Closed [Warehouses] Shade seeker

[Fallon]

There was silence, complete and utter silence from Fallon. She barely breathed as she moved so she was in a crouch, the gentle feeling of a nod beneath the palm. Her hand moved after that, her eyes glancing down onto the woman in the gloom. A lump had definitely formed in her throat, the urge to hold back a rattling inhale from shaking her core. Perhaps in hindsight she knew the true nature of what was going on, she remembered the looks, the way her behaviour had changed since her return to Sunberth and on how she was in a position of power now. She was Bitzer, leader of the Scars after all - and a growing familiar face in Sunberth and its mercenary market. Her fingers flexed, gently considering reaching out for the weapons that she had discarded before reclining and then once more paused in her motion. There was the faint shuffle below, the lightest of groaning escaping from the floor boards.

She hesitated, knowing that reaching for them would no doubt attract attention. And it was then that she cursed herself internally. Eyes narrowed at the opening in the floorboards, grateful that she had lead the pair of them up into the roof space to escape the cool. She took the moment of silence to berate herself, and her own stupidity for not looking at what was before her sooner. There was always signs, there was always snippets of information. Zandelia with the mentioning of enemies and Matthew in the Spring. Despite her hating it, it was a well known fact - she was the leader, and a target that had to be dealt with.

People were against the cause of the Scars. It was a fact that she had been taught already. Sure, the formation of a gang was one thing, but this truly rocked the metaphorical Sunberth boat. A group looking for change, for revolution and improvement instead of simple taking over and power gaining. A threat to the stagnant way of life trapped within a false freedom. Her eyes glanced down to Zandelia at that point, catching the mouthing of the word in near silent communication. She did not know. All she could do is shake her head in response.

"Keep your voice down, Gods dammit!" one of them below hissed, "You want all of Sunberth to hear you? Idiot."
"Like all of the damned brothel heard last time? Do I look like I give a damn about who hears now?"
"You better. She's probably starting to get ears everywhere now..." inserted a third in softer tones. It could be conclusion jumping, or at least she considered it could be a simple mistake, a misunderstanding in every word. Ears twitched, straining as she tried to sharpen her hearing and listen closer.
"I don't care!" The shouter, 'Snapper' she mentally called him in her mind, "My men are dead because of her and that damned... Harlot! What did you do wi-" There was a flinch when she was patted upon the arm, a groan of wood as she shifted in weight in surprise.
"Hey... you hear that?" the softly spoken questioned. Her pulse rose, her breath held for a time as she froze on the spot and dared not to move further.
"Hear what?"
"Thought I hea-"
"No one cares what you heard. You and your imagination," Snapper snapped. She could almost hear the grumbling as she released a silent sigh of relief. They had escaped confrontation for now, but the question was for how long?

As far as Fallon was concerned she had lead Zandelia into danger through her own foolishness - and now with the added guilt the price was beginning to rack up. There was a shuffle below, the mutterings of one in thought before he spoke up once more, "The mutt, what you do with it?"
"We dealt with it, think you'll like how," Her chest lurched at that, arm trembling slightly as she tried to find some control of a situation that seemed to be quickly spiralling out of control. Her mind flickered to Orvin, worried for the furry companion's well being and what could have possibly happened, "Should serve as a good warning for her."

Lips were wetted, her brow creasing as she sat there silently in the dark. To move would bring attention to the unknown foe below, but they also needed to leave - see the damage that had been done with her own eyes. Snapper spoke up once more, "Good, make her pay for what happened. Need to deal with her and snuff her and her... Scars as quickly as possible. Oi, lay a trap for her, she'll return eventually." If anything the name answered the question of who the target was, and it was something that grated against her. She could almost feel the anger bubbling away within her core of her partner, and no doubt the expression matched to boot. It was perhaps then that she realised that her hands had clenched then, formed into trembling fists as her own rage seethed below.

Fallon released a hiss between her teeth, her mind flickering through the possibilities of what she could do. She could not exactly go back to their present lodgings, if anything the piece of knowledge gave her the upper hand, even if it was only a minor victory. She swallowed, hearing the venom of the words crawl up, "I want her head on a spike. For what she did. No one makes a fool of us... No one kills and gets away with it. No one! Especially for a stupid..." She heard the air be sucked in, "You hear me? I want that little bitch Bitzer's head on a spike!"

[Zandelia]

She was not sure of the last time that she had felt such anger, such wrath that was in need of being fulfilled beyond all doubt. The desire to kill her father was the closest yet surprisingly distant at the same time. This was no personal score that had to be tallied up, notched by the end of a blade and the spray of blood. In truth she had ended up pitying him towards the end, his desperation and bitter self-driven ambition that caused him to sacrifice everything - only to end up dying at the end of Fallon’s vicious kukri. Oh she had been angry, she had been hurt and afraid and various other emotions that flickered within her chest as the voices continued from below. This was different, this was primal and it was completely consumed with the fact that they wanted what she loved…dead. She could see Fallon’s fists clench and her own responded in kind as she grit her teeth through the verbiage and they rose in front of her chest and trembled with the tension.

She counted the infractions against them both, the invasion and the insults were mentally tallied up as she fought for self-control. She would have punched the wood work had it not given them away, perhaps damaged her knuckles in the process but she didn’t care. They had come with the sole purpose of eliminating Fallon and now they had in all likelihood killed Orvin from what they were spouting. She had not had the best relationship with the wolf, had angered him into snapping at her as much as garnered his affections but she knew what he meant to Fallon. Not to mention the unstable yet lovable bond she had formed with him herself over the days, scores of days, in which they had shared company. She heard the hiss and one fist unclenched just enough to rest upon Fallon’s forearm in warning - she knew she was liable to break, to unleash the darker part of herself and by doing so perhaps destroy any hope of gaining a further lead.

She couldn’t blame her though, she was about to snap herself.

Put. Her. Head. On. A. Spike….on a spike. Onaspike. On a petching SPIKE! she raged internally, writhing slightly at the fact she wasn’t just slipping down to smash their teeth through their jaws.

They ruin our moment of respite. They invade our home. They take Orvin. They insult Fallon. I will find them, I will find all three of them and they will suffer. Suffer like I have made no one suffer before. And their paymasters will be screaming for the fact that they weren’t just killed. I swear on all of the gods and goddesses who exist. They will suffer she vowed, ever fiber of her being engulfed with the need, desperate need, for vengeance.

There were no words for it, no words that would assuage and she could see the effect it was having upon her partner. The flickering emotions and the clenching of fists. The hissing and the processing of the matter within her eyes. There were a myriad of ways to read body language and each and every one of them told her Fallon wanted to grab them by the throat and tear. She had even reached for her tulwar, the ones previously discarded and had found only frustration. Zandelia licked her lips, tapped the other woman and drew her tonfa out into her left hand - her weakest hand, and pointed at the tulwar across from them just out of reach. Her free hand pointed at her chest and then towards the hole of an exit. She raised one singular digit - she was willing to go first. She was armed, less affected by the heat and petch it all she wanted to smash them to pieces at that moment.

“I’ll make sure you can get your weapons if you want” she mouthed the words, hoping they would be understood and flicking her eye to the opening into the light also.

She was not sure it was wise but if they let them get away then there was no guarantee that they would be able to catch up to them. No real chance to find them and make them talk, make them squeal. If Orvin was not dead but captured, if they lost their pursuers, things could get ugly very fast. They knew who Bitzer was and what she represented. They knew Zandelia as her compliant little lap dog assistant.

Did they know the others too?

It was a hollow offer of support, of willingness to fight for Fallon despite the odds and the risks. She knew that, Fallon proabbly knew that, but it was the only thing she could do in their present situation. Offer support and to let her know that, whatever happened, she was willing to walk through blood and death for the retribution when it came.

[Fallon]

There was only the glance to the woman, the eyes following down to her trembling fists as she tried to hold back that which was chained within. She could almost feel the hold slipping, the breathing growing rougher under her breath, that internal swirling darkness that was bubbling and rising up within. Both held the look of a base instinct looking to control, to split apart and go into a blooded rage and destroy what was before them now. Nothing good would come from that, spoke the voice of reason in the back of her mind - but it did not mean she was about to resist feeling the way she felt. Soon, it was no longer just the fist that was trembling, but the arm too with the rising pressure looking for a point of escape somehow and soon.

She smothered another rattled inhale as much as possible, her brow having creased definitely and her lips having peeled back to that of a snarl. The clinking of the mental chains could almost be heard in her ears, sliding, slipping and growing louder with every beat. She could feel the writhe, the press of fingers looking to hold her back and to serve as a reminder not to let the emotions get the better of her once more. It was hard, with the increasing feral feeling dominating her thought process - no doubt the wolfish look that her formed in her expression spoke that silent message. Teeth grinded, the faintest rumbling of a growl rising up from her pit as she battled for self control.

"Yeah yeah, we heard you. Want to send the word out to the rest of us?"

Beat. Breath. Beat. Breath. It was the internal rhythm now, her mind slipping on rationality and logic that she prided herself on when in other situations. Painful to be left in the dark and wondering what was to happen next. She did not want to wait, she wanted to do. Demand answers, to torture and torment until her fill of rage had been sated. But, that was not the way. Her mind raced with the possibilities of what would happen if they went down there now, and it made her heart lurch. Eyes flickered to the tap, the subtle lick of lips as the tonfa was drawn free, the gaze following the movements down to the opening once more.

"Of course you idiot! Sooner I get my hands on her," Fallon could almost imagine the hands wringing an invisible neck. Her throat tightened, her mind flickering down to what could be going on below. She exhaled, the growl more noticeable now. "I'm going to enjoy breaking her."
"What about a bounty?" one of the others spoke up and was met with a snarl of disapproval.
"You want her to know we're coming for her? Gods no!"

It was her teeth that were bared, gaze sharpening as she furiously shook her head. Both her hands came up at that point, firmly cupping the woman's face as the gaze locked. The idea tore at her, the thought of bringing one into danger with such things with the current odds. It was the throat that contracted, the deep inhale as the muscles tensed. The risk was too great, and she would not use the one she adored for such a thing - even if it was willing. Her entire ego rebelled against such a notion.

"No," Fallon hissed as quietly as she could, pressing down that bubbling darkness as best she could. It was rather firmly that she pushed her lips against the woman, barely breaking away before repeating once more, instinctual and looking almost for a way to express and release what was quickly building up and bubbling away inside. But within passion also existed, smothered and confused - fearful almost of what was to come. She gave a gentle bump of the forehead, and breathed, "No."

"Go on, beat it! Run off and spread the word," she was certain it was Snapper again, her ears twitching and straining, "Get the others to report in. Not letting her escape." She could almost feel the opportunity being ripped away from her slipping and sliding free between her fingers. Her hands trembled, pulled away a gentle retreat of the form. She could not stop Zandelia regardless, she was her own free woman - she just silently hoped that she would follow the same path of wisdom that Fallon was desperately trying to cling to. She breathed again, but it was quickly dying down into that of silence, "No..."

She knew she could not fight, at least, not properly. The moment she escaped the cool she was certain the midday sun would greet her form and quickly begin to cripple her. How long could she fight under such conditions? Or better yet escape into the city? She knew she would not be able to run far, the body would become broken and strained before she knew it, leaving her in a precarious state of vulnerability and left to rely on the other - if she even could. They did not know their strengths, or the abilities that this group possessed. They could be strung up before they knew it.

"Petch it..." her lips twitched as she tried to find some level in which to work from. There was another glance to the armour and to the blades, that struggle to hold onto composure, before once more it returned to the opening and the voices. Another spoke up, "Where you think you're going?"
"Going to go snoop on Brega's. See if I can't grab that little manwhore and shake him for answers. Make him do us a service. More so after last time."
Fallon swallowed, her fingers flexing and relaxing as she tried to instil some composure. "He was a tricky one. Milk him. And when you're done with him... you know what to do."

[Zandelia]

It was a reaction that she hadn’t expected at all, the closing of personal space and the seeking of comfort in between the dark words of machinations that slithered up to meet their ears. She didn’t know what she had thought Fallon would do but near the top had been to seek blood and battle - she was a mercenary and the emotive issue lain out before her must have strained her. It did strain her she could see, in the clenching and the contorting of flesh, fists and countenance. In the hissing the words, quiet yet firm as stone, that all but ordered her to stay where she was and let them go. It was a difficult thing to do, to let her tonfa drift to the floor still clenched within her fingers, to let them go and offer up nothing in the way of vengeance for what he could see they were putting Fallon through. She held no fears for herself, she had fought much and death held no fear for her truly. Until recently it might have been a release of sorts - to start anew the cycle the sages spoke of around the tavern fires throughout Mizahar.

Her heart called out to the other silently, to see her retreat into simple things and feel the press of lips and the seeking of warmth and comfort. She put her arm around her and stroked the shoulders as best she could without giving them both away with a sudden creak of aged wood. She wished that she could have offered more but the physical contact, so sudden, had tempered her wrath with its surprise and she felt nothing now but a receding need for violence that was being replaced with bitterness. She had failed again, had somehow let their sleeping quarters be found. What had she done wrong? Had she left too many trails to follow? Had her intelligence methods for misinformation been seen through or had she just been unlucky? She nodded as Fallon pulled away and retreated to her isolation.

They will still pay, but not this day. Soon, but not yet. Not yet. she told herself as she retreated herself to the only thing she could usefully do - listen.

“Okay…no,” she sighed softly, “I’m sorry”

There were definitely three of them that she could hear, the voices distinctive and picked out as she committed them to memory. What they spoke of was a plot of course, one designed to bring the both of them down - from their talk she didn’t think they knew about the others. Whatever trouble they had followed was something that apparently involved only the two of them. She likely put it to one of two occurrences - both at Braga’s and involving some loss of live. She doubted it was the plot for her father and so instead logically thought it was the Daggerhand. They certainly spoke with enough venom and affront - the group had most cause to loathe them after the Scars’ activities. Still there was no certainty in what they stated and that was an annoyance. Certainty would have made things easier.

The last comments, however, brought a start from her as her eye widened…Matthew. There could be no one else that they could allude to. They knew him, knew of him and saw him as a potential source of information. As far as she knew he had already left Sunberth but that was not the point. He was a possible traitor and she had sat with him, talked with him. Fallon had trusted him too she knew, up to a point. He had healed her. Why do that and then offer up information as to her whereabouts? She seethed once more, knowing that I she confirmed such suspicions she would eliminate that little rat with ruthless efficiency. Yet they also seemed to suggest that they would kill him themselves when they were done.

A double-cross? Or triple-cross? I swear to Akajia I will get to the bottom of this. At least we have a location to start from though, to lay a trap perhaps. Fallon has his room key. If we can just get there first…arrange something…yes. It could work in our favor. Brega has never liked those as wish to harm her workers. Past or present. She has a reputation to keep she thought it through slowly, as calmly as she could given present circumstances.

Now that she had a certainty to follow, a starting point, there would be no stopping her workings. She would hunt, locate and kill. Bt before they all died she would make them talk. She would find out how deeply this went, how many were involved and if there were any traitors amidst their brethren.

“Trap?” she whispered to Fallon, hoping she would understand the singular word.

[Fallon]

It was hard. Extremely so. Her eyes clenched shut for a moment, the stilling of form as the arm came round. Difficult, resistance was vital even with the heightened emotions urging to run rampant. Blood needed to be sated, and it would soon - but patience was needed before any of that could come about. Although vengeance would have been sweet, Fallon would not abide recklessness straight to a quick death. It would only create more hurt and bitterness in the long run. Now however was not the time to worry too much upon those feelings - other thoughts were needed to be taken in. Where was safe? What mistakes had they made over the last season? What loose ends had Fallon failed to tie up? There was only a flicker of a gaze down to the sigh, her brow creasing as she registered the words truly and accepted them.

There was only a shake of the head in response, a gentle reach out and touch of the hand. It was the thumb that gave a rub across the knuckles, but it was the gaze that turned to the opening. Ears gave a twitch, straining as she tried to listen in to those last few snippets. More information, more was needed and as her thoughts shifted behind her eyes did she slowly begin to draw out some conclusions. Lips were wetted, a dart through the memories and events that had come and gone. She had killed several in her time, she knew she was not innocent of the bloodshed and what had been taken. Whatever happened to the days where things were simple and the use of blades for war were not needed? Not that such a time truly existed.

She sucked in the air, a moment of tensing as she realised the speakers were talking about Matthew. The pieces were beginning to come together, bit by bit and it was the error of her ways that flickered into life. Although she knew no name of them, Fallon knew who they were.
"What you think you're gonna do then?"
"Going to go and check on the stock down at the pens. Someone has got to keep 'em quiet and shift them," there was the crunch of footfall, the echoing voices growing fainter as they begun to work their way out of the warehouse, "Oi, get the little bitch alive if you can. Make her wear 'em..." And then there was silence.

Fallon's shoulders slumped, the wood groaning as she let the once stilled form tremble and relax for the moment. For a chime she sat there in her silent isolation, chest rising and forming, her hand rubbing at her face. Beneath her breath she released a hiss, her head knocking back as she tried to make sense of what was going on. They had one lead at least, though it was one that was against time - speed was needed in order to reach it. If it was not, then another opportunity slipped through their fingers. Of course, on the flip side there was another thing to consider - their lodgings. Judging by the way they had been speaking, it suggested there was no one there at present watching over it. Supplies would be needed, equipment would have to be obtained and secured - making now the golden opportunity in which to do so.

She could almost see the seething, everything tallying up as to what happened and the occurrences. But now there was silence and no sign of immediate trouble, she begun to reach towards her armour. She did not know what the sun was doing outside at present, had the heat of the day gone past yet? Or was it still there, blaring down unforgiving and ready to cripple? Gently she dragged the leathers over and begun the painful process of pulling them on once more. They had to move, the whisper of Zandelia confirmed that she was not about to wait around any longer.

"Trap..." she mumbled, pushing back the leather before she pulled at the buckles, "Trap... yes. I... think." Felt the fingers slick as she tugged, her brow creasing as she tried to formulate a plan. Nerves were still high, her mind flickering back and forth with a lump forming in her throat, "But... but Orvin?" Fingers pinched her brow, "He could be back at the room. He could be hurt or..." There was an element of rage that once more pressed against her, the brow creased as she tried to keep things under control. One little misstep, and even she did not know what would happen.

Gingerly, she reached out and grasped the tulwars, dragging them over and attaching them to her person. Sweat once more begun to accumulate on her, her breaths quickening in the attempt to expel the heat before it became too much. There was a nod to the woman, the gentle shifting of weight as she made a beeline to the exit. Thoughts were still scattered, the opportunities tearing as she tried to make a decision. Information was needed - it was a fact. Peering through the gap she looked across the shaded interior, her gaze glancing down to the beam below as she checked for its absence. Empty, silent, she gave an incline of the head and begun the slow process of lowering herself down to the first beam. Arms strained, the stuffy heat greeting her as she descended.

Bracing, she brought herself down onto a crawl upon the beam and slowly scurried her way along it. Descending it seemed was a lot easier than ascending. Arms gave a strain as she gripped firmly onto the wood, the chest rising and falling quicker now as she stretched out. Urgency begun to consume, the press as she released the hold and felt the solid ground beneath her feet. A stumble, a press as she gathered herself up and gave a check about. It was out of reflex that her hand was already on the tulwar as she waited. Eyes gave a glare towards the sunlight, her teeth grinding as she warred between emotions and logic.

"You want to trap then I guess?" She mumbled after a few moments of silence. She screwed her eyes shut, pushing down the inner bubbling darkness as she grasped upon some composure. Fingers wriggled on the gloves, and it was after a long inhale that she cracked open her gaze once more, "Petch. This is... this is my fault. All my fault. Shouldn't have been so reckless. Just didn't expect it so soon." It was far from the time of self berating, and so shaking it off Fallon slid her way carefully to the warehouse entrance. There was a pause as she pressed herself against the wood wall, her gaze checking and staring out that it was clear, "I know we need information. I know. I just..." Teeth gritted, and she allowed herself a moment of outburst. It was her fist that banged against the surface in frustration, "Gods dammit. Why now?" A final rattled inhale, her eyes looked back, "We don't have the time do we? Shyke, I know we don't. But I need to find him, if I could just get in there, and use the Lykata I could... but Brega's. Information one way or another, from one of them. Make suffering for what has been done... We could... split up?" Fallon shook her head and discarded the thought, "Too dangerous. Far too dangerous."

[Zandelia]

It was a slow journey back towards a semblance of reality, getting to the ground level being the first step towards redressing some of the balance in their favor. As long as they were in the rafters, trapped in the dark and the dust, there was nothing that could be done and that meant that every second passing increased both their helplessness and the illusion that they were beset by forces beyond their remit to deal with. She doubted that they would face enemies that were so powerful but it was still shaking to know that they had been blindsided so quickly for whatever reason. She resolved that it would not happen again as she levered herself down to the first bean slowly and from there slipped down to dangle a moment before letting herself fall and roll as she hit the ground to cushion the height as best she could. It was clumsy but effective enough that she didn’t hurt herself beyond a few scrapes from fallen rubble.

First things are first…Fallon. She is on edge, I can sense it. See it. Feel it in the air surrounding her she told herself as the years of intelligence operations kicked in and became useful in a personal situation - for once.

She needed to get Fallon’s mind off of what could have been and into what was. What might be. The words that were spoken told her that there was an effort there to do just that but it was being held back by the wrath seething beneath she thought. Zandelia was far from immune herself, her own rage and the desire to protect and punish warred strongly within her, yet she was the advisor still in matters of business. It was her job to counsel and she would be damned if she wouldn’t do so if it meant there wasn’t a repeat of that fateful day with her father and the release from entrapment. She stepped up to the woman and placed her hand upon her shoulder gently, pitching her voice and readying it for all her worth to sound in control though she felt far from it.

“Bitzer” she used the mercenary name to try to ground into that practical and direct side, not to mention they may still be being watched, “we can’t second guess everything we have done or might have done. We could be here for days whilst they work that way” she started firmly.

“What matters is the reaction. They think we are elsewhere, hiding or getting weakened in fights perhaps. We must use that to our advantage. The next few Bells will be critical. If we use them wisely then we can put into place events that will mean we come out of this winners rather than dead” she almost hissed the last words bitterly.

“They said they were going to Brega’s and they alluded to Matthew. That means we know where they will be. What they will be seeking,” she thought aloud rapidly as she tried to connect a series of actions that would lead to their ascendancy, “and we can use that. We need to find out who they work for, who pulls their purse strings and why. We have petched off a lot of people. Some are dead, others are not. Think! Are there any enemies besides the Daggers that you have made? They didn’t sound as if they were after me so much as you” she stated flatly, she hated knowing that fact.

She released her hold upon the shoulder and paced back and forth slightly, restrained anger and venom in the strides as she wondered what she would expect herself to do in this situation. If she were they what would she do? She was smarter perhaps but they were infinitely more brutal perhaps. So they were bloody men but not necessarily cautious or covert. Ransacking their living quarters proved they were daring but also possibly foolhardy. If they had been there then there would have been plenty of blood. That meant they didn’t care whether it was spilled - or how many died - so long as they were dealt with as a pair and eliminated. And then there was Orvin…

Orvin…gods. Underhanded and petty. No use to harm him to anyone beyond sport! she snapepd inwardly.

“I’m..sorry…Orvin…I don’t….gods I hate being me sometimes” she sighed, she hadn’t even considered him in her calculations or how he made Fallon feel. Their connection together. She had been entirely focused upon the state of affairs and their survival, their triumph.

“We cant be sure he is even there, let alone what is waiting for us. I know what they said but at any point they could change their minds and return and…oh petch it all. Splitting up would be foolish and at any rate you won’t get rid of me at all until this is done. I’m not leaving you to fight these jackals by yourself! Never…” she all but stamped her foot at that, “shield remember? Standing back to back. I don’t go back on those promises” she tried to keep a level tone of voice but it was difficult.

“Shyke….look we can head past there on the way to Brega’s if you like. Take a detour and see if we can’t spot anything. If it’s clear then we can go in…but not for long. I won’t have us trapped like that. And then…”

“To plan the counterstrike” she stated flatly, letting ruthless logic dictate her whims for once.

“What’s more Matthew could be a spy in our own ranks. I’d rather deal with that now, before more damage can be done by him, than wait for more schemes to ensnare us. I say we break their little noose and run around behind them…hamstring them so they bleed before a true strike” she finished.

It was perhaps more daring than cautious but at that point in time caution was just as likely tog et them killed than daring. If they were being watched and hunted then they couldn’t count upon caution to shield them. They could only rely upon each others wits, abilities and their luck. She hated luck but she was damned well due some and she would make Ovek give it to her this time.

“Let’s get out of here. I’ve decided I don’t want to buy this place after all” she sighed to the world in general.

[Fallon]

Fallon could feel her temper beginning to seeth as she tried to maintain some level of control. It was hard at the moment, her mind swimming back and forth as she tried to get some control. She could almost feel that inner beast rising up and looking to ensnare her senses. Her fist ached slightly, a dull discomfort that came out between the fog of confusion. Grounding, there was a deep inhale as she planted her feet firmly upon the floor and let the scowl smother her face. She did not look back to Zandelia as she finally spoke up, nor did she regard the hand upon her shoulder. But, she did listen. Every word was vital, every moment was needed to gain the upper hand.

Teeth gritted, a deep inhale of the hot summer air. It entered, cheeks puffing and the eyes clenching shut. Centre the self, find control, chain it back and focus on what was before her. Hard as it was, emotions would only cloud the situation worse. And she was Fallon, the unclouded and capable of making good judgement through natural intuition. The fist clenched, trembled as she summoned all that shaking rage within before it was roughly exhaled. She was Bitzer, Leader of the Scars and bringer of change. She needed to keep a level head and deal in cold, hard efficiency.

"What is winning Web?" the rolling lilt evaporating to be replaced with the rougher tones she adopted whilst working. Her eyes turned round at that point, the usual warmth there being replaced with a stony expression, "This is no competition. There is no winning or losing. No justice or revenge. There is only survival." She turned her attention out of the warehouse once more, leaning up off the wall as she squared herself up. Shoulders rolled, her back straightened as she reached deep into her core and focused. Strength, passion, wisdom, a clear mind in which to use and control the situation to her best advantage. The lykata gave a prickle, a reminder of what was within her grasp should she need it, the blades gave a gentle clink as they reminded her of her abilities and what she was capable of.

It was the hands that reached up and freed the hair from its poor bindings for a moment, letting the sweated locks fall down before she gathered them all. Slowly, carefully she pulled it all back and bound it tightly into the warrior's ponytail that she had adopted. The chin lifted then, the hands falling down and resting upon the hilt of her blades. She steeled herself, mentally and emotionally for the storm that was to come.

"There are plenty of enemies I have made. Some I have not told you about that... have been dealt with respectively in my own time," She begun, the eyes always staring forward and onwards, "Once, last winter, I organised an attack on a slaver. We snuck onto their docked ship in the dark of the night, eliminated some of their guards, freed the slaves and set the vessel alight. Small... perhaps. But it made Sunberth know that the Scars were very real, and they meant that they were bringing forth change." She paused then, her mind flickering as she recalled Matthew once more and the events of that spring night, "Matthew, he is a confusing one. But... I do not think he is a betrayer if that is what you are implying. I have my reasons for believing that."

Clearing her throat she looked back only briefly, "He once invited me to Brega's. For a meeting. We have several... under certain guises. As you are probably aware. This was a rather impromptu and spontaneous one however. But, it did serve as a good warning," She snapped her head forwards once more, the gaze glaring at the harsh light of the sun, "There are other groups that would want me dead outside of the Daggers. Many that disagree with what the Scars cause is. Either way, this group sent a few men to ambush me whilst there. Matthew managed to arrange it so I had some additional support, and well... need I say more?" She shook her head then, "A bloody and brutal ordeal to say the least. It did not go unheard though, and I fear it may be connect to that. After all, one group tried, now it is a challenge to see who can catch Bitzer unawares and trap her." There was an exhale then, "It is why they want me more than you. I have shed more of their blood after all."

Swallowing she let the thought rest there for a moment, before she swiftly moved on. She knew that blood meant nothing to them, more so now they had gone and raided their living accommodation without a second thought. Part of her grinded internally at that, left her wondering and pivoting on how to work around such an issue. Still, with another inhale she had once more brought the level headed nature down needed to deal with such a task. It did not help soothe the sting that Orvin may have been in danger or worse however.

There was the curl of the lips however when the promise was remembered, and the words instilled to remain, "Shield indeed. Back to back to face the world no matter what comes," there was a suck in of the air, deeper, with the rattle seeping its way back behind firm tones, "If Matthew was a spy in our ranks, then why did he leave in the middle of Spring?" the question was placed, "Come now, even you must know that to relocate in the midst of a mission must be bad. And if it is them he is working for, then why is it that they suddenly cannot find him. It makes no sense." She tapped the side of her temple then almost to confirm the point, and swiftly moved on. There was a long pause, "We... do not have time to take a detour. Even you said we did not have time and have to act fast. We need to move. Now."

Taking the step out into the daylight there was a wince, hand raising to shield the eyes from the glare. There was a glance back, an incline of the head as she set her mind begrudgingly to the task at hand. Her gaze was set only ahead now to Brega's and whatever laid in their path to get there. Quick paced and leaping from shadow to shadow, it was the firm steps that pushed her forward between the people, grim faced and determined in every imaginable way. She would have to be quick and explain to Brega what was going on when she got there, but outside of that it was no issue. Once they were in, there was no holding back. She barely registered the front of the brothel as she entered - choosing not too lest she loose the energy that she had managed to grasp so tightly upon.

Her hand pushed firmly on the door, eyes staring ahead as she escaped the piercing heat, only to be hit by the wave of salt, sweat and sex. Nostrils flared, the inner growl trembling against the back of her throat. Gaudy colours hit her soon after, memories of the last few nights flickering brightly in her mind's eye; of men, death and selling one's self for whatever could be obtained. Some of the scantily dressed were already floating about, or being pulled down onto the plush couches for those who would pass by. There was only a flicker to them, heckles rising as she took them in, then once more snapped her attention forward. Brega approached, smiling at first, but quickly that expression slipped away to that of a slight frown, "And what are you doing here Bitzer?"
"A lot of things. I need to get into Matthew's room, now."
"Matthew isn't her-"
"I know. But I still need to get into there, the one that was used tha-"
"Where you left the floor covered in blood? I think no-"
"Matthew might be in danger," Fallon spoke coolly then, eyes fixed upon the woman. It would not budge regardless, and if the serious expression did not persuade the whore, then Fallon was not sure as to what would.

[Zandelia]

“And did you see him leave personally? Were you there when he arrived at the destination to know that he did, in point of fact, arrive? Were you able to ensure that he didn’t sneak back and return under cover of darkness?” she asked the questions that she was asking herself, suspicion was in her nature and not least under such duress, “many schemes have been successful, or failed miserably, based upon the assumption that a key player was not there. Had disappeared. The best guard drunk in an alley somewhere but actually ready to fight for his employers life for example” she breathed deeply after the words tumbled out in broken tones.

The arguments made were persuasive but, in her view, based upon personal perspective rather than logic. The facts were that these men, whoever they were and whoever they worked for, knew of Matthew and that presented her a limited number of choice possibilities. He was either their captive under extortion, working with them entirely or working with them from within. The outside fourth was that he truly didn’t know of the hunt for Bitzer but given the subject matter gleefully discussed by the trio she doubted that. Either way she sliced it the problem was a thorny one and presented too much risk. Even if he were being forced to…squeal…then he was still giving them information and there was no guarantee he wouldn’t tell them everything.

“No, we can’t be sure he is even gone until it is proven otherwise. You say you trust him, he seemed a decent enough man to me when I had occasion to meet him. But then the dangerous ones are and he had his own network he used. If I am wrong then I will apologize to him whenever he returns, if he returns. As for not being able to find him…perhaps because he doesn’t care who survives as he is an ally to both sides. Yet I will not ignore the possibility. It‘s my job to be paranoid so that you don‘t have to be” she finished as the silence of their movement began.

As they paced, flitting from side alley to side alley in darting motions, as quickly and carefully as they dared to be, she considered the other words spoken and awaited a moments breather to add her own form if input. It grated against her that she had not been told of the enemies still remaining, not because she was nosy - though she was - or because she wanted to tell Fallon what to do. It was simpler that that, she couldn’t help protect if she didn’t know the problem existed in the first place. She knew much, found out much, but was hardly mistress of every little feud in the city. One day perhaps but not now. After only a season’s working that would have been just short of miraculous. As they paused at the edge of yet another alley and she peered leant into the corner nonchalantly, as if the world did not matter, she decided to ask.

They have a few moments after all, we have moved far already and best not tire ourselves too much before arriving. And nonchalance…more effective at hiding than creeping. People notice creeping. They don’t care about women leaning on a street corner…unless they want something serviced of course she thought to herself as she regained her breath and pushed the hair from her eye.

Yet there was no time to mention anything as Fallon pressed onwards sharply, focused upon the target most admirably. She had to smile slightly at hat, she could certainly be single-minded when she wanted to be. She followed in her wake and kept her gaze alert and shifting, seeking out any would-be attackers. As it happened little of note appeared and as they stepped across the threshold and into the smoke and sex scented interior of the brothel there was a faint glimmer of hope that they had arrived first and as such could gain an advantage after all. Brega, of course, was upon them at once and no doubt because of the incident Fallon had revealed just chimes beforehand. She watched and waited, looking at both of the women as they glared at each other stoically. There was no time for this, they needed to be inside and ready. She held her hands on her hips and raised and eyebrow ever so slightly.

“Brega, you remember me. I ran missives for you, even helped you on occasion. This is important and there are people who seek to…what was it Bitzer…make Matthew squeal? Yes, to press him for information and not in the manner of making payment and enjoying his flesh. Not in, what you might call here, the traditional sense”

“And you expect me to believe this because…”

“Because lying in my line of work gets you killed. We aren’t asking to take anything or start a fight. He left his key to Bitzer and said she could use his things, whatever remains, in whatever way she deemed appropriate. Surely you can respect the wishes of one who served you so well…so I hear?” she asked, the unspoken words were beneath the spoken.

“You bring this…this…man-woman, who I might add has not even apologized for leaving my establishment in such a state, into here again and then ask for my help? I think not!” Brega moved to flounce away in her usually sinuous manner.

Zandelia stepped forwards with a smile, warm and congenial, and she readied her weapons - far less solid than the ones at her hip.

“If it is payment you require then we can negotiate, however if you merely send us away there will be no one to negotiate with, no?” she let the words ripple out and watched the Madame pause in her walking, “there is much as can be done in repayment. First though we need to make sure that ourselves and Matthew are safe. Once that is done I would be happy to discuss and…arrangement” she continued smoothly.

She hoped to the gods that it would work, browbeating wouldn’t and fighting would be pointless. Words and negotiation were what they had that could turn things in their favor but Brega was a wily one and always seemed to have an upper hand unless you were truly clever. She didn’t like taking the role of leader from Fallon but the glare had said it all, she wanted in and was prepared to do what it took to get in. She could be stubborn at times and, at such times, it was her job requirement as well as her pleasure to try to intervene in her advantage.

[Fallon]

There was only a sharp, angry glare at Zandelia when the questioning begun. The lip twitched, eyes burning down into a narrow slit as the jaw set. There was the deepest inhale, a suck in of the air as she met her core, and then a rough exhale. Chin lifting in challenge she held it, "You know. I was once told to trust instinct and intuition, because once I got the answer right the first time then discarded it as nothing on the basis of it was little more than those two things. My instinct tells me he is not with them. I told you what I know, I know what I saw. You were not there. If it is more that you wish to go after then you'll just have to ask the other one who was there. Go find Kaie the Myrian if you're that certain I am wrong. Go on."

She shook her head after that, and ensured their position within the Brothel interior. Hot breath whistled between her teeth, the eyes burning as she glared down and fixed her sights. It was hard not to feel the bubbling rage within. If it was not from the insult given by her lover than it was the way Brega had so aptly titled her. Still, she managed to click her neck and produce a wolfish smile and a slither of dry humour, "What can I say... you should not really deny it until you try it. Take it as a recommendation of a man-woman."

Fallon all but purred the last few words, the brow pinching slightly as she almost felt herself go verbally toe to toe with the whore. There was an inhale, the scents catching and ensnaring. Somewhere within the back of her mind the subtle alarm of panic begun to claw its way up and dig in. Pulse quickened, her hands clenched into fists as she attempted to control the quivering fingers. Still, Zandelia had stepped in and begun the process of negotiation as the other looked to make her escape. Or at least until she paused. Fallon's eyes slipped to Zandelia then, her eyes breaking into a narrow as the words turned. What sort of arrangement was the first of her worries, and predicted only the worst. Her hand gave a tremble, a deep inhale as she wrestled to push down the thoughts that strained within.

Brega turned and looked back at them. She could almost see the woman turn her gaze down in response to the cracking of knuckles, and her own lip curling almost slyly in thought. She drifted back, eyes turning to Zandelia to address, "You have my attention... for now."
The mercenary bit her tongue, her eyes darting about slowly at first but quickly picking up speed as the room seemed to almost come alive. Everything became more noticeable, or perhaps it just felt as if all the eyes were upon her, eyes hungry and looking to eat her alive. Feet squared up on the floor, her hands moving to be tightly clasped behind her back and to hide the wringing fingers from sight. Composure, she needed to keep it somehow.
"And what exactly is safe then Zandelia?" Brega asked, looking down onto her nails as she put on an almost bored air, "Last time I was told something was done to keep another safe I ended up with the bodies of two brutes upon my floor. Bad for business that sort of thing."
It was then Fallon spoke up, "With due respect... it was not my idea. It was an impromptu piece from Matthew that had no hand from myself involved... until the night at least."

Brega eyed her carefully then, lips pursing as the mercenary and consuming her almost in her gaze, "You never do like it here among the scents and sensations, do you Bitzer? Don't play coy, I can see you turning rigid already. And planned by you or not, you still left it in such a state. And how do you even plan to make things safe?"
"By taking out the trash," Fallon managed to respond, though her composure was already beginning to slip. She almost wondered how far she could run out of the brothel screaming before being dragged back by Zandelia, "Both literally and figuratively. Let's just say... you'll only get a few noise disturbances. Otherwise you'll never know we're here..."
"You're serious aren't you?"
"When am I not?"
There was only a snort, and the shake of the head. A single hand waved them away, "It's empty. You know where his room is... Shall I send your prey up that way too then?"
"Might be useful. And appreciated."

It took a moment to will her legs into life, but when they did become animated it was with broad, powerful steps that took her out across the main floor and up the stairs. She did not wait for Zandelia. Her hand was already rummaging around in her pockets, looking and searching for the key needed to get into his room. Fingers pinched upon the blackened metal, her form pressing against the wall as she stepped past a whore who was taking a man into one of the private rooms. Cheeks gave the slightest tint as the groans and cries of pleasure cried out loudly between the thin walls, mixed with the firm rocking of surfaces and thudding. She remembered the corridor once more with the five doors, and where Matthew's door was and the stairwell that lead down to the employee's entrance. She remembered the way it was laid out, plush and full of a few choice implements. Her ear pressed against the door for a moment, listening for movement beyond. And upon finding none she proceeded to work upon unlocking it and let herself into the also so familiar prison.

It was just as it always was. Clean, bed made with the fine sheets upon it, the low set of draws next to it. There was a pace about it, form stooping slightly as she studied the floor for a moment and the space under the bed. From there she begun the slow and steady work around - searching and looking for the best way in which to lay an ambush. And it was only after a few moments of snooping and investigating the room bit by bit that she finally spoke, "What do you think?"

[Zandelia]

It was with indrawn and held breath that she watched Brega turn and actually think about lending them assistance, even if it was small and in her own interests. Matthew may no longer have been her immediate concern but her business was and if it was let about that people could just walk in and do as they pleased then she would lose a portion of that immunity which she had cultivated over the years of her services being supplied to the city. It had been well known that she had protection from various sources, not least her own people, yet with the city in the brink of a crisis of - well she had to think of it as management - it behooved her to seek further assurances and more desperate measures perhaps than had been used previously. She knew Fallon was uncomfortable and she would make that up to her later, that her words had caused both anger and offense but she still let out a relieved breath when the agreement was made.

It was flighty, whimsical and filled with no promises clearly defined or made by either party but it was an olive branch that they had been offered and couldn’t refuse. What were their choices? They could leave and gain nothing, perhaps lay low somewhere and try to find a lead when they had nothing to go upon but hearsay and a half-overheard conversation between thugs who like as not did not know as much as they thought they did. No, there was no other place to go but their quarters and even there she was not sure that they would find anything but the wreckage of a ransack. She looked to Fallon and said nothing, taking up the place as follower. It was safest as a path for now. Less confrontational certainly though her comments still stung her as if she had been slapped.

“Lead the way” was all she muttered as she walked behind the path she had not taken before.

As always Brega’s was a plush selection of creature comforts and the art of personal satisfaction. She was not entirely sure what lurked in many of the rooms, was not even sure she wished to know. It was said that she catered to all tastes, even the disreputable ones that most would condemn as far beyond reasonable. She was not bothered by the moans and even the occasional screams that reverberated through the corridor. She had spent much time in brothels, though for the most part it had been under the guise of business over pleasure. She saw little value in paying for something that should by all rights be earned - even if easily. She liked the game, the chase, and even Fallon had commented upon that before. In some ways perhaps that was what had provided an initial attraction - an elusive beauty. She was not entirely sure. She pushed such philosophies aside as the door was opened and she stepped into the room.

“Good accommodations, he lived well indeed. And a bed, a real bed. They’re like gold in Sunberth. I swear I would kill for such a thing at times” she noted as Fallon swept the room and she stood there, taking it in and contemplating.

There was no sign of Matthew at all and at that her assumptions were proven to be false, or more correctly half-false. He has taken everything he needed she assumed and had left the room as he had greeted it. She remembered his personality, the exactness to detail and the precision of his persona. The room reflected that in his absence, as if he had never been there she guessed. It certainly didn’t look lived in to her mind, held not clutter or personal flair that she could discern. Then again she had not had much experience of him, or the room and so couldn’t comment beyond her own feeling. Intuition - the irony. It brought her up short and the words spoken in anger before lashed at her mentally. She still had her doubts but some had now been erased and she knew she had been hasty in her anger.

“I think…I owe you an apology. He is not here and hasn’t been here for some time. Clearly. I…I was angry. Still am, and confused. I don’t know how this happened, why and certainly not that there was the danger. didn’t know of this…night…with Kaie and Matthew. I am sorry for what I said. It’s my job, my want, to…to try and keep you safe. If that means I offend you then so be it but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad for it on occasion” she eyed her briefly before turning to look at the door.

“It opens inwardly and that means there is a decent spot for one of us to stand. They want you, hunt you. You have magic that can rip their throats out in an instant if needed,” she stated simply, “I say we give you to them. If you like. Can have a nice sit down on the bed and I’ll get behind the door. Or under the bed and roll out when it starts. I don’t mind landing the first blow and my weapons are less likely to leave…blood…that will annoy Brega”

“Do you know where he keeps his things? Anything he might leave behind that could offer a clue. You said it was his scheme before, whatever it was. Perhaps he left some notes or even a name or two to go on. We might even be able to get what we need and leave them an empty room to seethe in?” she sighed.

“Either way it begins here, or rather…continues. I will not ask what happened, truly beyond the information it provides it helps matters not a whit. But I will be here, stay here and do what is required. Once this is over…well then perhaps we can sit and drink and talk of other things” she leant into the space behind the door and pulled out her tonfa once more into her left hand.

“Lykata? Thoughts of your own?”