Lucian's boots stomped heavily post-battle. Two steps. Four. Eight. Sixteen. [Danger Sense] was calm now, save for a faint lingering buzz that only pointed to aggression. He could afford to take his time.
Soon, he reached them—four of the men in ski masks, all moaning in pain on the ground. [Non-Lethal Strike] put them under with no fanfare. From there, he inspected the van nearby for anything of use and came out with bundles of rope and cloth. Those served to keep the enemies bound and prevent them from bleeding out. Once four of the ski-maskers had been stabilized and secured, he turned to see what was going on behind him.
His coworkers had been roughed up, but were otherwise alright. Don was helping Gracie along, leading her to the restaurant's backdoor. Saud was kicking one of the ski-maskers in the head, with the other already unconscious.
[ Well... that's one bodybag and one less man to interrogate... ]
'Not our problem. It's obvious that guy got got when we weren't looking.'
Lucian tethered together the four ski-maskers near him and made his way to the last one alive. Saud finally stopped kicking the dead man's head in, which had been reduced to pulp and bone splinters under his shoe. They engaged in a brief staring match before Lucian spoke up.
"So... what do you wanna do with these things?" Lifting the section of rope that he had attached the rest to, the ski-maskers were pulled to him slightly along the ground.
Saud stared down at the four unconscious men. Hatred creased the skin around his eyes. "You a vigilante, right? Do you sell your services?"
Lucian shrugged, mindful to do it differently from how he usually would. "Eh, why not? So, uh... do I do business with you, do you have a boss, or—"
"Just bring those guys in first," Saud interrupted. "We'll talk inside."
...
The restaurant had been trashed. The wide windows were all shattered, walls pockmarked, and the front door had been torn from its hinges. Inside, tables were overturned, the kitchen was a mess, and the coffers had been broken into. Only the coins remained, though they had been tossed everywhere in the chaos.
Beyond those damages, there was also much direct evidence of struggle. Blood splashes, splatters, and stains. Bullet casings littered the floor alongside bits and pieces of blunt and bladed weapons.
Gracie's voice echoed through the silence. "What do we tell our boss...?"
"We tell him the truth," said Saud as he entered through the backdoor, which made her jump.
Behind him, Lucian surveyed the damage. Two white dots flitted around in his mask's eye holes as he did so.
"Who's that?" Don asked, stepping over shards and litter to place himself between Gracie and the outsider.
Saud entered fully, pointing towards the indoors basement door. "Just dump those asshats into the basement," he ordered. Then, he made to answer the question. "Vigilante. Introduced himself as the 'Phantom Knight.' Said he's willing to help us for a price."
While Lucian did as told, Gracie made to protest. "Are we not going to call our boss about this? You know how he and the brass feel about vigilantes..."
"Those ones can't be bought," said Saud, "but this one can. Besides, I got a bad feeling. I'm sure if we call the boss right now, he'll tell us we aren't the only victims..."
"He's right," said Don as he moved to show his phone screen. "Here. It's not even just ours that these fucks are after. They're going after everyone."
Gracie leaned in, noting the names listed among the kidnappers' presumed targets. "Hey, remember that meeting that our boss went to a while ago...?"
Saud's expression turned severe. "So they're after everyone who didn't side with Black Mask..."
...
After tidying up the kitchen at least somewhat, Lucian was pulled in for a sit-down among his unwitting coworkers. Saud had decided to lead the negotiation himself with Gracie sitting elsewhere to speak with their superiors. Don, meanwhile, took it upon himself to watch over the crooks in the basement.
"So... what's the situation?" Lucian asked. He was seated on one side of a folding table, with Saud directly across from him.
"People are getting kidnapped all over the city." Saud pushed Don's phone toward him, showing the news page. It wasn't live anymore, but the information was there for anyone that wanted to see it.
Lucian stroked the chin of his mask, making a show of having his eyes gleam brighter. "So, you want me to go around and rescue people for you?"
Saud shook his head. "We might, but I'm not sure. I can't say anything until our boss gets here." He leaned back in his chair, shoulders slumping. "Really though, I just wanted to keep you here for a bit. I'm sure our boss would at least want to thank you personally for saving us."
With a nod, Lucian added, "That, and he could probably get a lot of use out of those shitheads now that I got 'em all gift-wrapped. What they have to say could very well lead to everyone's rescue..."
"True that," Saud agreed.
Soon, Gracie was done with her own conversation in the background. She had spoken to their direct branch superior—who operated whenever Iñigo wasn't around—and had been sent up the ladder to speak with Iñigo himself. From there, she went on to explain that Iñigo was on his way to send some interrogators into the basement, thank the Phantom Knight for helping, and maybe hire him if he proves capable.
...
Maybe an hour later, Iñigo did indeed arrive. He looked haggard even through the clothes he wore, which were much higher brow than his usual attire—slacks instead of faded denim, a pressed button-up instead of a simple polo-shirt... He even had on a proper coat and hat unlike the lone tattered jacket he always wore to work.
He wasn't alone, either.
Trailing behind him was a woman of similar build to Lucian's own—just taller by maybe a handful of inches. Fitted over her body was a business-like suit, comprised of slacks and a button-up—both black—and topped with a silver waistcoat and black bowler hat. She also walked with a fancy ivory cane, from which Lucian could feel faint traces of danger emanating. The most eye-catching part about her, however, was the faint red light in her eyes as she stared out from under her bowler hat's shadow.
'Vampire? Also, that cane is definitely enchanted.'
[ And cursed. It's similar to the 'infection' I just put in you for the Therianthrope class... ]
Besides Iñigo and his lady-friend, Lucian could sense other presences outside. There were at least two other vehicles, and judging by the amount of movement he could hear, up to a dozen people might be waiting outside.
"Let's not waste time," said Iñigo. His tone lacked all joviality, and his neutral expression looked one piece of bad news away from devolving into a scowl. "Take Monique to the people that attacked you. I'd like to have a word with our... sellsword here," he ordered, noting the blade that Lucian held quite openly.
...
The meeting took place in the office on the restaurant's rooftop level. It was essentially tacked onto the building, but it worked.
Iñigo sat behind a desk, leaning his elbows on it with his fingers interlinked. Bodyguards flanked him, dressed in attire that was halfway between formal and street. On the other side of the desk sat Lucian, still masked, and a pair of bodyguards flanked the door both inside and outside.
"So... 'Phantom Knight,' you called yourself?"
"Mhm... ghost-themed getup, use a sword... sometimes ride a mount into battle."
"A 'knight' on a motorcycle?" Iñigo cocked a brow, obviously fighting a grin.
Lucian shrugged. "So you saw me on TV, huh? But yeah, I'm not into animal abuse. Gotham's not exactly a good place for a pony to be in. Now, a magic horse, on the other hand..."
Iñigo truly laughed this time, and the room's atmosphere eased. "Alright, alright. You're not all bad for a vigilante," he admitted. "Okay. Down to business. First, I want to thank you for saving my employees. As you can see, I run a mob... but those three? They're just people who needed jobs. Thank you for not apprehending them."
Lucian toned down his casualness, sitting up straight instead of leaning back against his chair. "Don't worry about it. They don't try to take from anyone else, so they're golden in my books."
"Right..." Iñigo retrieved a chequebook from his coat, as well as a notepad and pen. "Now, that thanks. I don't want to just give you empty words, so I'll give you what I can within reason. Don't take too long deciding, though; I've got my people to save."
Nodding, Lucian said, "How about work? Hire me for real, pay me real well at least until this whole Black Mask thing is over."
Iñigo closed and put his chequebook away, and uncapped his pen to write in his notepad. "I can see that being more beneficial to me than you," he pointed out. "Wouldn't you want anything a bit extra?"
Lucian leaned back and hummed. "A bike, then. That last one was a rental. Be great to have my own."
Nodding to himself, Iñigo remained silent while he wrote. Then, he lifted his face to look the Phantom Knight in the eye. "Alright. It's not something I can give right away, but it will come. Now, as for employing you..."
He paused and kept staring ahead as if to measure Lucian's reaction. Seemingly satisfied, he continued.
"We need a better venue. If you pass my test, you're in."
৹ ◎ ◉ ◎ ৹
"It just never ends with these bastards..."
Red Hood sat at the head of the meeting table in his Park Row headquarters, cradling his forehead through his helmet. Fluorescent bulbs glared down over his council, hanging from the high warehouse ceilings. Loose papers sat in front of him—hastily-written reports, old files, maps of Gotham both official and tailor-made.
"What do we do now, boss?" asked one of his lieutenants. "We got fucked up pretty bad in the riots. Our people are in shambles and our operations are a mess."
"No other choice," Red Hood replied. He finally let his hand down and raised his head. "Send a messenger to the Lounge, as well as any other group that hasn't been compromised by Black Mask. Request their cooperation."
One other lieutenant hissed under his breath. "This is war... whatever Sionis is doing, it'll only lead to that."
"It's a play for power," Red Hood added. "He used that surprise attack to weaken us, and now he'll double down to make us hemorrhage our strength. After this, he'll want to finish us—everyone—off, and we can't let that happen."
The talks dragged on, punctuated by abrupt interruptions and orders being sent out. People were being taken and rescued as they spoke, and skirmishes broke out every now and again. It didn't matter that Red Hood's forces won most of those fights—the fact that he lost some of his own with every exchange was crippling.
"We'll need to change tactics." He turned to his lead commanding officer. "Have everyone retreat and hole up somewhere. I'll leave command to the people here; have everyone turtle up and wait for responses."
"You're goin' out yourself, boss...?" one of the council asked.
"I have to," Red Hood confirmed. "I'll free as many of us as I can. Whenever you can spare any, send some of our elites my way."
Just as he got up from his seat, the meeting room's doors swung open.
"Boss!" Yet another messenger came in. As that was the umpteenth time it had happened, only a handful turned their heads. "You told us to keep an eye out for the Phantom Knight. I've got something on him."
Red Hood's attention shifted fully as he resumed walking. "What's going on?"
"He's been seen with the Lucky Coyote, sir. I think he wants to sell them his services."
"Go there as a representative," Red Hood ordered. "Don't say anything about that ghost. We just need them on our side when we finally strike back against Black Mask."
৹ ◎ ◉ ◎ ৹
Iñigo's test for Lucian was a bout of combat. He could go armed or unarmed, and fatal attacks were allowed. It was a concerning prospect, but he had a good idea of why that was the case.
As for that idea... it came in the form of the woman driving Iñigo's car. The red light in her eyes was fully visible in the faint reflection on the windshield. Monique was instructed to drive to the hybrid nightclub, casino, and hotel owned by Iñigo for the test's venue.
El Coyote Suerte.
It was his primary base of operations and lead moneymaker.
When they reached the place, its neon sign—tasteful fonts in red, green, and yellow—blared harshly overhead. The side profile of a coyote accompanied the text in the form of golden LEDs, integrated seamlessly into the design.
"Nice place," Lucian commented once everyone was out of their vehicles, including Iñigo's convoy. They were quite something; he always felt at least one pair of eyes on him as he moved.
Iñigo smiled as everyone with him was given free entry. "Thank you. I built it all from scratch myself."
The actual venue itself was the building's rooftop. The first part of that entailed a winding trek through neon-lit corridors and alcohol-laden crowds, as their current group had no way to all fit in one elevator. Had Lucian not been able to tone down his own senses, he would have wanted to throw up just from the overstimulating mixture of light, movement, noise, and scent.
The casino section of El Coyote Suerte was much better, in Lucian's opinion. He had always been fond of the scent of paper bills, and the sheer abundance of it on the casino levels helped to ease his senses. It was also much more organized, and required that a certain level of class be maintained.
All in all, it was a six-out-of-ten experience compared to the nightclub's three-out-of-ten. Two of those points were carried by the eye candy.
Then... the hotels. It was nothing like Lucian had come to expect. The text messages that Iñigo had sent out before came back to mind. The hotel levels' occupants must have been others who worked in the restaurants. Some of them must have been family, if not most.
Along the way, Iñigo had been explaining his crime group's operations to Lucian. They were primarily a protection agency, but also had a hand in smuggling people, brokering weaponry, and other ventures.
Certain things were off-limits, of course. The biggest taboos among them were drugs and human trafficking.
By the time conversation had dried up, they were up on the roof.
For the bout, Iñigo decided that they should employ one of two helipads on the rooftop. He himself would arbitrate the match, while his protection detail—twelve men in all—formed a 'ring' around the helipad to serve as a boundary. With those in place, Lucian was made to stand on one end of the H's middle line, with Monique opposite him.
"You know the rules," said Iñigo. "One minute. I'll observe. My verdict comes after the fight's over." He drew a revolver from his pocket and emptied out the cylinder. Then, he loaded a single blank, cocked the hammer, and fired into the air.
With a flick of his hand, Lucian flung a knife right at Monique's face. She avoided it as expected, but now he was right up in her face. Stinger crackled with electricity in his hands, but he deliberately avoided pumping it with lifeforce.
Monique pulled back, but the blade still caught and cut across her torso quite easily. Smoking blood spilled from the gash as the high electric currents burned everything they passed through. Then, according to Lucian's expectations once more, her wound healed visibly.
"Knew it," he remarked. "Vampire, right?"
"That she is," Iñigo replied. "You can see why she's my right-hand woman." There was quite a bit of pride in his voice.
Monique had recovered fully during the verbal exchange. Fresh, pale skin could be seen in the slash in her clothing. When she moved in to attack, her wavy brown hair billowed like a curtain, eyes now burning brilliant red.
Lucian took a step back and held his ground. Now, he channeled lifeforce into Stinger, and made it burn all over his body. He welcomed the grin that split his lips as her momentum carried her toward him, her expression shifting from determination to shock—then fear.
Hiss. Her skin boiled and bubbled on contact with Lucian's potent lifeforce.
"Looks like I'm your natural enemy," he taunted. However, he quickly pulled his lifeforce back. "Well, won't be much of a test if you can't even touch me. Shall we continue?"
"No," said Iñigo, cutting off the match entirely. "I've seen enough. Men, four of you will follow us. The rest, disperse."
Eight of the security detail hesitated for only a moment, then peeled off.
"As for you," Iñigo continued, now addressing Lucian again, "we're going to my office in this building. Let's talk terms."
—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—
[A/N]: Waaaaaaaa
Sorry I'm late
I got hit by a wave of depression this week and I've been a mess