you know, I cannot give you more details than that, only to ignore anything you have heard. You know whom I belong to," Marybelle nodded and Shadow felt almost a shred of remorse for lying to this woman on every occasion they crossed paths. But to be a Nine, especially a Nine like her, lying was second nature and remorse had no place in her world. Marybelle quickly went over and ushered the other girls off, telling them that they were to act busy and disappear into one of the powder rooms. Shadow took her place at the grand piano that graced the foyer, settling her closed parasol by the bench. It had been quite awhile since she had played anything, but she knew, somehow, that that man would be lured in here. Placing her fingers on the keys, she gave an exaggerated huff as she looked at Marybelle.

"This piano is beautiful but have you invested in a violinist yet?" She got a small shrug and gave a small eye roll in return. Well, she would just have to try, even if she did fail horribly at playing the piano. She had to look busy. Placing her fingers delicately on the keys, she started to play just a random and soft tune. It wasn't anything special nor complicated, but it would have to do.

 

[VitaObscura]

In many ways Devlin blended in perfectly, even among the others who pursued their interests within the brothel. His attire was handsome in its simplicity, yet the tailored fit and fine material spoke volumes of his refined taste. As he filtered his way through the crowded foyer, he couldn't help but admire the elegant decorum that lingered about this place; if anything it placed this brothel far above the other ones he's been forced to endure.

In the years since his last assignment, he happily acknowledged that his skills as an Enforcer hadn't dulled in the slightest, if anything once the cobwebs had been shaken off and his equipment returned to an alluring luster, he had acclimated well to the return of his almost preternatural abilities. If anything Devlin felt a sense of arrogance now as he stood among many, the thrill of the hunt was hampered by the knowledge that this wasn't done to sate his own desires, but to fulfill his obligation as a brother.

Men and women courted each other at every angle, in every room and at times the pitched moans of a financial accord could be heard, yet his eyes remained upon the one who he had followed. She seemed different, the lizard brain picked up on that distinct appearance that spoke of prey and something else, primal instincts edging him on.

He had lost sight of her, a momentarily lapse in awareness as he pushed himself through a crowded hallway and yet he was moments away from berating himself until he found a simple melody radiating from a room, it spoke out to him and said nothing, pleasant noise.

Upon entering Devlin found himself alone with two other women, the one he was looking for and another who seemed a cut above the rest. He resisted the desire to smile upon fates good graces, though he would remain silent as he listened to the silence between each keystroke, the tune was admirable; but paranoia was a harsh mistress and he wondered if this was an elaborate trap to catch him unaware.