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KANEDAS THEME (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G-wv4pFodIQ)
Akira Soundtrack
Cancer was not known for being peaceful in the slightest. It housed criminals of all kinds, black markets of an even more diverse nature. It was the watering hole for the the slimy and the wicked, the dastardly, and the crocked. As so, the hunting ground for someone like Belle, whose very living was depended on scum making too much noise. Their heads paid for everything she wanted, and proved as quite the pass time, too. A pass time with a paycheck.
The slums where almost completely empty at this time of night, a few dark-eye and shady people roaming around the stations level they called home. The bustle of chattering voices murmured throughout the giant, dark level, echoing off of the steely-grey walls. A click-clack, click-clacking of high-heels, one after another, running furiously down the dim streets and alleys after a shadow just in front of her, too afraid to look over their shoulder, just in case she were still there. Pushing past bystanders, adults, children, teens, men, woman, and those otherwise gendered, without remorse or thought. This man, this pay-packet on legs, was hers, and he wasn't getting away from her. It wasn't likely he would, either. Belle was the best person the police could call on for these matters. They never got away.
She chased the get-away crook up some dilapidated ladders, leading to the top of the run-down shanty buildings. Clothes lines, bins, fire pits and gazebos set up for all kinds of social gatherings. He led her through parties of all kinds, passing by all kinds of people, of all different races. Belle had to, in some small way, marvel at mortal kind. They were diverse. It had been the key to their very survival and yet, at points in history, they had discarded that truth, to make way for their own fear. If it was not the women, it was the queer, the coloured, or otherwise. But in the end, she was almost blind to all of that in people. If someone would pay for your capture, or your death, she would make sure to hunt you down.
The two fleeing people were followed by the noise of their disruption, the screams and hollers of people caught wholly off-guard as the two people chased and ran, the criminal before her throwing down barbecue pits and bins in an attempt to slow her down in her pursuit.
Eventually the roof began to sink lower as they ran into the inter-connecting web of hallways. The roofs on which they ran were running out. He jumped, she followed, thudding to the ground, whereas he tumbled. The running continued as he entered one of the hallways. A problem for him, he has bottled himself into narrow spaces. He would not be hard to track. The she-demon panted, thundering after her target, without slowing or showing remorse. When he turned to look over his shoulder, he fired his gun. A burst of blue-green light narrowly missed her shoulder. She could hear the high-pitched charge in the aftermath of his shot. He pulled the trigger again, but nothing came. The fear in his eyes grew. Belle grinned. "What d'you expect with a piece of shit like that?!" The man shrieked, making the ancient woman laugh, as they entered the labyrinth of hallways the inter-connected the station.
He was a red-yellow husk in her sights, he could not hide in any dark corner, or take a dip down any narrow path. She would know, she would see him, a nervous heat. His terror pleased her. It was how he should feel. There was nothing else. He began to slow, as she caught up with him. Out of nowhere came a gun. She cocked it back, and a string of lights along the side lit up in a row, and it powered up, setting to level to incapacitate him outright. After all, a dead bounty meant an empty pocket.
They ran. He ran, she followed. Another red mass came up from no distance away, just down the adjacent hallway. "Huh..." Another bounty hunter? She shook her head, becoming only more driven to catch her target, who made the mistake of turning off into the path of the other person, coming up as she had been. Belle rounded the corner, holding her gun out.
"DON'T SHOOT. This little punk has my name on him!"
-
Unlike his hired help, Mephisto didn't need to hack the internal sensors of the space station or intercept communication feeds to track the man he was after. Truth be, the two goons in cheap mass-produced body armor were just there as insurance -- convenient pawns to help corner and trap his prey once they'd closed in on him. Begrudgingly, however, he admitted the convenience of using them; his powers weren't what they'd been in an all-but-forgotten age... not yet anyway. Even though they were almost painfully slow coming back to him he could still sense fear and track it like a bloodhound. Once he'd caught wind that the miscreant who'd had the gall to intercept his private communications and hold the data for ransom was also the target of a bounty hunter he'd known the month-long waiting game was finally at an end. As predicted, the thief had fled his bolthole, fearing discovery, and made for other havens.
At which point the false rumors of an abandoned haven, along with a bit of electronic surveillance and a few paid-off watchers had put the rest in place. The demon powered up a pair of laser pistols, their energy cores glowing a pleasing crimson and thrumming with the miniature lightning storm contained within its sophisticated workings. This era had its share of fancy toys for certain, things poor old Faustus had never even dreamed possible. They made things quite interesting -- difficult and complex at times, almost absurdly convenient at others -- but certain principles still applied. Mankind was, invariably, fixated on certain ideas: things that shoot, things that slice, things that blow up. And, as an unlucky data-pirate was soon to discover, false information was just as influential, misleading, and dangerous in modern times as it was five thousand years prior.
"The target's coming this way. Take him alive, if you can." A glance over his shoulder at the hired muscle confirmed they were combat ready as well. "I want to know who he was planning to sell the information to... amongst other things."
"As for the bounty hunter... well, I'll handle that. You two just make sure our prey doesn't slip away."
-------------------------------------------
"DON'T SHOOT. This little punk has my name on him!"
No sooner had their group rounded the corner to spring their trap, Mephisto brazenly in the lead (as was his preference) than someone from the opposite side of the decrepit, junk-mangled pathway was telling him what to do. His first instinct was to scoff, fire a few warning shots at the interloper, and then take what he'd come for. This was business, after all -- no time for pleasantries, and once he had what he wanted from the swindler he'd consider letting the bounty hunter have him (for a part of the payout, of course).
Then, in sequence, his mind registered the voice. Feminine. Familiar. Very familiar. Next his gaze swung from tracking the data-pirate to the voice's source...
... And were greeted with the most incredible sight.
Her. Here. Blinking, he struggled for a moment to believe it.
Sensing hesitation and opportunity, the wanted man tried to make a run for it. He got exactly two steps before a razor-thin bolt of scarlet light seared the ground in front of him. Looking over, he would see Mephisto tracking him with one weapon, the other resting almost casually at his side... and just the slightest white glow coming from his eyes, a touch of illumination in the unevenly lit backwater corridors of the station. The demon man's glare left no room for doubt that running was a bad, bad idea, the kind that would end with a few missing fingers at best.
"Do as she says." The words fell from his lips almost before he thought them, directed at the two goons he'd brought with him. Mephisto gestured with a nod towards the one open end of the hallway and the hired guns obeyed, taking up positions to block the unlucky criminal's escape completely.
And then, with a faint smile on his lips, he turned his gaze to the woman bounty hunter. Yes... no question about it. It was her.
"Hello, my dread lady. It's been . . . a very long time, hasn't it?"
-
The turned-bounty hunter flinched, bringing a foot forward to launch herself, when that tall imposing man shot at her target. She got ready to engage all three of them, two hands holding steady the firearm she bared tightly, but upon quickly realizing it was a warning shot, she relaxed back, coming out of her readied stance. But that wasn't all she had to realize, as the first few words fell from his mouth. A voice she'd almost brought herself to forget, and face impossible to.
"Hello, my dread lady. It's been . . . a very long time, hasn't it?"
For a second, her eyes reacted like her mind, and went wide, shocked, completely caught off guard, and it began to feel like her whole world had suddenly lost balance. 'No...no way. I-' Her thoughts quickly became irregular, and then she felt it, in the pit of her stomach, growing like a tumor, eating at her suddenly. Something she didn't normally feel. Something she hadn't felt in maybe 5 years, and too many lifetimes before that night. Fear. Did he know? Not that she could tell, and by now, she could read thoughts like a neon sign. But whose to say he didn't have her countered. Had he really, that day, over 5000 years ago, left this world? After all, there was that pressing, pulling, distracted pain in her chest that had been getting louder and more unbearable for years. She had something he needed, but she didn't know if he knew that. Like how, back when they had met, he had something she needed.
'Pull it in, pull it in. Hide it.' She grabbed control of her thoughts, and hid that shocked expression within seconds, and relaxed again. She grinned at him. Secretly, her thumb moved, and the gun was powered up to kill. Then, she began to laugh, loudly, it echoed in that junk-filled hallway."Really? I hadn't noticed." Her voice came laced with a playful sarcasm, but she hurt. Her gun was aimed at his head. "Not surprised a piece of shit like you would end up in Cancer." It was in the way she spoke, she had aged with moralities culture. She took their way of communicating, their lack of the moral bars that had held them back in the past. The cursing, the way she dressed, she had sponged up as much of what was as anyone else. "How was the afterlife, you old corpse? Did Hell have enough of you and spat you back out?" A shiver ran down her spine. She was making a joke out of it, but she was worried. Again, with the fear. For a moment, she paused, before she chuckled, lowering her gaze, and her gun. Standing normally, she began to move forward. "What's with the goons, huh?" Her gaze caught his with a callous spite. "Did the ride to Hell and back take it out of you?" She gave him a telling grin.
"While I'd love to stick around and catch up, I've got a cheque to cash in, so, if you'd be so kind?" And she gestured towards the shaking, scared man on the floor with her gun. "Girls gotta make a living."
-
At mention of the 'afterlife' she'd feel something from his mind, something that Mephist himself had to fight not to cringe at. A half-memory, buried deep and attempted to be forgotten; it had all the bitter sting of a nightmare but it cut far deeper, approaching his very core.
Somewhere cold and dark... an abyss like a black hole, pulling at everything it touched with fell tendrils of absolute oblivion. It had a name in his mind, a name that made him shudder and cringe at the very thought of it. A name spoken in that man's voice. The Soul Chasm. A darkness beyond midnight's purest black, a plunge into depths beyond the fathom of space and time, a realm between existences so utterly cold and barren that it could freeze light itself and preserve any spirit that fell into it in perpetual isolation for all of eternity. Shivering, the demonic man pushed those thoughts hastily out of his mind... but Belle would know:
He had tasted death. And something, impossibly, had pulled him back.
"Much to my chagrin... yes." Mephisto said with absolute candor, referencing 'the ride to hell' leaving him less than he'd once been. His gaze traveled to the bounty huntress' target. "As for this wretch, you can have him..." The demon strode forward with a purpose, holstering his weapons as he went, and grabbed the data-thief by the collar, yanking him upright to glare into the red-haired man's now white-burning eyes.
"Right after he tells me where he's hidden the information he STOLE from me. So, how about it, little man?"
The 'little man' apparently wasn't in the mood to talk -- in a moment of panic he tried to pull the same gun on Mephisto that had failed to fire at Belle, but whatever else he was the old devil hadn't gotten slow, at least. No sooner had his hand reached the pistol-grip than Mephisto's closed on the barrel, yanking it up and tossing it, partially crumpled, aside. It let loose a small explosion as it hit the wall, plasma chambers rupturing from both the impact and a strained induction coil, and fell to the floor as mere charred scrap.
"You really shouldn't buy Larsec Corp," The devil grinned. "Those things have a reputation, you know. Could have blown up in your face," He pulled the terrified man closer to his own fearsome visage. "And then where would we be, hm?"
The data-pirate was hyperventilating now, terror-struck and silent save for his frantic breaths. "I know this is something of an aged metaphor, but let's just say that I'm a priest and you're a penitent. It's time for confession, oh sinner." When nothing but more ragged breathing came the demon decided to loose his tongue with a headbutt and the man's face reeled away in pain. "TALK, damn you! WHERE IS IT?!"
"Ahhh!! O-Okay, OKAY!" The steely grip around the neck-band of his clothes relaxed, but only slightly. "It's... it's on a server, in a loading bay on deck 346-C. A crate marked 'hazardous chemicals', back far left oft he bay. The dock supervisor has the lock codes and the encryption key is in my coat pocket." Mephisto leaned in and glared, as if daring the man to lie to him. "Ah! It-It's all there! The data, the buyers, my intercept methods, everything! J-Just let me --"
Not letting him finish the sentence, Mephisto spun the man around -- somehow managing to relieve him of his entire coat in the process -- and delivered a swift kick to his backside once he'd rotated to face Belle. Her bounty collapsed into a heap in front of her, trembling and scared for his life. Mephisto, meanwhile, began fishing through coat pockets and quickly withdrew a slim silvery disc in a protective casing. The coat was discarded and the devil pocketed his prize before giving Belle a nod. "All yours. Not too rough for the wear, I hope."
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"No not at all! In fact..." The she-demon chided, bowing slightly, indulging his theatrics. Bringing herself back up, she grinned down at Mephisto's generously given gift, a nervous wreck of a thing, who had probably stepped into something a little deeper than he'd imagined. Belle brought her leg up and kicked him under the chin, knocking him over onto his back, certainly freeing him of a few teeth, pressing her heal to his collar bone and resting a good amount of weight on the slim point, making the scrawny little man howl in pain. "Probably could have done will a little more." She stayed there, looking relaxed enough, pressing against bone, gun pointed at his head casually, her thumb bringing the level back down to stun, the other hand running through her hair, brushing it out of her face. "I've brought in worse before." She eyed her paycheck quickly "Trust me." Her gaze quickly caught his again. " I have a reputation to keep up here."
Without hesitation, remorse, or even looking, she pulled the trigger, firing a cold blue beam into the Bounties shoulder, leaving a high-pitched noise to reverberate throughout the Hallways. The man was silenced, falling loose beneath her. The elder demons suddenly greedy, icy eyes, narrowed with a wicked smile. "Reminds me of what I used to do to you." She stepped off of her capture. "Gods, it's been so boring." Her words came heavy, falling with her shoulders, longing, almost regretful in tone. Like she'd been waiting for something, desperately, and it had finally been given to her, at the edge of her patience. He had heard that tone before, too long ago. But this time she couldn't jump to indulge herself. Belle was positive that he didn't know why he had been clawed back into existence. She herself had a fairly good idea, the continuous burning at the back of her neck was only one part of it. The impulsive side of her brain was fighting a war with her logical side, and she was feeling herself sliding. Breaking their gaze, she closed her eyes, refreshing herself briefly, relaxing herself, concentrating her thoughts. Having to tackle with fear] among other things was very uncommon.
"So, from what I can tell you been quite the busy bee, especially if you had this guy taking things from you. Doesn't look like much, but he knew what he was doing." Of course, there was something else. Belle might have been slipping. She had been tracking this little twerp for days, if not weeks. How did whatever he stole not get her attention? It was looking like she was going to start having to pay more attention. But it was certainly hard, with that pulling, stringing, pressing pain in her chest. "I hang around here more often than I'd like, but how you managed to slip passed me is...quite something." -She knew why she couldn't track him, why, unless she absolutely knew he was about, there was not a chance of finding him without staring him in the face. Like now. She breathed, repeated herself slightly "My gods, it has been too long."
-
He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as he observed her. She seemed... distracted, even weary though not in the physical sense. Mephisto had always remembered the demoness as having a sense of strength and vigor -- even when weary or resting there was an unmitigated force of personality, at most lingering just below the surface and very often coursing through the very fabric of her persona and expression. To see that waver, if only for a second... it made him wonder, curious what could affect her so.
To him, she had always been immutable in a way, an embodiment of will that went far beyond mortality and demoncy. The woman, as he'd once put it so very long ago, before he even knew her name.
What had these many long centuries done to her, he wondered...?
"I've been keeping an intentionally low profile," He reassured her. "Using as many different names as I had dealings. Things certainly aren't as simple as they used to be but being able to do at least some work 'off the grid', in my... old... manner," The devil gave her a soft 'you know what I mean, of course' grin. "Helps with that."
"It has indeed been MUCH too long." And it had -- just being in her presence, breathing in the lingering fear from her now-unconscious captive and the air of dominance that she radiated (at least, within his own mind) was beyond refreshing, verging on the intoxicating. He had hoped, of course, that she was still alive in this era, that unlike himself she had endured the bygone eras unscathed, but the 'world' was now a much, much bigger place than it had been... aside from a chance encounter like this he hadn't been sure they would encounter each other again easily. His relief at being wrong was profound. "And I've rather begun to make Cancer my home, of sorts, so very likely you'll be seeing and hearing more of me whenever you're here. In fact..."
Flicking his wrist, what appeared to be a business card materialized with a tiny flicker of black and red hellfire. Either Mephisto had learned a new trick or two since his resurrection or he'd acquired a taste for slight of hand; in either event it made clear he hadn't lost his flair for showmanship. "I have a business venture that's set to open this very eve. A nightclub... with, as they say in this era, benefits. Some far more illegal than others." He began to walk up to her, to offer her the card with the club's name and location inscribed on it. "I'm calling it 'The Black Sapphire'. Perhaps I could entice you to join me for the grand opening tonight? It's set to be quite the affair, as such things go."
He paused, then looked over at his hired muscle. "You two. Where are your manners?" Mephisto pointed at the bloodied rag doll of a reprobate. "Take the lady's luggage and drop it off where she tells you." The two mercenaries looked at each other in surprise, as though such a task was beneath them and they were weighing their response; Mephisto beat them to it. "You can't very well expect to earn what I'm paying you just for running around looking vaguely menacing. Make yourselves useful or you can forget about any future business from me."
Begrudgingly, the two mercs walked over, one of them hefting the data-pirate up over one shoulder. "Where to, miss?"
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The she-demon stepped forward, with just a hint of unease, but otherwise as confident as he would remember. Belle took the token from her long lost other with a touch of affection and delicacy, without taking her gaze from his. "I would consider it..." She paused, very slightly, bringing the card up to her lips, and placing a kiss on it once. "The greatest honor." Holding the card up in between two fingers, it vanished from her grasp, and she grinned, keeping his eyes for a moment longer, before she paused and turned her attention to Mephisto's goons. In a flurry, she turned towards them, carrying her job for her. Resting a hand on her hip, she stared at them with an eyebrow raised. They certainly didn't look very intelligent, not all the lights were on, it seemed. Tutting, she looked back over to Mephisto, looking comically upset. "What? You think I can't carry my own bags?" But still, she had to admit, spending time with Mephisto after so many uncountable years was something she very dearly wanted to do, even if it might prove more dangerous than was comfortable. But when had that stopped her before?
"Turn him into the nearest Police Authority. Give them this-" She handed the free Mercenary a piece of paper from seemingly nowhere. On it, was simply the letter Z "-They'll know, they're expecting it. Try to take that bounty yourself, I'll know about it." She winked at them, aiming her gun and pretending to fire before turning back towards her old Devil. Though, by now she technically out-dated him by way more than he had ever had on her. So much missed time. He'd missed so much and she'd seen it all. Maybe at times he could have marveled with her, and the stupid ingenuity of mortals as they had raced for the stars, as if anything in this existence was theirs to claim. "So, a date then, like old times?" It had been too long. Always too long. A day was too long. A week was. A year was.
As his hired hands walked away with her prize, Belle holstered her gun at her hip, powering it down. "I should probably change though. I look like one of the most hated Bounty Hunters in the Universe if ever there was one." She implied at the extensiveness of her career, just in case he hadn't heard of her by now already. Their meeting had come to a shock to him as well, it seemed, so it was unlikely that he had heard of her, or thought that it might have even been her if he had. "I can't go around a prospecting crime hub looking like this. I'd have people trying to kill me within seconds. It'd be rude of me to ruin that little place of yours so soon after opening, wouldn't it?"
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Murmuring between themselves, the hired help carted off Belle's catch, leaving the two demons alone with one another. Mephisto raised a curious eye at her comments. "I admit, I'm still... centering myself in this era. A lot to get used to. So many machines, so much information -- always, always more information, things changing, things new, things breaking and coming together. I've had to develop entirely new ways of thinking about everything just to cope, and it's still something of a work in progress."
"So, famous bounty hunter are we?" Mephisto grinned. "It suits you, as do the ways and words of this time. Nine circles of hell, how I've missed you... and now it seems you're doing better than ever." Now it was his turn to bow, theatrically. "How can I but applaud you? Not only outliving me but outdoing me in every respect. Time has clearly proven you right about a great many things."
Rising, he tipped his head to her in a nod. "I look forward to seeing you this eve, my dear demoness. And don't worry about anyone trying to take a shot at you -- I'll make it clear that you're my personal guest... and that no such slight," He gestured towards her, as if pointing out how deadly they both knew her to be. "However ill-concieved, will be permitted."
"Shall I have a shuttle await you? Just name the place and it'll be there to pick you up at your convenience. Perhaps we can even catch up on all that I've missed on the way, hm?"
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"I don't doubt. Mortals moved quickly, sometimes I couldn't keep up either. Being thrown into all this was probably one of the most overwhelming experiences you might ever have lived to see." Belle eyed him with that knowing kind of stare, and she would want to hear what he thought. Though, given his nature, he would probably miss it completely. She always ran circles around him in the hope he would reciprocate her meaning, and he would always fail to give what he would take from her. It was a whimsical little hope she clung to that, at some point, he might play her game and chase. So far, he'd come off as being a little more...malleable. But that was for now. She was prepared for disappointment, always. After so many horrid years without anyone there, it was all she wanted, all she really needed. Chase him as she might have while they had been alive, he'd never given it back. She'd never had the chance to find out, truly, if her alignment towards him was something they shared. Or if that final space had be sold out to an uninterested buyer.
Belle chuckled a little. "Famous? Only to the people you don't want to be considered famous by." The weight of the sentence was brushed with ease. She had carried that truth for years, and had learnt it was no point in living on that fact. It would be a problem when it proved itself one. Out of nowhere, she summoned a piece of paper, with an address on it, and a number, her mobile. "It's not a bad little place. I rent a flat in one of the middle-class levels. Just a stake out, nothing fancy." She handed it to him, the address in type-writer lettering. It seemed uncanny, now she was pulling things that hadn't yet come to exist from wherever her little plain was. It was just one little sign as to the extent of her powers, what she had grown to be capable of doing. His death had not stopped her growth. If anything, it had excelled it in a desperate need to consume her time. "I'll see you. Call me when you're on the way. I have some...private business to take care of first."
Then she turned, waving behind her as she walked away. Her voice trailed from the echoing corridor, calling him on one of his previous statements about her.
"Ahh, Mephisto...in this life I was never out to be proven right, I know I am."
"I was out to be proven wrong."
She turned around and spread her arms wide, with a daring smiling, challenging him, her words shouted down the hall "So prove me wrong!"
-
'Out to be proven wrong'. He couldn't help but smile at her somewhat cryptic parting comment as he rolled her words over in his mind, mining them for deeper meanings. Mephisto couldn't help but wonder what, specifically, she wanted to be proved wrong about. Humanity? Men?
Him?
He placed his bets on it being him -- it was likely and fit the context, though as ever she was still somewhat mysterious in her desires. He'd always been able to read people with ease; meeting her had forced him to realize how much he relied on his powers for that and how little actual insight he had. She was a blank space on his map, a question mark in the tale of his long life, alluring and endlessly fascinating... yet so much of that came from the fact that, at the deepest levels, she eluded him, confounded him, at times even drove the ancient devil crazy in his efforts to better understand her. To him she was the woman; everything he wanted and everything that he failed to see and know and grasp was, from Mephisto's point of view, wrapped up in her lithe, graceful, elegant and deadly form.
After she was gone from sight, he allowed himself a chuckle, then a full-throated laugh. It had been too long... so much, much too long.
--------------------------------
The neighborhood around Belle's flat was exactly as she'd said. Built in a cleaner, more organized part of the vast station it was neither decrepit (as much of Cancer somegow managed to be) nor lavish; essentially, livable and comfortable enough that those who occupied its properties could think of themselves as "well off" without truly having any excess and "poor" in the sense of lacking those things which would constitute grandeur. Each one without fail, however, easily lived better than the kings, queens, lords and nobles of times long past. Clean beds of synthetic fibers, plastics, and micro-springs. Glass windows that didn't cost a small fortune. Easy access to medicine. Hot food from a box. Entertainment, from a variety of boxes. Running water, indoors. TOILETS.
The modern era had NO CLUE what "poverty" truly was, nor the heights to which they'd arisen simply by not being born five thousand years in the past.
Pulling up in what the locals would definitely count as a somewhat posh car (http://digital-art-gallery.com/oid/9/2485x927_3024_Futuristic_sedan_2d_automotive_car_sci_fi_futuristic_picture_image_digital_art.jpg), Mephisto took a moment to marvel at it all, including his own more immediate surroundings (http://www.fivestarlimousine.biz/wp-content/gallery/black-limo/black-limo-2-600x400.jpg). Once upon a time if someone had told him of horseless carriages that could not only drive themselves but fly, he'd have thought the speaker a madman or an over-ambitious mage with some extremely impractical hobbies. Now auto-pilot and anti-grav were just commonplace things, not mind-shattering magics forged of steel and lightning. It was marvelous. It was absurd. It was "progress".
But it was certainly also convenient.
'You have arrived', a computerized female voice chimed, and the devil snapped his fingers as he saw her approach. The curb-side door opened by itself and ushered her in with a pleasant 'please mind your step when entering'.
-
BODY ELECTRIC (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nzV1st_Ekrc)
Lana Del Rey
It had been a long time since she had fussed over her appearance quite this much. And she hadn't even realized it until she'd finished, like she'd been automated, yet very keenly aware of herself. Since showers had become something, she took long enough to get ready to go anywhere at it stood. It was a marvel she had never quite gotten over, after living so long where fresh water was hard to find, or it would bring you down with something nasty, having it on demand and warm was something she had indulged in. Surprisingly, everything else settled on her mind-board of life very quickly. Belle (http://i823.photobucket.com/albums/zz151/BritishWolfy101/SHEISCopy_zps4bf02ce2.png) had caught herself staring into a mirror, lit up from above. Despite it all, Belle wasn't a woman who took hours to get ready, she didn't have to, after all. All she really needed to do was just 'will' an outfit, hair style, makeup, anything else, into existence and it would be so. This time, no. This time, it had been different.
She had styled that hair, put on those nails, done up her makeup, and picked an outfit with more care than she could ever remember. She had taken time, too much time, possibly. The demoness sighed, pressing her head against the glass, breathing out, the glassed fogged up. What am I doing? A single thought pressed from her mind. Somewhere, she wasn't sure if all that happened earlier was just some kind of illusion. That, at last, her loneliness had gotten the best of her. Now that she could fabricate things from nothing, even the card he presented her might not be real. Nothing in her life was real anymore, not now that she could create it all herself. Maybe she had lost her head a while ago, and that all of this was just wish fulfillment.
The cross on the back of her neck let her know that it was real, and the pang of a twisted, heated sensation it sent through her body, down her spine, let her know that slowly, there was a part of her brain that was still processing him. And the 5000 years they lost. Pull yourself together. You are one of the most feared people in the Universe, and you get like this at the idea of a date?! She hissed in annoyance, and her whole body shook as she breathed out, staring herself down through the steamed glass. No, not at a date...
At him.
And the rest of the apartment was cold, dark, and empty.
~~~~~
By the time that fancy car had pulled up, Belle had composed herself up to the usual standard, but even so she had to keep herself in check, and close to herself. Just being close to him made the pain in her chest hard to ignore, and it wasn't simply her fear. She had lived thousands of years, she was used to pain, any and all kinds of it, but this was different. This pain carried the weight of what she had done, and tried to do, in an age she'd tried just as hard to forget. Though, by the time he'd pulled up, she'd realized that those two cross-tattoos on the back of her neck were very clear. At a thought, she could have just changed the style but she'd taken the time to do it herself. Not that she could hide them forever. She could, however, hide the scar-tissue around them, evidence of how hard she had tried, how low she had sunk, to try and carve them from her skin.
Getting into that car of his, though her mind might as well have called an Iron Maiden, she couldn't help the jive. "You have a very condescending vehicle, you know that?" She smiled, amused, not passing him so much as a glance as she grabbed a glass of what she could assume was champagne, and sat a far distance away from him. Curiously, Belle didn't take a drink so quickly, instead dipping her thumb into the golden liquid, as if by hundreds of years reflex. Getting as comfortable as she could have done, now meters away from the man she previously had killed, and whose soul residing, kicking and screaming in her chest, she sat back, taking in her surroundings quickly. "I see you certainly have taken to at least some parts of modern life?" She mused. "It really is incredible, most of the time I don't think mortals quite understand just how incredible it is. But you and I certainly seem to favor the miracle that is clean water." The she-demon chuckled to herself. Belle eyed her thumb. Still red. After a moment, she took a drink, and get let it do it's thing. Then, at last, she met his eye. "It seems there is a lot of catching up we need to do. Ready for a long one?" And she grinned from behind her glass.
-
She wasn't the only one who'd taken pains with appearance, as was made evident as the red-haired devil unfolded his arms and reached into his long-coated tuxedo jacket. Mephisto's ensemble (http://www.swanshadow.com/images/ViggoMortensen_SAG2008.jpg) took advantage of his natural coloration and played to it strongly, the addition of a red hurricane lapel pin (https://www.etsy.com/listing/126526812/hurricane-lapel-pin-gift-box-included?ref=sr_gallery_16&ga_search_query=lapel+pin&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_ship_to=US&ga_page=37&ga_search_type=all) rounding out the outfit with the kind of brooding swagger held by one who always sees a storm on the horizon, and welcomes it.
"A pre-programmed feature, or so I'm told." He half-joked back, pulling out a small elongated black jewelry box. The devil noted the discomfort about her, from where she sat to how little she actually looked his way, even in how she lingered over the drink in her hand. Something was clearly eating at her, and it didn't take much to see it plainly. He wondered for a moment at the awkwardness of the situation; something, likely him, was clearly making her uncomfortable... and yet she had accepted his invitation nonetheless and was here, with him, just the two of them in a vehicle. The automatic doors closed and Mephisto pressed a button in the armrest, half muttering "Set destination: The Black Sapphire. Begin driving." And the car obediently turned and pulled out.
"It would be stating the obvious to say you look beautiful." Mephisto began, flirting generously. "In all the time we've known each other you haven't ever not been a sight to behold. The dress is an excellent choice, by the way, and I rather like the way you did your hair."
He then placed the box on the seat in-between them, roughly halfway betwixt him and her. "A little accessory, something I hope you'll like. It's also your free pass to all of the club's goods and services -- you need only show or wear it and you can be neck-deep in free drinks while getting a professional massage and having one of my... 'acquisition specialists' show you the latest in black market weapons tech, all completely on the house."
"And yes... to all of it." He gave her a smirk, as if being clever and admitting how silly it was, then continued. "Clean water, high technology, the 'miracle' of all this progress. And catching up, certainly." He didn't begrudge her the habit, although he did find it quite interesting. If he himself wasn't on the tail end of setting up a business that served alcohol he'd have wondered at her curious action, but the chief bartender he'd hired had explained the drinking scene and its more uncouth elements to him some weeks back. Mephisto leaned into his seat and relaxed a bit. "We have, oh, about thirty minutes before we reach the club. What have you spent these centuries on, Belle? Much has changed, and while I've been thrown head-first into the deep end about..." He paused to think. "Five years back now, I think? I'm not used to counting them so precisely. But you, you've had the chance to wade into these new waters of years going by. What must you have seen, I wonder?"
"What has it been like, being you?"
-
Belle scoffed at Mephistos comments about her appearance, no matter how effectively flattering or not they might have been. Though, she rarely was like this, in fact, she never had been like this. Right now, every praising word, every attempt to flick her switches and press her buttons, her mind and body would welcome them, like the desert welcomed the rain. It was driving her crazy, this almost total lack of control. She took another drink, thinking that it might dumb her mind enough to pull it in. This strange mix of fear and not-quite-realized desire was eating at the edges of her being. "Don't think that I care much for what you think." You're lying. You do care. Belle almost visably tossed her head to the side slightly, trying to brush away her little subconscious.
She eyed the box he had placed between them. With her spare hand, she motioned, and it lifted into the air as she pulled it, evenly, and calmly, towards herself. It stopped at command in front of her, as the she-demon eyed it with curiosity. The lid of the box came off, resting itself parallel to the main body. Inside, a simple silver necklace, adorned on which was, in true style, a Black Sapphire. The necklace floated out of it's container as Belle examined it. "I don't imagine you'll be giving these out too many people. Since Earth went up in smoke, gems and precious metals are quite something to acquire." The box, and lid, and the necklace vanished suddenly. It was in true style. He had lost none of his show, none of that flare he added to everything he worked on. Everything of his working had details fought over and thought about in scrutiny, down to the seats of the chairs, she imagined. The ribbon of silver metal and a black star, appeared around her neck just as it had vanished. "Quite something indeed." It's heat pressed again her skin, and she subdued it. She had his weakness. The silver cut into her.
"What has it been like, being you?"
Shifting in her seat, pulling herself up and crossing her legs, she breathed heavily with a sigh. She took another drink, glass almost empty already. Her nerves were showing in ways she couldn't hide. No, she never felt fear. She never felt nervous. The mention of five years ago very quickly put her on edge even more. Five years ago the down-town slums had been completely obliterated in what is still being referred to as 'a freak accident'. Belle was the only person alive who remembers what happened. And he was it's aftermath. So it is as you thought. "Where to begin..." The words trailed from her lips as she stared in front of her. Lonely. Cold. Isolated. Painful. Insufferable. Miserable. Furious. Only a few words that followed in her mind but none of them would do. "It's been...interesting. I've witnessed every great creation of mortal-kind. Every war, every act of hate. The Witch Hunts, the Black Death, The Renaissance, The Crash, the Revolutions of the world, the whole lot. Overwhelming, I suppose, when I think back on it all. Just me, myself, and I, trying to get on and go with whatever happened next." She finished her drink. "What do you know? Are you really interested at all? You could easily find out about our old world, and everything beyond her. What's your play?" She paused, looking at him, as if she was questioning herself and him, equally. Was this what she hoped for, but never expected? "Or, is that not what this is about?"
-
She seemed far more... distracted than he remembered. Otherwise occupied... and, strangely, vulnerable. It wasn't a word his mind ever would have applied to her before, and even as he thought it he knew it wasn't quite right and batted it away. Something was simmering beneath the surface...
But finding out would come in its own time.
"Yes, no, and perhaps." The devil shrugged. "I'm not really so keen to hear all the facts -- those I can get easily enough from the pages of history. Which are no longer actual pages, but websites, blips of lightning turned into data on a vast, mostly unseen array of machines all talking to one another constantly. But everyone still calls them pages." He rolled his head to one side as if to further express the sheer disorientation of that concept. "Needless to say, I'm still adjusting."
"No... I'm more interested in your impressions. Your thoughts about all of it. When last I lived and breathed humanity was a mere seed in the ground, living in the dirt and the dust, just barely poking the first verdant shoots up above the soil. Now it's a mighty tree whose branches reach into the heavens even after its roots have sucked the earth dry. I know the basics, the gist of the eras and the tides both political and scientific that carried everything else along. I couldn't care less."
He leaned forward. "I want to know how it felt the first time you saw a lightbulb turn on. What it was like riding in a hot air balloon, an early automobile, an airplane. I want to hear whether you think it's worth waxing poetic about cities of electric lights, the horrors of wars that replaced swords and bows with tanks and missiles, how it all led to the first satellite and the first footprint on the moon. I want to hear about your first time going up into space and whether you were afraid, the first time a ship you were on got ready to jump beyond light speed, that something would go wrong and you'd become just a smear of starlight over the skies of some uncharted world."
"I don't give a damn about history, Belle. I want to hear your story."
"There's... more. That I'm interested in, of course," There always was with him, after all. She would know that by now; he'd had far less time to change than she. Mephisto leaned back into his seat, eyes locked with hers, receptive and ready to listen. "But it can wait. You're what's important to me, after all."
-
Belle shook as she leaned forward, exhaling, trying to control her breathing. Taking a moment, she leaned her head back onto the seat, taking another breath, and a smile crept up on her as she stared at the ceiling of the car. Good fucking lord. She chuckled at first, just trying to let off steam, and then she laughed, pure and full, she couldn't help it. Her body wanted to be loud, her energy wanted to be loud. A hand gripped firmly at the fabric. She carried on smiling, partially caught off guard, partially pleased, that twisted feeling from the tattoo on her neck only forced it's presence on her. "I didn't know you cared about things." Her icy eyes turned towards him. "Unless whatever it is that's important about me is something other than me. That suits you more." Her eyes looked away again, gazing into the lights above her. She let out a sigh.
"When I left Earth, it was for the same reasons as anyone else. I was not the first, nor the last. I was escaping, I was running away, like a coward. That war was unlike anything I'd ever seen. Adeolis was taking Earth for all she had. If you weren't with em' you're only choice was to be shot into space." She let out a small, stifled huff of a laugh, heavy with that moment. "I was, like everyone else, terrified, watching Her fall away from me like that. I felt like I had betrayed the only friend I had left." Belle's words drifted off, longing in them, like she almost missed her home, everything it had held for her. "Where I'd lived my whole life. Where I'd made my mark, grabbed my fate by the horns and kicked the piece of shit in the face. Where I had led every woman in a march to claim their Rights, successfully. I fought my battles on that rock." She paused, and she slowed. "And it was where I'd met you, and where you'd died." There was a weight in those words that would carry with him. What his death had left her with. "The first time I had a shower." She laughed, again. "I still haven't gotten over it. If I weren't so bent and broken, I might have ended world poverty single-handed, just so every soul on the planet at the time could experience the joy of a shower."
The thoughtful and reflecting woman caught herself, and slowed down. "My story is wholly unremarkable, Mephisto. I lived, I floated, I continued on as best I could through this crazy, ever-expanding world. My hate, as you remember it, is gone. I still hate, as I always will. That's why I'm a bounty hunter. I couldn't just kill people anymore. CCTV, advancements in DNA tracking and general CSI. With Thanatos INC floating about somewhere, I couldn't risk it. Nowadays, I just try to scrape by, eat when I can, sleep where I can, have a good time of it if I can. Take what I can, do what I can. Anything to even slightly feel alive." Belle leaned up, if only to take another drink. "I've been recreational more than anyone who'd ever lived. It's a miracle I'm still breathing, that my blood isn't just a slew of chemicals that shouldn't be there at all."
She smirked, weary with thinking back. If she had died in her due time, she'd be nothing but dirt back on earth. A forgotten maiden, whose terrors would have never been told. For a moment, she caught Mephistos eyes from across that seat and longed for that pain to stop. That, if she hadn't done what she had done, they would never make it to their destination. But she was afraid. Of what he would think, and what he could do to her with the power, rightfully his, hidden behind a cage of bone. "My life, as you want to hear, my history, is just a string of murder and death, of drugs and loud music, alcohol and completely unsatisfying sex. You know how it goes."
-
He'd looked genuinely hurt by the twin barb she'd thrown his way, the comments about him caring about things and how it had to be something else occupying her priorities... yet he didn't say anything. If the time they'd known each other for had taught him anything it was the value of careful listening, to her in particular... a lesson, whether mastered or not, that he had never truly forgotten.
And listen he did.
The sense of loss as she talked about Earth, of strength and well-earned pride at her achievements and defiance of fate. He didn't fail to notice her mention of his death either... or the tone of paticular importance she stressed it with. Mephisto smiled with her as she talked about the glories of warm water showered down against her skin and the enthusiasm she held for that one activity in particular. And then she went and called her story 'unremarkable'... and he couldn't help but frown, even more-so at the mention of the accursed company Thanatos.
"Yes..." He spoke after a long pause, the silence ringing in his ears. "I suppose I do. But," And at this he leaned forward, eyes like daggers and staring at her with an intensity and seriousness that he seldom used, especially with her. " 'Unremarkable' has never described you, Belle. Not once. I wandered the world for thousands of years after breaking free and in all that time I'd never, not once, encountered anyone or anything like you. And whatever curiosities and developments this modern age has contrived, whatever strange and surreal things are to be found in these new societies or out at the edge of our stars, I cannot for the life of me imagine any person, any being, ever being..."
"... as utterly remarkable as you."
There was a ping; the car pulled curb-side and announced the destination. Mephisto hadn't even noticed the transit, in truth. He knew much of the route they'd taken, that in fact it took them through areas partially exposed to space where the car's anti-grav pulse engine took over for the wheels, but for the life of him he'd not once noticed the transition or even the glimmer of stars outside the vehicle's ample windows.
"Well... here we are."
The door opened on command and he stepped out, offering her his hand. While the street (http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2010/164/3/8/sci_fi_city_by_duq.jpg) in front of the club was fairly standard and nondescript, the entrance before them was another story. Flanked by two heavily armed and armored bouncers, a polished jet-black door that looked like a single massive gemstone faded and spiralled away at their approach -- a mere hologram and forcefield combination, artfully done -- to reveal an artful and somewhat disorienting passage (http://www.thecoolhunter.net/images/fanti.jpg) leading inwards.
Beyond that, the thrum of heavy dance music could be heard mutedly, while outside a line to get in was quickly forming, bystanders and anticipants gawking as the doorway parted for the devils' approach. Within was a den of sin and perdition like so many others, running with liquor and dancefloor lights... yet unlike many others, especially on Cancer.
"Shall we?"
-
His words left her at a loss to her own, frozen. Those crimson eyes would have seen into her soul, if she had one of her own. She downed he second drink faster than the first, pressing her fingers to her temples, almost certain that given enough time she would wake up, shaking and cold somewhere, but no matter how hard she pressed against her forehead, that shocking awakening never came, so she could only assume there was nothing to wake up to. "I don't know what all those years not-existing did to you..." The blue-eyed demoness mused to herself, with some sense of awed shock. If she could have, she would have accepted his hand. That wasn't the case, however, not that it was really in her nature to accept acts of 'Chivalry'. "But people don't normally say that about a murderer, junkie, and a whore." Belle finished, looking almost honestly at him, standing up, only hoping that her legs would hold her. She wasn't entirely sure if she still had the control over her body she was used to.
Examining that expansive hallway, the beating and vibrating of bass through her body was a familiar and alluring sensation. The line of people would turn their heads towards her, she had that air of unbridled authority to anyone who hadn't seen her at her peak. Right now, she wasn't doing to well, and it hadn't taken Mephisto too long to notice. Some of them would recognize her face, either from the Local Universal New Stations, or because they had done some sort of dealings with her in the past. Any one who recognized her as the gun-toting bounty hunter would probably be taken far aback by her current appearance. No more rugged or wild than any other person.
She nodded slightly, and although she was weary about their contact, though far from not wanting it, she saw no harm in taking his arm instead. For once, possibly, she would try and avoid skin contact until either she permitted and understood the consequences, or slipped up. On one hand, if her little trick had worked, and his soul had worked as a suitable substitute for the one she never had, she'd probably never see him again. But now, well, she couldn't do anything she wanted to do, and allowing herself to do that might kill her, or leave anything that they could have been in the dust. So, she wrapped her arm around his. "I don't see why not." She leaned up to him, not too much, granted her extra few inches of height. After all, she had to at least somewhat keep up her past impressions on him, even if it meant lying through her teeth.
"If you really mean all that, then you might find yourself a lucky man before too long. No promises though."
-
"Aren't I already?" The playful words fell from his lips after she'd taken his arm in her grasp. For this moment in time it was almost like they were in an entirely different world living as two different people, all the strife and contention of their past interactions less an unpleasant memory and more a distant haze somewhere far, far away. They strode in together, the envy of every onlooker; not only were they getting in before anyone else, not only were they by far the most prestigious pair at this particular event, but they were also easily the envy of every couple who'd come decked out to the club's grand opening.
He was lucky. Not just to be alive again. Not just to be living in this era. Not just for business to be going as well as it was after so short a time. But to have encountered her, once again, and on the eve of such an auspicious occasion at that -- that was what truly made Mephisto a lucky man. Out of all the stars in the galaxy, theirs had aligned not once.
But twice.
The inside of the club, whilst yet unoccupied by its intended audience, was still quite a spectacle. Music rumbled and thrummed with electric lights and fanciful holograms matching it beat for tumultuous beat. Fancy chairs and tables flanked a large and expansive dance floor, over which -- set squarely into the second-floor balconies -- hung suspended by anti-grav tech a fanciful glass swimming pool in the shape of a flawlessly cut diamond. Additional lighting on the second floor streamed down through its multiple facets in softer, more dispersed beams and shimmers, giving the dance floor itself a slight sense of being "underwater".
"I decided against a disco ball," Mephisto explained, gesturing to it. "Even though this basically shot my insurance premiums through the roof, initially. Fortunately the manufacturing processes available in this age are truly something -- they can coat even this much glass in nigh-on invisible layers of composites and metamaterials such that the final product is practically bullet proof."
To one side of the dance floor was the main bar, set with a vast wall of vari-colored bottles in all manner of varieties and shapes. The trio of bartenders looked up as their boss entered, giving a respectful nod and smile as they shined glasses and polished countertops. To the far side of the room were twin staircases going up, where even more tables and chairs awaited along with a diving board for the pool and doors leading off into various other parts of the club.
"So, what do you think? How does the Black Sapphire compare to other clubs you've been in, hm?"
-
"If you're happy to settle for less than you could get, sure." Belle fought back his reply with a simple shrug, equally as playful, but for now, at least, her words, and her teasing and flirting, was all in vain. She would have to sit him down before this night was over and tell him, truly, what had happened between them. That he had played her game, and she had gotten too close to him too late. His death was on her hands, even if she didn't exactly drive that cursed dagger herself. She didn't want him to know, given all that might happen, but she had no choice in the matter. It was that, or abandon him completely again. She couldn't speak for him, but she, at least, would never be able to get passed him. She had lived with the memories for thousands of years, and nothing helped.
While walking along together, like this, certainly hadn't spark any ill-meaning spark of power-exchange, it certainly left Belle with an increasing sense of pain in her chest, it was starting to leave her breathless in all the wrong ways.There was no choice but to hide it, for now, if it meant being able to at least catch up in the next few hours what they had missed in all the years before. "Well, I've never seen a club switch out for a pool, that's for sure. Before you know it, boom, voyeuristic hotspot." She laughed. "But no, I...I'm impressed." Belle cast eyes up towards the glittering light coming through the pool. "It's actually quite beautiful. I haven't been in a good pool for ages. My life has me flying all over the Universe just so I can eat, I don't stop often enough to do things like that. No doubt, these places are an old hunting ground of mine before it became impractical, but the lifestyle wore off on me." She let go of him, unwillingly, but she needed to breathe.
Wandering around the edge of the dance floor, she ran her hand over every piece of furniture on it's border, new, unused. It still smelt new, everything was clean, positioned perfectly. There was no doubt in her mind that Mephisto would make sure to go out of his way to make sure it stayed that way. She leaned against one of the pillars holding the second floor. "How long has this been in the works then? Projects like this don't just happen over night. I'm stunned by my own ignorance, all the same. A place like this, with it's glamour and it's high hopes, I truly am surprised I didn't hear about it." Her eyes were drawn to the water dancing in the pool. "I suppose you don't bunk yourself too far away, either?" She didn't want to use the word 'live', in this regard. It was likely that, like her, he didn't think hugely of whatever place others might call his home.
"That's another name on the list of places I need to see sooner rather than later." Belle chuckled, and nodded her head towards the bar. "It's not too early for a drink is it? All of this, you, me, not dead and all need some help settling in."
-
He couldn't help but laugh with her at the 'voyeuristic hotspot' comment -- it was a bit of a gamble, really, but people came to places like this to throw caution to the wind a bit. If there was trouble it'd be dealt with in due time. Mephisto watched as she admired the place, ran her hands gracefully over the chairs and tables.
"It's a project I've kept somewhat on the... how do they say it in this age, the 'down low'?" The keenly dressed devil explained. "It's easier than you'd think to build something covertly on Cancer. In fact, it happens all the time, or so I'm told. It's just usually hideouts for smugglers, hackers, forgers -- concealed workshops and boltholes, typically. The club was, as you can imagine, a bit more of a grand undertaking than such builders were used to. However..."
"When you're constantly creating things that few if any ever see, even when the money's good there's a certain... affirmation that's lacking. Getting to showcase their talents proved to be quite the motivation for the people I ended up contracting with. This isn't just a grand opening; it's a grand unveiling."
"And no, never too early for a drink." He gave the bartender a nod as one of the employees, sharply dressed in an all-black suit, approached him with a computer tablet in hand. Mephisto looked it over briefly, smiled at the contents, and then waved the man off. "Seems my business from earlier, the one with our..." He gave Belle a wry grin. " 'Mutual acquaintance' has resolved nicely. My apologies -- the Black Sapphire tries to keep to a 'party in the front, business in the back' ethos, but running everything forces me to blend them a bit at times."
"As for where I... reside, you're exactly right." He stepped a bit closer to her, a secretive look in his eyes. "It's a private room -- not everything about the Black Sapphire was made for show, after all. I'll show it to you later, if you like. For now," Mephisto strode up to the bar, giving the nearest barkeep a look and a nod.
"Now, we drink. To the future and past. To all that's been lost and all that's been found. And I have exactly the vintage."
The bartender was gone for a few minutes, coming back out with a shock-proof suitcase which he laid on the bar along with a pair of elegant fluted drinking glasses lightly laden with ice. Mephisto unlocked the case with a ten digit combination and it hissed, releasing airlocks and spilling cooled mist from the edges. Inside was a single bottle, flawlessly preserved, of Serenian wine.
"An archeological team found half a dozen of these in the remains of a wine cellar in Jadenshine," Mephisto explained, gingerly extracting the bottle from its form-fitted cradle. "Clutched in the grasp of a skeleton, locked in a block of ice that was clearly magical in nature. The bottles and their contents passed these last five thousand years without incident -- the mage-apparent who was so desperate to preserve this vintage from some ages-forgotten threat... not so much."
He popped the cork and a soft vineyard aroma began to slowly waft from the bottle. With a steady hand he poured, half-filling each glass, then recorked it and set it back into its case before offering her one glass and raising the other himself. "To you, my lady. And to the Black Sapphire, the gem of corruption. May both be prosperous, respected, and well-courted."
-
She strode over to the bar, not far behind him, taking the chance to sit on one of the stools. It didn't take much to envision this place full of people, of energy. Even now she was looking around at all the little details, as she had imagined it would be like. Everything thought over, nothing left out, nothing slap-dashed. Certainly she'd never been to any kind of grand opening, as it were. Always too busy to take notice of dates, and of places. Too busy trying to pay for fuel, both hers and the Black Scarabs. Nothing else suited her. What else in this world would she do if not track, kill, or apprehend for money? She leaned against the counter, rubbing the back of her neck, both the burning of the silver and that twisting, sour feeling emanating through her body from that black cross irritating her in two vastly different ways, two vastly different pains.
Slowly, she realized, she was digging herself a hole. Of course she would want him to take her to his 'private room'. He wouldn't need anything to know it, she wouldn't need to tell him. But what would happen then? Just decline? Set him up all night, tease him, flirt with him, to a point where he would know, without a doubt, exactly what she wanted, and then turn him down? The frustration was becoming obvious in her body. She couldn't hold a thought down, her brain danced all over the place. "It suits you." Belle said, finally, taking a breath and steadying her thoughts, waiting for whatever drink he had stored away. "This little occupation." Pressing her hands against the counter of the bar, she leaned back, almost trying to will away every distracting sensation in her body with force. It didn't work. "There have been many eras that would have suited you well. It's almost a shame you never got to see them. Reading about them, know about them...it's not the same as experiencing them." Their drink arrived, along with it's unusual tale.
Taking her glass, she raised it to his equally with a nod. "Of course." She took in it's smell curiously. Certainly it reminded her of Earth, back along, and Jadenshire, too. It didn't help her any, mention of Jadenshire only brought back memories of their first meeting. "Almost seems like you've been saving this for me?" Belle joked, taking a sip before twirling the glass and the liquid inside. "What else have you been saving for me?"She grinned playfully, not helping herself at all, but she had to play up to how she would be usually, how he would remember her, if she was going to keep control of the situation in any slight. "I must admit though...I'm curious as to how you managed to pull this all together within 5 years. I assume you came back into this world completely empty handed? No money, no acquaintances or ties, no hope of knowing where you were, or what was going on...nothing."
-
"Not an insurmountable challenge, by any stretch." He shrugged. "You know my talents. Though not everything has come back to me yet," He sipped at the drink, slowly, as if imbibing some personal past glory long forgotten. "I have enough to... facilitate some lucrative connections. Cancer isn't just a place for those with nowhere else to go; I'm sure I hardly need to tell you the sheer amount of business that goes on in a... free environment such as this."
He motioned the bartenders away for a bit of privacy, then added. "I wasn't sure what to think when I... when I 'woke up', for lack of a better term. At first it was mostly just the shock of being alive again that I had to overcome. There was, of course, a lot of changes to get used to; I quickly placed myself in the company of those who could be of use to me and used my powers to make myself invaluable to them. They were in the smuggling and arms-dealing business; I helped them find the most agreeable people to bribe and rooted out those who were thinking of turning on the group. Which at one point, conveniently, included the leader of the operation. So sad. But business went well and I was rewarded for my part." He chuckled. "That's the polite way to put it, anyway -- it'd be more accurate to say that I took a low-grade gang of hooligans who fancied themselves renegades and fashioned them into a small syndicate that is, even now, turning a pleasant profit. I've stepped back, though -- I just do consulting work with them now." He grinned wryly at her, knowing full well she grasped his meaning.
"They thought it strange, of course, that I had no idea how a computer worked. Or a number of other things, for that matter. I fed them a line about having lost my memory but being able to 'see' what people's intentions were. They took me for a gifted psychic and I never gave them reason to assume otherwise. The rest was child's play."
Mephisto sipped his wine again. "I would have liked to experience those ages with you, Belle; few things would have pleased me more truly. And, truth be, the thought had crossed my mind -- saving it for you, I mean." The old devil smiled. "I suppose I just didn't think I'd be opening it this soon. It's a big galaxy, after all. And the wine only 'fell off a cargo freighter' a few weeks ago. Can't deny it's a pleasant coincidence, though."
"As for what else I have in store," Mephisto leaned towards her. "The club will be open in a few minutes. Mix, mingle, relax and enjoy everything it has to offer. I have... a special performance I'd like to do for you, but I won't give away anymore than that," He tapped the side of his head. "So no peeking."
The devil finished his glass and stood, sliding the case and its impossibly precious wine over to her, then whispered to her "A drink, on the house." He paused, eyes glancing at the back of her neck. "Interesting tattoos you have there. Hmmm..."
"I only remember there being one."
And with that, before she could respond, he strode to the center of the room and clapped his hands three times, drawing the attention of every employee within earshot. "It's time, people! You all know your jobs -- I want this place to be a spectacle of sin and a palace of perdition. Warm up the pool water and put something good and fun on -- the Black Sapphire opens in one minute and APPEARANCES COUNT! Frelsea, make sure nobody gets a VIP card who isn't supposed to. Mark, Shaen, security details sharp as the head of a pin. Getu, you're to oversee passing out free mid-cost drinks to the VIPs and notable groups every hour, on the hour, until the night's over. Jalsii," He looked up, through a gap between the pool and the balcony, where a team of what seemed to be massage and 'personal care' specialists were listening attentively. Mephisto smiled. "Have your people work their magic. Everyone goes home happy tonight, and all of you will go home with a nice bonus."
He spread his arms wide, clearly relishing the drama of the moment. "Bring the Black Sapphire to life with polish and glory!" Grinning, he spun, paused, and snapped his fingers. The inner doors to the club, which had closed automatically behind him and Belle, slid open the moment that snap echoed through the room.
Footsteps and voices echoed down the hall.
And the night began.
S C E N E M U S I C
A Little Party Never Killed Nobody (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=phmz9uRG4E8)
-
"Interesting tattoos you have there. Hmmm..."
"I only remember there being one."
Belle completely froze up, and just stared into his crimson eyes. Everything muffled, every sound muted like she was underwater as she pulled her eyes away from where he had sat, her hand clawed at her glass so much that it threatened to shatter. Her heart rate sped up, she started shaking, and a feeling of sickness came over her, bracing herself against the bar, breath coming short. Trying to get up, her body disobeyed her, unable to stand, being washed in a sea of dizziness. "Shit.." Not knowing what was happening, she downed the rest of the drink in her glass, keeping her head and body low. It felt like her death was creeping up on her, a cold chill running over her shoulders. Turning to look over her shoulder at the Devil she had once known so well, there was panic in her eyes. It meant nothing. He'd only noticed the inevitable, after all. He had no idea what they meant.
Tonight had begun for some, but Belle could feel it slipping from her hands. Lifting her head up, she closed her eyes and breathed out, or she tried to, but just ended up choking on nothing, her lungs protesting. What the fuck is it now, get yourself together. "I need to breathe." Was all she could say. Getting up with a furious, panicked intent, both hands against the bar, as she turned to face outwards, towards the openness of the club, she needed space. She had to, had to, get away from him, before he killed her, she killed him, or she killed herself, simply because she was loosing control.
And she did loose control. Mephisto would feel it, if just for a few moments, a breaking, snapping sensation to all with the ability to sense minds. Her seal against him had broken, and a torrent of mixed up, messed up thoughts came roaring through her silence.
This was such a GOOD IDEA. Lousy whore. If you'd had a bad feeling about this why'd you fucking do it, you stupid bitch? Because you couldn't help it? Shitty excuse of the year goes to? When did you start letting your heart rule that thick head of yours? If you'd just listened, you wouldn't be in this mess, you can hardly control yourself! Why couldn't he have just stayed dead, then at least you'd suffer alone, it's the least you deserve for what you did. Belle visibly stumbled back, a pained expression on her face, Mephisto would feel everything as it poured over everything in those few moments of lost control, all the hate, all the twisted pain, and furious, near on uncontrollable, desire that she couldn't act on, and the curious separation between her...and a soul that didn't register as hers. So what if he kills you, he'd be well within his rights after-
The noise stopped, Mephisto left back with whatever noise he had before, suddenly, as Belle found some footing and sealed herself away again, bringing in her thoughts. She opened her eyes, her vision hazy still. In that moment, her face looked full of the 5000 years of tire she had carried around with her. Still shaking and cold, she sat back down, heavy and tired, and poured herself another drink, no expenses spared. This was going so wrong, and she wasn't sure how much longer she would be able to cope with all of this. It most certainly hadn't been a good idea, rushing off back to her antics with him so soon after meeting again, she hadn't even thought about just what this would all mean. Her hearing came back to her slowly, the music drowned her thoughts. She took a drink and just stared out.
What was a girl to do.
-
Mephisto's shocked expression in that moment, that instant where an impossible connection bridged his mind and hers, was almost beyond description. His expression paled and pupils dialated to such an extent that the red color was nearly extinguished. Where a moment ago he'd been the suave businessman commanding the world now, for a moment in time that seemed much, much too long, he was buffeted by an unseen tempest. He didn't just hear her thoughts -- his had always been the gift to sense people's feeling, their emotions, and when, for the first time ever, hers were laid bare before him...
It was a red-hot knife to his chest... a metaphor he understood far too well.
Slowly, forcing himself to regain his calm and composure, he walked over to her. His 'guests' were beginning to stream into the club now but he paid them no heed -- indeed, one look at the pallid expression on his and her face was largely all it took to dissuade them from attempting conversation. Still, by the time he was standing next to her, looking at her face with a worried but otherwise bizarrely calm expression, he had seemingly recovered, or at least enough to look like he had.
"Please come with me. I think we need... to talk. Privately."
Letting her choose how far behind to follow him, Mephisto set out across the rapidly filling club, glancing over his shoulder occasionally to see if she was alright. His path led them up the stairs, past the pool, and past an automatic door labeled 'STAFF ONLY'. The club's storage room, judging by all the cases and crates stacked all over the place, but he didn't stop there. Mephisto walked up to what seemed a bare section of wall and placed his hand on it; a few electronic beeps issued from an unseen device and the wall melted away...
... revealing a room, comfortably furnished, with a few dominant features that strongly suggested it to be the devil's private chamber. A large four-poster bed of black faux-wood hung with smoke gray curtains occupied the far wall, set with elaborate matching black nightstands. The floor was carpeted with deep red, holographic "windows" showcasing the night sky; a large old-fashioned liquor cabinet stood sentinel over the whole scene, directly opposite a door leading off to aside room, most likely a bathroom. There was other standard features and furniture, certainly -- a large plush couch, chairs, a small table and desk, it was almost an entire house in one room -- but the single most striking thing...
... was a baby grand piano (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y142/SpecterTH/RotE/tumblr_mzqekwgaAI1rkieexo1_500_zps68596298.jpg), sitting squarely and proudly in the center of the room.
"Please, Belle, sit and rest a bit." He gestured to the couch.
-
The door shut behind her, and Belle pressed herself against it. For the first time in her life she felt exposed, trapped, and cornered. This had taken a turn very quickly, and she didn't have to peer into his mind, as he had asked her not to do, to know that he had heard her, and well. Her eyes shared the same qualities as his, dilated, colour almost completely gone as she felt a kneading, twisting sensation, in the pit of her stomach. She was almost completely short of breath for seemingly no reason. She was even more uncomfortable here than she had been out there. Out there, she could have left, escaped, never looked back but she hadn't. Endlessly, hopelessly, she was drawn to him, even now when he terrified her. No doubt that at this point, Belle would wipe the floor with him in a fight, but her willingness to do so was something else altogether.
Even when he invited her to rest, she stayed put, her body trembling with all sorts of emotions she rarely felt, every compulsion she fought against, as her shoulders rose and fell heavily taking in whatever air they could. Her cold, hungry stare said no and yes to everything as she could hardly focus. "I...I can't. I have to go." Please. Her eyes just begged, but they contradicted it. Her voice traveled with a hint of shakiness. She didn't want to go, she never wanted to go, but she needed to get away. "Why did you bring me here? What's to talk about?" There was certain panic in her voice, and she knew. She was risking too much. Risking everything. If she had truly wanted to go, she could have, to that room of hers residing in between nowhere and everywhere, but she lacked confidence in herself to make the trip. For one, she could hardly stand up in her state.
There was that familiar silence, and she accepted his offer in the end, slowly, uncertainly, making her way to the couch he offered. This place, the way it was set up, reminded her of some of the time they had spent together at her 'home'. Except this had her on edge. It tortured her. He tortured her. She sat down, bringing her legs up, but it only helped her vision, everything else bombarded her senses further. Everything smelt of him, and he was just there, within her reach but she couldn't. She didn't know what would happen, only that something would. Her eyes darted away but even then she couldn't bare to look around. Everything held a promise to her. She took a breath, deep and long, before she let it go, resting her head back, looking to the ceiling.
"I should never have come here." Belle's voice came quiet, almost defeated. "I couldn't help but accept your offer even if I knew I would get like this." She was exhausted, and she looked and sounded exhausted. Fighting with herself was the most tiring thing she'd ever done, and she was loosing. Nothing was calming her down. She was sick of fighting it, sick of forcing herself to try and ignore her own body, crying out for everything. Being alone with him just made it worse. Every base note in his voice made her shiver, the light made her longing louder, the feeling of her weight against soft fabric called to her body. Fight it all she would, she was human still, somewhere deep down in that wretched excuse of an existence. Her eyes fogged with red, and not her iris, as she stared, painful and desperate. "I can't keep this up. I can't rest, I can't focus. Just...Mephisto, I-" PLEASE.
She was pulled down into her own oblivion, drowning, hopelessly.
"I can't."
-
He looked upon her, disbelief glimmering in his otherwise calm and focused gaze. He had never seen her like this, not once in all their years together. Before he had balked at the glimpse of vulnerability he'd seen in her, refused even to believe it was there. Now there was no mistake. She could have run. She didn't even have to leave the room -- she could make the room leave her, in any number of ways. Wink out of existence here and re-emerge in her hidden sanctum. Exact her will upon his mind and make him obey. Batter down the wall with her bare hands. And yet...
... and yet there she lay, no rest in those tormented eyes, those eyes that pleaded with him, pleaded for something he wasn't sure either of them could fully understand. His embrace? His absence? Presence? Vengence?
It was killing her. Whatever was affecting her was worse in this room, he could see that. And yet he didn't move to relieve her, to open the door.
This was something he had to do, even if she hated him for it. Because it was the only way they could both move forward. The only way...
... that he could tell her everything.
"I know."
The words lingered between them, laden with meaning. He walked over and poured her a glass of water, cold and crisp, and placed it within her reach without getting too close himself. He could at least do her that courtesy.
"I brought you here because there's something I want to tell you. For us, waiting five years to say something isn't the burden it is for ordinary people..." There was sympathy in his voice and gaze, but also the sense of something burning, something about to be let out. Like a flood. Like a wildfire. Something he had contained but could not for much longer.
"I mentioned a performance earlier. We'll have to do it this way; I was planning to make a bit of a speech for the crowds, explain the history of the fictitious version of that man's life a bit, give some absurd tale about archeologists finding the sheet music -- but there's no point in pretense. Not here. Not now." His gaze fixed on Belle. "You're fighting yourself right now. Because of me. At odds because of things you can't get out of your mind. I know it's painful, Belle. And I don't want to torment you."
"But the only way we're going to move forward now is by understanding each other. We can spend the next ten thousand years running from this moment, or however long you'd like -- we can flee each other and the hold each of us has on the other until the heat death of the universe, but I've been dead, and it doesn't solve anything. We have this chance, here and now." He paused, seeming to collect himself.
"I won't ask you to give up anything more than a bit more of your time. Just enough for one song." Mephisto turned to the piano, eyeing it like a venomous cobra that he was about to attempt to grasp by the tail. His right hand twitched. "After that, I'll have one of my staff take you home -- or anywhere you like -- if that's what you want. Just... bear with me, please."
Taking a deep breath, he slowly approached the elegant instrument, tossed his coattails back, and sat down.
Fingers tentatively brushed the keys.
He willed his breathing to steady.
This moment, this song, this confession had been playing in the back of his mind since he'd heard her voice, and weaving into and out of his thoughts ever since death spat him back out.
Now it was here.
He hated it. He hated himself for doing it.
But it was a force like gravity that drove him... and slowly, it began.
M E P H I S T O 's N O C T U R N E (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gv4N4T1kfmo)
And here in the night
As I feel the inferno
I stare in the dark
Thinking what is eternal?
The man or the moment?
The act or the reason?
These thoughts fill my head
As I contemplate treason
Of dreams I have had
And dreams I have pondered
When late in the night
My mind it would wander
To things I have done
And then quickly regretted
While denying vices
My life had selected
And I think what I've done
Or have yet to begin
And the man I've become
And the man that I've been
Now caught in a waltz
With the eternal dancer
I'm courted by death
But death isn't the answer
I say!
All I was
Meant to be
Could I
Suddenly
Just decide
Not a thought
Would survive
Could it be
My life's worth
Ended there
With my birth...?
If I could see someone
Who's been there before me
And traded his soul
For a moment of glory
His penance or mercy
By spirit's debated
While judged on a scale
That's been heavily weighted
And what have I done?
Could there be such a sin?
In this man I've become
In this man that I've been
Now calling to god
From the pit's very bottom!
I pray he forgives
Every sin I've forgotten
This day...
And who would have thought
That my fate it would conjure
This twist in the road
On which I have wandered?
Each vision and dream now
Completely dismembered
To give one's whole life
And find nothing's remembered
And what good's a life
That leaves nothing behind?
Not a thought or a dream
That might echo in time?
The years and the hours
The seconds and minutes
And everything that
My life has placed in it
Betraaaaaayed!
Betraaaaaayed!
Betraaaaaayed!
The things I have done!
The places I've been!
The cost of my dreams!
The weight of my sins!
And everything that
I've gathered in life
Could it be lost
Could it be lost in this
Could it be lost in this
Niiiiiiiiiiight...?
That final word, and the breath that carried it, seemed to drag away so much of his remaining strength that the demonic man found himself leaning into the piano, his forehead pressed against its polished black surface. And yet, in the still that followed the last note, his ragged breath at great length gave way to a horse, whispered voice that could only just barely be heard.
"I know everything, Belle. Or at least, I know enough. The dagger. The Grand Duke's forces sent to dispatch me. How they knew my nature, my weakness. I didn't see it before because I chose not to. Now I see..."
"...and I don't care. I don't give a damn that you betrayed me, that you used me for your own ends. Once I might have blamed you for that. Now I can't. I won't. I refuse."
Sweat, cold and deathly, dripped from his forehead onto the keys. In a way he was paralyzed, unwilling and perhaps unable to look over and see what his performance had wrought in her eyes. Did she hate him? Loathe him? Was she sickened by him? Laughing at the weak-willed obsessed man who couldn't even bring himself to properly despise the woman who'd had him murdered in cold blood? Was he an abject disgrace to her?
"And I know that there's no way I could be here now if my soul had been destroyed in my death, or evaporated in the passing of time. A lesson some old bastard once taught me." She'd know who he meant -- Faustus, her father, and his obsessive studies of the soul were something both of them understood unpleasantly well. "Yet I can't even feel it. I know it's out there. I even know where. The one place that I could never find it. My one true blind spot."
With a monumental effort he brought his hand up and smashed the open palm back down on the piano, making a sound that would jar them both fiercely. "But I won't take it from you, Belle! I refuse that, too. You lived most of your life without a soul, guided only by the purpose you'd given yourself. I can at least attempt the same, damn it all! I can go on without it! I will!"
"I just... I want to know why you weren't there. When I died. I wanted the last thing I saw to be your face, even if all I saw there was hatred for me. I don't care that I died, or that you were behind it. I don't care that my soul is gone. I only care about one thing in this whole damn galaxy."
". . . You."
-
L O V E I S B L I N D N E S S (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZWir6wUkPtw&list=FLaCDfxghOB66dzLPZ-K_4NQ)
Jack White
Belle forced herself to get up, furious almost, but impossibly tired. Either way, she pressed towards him, throwing her caution to the wind. She grabbed him violently, and turned him to face her, pressing him into the piano, taking a hold of his coat, pushing him down. "So if I told you that letting me keep your soul meant you and I could never touch, never kiss, never punch each other in the face, you would say the same? If I told you that this tortured thing was the source of all my pain, in it's sheer defiance, would you refuse it? Because it wouldn't refuse you. Just being close to you makes me feel like it would break my ribs just to get out." Her rage came differently, it was more desperation than it was hate, more a tortured longing to be set free of her mistake.
"I was never supposed to HAVE a soul. All my searching, even in Faustus' best methods, none of it worked. The soul I took from you isn't mine, it's yours, and there is nothing you or I can do to change that! You always disappoint me. I KILLED YOU, SO HATE ME." Her curled fists, pulling at his coat, pressed down onto his chest. Her eyes burned, there was no other word to describe them. "Then maybe I could hate you, because that's how it's supposed to be!"
She collapsed on top of him, her head buried in his chest, shaking, as her grip on his coat weakened. Mephisto would almost be able to feel the pushing pressure in her own chest, his soul trying to get through, get back to him, and only imagine the pain. "You were never supposed to care, I was never supposed to care. So why did it end up like this?! Why tell me, what am I supposed to think, I can barely concentrate! I want you so badly, but I don't know if giving you back your soul would kill me or not." It was his choice now. “Either we get each other, or I get your soul. We can't have both!”
"I know what I want, and those 'tattoo's' let me know a long fucking time ago that I didn't have a choice in that. I am bound to you, forever, as long as we both have the means to live, I will never, ever escape you. You will torture me no matter what happens. I've spent 5000 years living with it, every lonely night and day knowing if I'd just listened to myself, I'd have never lost you." She paused, trailing off as she spoke into some realm of emotion she didn't have. Her eyes peered into his.
"I was there when you died. But I cared too much to watch what I had done to you."
-
(OOC: So the Internet mysteriously came back on its own sometime after I left for work today. Sometimes I'd swear technology just enjoys messing with us from time to time... >_< )
She was right, he realized. What they were, what they wanted, all of it was impossible. Was 'the devil' even supposed to have a soul in the first place? How had he come to be so utterly fixated on her, so immersed in the very idea and thought of her, that he didn't even care what happened to himself in turn? She was supposed to hate him -- she was the manslayer. He was supposed to hate her -- she had destroyed his ambitions and killed him. And yet he wasn't sure he could lift a finger to harm her even if he tried, and not one part of him wanted to try.
Nothing was right. All of it was so, so very wrong. Maybe that was part of what made it all so inescapable. 'The devil' wasn't supposed to fall in love.
But he had. And some part of him believed, wanted desperately to believe that some way, some how, she loved him back.
Because she had been there. Because she cared.
Hands finding her shoulders, he locked eyes with the demoness. For a moment he said nothing, just let himself drown in the icy pools of her gaze. "Yes, that is how it's supposed to be. But... neither of us is very good at 'supposed to be', are we?"
He knew he had to make a choice, and that no matter what he chose it would involve hurting her. That was unavoidable now. But he could help to minimize the pain, use what power he had to make sure both that what had to be done didn't kill her and wasn't the unbridled agony he feared it would be.
"This is going to hurt." His crimson eyes began to glow white. At the same time his hands began to radiate a dark light, glowing with an unnatural aura like that of embers that refuse to fade. He had done something like this before, with a halberd through his chest nonetheless, but this time would be less desperate, more measured and calculated.
Without a moment's more hesitation, the demonic man leaned up and sealed his lips over hers. The moment that the romantic contact began to draw his soul up out of her his power, rich and dark and full of every intoxicating feeling he could conjure into it, would be offered up to flow into her. Anesthesia, after a fashion, and with it whatever else she would need -- life energy, and unfettered access to his mind for however much more she required. She wasn't dying tonight, not if he could do anything about it. The devil even tried to will his soul into a slower, less dangerous transition... he wouldn't be sure of any success until it was over, though. But while the contact remained he embraced her passionately, sensuously, with the tenderness of a lover and the urgency of a surgeon.
She couldn't die, but living in torment wasn't living either. He'd do everything in his power to sustain her, the circut of energies between them flowing without restriction. As the wayward soul was drawn to its natural host the power it lent him was turned back around and given freely to her. Nothing held back, not one drop of energy less than she would ask of him.
In his mind, now echoing within hers, she would feel his words to her. 'No giving up, my dread lady. For either of us.'
'I still have to prove you wrong, after all.'
-
The heat of his lips against hers, his body against hers, broke her will without hope of pulling herself back. For the first few moments, the desperate she demon kissed him in return, her body moved against him by impulse, hungry for everything he could give her, everything that his kiss and embrace promised. Her voice broke from behind their lips, both her voice and body no longer obeying her, driven by the sheer force of her held back desire. In that moment she forgot about the pain, slowly building inside of her.
Belle would have been content to be carried away by Mephisto's desire, let the night growing between them overwhelm her completely. Those feelings he was giving her made her dizzy. More and more desperate, but that sharp, stinging pain came fast, her body tensed, her breathing became erratic, but she would not part her lips from his. As long as she could feel him, she might be alive.
Through all of it, every powerful emotion Mephisto fed her, that pain was strong, almost unbearable. It was like pulling a bullet. There was no room in her being for a soul, so it had wounded her essence in order to fit, and pulling it from her threatened to bleed her dry. Her hands came up to either side of his face, pressing him to her, shaking, trembling with the pain and her overbearing desire. She did not know if she would die here, giving back to him something she should have never taken. In return he had stolen her heart, and she would never get it back. Nails clawed at the soft skin at his neck.
The way he held her comforted her somewhat, but the violence of his soul tearing her up to get back to him had no equal to anything she was feeling. The only thing she could do was make sure she kept breathing, even if her legs no longer wanted to keep her standing. Mephisto, I don't know if... her voice resonated in his head, as his did hers. She was slipping away...I'm going to make it.Their kiss slowly turned coppery. The taste of blood in Belles mouth, as his soul threatened to tear her insides apart as it returned to him, but breaking it now would kill her anyway. A pained moan rumbled at the back of her throat. God she wanted to live, so badly she wanted to keep going so that he could love her to all his means ends. Her eyes burned. I want to live...
The hands at his neck fell looser, strength depleting quickly. The taste of blood was overwhelming, but they had to go through with it now that they had started. Head feeling light and dizzy, Belle was having a hard time staying awake, even her burning, uncontrollable desire was muted in the wake of this incredible pain. Her body shook violently against her devil as his soul transitioned back into him with the warm, golden, heat of his lost power. Voice coming weak into his head, she began to slip into unconsciousness as the ordeal left her crumbling. As the soul left her, the pain quieted down, her body numb, and their lips parted. Belle stared, tired eyes and pale. But she smiled none the less."I...I love you, too, you bastard." Her voice came torn up and husky, blood at the edges of her mouth.
And she began to fall to her knees.
-
He slid off the piano chair and caught her almost entirely by reflex, utterly unprepared for the sense of power, alertness, and control that was suddenly flowing through him. Everything seemed to move just a few ticks of the clock slower; every color seemed more poignant, every sound more crisp and clear. It was like he'd been living the last five years from inside a plastic bubble and now, with the prodigal soul's return, he was more than complete. He was...
... utterly and completely terrified.
The taste of blood still fresh in his mouth, he gazed into her eyes, taking in the toll that the transfer had exacted from her. For just a moment he flashed back, to an alley in Jadenshine -- he had seen her like this before, the life all but drained from her. Then her expression had worn fury and outrage; now there was a contented smile even through the obvious pain. Then he had been pulled to her, a metal shaft driven through his chest; now the piercing, horrifying pain in his chest had an altogether different source. He had fallen to his knees before; she fell now. It was almost more than he could bear.
"No... no no no." The terror-struck devil's voice trembled, clutching her with all the urgency of a drowning man clinging to a life raft. For just a moment his own strength surprised him and he had to push back his own panic so as not to hurt her in this vulnerable state. "You can't die -- not after all this, after all we've been through. Please Belle -- gods and daemons and powers unknown, PLEASE!"
Recovering his focus for a moment, he rallied his will and took hold of the power coursing through him. He wasn't sure he could completely control it, not yet, but there was no time for cautious testing and pussyfooting around. His hands and eyes blackened and then glowed white-hot with demonic power, an aura of black flames with radiant centers flickering and then surging into being around them. This wasn't like anything he'd experienced before... the power suddenly at his disposal was almost surreal, addictive in quality and making him feel more alive that could remember ever being. What was coursing through him... it was the built-up resonance between spirit and soul, suddenly being released all at once. His soul had dwelt within her but never truly connected as she'd hoped, and without it his spirit had been dry like a wasteland. Now the "rain" and "sun" of that soul poured out onto the thirsty metaphysical ground in overabundance -- the energies within him were flourishing, they were brimming over, they were...
... flooding. He realized it with shocking clarity all of a sudden. This reconnection was too potent, too strong. He could feel the power rumbling like a tempest within, begging to be released. It would destroy him if it didn't... and if it did, it would destroy everything around him.
Looking down at the beautiful destroyer in his arms, he knew he couldn't allow that.
Obey me...! Mephisto screwed his eyes shut, shouting silently at the energies inside. It felt like he was filling up, ready to burst, like the tidewalls were going to be overrun with the swell and all the raw power he hadn't had for five thousand years was going to come bursting forth like a newly born sun. Belle had carried it for ages, a furnace within her, drawing from its power... but only so much. Now it was once more in its proper setting, within the spirit-engine of the demon its power was meant to fit, key to lock. What's more, he was a conduit -- Faustus hadn't made him to use power so much as channel it, to take it in and let it out, like a living battery.
And now, now it was trying to come out.
All of it, at once.
OBEY ME...!!
And if it did it would destroy them both.
Throwing back his head, Mephisto let loose a nigh-on animalistic howl, streams of boiling light erupting from his mouth, eyes, even from under his fingernails. Searing cracks in his body began to form, hairline fractures at first but growing with each passing moment. The devil was going nuclear, it seemed... and to stop it he had to do the one thing that ran utterly contrary to the very nature of his being. Hold it IN.
It wasn't happening. He couldn't do it. The power was just too much at once -- it HAD to go somewhere. It HAD to find purchase. It...
...was her best hope.
It was so much, so much pure energy, much of it life energy, all at once. Part of him was terrified at the consequences, of what horrible unpredictable fallout there could be. Under ideal conditions he would have tried to ease the energies into her, but she was DYING and he was BURNING. There was nothing 'ideal' about the moment. It was all that he could do not to pop like a balloon and let the hellish brilliance run wild. There was no time -- none for either of them. Either they both lived or they'd both perish in a fireball that would do to the hull of Cancer what a round from a plasma rifle would do to a tin can.
"DAMN
IT
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL LLLLLLLLL!!!"
The demon shouted at the top of his lungs before pulling Belle into his embrace, power flowing in ripples and shockwaves around them both. The glass of the liquor cabinet shattered, all the bedding was thrown against the wall and pinned there -- the piano careened over on it's side with the protesting wail of every musical ghost from Bach to Sousa. The room was awash in blinding light...
... and, for a strange moment, so much of it seemed to be coming from the two devils that you could have been forgiven if you mistook them for something else entirely.
-
17 Boats Against The Current (and Daisy's Theme) (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DxGMN7hHoIs)
The Great Gatsby
Everything she heard was a drowned out husk, her sight, gone. She heard his voice, calling to her, but no way of knowing what he had said. No dark, no light, her retinas just shut down, she was blind, completely. When Mephisto held her again, it was the feeling of numbness. There was only pressure against her cold skin, no kindness or longing, but her mind told her there should be. All she heard, all she felt was please. Over and over again, please.
PLEASE.
"...Okay."
Her voice came, a reconstructed whisper in an aftermath of loud silence. Blood flowed back where it should, organs functioned as they should, and she found herself pressed into the body of that man she had just admitted to that she loved, in her last few seconds of irrational consciousness. There was colour in her face, brightness in her eyes, aliveness in her chest. No pain, no pressure, she was free of her bonds, free of her torture. Opening her eyes to see, the last steams of light disintegrated like an Aurora, leaving the warm darkness behind. In those last moments of light she saw the vague destruction, and almost felt guilty.
All there was, in her existence, at that moment, was the rise and fall of her devils chest, the panting of his breath, and her weight, suspended by him. For a while, his eyes, emitting a pale-white glow, was the only real source of light in that room. She fixed her eyes on him, and there was something sincere in her expression, something warm, and grateful. After all, she was still alive. "Damn you." Her voice was quiet, and soft, not an inch of real hate in her words. "Damn you to Hell." Her sensations came back to her, slowly, her brain firing up all it's cylinders. For all she could tell, he had saved her life, and it pained her. Knowing that she had never done the same in return, and that heaviness was in her eyes. Belle just looked up at him, with slight disbelief. She smiled, with a blink, her eyes emitted that similar white-glow briefly, before it dyed down, and then everything in the room started to move, and repair. Despite her destructive nature, despite her non-ability to fix things, certain powers of hers did. She could not, however, fix herself. Nor him. They were both broken.
As things began to find their places again, silently and calmly, glass repairing, bed re-making, the near-on darkness, save for his brilliant eyes, set back in, and there was only noise, only physical feeling, her pressed against him, in an act of desperation. Belle breathed in, and she breathed out. Her chest didn't strain her, didn't strangle her or crush her. She could breathe again, freely. A hand reached out to the side of his face, almost wondering if he were real, or if she were in fact, dead. "What now, my Devil..." Belle pressed herself into the crook of his neck, feeling the pulse of blood in his veins, alive. "What on Earth, or in Space and Time, do we do now."
Make the most of me.
Make me sing for you.
Man
Who's music I will always play.
-
(OOC: Sorry about the delay -- wanted to work on the post as soon as I got home but wasn't feeling great. At any rate, hope it's a somewhat decent follow-up to yours. ^_^)
He breathed, and felt her breathing against him. Everything else was awash in a darkness that was all but absolute, every electronic in the room seemingly overcome, lights included. It didn't matter. He didn't care. They were alive -- impossibly, gloriously, utterly alive. Everything ached; he felt impossibly drained yet utterly renewed, caught somewhere between thrill and exhaustion and rocketing wildly back and forth between. In all likelihood he had never, not ONCE, channeled that much power. He kept breathing. For a moment, that simple act seemed enough.
They would linger there in the dark like that, just holding each other, the world beyond their embrace not even existing for all practical purposes. And then he spoke -- whispered into her ear.
"Whatever the hell we want." There was a tone there that spoke of confidence, like a smile unseen but felt.
And somehow, in that intimate dark, he found his way to kissing her. And then again. And again. And found that he just couldn't bring himself to stop.
--------------------------------
Elsewhere, in the depths of Teinar...
A mile and a half below the surface of the desecrated Earth, where a people of modest ways, modest machines, and stubborn spirit dwelt, there was to be found a workshop: a place of forging metal into blades and blades into whirls of death. It was like any of dozens of other forge-shops in the subterranean city at a glance, its wares hung for customers to see and barter for... but it held something special, something that gave the steel a colder bite and a stronger set than even competitors who'd somehow acquired more modern, high-tech tools could manage. In a small room with rough, hand-crafted ornamentation and writing scrawled in nearly illegible text on walls of solid stone, sat a lonely anvil. No forge-flame burned in this secret chamber, no basin of water to cool hot steel resided here, no bellows to breathe air into hungry fire nor chimney to vent smoke into oxygen recyclers. There was only the anvil -- mere metal at a glance, but in the presence of those initiated into its mysteries...
... something very, VERY much more. For this place was ancient and the anvil more ancient still, burning within with a power that yet lived on after five thousand years. It was a closely guarded secret -- those who worked it were a carefully selected few, chosen by the anvil itself. Amongst themselves they held no name, no banner under which they gathered, for these were men and women of craft and creation, not a secret society of cunning and conspiracy. Their chief virtues were steel-skill and discretion -- membership within their ranks, and thus access to the anvil, had prospered some families for generations... and dishonoring it, ruined others in less than a year's time. But when, on rare occasion, it was necessary to let those beyond the trusted circle know of their existence it was always with the same monicker, said to be given by the anvil itself.
The Guild of Juviel.
And there in that dark place the soul-bound anvil had sat, tended by one smith or another regularly but just as often left to rest, alone. Those who were shown its use marveled -- the ages-blackened steel cornerstone of the guild needed neither fire nor water nor wind to perform its work, merely a smith that it favored wielding a hammer of his or her own making. The initiated would place metal upon its surface and it would heat white hot on its own, pound it into shape as though guided by an invisible, masterful hand, and then step back and watch as it cooled and hardened to perfection. It was as though magic or some higher power were at work, but that power was content merely to craft and forge, seemingly for all eternity.
Though, that wasn't always the case.
Five years prior, an outsider had entered Teinar and sought out the guild's services -- what he asked them to create was neither blade nor tool nor anything the likes of which the underground smiths had crafted before. Giving them diagrams and instructions of exacting detail, along with hefty payment, he left... and did not return, not even after the long months in which various guild master-smiths had completed the inexplicable design. Fully assembled it appeared like unto a skull, yet was in fact an elaborate puzzle-box, and in the center...
A small slip of paper, with only the client's signature written on it. Baffled as to what to do with this seemingly abandoned creation the smiths had turned to the anvil on which it had been fashioned for its wisdom. And it answered, in no uncertain terms:
'Throw it into space.'
At great expense the guild had obeyed, secreting their strange creation out of the city and paying off a smuggler to take it off-world. The smuggler's instructions had been to shunt the glistening multi-metal skull out an airlock... but, seeing the prize he had, opted instead to sell it on the gray market as an 'Earth antiquity'. The skull spent the next two years changing hands before it was bought up by a mining prospector with an interest in oddities... who then, some two months later, was murdered by space pirates while traveling, who then looted it right out of his luggage and sent it back spiraling through the gray market cyclone once again. And in that time a certain businessman, new to Cancer but prospering, had put out feelers inquiring for things strange, unusual, and specifically old -- 'Earth antiquities', to be blunt. The skull was listed as a saleable item on a manifest and sent to him, only to have the manifest culled along with a great deal of other data by an illegal hacker seeking to turn data into cash.
Who had in turn earned the cross-hairs of a terrifyingly effective bounty hunter.
All of this had unfolded in distant stars while the anvil of Juviel sat, day by day, in it's 'shrine', forging what it chose by whom it chose, never quite seeming to shake the feeling that something was wrong.
And then one night, power flickered through it -- a surge of light so intense and impossible that the anvil, the soul inside of it, SCREAMED. The sound was like millions of shards of raw, jagged metal scraping across the side of a mountain until the stone sparked, bled, and burned; it was a wail and it was an avalanche and it filled the souls of everyone who heard it with an unspeakable terror. And just as quickly as it came it faded, leaving the anvil cracking with supernatural power...
... and leaving her no doubt as to exactly why.
--------------------------------
Cancer, The Black Sapphire Nightclub
Owner's Private Chamber
The room was a mess of discarded clothes, tossed about bedsheets, couch cushions in odd places, and general other signs that a living hurricane had swept through in a passion. People would be talking the next day about how strange and anti-social it was for the club owner not to oversee his own grand opening, as well as curiosity about the woman he'd come in with and rumors of a piano performance from an old Earth drama that had never come to pass -- to say nothing of the strange power fluctuations at one point... but so what? As he held close the one woman who'd held his sin-blackened heart in her hands since the first time they'd met, he knew none of it mattered. This, here, now; that mattered. Not a stitch of clothes between them the two lay tangled up in one another in the middle of the bed, the only sound their steady breathing. He couldn't tell in the dark whether she was asleep or not, nor could he bring himself to do anything to find out for fear of waking her. Besides, he hadn't been this comfortable and satisfied in five thousand years... likely, in ever, for that matter. Let the moment linger, Mephisto thought. Business could wait.
He realized, staring up at a ceiling he couldn't even see, that he'd completely lost track of time while they'd been... busy... together in here. The old devil guessed it was sometime in the morning, or what passed for morning on a space station. The image of a sunrise danced briefly through his thoughts and he felt the smallest pang of loss, realizing he hadn't seen one in so very long. Love was making him sentimental and mushy -- he'd have to see whether she felt like beating it out of him later. Belle could turn him into pudding easily enough, true, but staying that way would be a disappointment to them both.
Morning then, he guessed. Kes and his staff would be available to make breakfast for them -- the novelty of having a team of chefs on a station where fresh food was a rare luxury was almost more of a draw for The Black Sapphire than the alcohol, the party scene, the back-room gun deals, and the other 'benefits'. For the first time in ages he felt hungry -- not stomach-rumbling hungry, more 'an Aedolian omelet sounds nice right about now' hungry, more musing than craving, yet somewhere deep down a stubbornly pragmatic part of him knew his body had been running mostly on its own energies for at least twelve hours... and probably would need something a bit more solid sooner or later.
Willing his thoughts to turn away from food, Mephisto wondered if there was anything on the 'shopping list' he'd recovered that Belle would fancy. Then the omelet popped into his head again and he silently cursed the inability to get room service in here.
-
(OOC: Geezum, if you weren't feelin' great you didn't have to post, ya' big dumb! The post is excellent thought, nonetheless! Also, really, reaaaalllyy tiny Power Play here, just for atmosphere ;D
UPDATE: This post went for a bit of a trip last night XD)
Coming back around into an awakened consciousness, details fled her. She only remembered her sensations, heat, pleasure, pain, exhaustion, exhilaration, an explosive release of tension, grabbing at fabric, at skin, at hair, at anything. She heard their voices, her name being called, and her calling him, her voice leaving her throat without reserve, desperately, drowning within her own body. The details fled her. But she didn't need them to know anything. Just that she'd never had it so good.
When she woke, Belle felt strangely light, loose, relaxed. As if she'd been carrying around some terrible burden for all her years that she'd gotten used to, and he'd just taken it from her shoulders in one night. It took her a moment to register, echoes of the previous night resounding in her head. Realizing where she was, it were as if she'd fallen away just before it had all really ended, and, now she was awake, her brain could process the final moments. Breathing in heavily, re-calibrating her system, almost sighing in contentment, she pressed her weight out as she stretched, body trembling against her dreaded Mephistopheles, shaking out whatever stiffness was left in her muscles. Some parts of her simply stayed sore. Her abdomen, her hips, her shoulders, and her thighs, her back burned a little, scratches. A blissful hum resonated from her closed, smiling, lips. “You know you've had a bad night if you don't wake up hurting a little the next morning.” She concluded aloud, eyes shut.
It was likely that not everyone felt that way, but she certainly did. The feeling of proper use. "How many girls have you treated that to?" She added, sleepily. Giving a moments silence, to let him know that she was awake, even if still drowsy, she opened her eyes, letting them adjust. But then again, she could see in the dark. Folding her arms across his chest, she rested her head, happy to simply admire “You're always so beautiful.” To some, it might seem strange, to call a man 'beautiful', but in reality, that's not what it was. Handsome implied brutish masculinity, a forceful oppressor, at least, in her mind. To call someone beautiful was a term of equal footing. There was a few beats of pause, and, biting her lip, she couldn't help herself. Belle sat up taking a leg over his hips, sitting atop him. In that moment, two soft-shade lamps either side of the bed turned on, emitting a glow, illuminating them both. There was a wicked flame in her icy eyes.
"I don't know about you..." Her voice came sultry and alluring, bringing her, very messy, hair over one shoulder. Leaning down, she felt Mephisto's hands run over her legs to meet her hips graciously, pulling her onto him. Belle was inches from his lips, ready to be devoured all over again "But I could do with another round or two..."
And then, suddenly, she seemed very distracted. Then a heavy sigh left her mouth, rolling her eyes, and she leaned back up, holding out her hand, a phone. She knew who was calling. "What." Her voice came annoyed, and unexpectedly, a voice, female, came back, loud and clear, even to Mephisto. Ah shit. "Adia?" Belle's voice came confused for a moment, before the voice came back at her, topped full of attitude. ~Oh, good morning your highness. We're all waiting for you over here.~ Unwillingly, the demoness got up from her perch around Mephisto, getting up from the bed. "What do you m-" She froze up. "Oh." You could almost hear the rolling of eyes across the line ~Yeah, OH is an appropriate response~ "What's the time?" ~Uhhh, about 10? Your meeting with the Commissioner was an hour ago. Who's dick are you riding, you whore?~ "Fuck off, Adia." ~Strong response. Who is it's giving you your morning fix, huh?~ "Didn't I tell you to shut up?" ~Noooope, you told me to fuck off.~ Belle pulled the phone away momentarily, advisably frustrated. ~Obviously, this is important, so we can't reschedule, you have to come in, ASAP, you're holding back all of today's meetings just because you apparently got fucked unconscious last night at, where was it?~ The tapping of fingers against a screen of some kind ~That new Black Sapphire place, was it? A gig with the owner? Did he pay well?~ "Could you not hack my phone for loud speaker?" ~Afraid not. I needed to make sure I woke your bitch-ass up~ "Yep, well, I'm up, well done." ~Sweet, now getting a fucking move on. We know you have some lucrative enterprises going on aside from our work, but you're under us, first and foremost, not some guy with commitment issues~ "How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not-" ~Yeah well, you are now~ Her blood ran cold. Something was wrong. There was a code in there somewhere
"...Excuse me?" ~Yeah, it's like that. Now, get yourself over here. Look forward to seeing you.~ And then the phone line dropped, leaving a silence in it's wake. "Shit." The phone vanished from her hand. "Shit." For a moment she wasn't sure what she was doing. Then, she moved, paced, stormed towards the bathroom, lights coming on with a sensor.
She stared at herself with loathing in the mirror, grinding her teeth. With a tap of her fingers, her worn red nails were replaced with foggy-white points, her lips turned a full deep red colour, a pinkness in her cheek. Keeping the messy hair, she let it rest over one shoulder. Her voice called out back into the main room. "Do you have a shirt I could borrow?" Then her voice trailed off, spitting curse words at her own reflection. A garter belt and underwear soon came to adorn her hips, locked with a pair of stockings, but no bra. Couldn't be bothered with one. With urgency in her step, she came back out of the bathroom. "Oh, and get one of your lackeys to grab some shorts or jeans or SOMETHING. Apparently I don't have any." Her voice came like a woman ready to go to war, picking up and putting on the heels from the night before, leaving the dress altogether. She wasn't interested in cleaning up. "I'm heading to the Police Depo in the next few minutes. You coming, or are you staying?" She didn't even have time to look at him, manually adjusting the garter.
"I need a drink. Already."
-
Just as the glowing coals of the night's passion between them were about to relight and burn anew... there was a phone call. A dryly-humored joke he'd overheard some months back about what happens when the body is fully immersed in water came to mind, though this was an altogether different sort of immersion that the phone had decided to interrupt. Mephisto couldn't help but lift an eyebrow and wonder what kind of call would be so important that Belle, the most strong and independent woman he'd ever met, HAD to take it, particularly when she clearly had other desires for the moment.
His question didn't go unanswered for very long; to the devil's by-no-means-small surprise, Belle... had a boss.
Well, after a fashion, or so it seemed. A very demanding assistant or secretary, at the very least, someone that the dread bounty hunter allowed to talk to her like that and tell her what to do. Whether there was another person calling the shots for them both was uncertain, and seemed to him unlikely, but even still... after recent events he wasn't sure he could rule anything out. Belle had surprised him aplenty in the time he'd known her, last night no less than ever; every time he'd peel back a layer of mystery about the demonic woman there were half a dozen others that would be waiting for him. But then again that sense of constant surprise and revelation, of always having a new side of her to closely examine and discern the truth of... it was one of the many things that drew him to her. This was just the latest wrinkle in the tale, and he held no doubt that with five thousand years having passed there were many, many more awaiting.
As soon as it was clear from the phone call that she had an appointment, one she was late for and couldn't put off, Mephisto was in motion. Half rolling off the bed and half shifting himself into mist to emerge standing -- without even realizing he'd done it until after -- and headed for the liquor cabinet. By the time he was pouring a glass of scotch it was clear that her situation was worse than a missed meeting; by the time she asked about a shirt he had his hand on a small button set into the wooden side of the cabinet. With an even mechanical gait the cabinet, wall, and a portion of the floor swung back and in, revealing a corridor about fifteen feet long with a door at the end. As lights within flicked on two rows of suits, shirts, trousers, and more eclectic garments hung on simple black hangers were revealed to be flanking the passage -- not quite full, as there were large spaces with nothing hung, but a sizable wardrobe nonetheless. It was both escape route and clothing closet, the ideal way to don a disguise and leave the premises unnoticed rolled into one. The devil, clearly, hadn't lost his sense of theatricality.
"Help yourself -- not sure what will fit or suit you, but it's at your disposal." For a moment he looked off into the distance, as if holding a conversation in his head -- several at once, in fact, and then turned back to her with a soft smile. "And to answer your questions: just you, and absolutely. As long as you don't mind my coming along, that is. The situation sounds... tense."
"Which is why," Walking over, he offered her the drink. "I've got my kitchen staff whipping up a pair of breakfast specials -- to go, of course -- my assistant manager rushing out to get a selection of trousers in," His eyes traced her legs and hips for a moment before nodding (and sending the number off to his lackey) "34, I believe? And my car's being brought around to the back entrance."
"The only question is..." Mephisto paused and looked down at himself, then shrugged and snapped his fingers. With renewed powers at his disposal he no longer needed the 'escape wardrobe'; ribbons of black and red demonic fire traced his form from the ground up, and in their wake fabric wove and took form, the black outfit she'd seen him in when they'd first turned those fateful corners materializing on his being. "How do you take your coffee Belle?"
-
Taking the drink without so much as a thank you, just a nod, Belle near on downed the whole thing at once, wandering into that long hallway of a 'closet'. "34, yes. Nice eyes. Flattering." The she demon jested. Little things about this place reminded her of her who hidden sanctum. The hidden rooms, the doors under touch, the poster bed and the sofa, and now, this long hallway of clothes. Despite not needing something like this, there was a comfort about getting dressing yourself that you didn't get just whisking something on. That was her take on it. She'd been alive too long, had too much time to kill, and it was the little things that passed the time. Smoking, dressing, walking to places, having a manual vehicle, and not using the ungodly amount of money she really had in her possession from times gone by.
There needed to be struggle, effort, time spent, for a day to be worth getting up for.
Passing her hands over the rails, she looked back at him and smiled. "If there's one thing girls know it's how to make things fit." And there was no lack of sexual undertone, if not a dark-humor one, before continuing along. Within a few more seconds, Belle grabbed a plain white button-up shirt, and promptly threw it over her shoulders, as she walked back towards him, beginning to do up to the bottom buttons, leaving the top three undone "It'll do." Her voice came almost huffed. It wasn't like last night, she wasn't nervous, she was stressed. In a rush.
In her pacing, commanding steps she met Mephisto, toe to toe, placing the glass back in the cabinet, as she exited the corridor of a closet. She left a pause after a question, her face stern, but the air of a playful retort in her air. The pointed nails of her hand slipped between the fold of his coat and pulled him into her. "Like you." A heavy whisper, a crooked smile, and a soft, slow kiss. "Dark, and sweet." Honey, no milk. Another pause, just holding him there, before she let go, a gleam in her eyes. It seemed even whatever was on the other end of that phone, why and where they now laid their path, simply couldn't keep her from wanting him.
"I would like you to come, if not simply because a few of your questions might be answered, and because a lot of those questions I simply cannot answer outside of the walls of that building." She sat down heavily on the sofa she was now very closely acquainted with, and the way her hands ran over the fabric, the way she sat, showed it. Her appreciation. "But, we have a lot of catching up to do, and one night of sex isn't going to make up for it, or what I did. I think you deserve to be a part of my mess." She sighed, sincerely, taking a moment out to think a little more clearly. Crossing her legs, she chewed a little on the nail of her thumb. Whatever was up, it certainly wasn't just a parking fine.
-
Were it not for her little touches of playfulness he'd have been truly and deeply worried, if only because of the initial reaction she'd had to what this Adia woman had said on the phone. He took her kiss and returned it in kind, and as lips parted he shot off a quick, blunt instruction to his chef regarding the coffee. Hers as she'd said, his black with a teaspoon of cinnamon -- a habit he'd picked up with the beverage shortly after trying it.
Taking a spot next to her on the sofa, it was his turn to sigh heavily. "Guilt doesn't suit you, Belle -- let that part of our history be lost to the past. I don't really have much practice at soothing a guilty conscience or anything 'warm and fuzzy' like that, but the fact is that I am alive -- we both are -- and this is a chance to start over. A chance, in hindsight, that perhaps I desperately needed. You remember how I used to be: an overly proud spider, sitting in the middle of an ornate web and acting like the world was ripe for my particular brand of plunder. You opened my eyes -- the countless times it took -- to the fact that not only was there more, but that I was playing into my own decline and demise. That life wasn't about control, it was about living."
"I may have missed five thousand years, and no doubt much of it would have been fascinating to see and experience, but I've gained something that those years could never have given me:"
"Freedom. The freedom to just be. The freedom to be with you. You're right, we have a lot to catch up on. But whatever mess you're in?" The old devil grinned at her. "I'd be honored to get wrapped up in it with you... so long as I can avoid making it any worse for you, that is."
He looked up, as if hearing a sound even though there was none, then back at her. "Breakfast will be up shortly. A selection of trousers is on their way." He looked down at her hand, specifically where she'd chewed at her nail. It couldn't be any of the 'usual things' that had people this worried making her like this; she'd had five thousand years to accumulate any and all resources she'd need, financial or otherwise. For the life of him he couldn't imagine what had a hold on her, much less what could have changed since yesterday to create that hold. That thought alone had him worried. "Whatever you need from me, Belle, I'll gladly give to you. And you know I mean that."
Minutes later a box full of jeans, khakis, and other trousers was deposited in the storage room -- Mephisto retrieved them and let Belle have her pick. And in short order the devil was informed that their ride awaited them out the back way with breakfasts hot and ready within: omelets with freshly cut tomato, green peppers, sauteed onions, cheese, and just a bit of mild salsa folded into them, sided with sausage, fried tomato slices, miniature pancakes, and fresh coffee. It was the kind of breakfast that only the wealthiest people on Cancer could afford to have with regularity due to the sheer costs of hydroponic gardening and even more-so with acquiring dairy and meat freshly. Space, as it turned out, was absolutely terrible for farming.
"Everything's ready for us," Mephisto gestured to the wardrobe exit. "My car is just out the back, waiting in a sealed off alley. Ready for your meetings?"
-
Belle looked over to Mephisto as they shared the sofa, not for the first time. She didn't know what to do with herself when he said things like that, it wasn't as if she'd not had people pandering at her feet before, but that she didn't exactly welcome it. That 5000 year nap of his had certainly shaken loose something in his head, and she didn't know if it was for the better or not. He had his show, he had his schemes, but his heart had changed. In that sense, however, she'd be lying if she said that hers had not. The half-dressed demoness sighed. "Don't say that. If I had things my way I'd have you right here until you begged for mercy." She grinned, and left it at that. Certainly her desires had not been faulted by anything that was going on otherwise, but that wasn't out of character. What she wanted would come first, or at least, never be discarded.
Noticing her nail properly, the colour fixed itself, the clear-bit nail turning fogging-white again. She cursed herself silently, reminded that nothing good awaited her.
Getting up, Belle sorted through the load of trousers without grace, finally settling on a pair of high-waist shorts, not even bothered about hiding the suspenders or the stockings, she tucked the large shirt into them. Not that she could count on many people really caring that she certainly didn't. That was the kind of world now. As ready as she would ever be, she stood up, near the center of the room, before turning to Mephisto. "You say guilt doesn't suit me, but how, then, can love suit me? If I can love you, how can I not feel guilty about the things I did." Striding up to the red-haired devil, she pushed him against the entrance way of the closet. Her eyes searched into his, trying to understand, but failed. "I don't even understand what we 'are' to each other. We're not like other people enough to call each other by their terms. What are we doing to do? Go on picnic dates and hold hands, go to the movies? Get married and go on honeymoon? That's not us, and it's certainly not me. As far as you're concerned I just want to have sex with you, call your bed my own when I have no other option." She paused, looking down, her search was futile. "I suppose it doesn't really matter." And then she continued down the hallway, out of the door. Obviously whatever was going on, it was making her think about things.
Arriving at the car, the door opened for them automatically, wasting no time, she climbed inside. Belle didn't even get fully into the vehicle, before she paused. And was surprised by the true extent of 'breakfast', when she registered the smell. "Food?" Her voice came, questioningly, surprised. "Real, actual, food?" She continued slowly into the car, sitting herself down quietly. An expression of shock, awe, and surprise, wasn't actually inappropriate, given the state of living. Her eyes were drawn to Mephisto as he joined her. "This isn't some fancy illusion is it?" It seemed that even Belle was part of the masses. Proper food, not the cubs or the bars or what have you, was something lost to her. Not entirely convinced, the she demon just examined her food cautiously. "This is almost as tempting as you." Then she looked up, giving him sharp eyes and a smile. "Almost." And she was ever more reminded of her desire.
Sitting back, she took a sip of her coffee before she contemplated her food. Lord knows she'd need it. "I didn't realize that THIS was the extent of your 5 years hard work. I haven't been able to eat proper food in too long, and I risk my life just to keep going." Her voice was contemplating, thoughtful. Sitting by, however, was too boring for her. Though she wasn't uncontrollably violent, she preferred to get her hands into things. When you live for so long, it can be hard to keep entertained. "I almost want to take the long way. Enjoy. But, I'd rather get this out of the way as quickly as possible." She took another sip of coffee, waking up, fully. "I suppose, I owe you an explanation about my...tattoos. I didn't really give you the details. If you want them, you deserve to know. They'll help answer another of your questions later. But not here."
At this point, Belle wasn't sure if he wanted to know. If he didn't really care. He hadn't been interested in the how's or why's when she killed him, but the tattoos had played a hand in some of his questions. Understanding the angles, all of them, might help him paint his own picture much more accurately.
-
She was right, of course -- the two of them weren't 'other people', nor would they ever be. The rituals and stigmas and routines of mortals could only apply to them so far, far less perhaps than either of them fully realized. Theirs was an existence apart, something that the ever-changing world around them would never fully grasp or appreciate. Yet even as she claimed he thought her only interested in being with him sexually he knew that wasn't true.
There may not be a term for what they were, much less what they could be, but Mephisto knew that physicality was merely a single dimension of it. Even amidst other long-lived, immortal, or supernatural beings he'd met he could never imagine finding someone like her. They had a connection, so he believed. Whatever she saw him as she had the candor to feel bad about wronging him, wanted to include him in her life. And he, in turn...
... she had always been the one person he couldn't help but be honest with, even when he was lying to himself. Belle was a great many things to him -- beatiful destroyer, alluring mystery, marvel of a thousand different qualities. All of it paled in comparison to just the simple desire -- and it had become one, over the long run -- to be honest with her even when he couldn't with the rest of the galaxy. She knew him inside and out, seemingly better than he knew himself. He would've done anything if she just asked, and not out of fawning amorous sentiment. He just couldn't see himself saying 'no'.
When at last they were in the car, Belle's marvelling at the breakfast quickly brought a smile to his face. He lifted the glass lid from her plate and deliscious-smelling steam filled the limo's interior, wafting the scent of eggs, onions, and meat tantalizingly in the air. For him it had only been five years in these conditions, in a 'world' where food wasn't what it used to be and the good stuff was harder and harder to come by... but for her, no doubt, it had been part of her everyday experience for centuries. "Please," He spread his hands wide over the meal. "No illusion. Enjoy... my love."
It was new, saying that. A bit awkward, at first, but after last night it just... seemed right.
"I understand your urgency; whatever's going on is important, that much is clear. We can do a relaxed breakfast another time, once it's resolved. As for the 'tattoos'..." He paused, fingers laced and chin resting upon them thoughtfully, chewing over his words. "You said something earlier about us being 'bonded' together, if I recall. I won't deny being curious. By the same token I won't expect full disclosure if you don't want to offer it. You've always been something of a mystery to me Belle, and that hasn't diminished as time's gone on. Truth be, I rather enjoy it."
"I can read people like a book. It was amusing for about a hundred years or so but it's so old hat now. Until I met you there was almost nothing that could ever surprise me... and, in a way, I think that not knowing everything about you is one of the things that not just draws me to you, but makes this, whatever the relationship we have is, work. I don't want to read your mind -- I want to know what you feel like saying, nothing more or less. It used to be I thought of understanding you like solving a riddle or discerning a mystery..."
Unfolding his hands, he leaned forward. "But now, I've come to accept that respect is key to that understanding, and that includes letting you say and show what you choose. So whatever you feel you 'owe' me, know that I'd gladly accept your own choices on the matter rather than some notion of debt to me making the decision."
"As strange as it may sound... after all that we've been for each other -- accomplices, dance partners, co-conspirators, even victim and murderer -- I feel like I can trust you. Absurd, I know, but that's just the way it is." He smiled. "I'm a ridiculous man who barely runs the club he owns, obsesses over ancient history, plays the piano badly, splurges on expensive breakfasts on rushed mornings, and can't even keep track of his own soul. My best qualities are my money, evil powers, and certain things I know how to do in bed. I have a history of excess and being theatrical to the point of drama, and evidently I can't even die properly. Why you put up with me is truly amazing."
His wry grin betrayed the humor in his words, but softened when he said. "All things on your timing, Belle. I don't mind one bit."
"Now we'd better eat; it's not a long drive and the food's getting cold."
-
"No..." Her voice came slow, soft, reassuring, almost. Like this was the most flattering thing anyone had ever done for her. She took a another drink of coffee, letting the caffeine do it's work. "Those are attributes you have that I can...make use of." Putting the cup down with care, meeting his eye. "No. There's more to you. And even if it took you thousands of years sleep and a night under covers with me to work out what it was, exactly, I was looking for...you respect me." She smiled, with a twist of evil. "I'd thank you. But you shouldn't have to thank people for respect." She left him with that, and tried to forget about her churning stomach, as the car pulled out, and began to take them to a place she never really wanted to go. Hopefully the food would distract her, and put her on her toes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They pulled up outside of the towering, ominous, Police Headquarters not half an hour later. The station itself was a stones throw away from the landing bays. They didn't exactly keep people who had been arrested here, but it was the largest cog in their machine. This was the main hub. The control center of Cancers police force, and it showed. It was busy. Always busy. Belle hated it. The problem with Cancer, and the reason it was such a booming kaleidoscope of sin, is that everything was a business. There weren't just Officers in that building. There were multi-billionaire Syndicate leaders, Cooperate CEO's, and everyone of that likeness. The door of the car opened, and Belle stepped out onto the busy street. She looked up at the tall, mostly glass, building. "Ah, the Paperwork Apartments." She mused, wasting no time as she strode towards the large set of rotating doors, entering the bright-white building.
The Atrium was huge, a large, abstract sculpture presented itself in the middle, reaching all the way up to the ceiling. Belle stuck out like a sore thumb, in among all kinds of people, all wearing suits. The noise of chatter and footsteps resonated off of the buildings walls like a chorus of ungodly angels, quiet, but loud, murmuring. Everyone walked like they had somewhere to go. Belle walked knowing she had somewhere to go. Striding in with the sharp clacking of heels on tile, and the atmosphere of a god striking hell fire. Women like her didn't just walk into the Police Station every day. The time was displayed, local, and every Universal time, on a large board just forward of the entrance, as so the giant sculpture didn't get in the way. 10:43.
Striding passed the large, daunting center-piece, the desks beyond manned by a small army of suited people of all kinds. And a queue. Belle didn't even look at Mephisto when she sighed. And not one sorry as she forced her way passed many annoyed people, waiting to be sent to their appointments. The face on the Secretary who's queue Belle apparently sort to destroy dropped. It seemed she recognized the face. A long line of angry business people behind her, Belle leaned on the desk, and was very forthright. "Meeting with the Commissioner." Her voice came blunt, almost annoyed. The skinny dark-haired man took a few seconds, a nervous wreck. "Did ya' here me? Commissioner." "Y-y-yes m'am." Belle rolled her eyes, rhythmically tapping her pointed nailed against the dark-marble counter, as the frightened young man tapped frantically on a hologram-computer. "T-that appointment w-was t-t-t-two-" Belle open palm hit the counter, the whole queue seemed to career backwards. "I know, dip shit. That's why the queue is so damn long, and everyone is so pissed off. Where's the Commissioner?" Shaking, the person behind the desk pulled from the screen an appointment file. "J-just press y-y-" Her thumb met the screen forcefully "I fucking know." There was an affirming bleep, her identity confirmed. "R-room 3-0-6, l-level 61." Belle gave a condescending bow. "Thank you." And then stormed off, leaving a traumatized check-in boy, and a bewildered queue behind.
She came back up to Mephisto, thumbing to the large amounts of elevators, she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into a sudden kiss, quickly, before carrying on. "C'om sexy, no point keeping the old man waiting too much longer." It seemed she was trying desperately to distract herself.
Luckily for them, that particular elevator was empty, a cage of one-way glass rising from the ground floor using a technology not dissimilar to the type Mephisto used on his pool back at The Black Sapphire, before pushing whomever waited on the other side of the door away as they exited. Another desk fronting the reception hall of floor 61. Belle began to ready herself against another terrified receptionist, but something else happened.
Adia (http://i823.photobucket.com/albums/zz151/BritishWolfy101/ADIACopy_zpsb31addc9.png) strode down the corridor, bursting through the double doors just beyond the desk with just as much presence as Belle, except Adia marched like a solider. As Belle passed the desk, the receptionist standing up to stop her, Adia held out her hand. "They'll be no need." Her voice came, commanding, directed at the small woman at the desk, but eyes fixed on Belle. Adia was considerably shorter than Belle but the two stood toe-to-toe nonetheless. There was a pause. "God, you even smell of sex, dirty bitch." She scoffed. "More than can be said about you." Belles retort came quicker. It seemed the two of them had history. The receptionist looked visibly uncomfortable. Adia looked over towards Mephisto, before looking back at Belle with a spiteful grin. "Spit or swallow?" - "None of your business." - "Swallow then" - "Why are you so interested?" - "Because you reek of cum and sweat. Making you aware. Doing you a favor." - "Afraid I don't need anymore of those." - "Clearly. So, did he give you the courtesy of going down on you or is he a selfish asshole like most white dudes?" - "I'd say better than you, but that isn't much of a compliment." - "I didn't know you were looking for a pimp." - "I'm not, he's my trophy." - "In fact I'm not sure he's even a guy, with hair like that." - "Would it make a difference if he weren't?" - "I don't know-"
There was a pause.
"Would it?"
Just in time, a tall geeky blond man came out from the two doors, looking to break the tension. "Okaaayy ladies, I think the Commissioner has waited long enough." At the sound of his voice the two woman lowered their stances and relaxed. Belle nodded toward him. Though he was obviously a person with little to no fighting ability, it seemed this man wasn't so much afraid of Belle or Adia, but of them falling out and causing more noise than they needed to. Last thing they needed was the whole of their squad group being checked and shifted to traffic for team-building exercises. "Ah, good to see you made it!" He chipped in, a little too happy. He too looked over towards Mephisto, and then back at Belle. "I'd say you weren't allowed to bring him, but I know better than that." He concluded, walking over to him and passing Mephisto a holographic file. "Just press your thumb against the pad. If you're registered as a resident or visitor of The Cancer you'll be clear to join your... friend, and we can take you through the see the Commissioner." The blond haired man seemed plenty more agreeable than Adia, as well as a better diplomat. "Good to see you're as eager as ever, Igy." Belle said, not facing away from her rival. "Yeah well, when you spend so much time up here, you've got to find some way of coping." He chuckled, waiting to receive the form back from Mephisto. "It's almost a nice change to see you back up here..."
"Kyla."
-
He had never been in the Police Headquarters building before -- partially due to the nature of his business connections and partially due to having as little desire to entangle himself with local authority as possible. The place didn't disappoint, however, bearing all the pomp, circumstance, and beaurocracy one would expect of a major anchor of law on one of the largest space stations ever built. He found himself unconsciously keeping an eye out for hidden cameras, a keen awareness that someone somewhere was already matching his face against numerous databases and scanning his person for hidden weapons. The place breathed of humanity's baser aspects pushed into organized structure; dominance and subservience, suspicion and guilt, and perhaps most pathetically the mindset of the herd.
Which Belle, to the devil's delight, promtly went ahead and disrupted. Grandly.
He was smiling when she pulled him close for a kiss and even more-so when their lips parted. The next thing he knew they were in an elevator rising to the 61st floor. Belle was meeting with the Police Commissioner, then... he could only imagine it had something to do with her work as a bounty hunter, but that seemed further up the chain than even the most prestigious or infamous bounty seeker would typically contact.
What strange truth awaited them here...?
When thewoman who was clearly Adia came marching, all but literally, down the hall towards them a great deal about the earlier phone conversation began to make more sense. Whoever this woman with the fiery temper was, she and Belle clearly had history and a "working relationship" in the most dysfunctional sense. It didn't take demonic empathic powers to know she held no small disdain for the manhunter and had zero interest in keeping her feelings to herself.
Or her evident disdain for him, which raised an only halfway-amused eyebrow from the demon. Due, no doubt, to his association with Belle. Still, being first called a 'pimp', and then a 'trophy' stung just a little bit; he pushed the momentary papercut to his pride aside, realizing that he had not only endured far worse in the past -- Juviel, somehow, suddenly came to mind -- but that Belle wasn't about to go into any detail with this other woman on the actual nature of their relationship.
Just when it seemed like the two were about to straight-up brawl right there in front of the receptionist they were interrupted, mercifully, by yet another glasses-wearing cog in the peacekeeping machine. He accepted the electronic form from him, wondering briefly if he even had fingerprints that it could register and, if so, what kind of file they might have on him -- a slim, non-informative one, he hoped. Still, he didn't detect anything amiss in the man's demeanor, so he went ahead. The device protested the first two times but finally matched him properly on the third; mentally he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the name 'Reymond Descartes' displayed instead of any of his other aliases.
"It's almost a nice change to see you back up here..."
"Kyla."
Mephistopheles quite nearly dropped the file when he heard 'Igy' say that name, for a moment refusing to believe that he'd heard accurately. Had this man, this paper pusher for the Cancer PD, just used Belle's true name?? It seemed inconcievable. Yet, indeed, he had heard it. To Mephisto's understanding Belle had abandoned that name ages and ages hence, in an age when there had still been a prosperous kingdom in The Fell, a way to sever unwanted ties with 'that man' and one of the most unhappy chapters of her history. What, then, could possibly be going on? It didn't seem like her to just start using the name again after so long...
He closed his eyes, willed himself to be composed, and put on his most diplomatic smile as he extended the file back to 'Igy' followed by his hand.
"Reymond Descartes. I run the new nightclub that opened last night. Kyla," He found it harder than he'd expected to say that name, but performing was nonetheless his forte. "And I are old friends. She came by last night to catch up on old times and I fear I may have inadvertently made her late this morning. My sincerest apologies."
-
"Inadvertently...so it seems." Adia's voice came, glaring right into the eyes of the other woman, "Like you wouldn't believe." The icy-eyed she-demon responded softly. They left yet another awkward pause. It seemed that despite it all, Adia was the initiator in their little battle. Belle wasn't very much shaken by her, and seemed, for the most part, to want to move on. The military like woman, however, seemed she had a chip on her shoulder. Igy adjusted his glasses after a few moments, not exactly sure how to handle the situation, taking the form back from 'Reymond' gladly, thanking him, looking over it a few times, nodding, seeing no issues right away. But then he paused, looking up at the devil with a curious eye. Apparently there was something in the file that had indeed caught his attention, but then decided it better not to say anything at that point. "Ah! Yes! The Commissioner! Right this way, if you'd be to kind as to follow me." Igy guested through the doors. Belle passed by Adia, with a knock to the shoulders that clearly irked her.
Following behind, Adia rounded the four of them into the corridor. Sorry, forgot to mention the whole name thing. Probably should have informed you about that little detail. Mephisto would hear her voice in his head, just so she didn't have to leave it. After all, it was likely she'd forget after this. They passed door after door in mostly silence, Igy being the only one trying to make conversation as Belle followed. "So, how's the family?" Her voice came, somewhat indifferent, trying to seem normal occasionally. Igy smiled a little, pushing up his glasses, and playing with a wedding band on his left hand. "Oh, well, good, excellent even. Anna starts back at school soon, it's hard to believe she's almost 7." Truth be told, Belle couldn't stand idle chit-chat. "She's beginning to really get a grip on her algorithms!" The she demon nodded, a not-sign that she was paying attention, but continued the conversation anyway. "Sorted everything out with your partner then?" Igy made a noise that resembled a disappointed sigh. "I suppose so. He still doesn't like all this work I do, but then, you've got to. I just want the best."
And at that, they came to room 3-0-6, and Igy announced their arrival to them, as if they couldn't read the numbers on the doors. He pressed a button on the doors intercom. "Kyla for you, Commissioner." There was a pause, and then the sound of locks coming undone. Igy pushed the door open for them as they all walked in. Belle nodded as she walked passed, Adia didn't so much as give him eye contact. Everyone else inside, he pulled a rather nervous face, taking a breath, and following them inside.
The room was clean, relatively large. A desk sat squarely in the middle, and a sofa off to the far left wall, accompanied by a water-cooler of all things. There was no water. There were no files, no cabinets. At the desk, was a man in a suit, like everyone else in the building. A fairly large man, but not fat by any means, he almost resembled Adia, expect fairer skin, darker eyes, and far less stern, but he did seem concerned. A holographic name plate at the desk read 'Commissioner Falkner Gray'. Belle stood before him, the other two worked standing back slightly. "So, good to see you finally rolled out of bed." He smiled a strangely charming smile. "I don't have the capacity to be angry at you, we all see you and Adia, it get's us nowhere, so I will let your lateness, and your 'friend' slide for now." Tapping the desk, where a flat-screen was inlaid into the 'wood', he pulled a file, holding it out to Belle, or Kyla, as he knew her. "This isn't going to be standard, I assure you. As you can tell, nothing about your..situation...i s standard at all." Taking the hologram, she read the screen, her expression didn't seem to change. She slid a finger across, moving onto the next tab, her profile. "You really don't need to tell me." Belle commented. Falkner chuckled, despite it all. "I'm sorry to tell you I might have to." He then turned his attention to Mephisto, getting up from his chair and walking towards him.
"I don't believe we've met." He held out a hand. "Friend of Kyla's? I hope you don't mind me inquiring into how long you've known each other? Doesn't often talk about her social life, so not really surprising that she hasn't spoken about you." Then he smiled warmly. He was both assessing him, and judging him while Belle read over whatever was on her screen. There was a problem in this system of his, and although Falkner at least knew Belle well as a co-worker of sorts, he wasn't entirely keen to trust her judgement so quickly. The current situation of things called for it. He was looking for something in particular. A detail that fit a puzzle. For now, Mephisto was simply a clue or not.
-
M U S I C A L S H I F T
A Man Who Can (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wNT5Xgz7wr0)
from the Sherlock soundtrack
Ah, the long arm of the law... and with it, the lerry eye and the bloodhound nose. How long had it been since he'd found himself under scrutiny, even just passingly, like this? Yet the game, he knew well, was very different than five thousand years ago. In Connlaoth or Serendipity "law enforcement" was basically just soldiers looking for wanted men (sometimes women, too) and local authorities undertaking whatever acts based on whatever evidence (or lack of) they'd felt was appropriate. This wasn't that age anymore; EVERYTHING was information, and without a doubt that meant that leaving no trail was just as bad as leaving a foul one. If something painted him as suspect, or if any chink was to be found in his armor, then this man right here, who somehow combined the relaxed demeanor of a beaurocrat with the hungry stare of a waiting bulldog, would, Mephisto felt, be the one to expose it.
Yet the devil smiled warmly, relaxed, and took his hand without hesitation. For all the money he'd thrown into The Black Sapphire he had thrown more into creating a false history for himself, something suitably vague, generic, and hard to confirm yet altogether disarming and believable. He was a hobbyist historian who'd inherited part of a distant shipping business from his father and sold it to a firm that had subsequently run it into the ground, then used his money to move to Cancer and pursue enterprises that were just legitimate enough so as to not rouse suspicion or care from the local law. The club, "officially", was exactly that; less officially, it was a midway point for certain gray market items, mostly rare ore and biological samples going to and from various worlds, a simple import-export business. And then of course there was the business that the Sapphire really engaged in, which had the backing and protection of several reasonably well-established syndicates who were best served by keeping its secrets like they kept their own. And so Mephisto met the gaze of Commissioner Gray with relaxed confidence.
He had his bases covered.
"An old friend from many years back, during the days of my father's failed company." He quickly shot Belle a mental impression of his falsified history so they could be on the same page, and enjoy the inside joke of their mutual "father" and his "failures". "She heard about my enterprises here and we reconnected last night at my club's grand opening."
"I'm not sure how I can assist with, well, whatever it is that's going on, but Kyla thought it important I be here. It isn't a problem, I hope?"
-
With the image of his false history, Belle smiled to herself, looking over her shoulder with grin full of knowing. "It was...a touching reunion." Adia huffed in the back ground. "I don't doubt."
Falkner smiled, nodding, ignoring the two woman prodding each other, as many people who knew them were familiar with. "Not at all, not at all. Just want you to know that all of this is between only the people in this room. I will respect Kylas choice to have you here. It's the least I can do, giving she's done for us." And with that, he left him with a smile, and moved back towards his desk, sitting down, with his own information present.
The she-demon breathed deeply, looking Falkner in the eye as he sat down without a word, there was some hint of knowing in her eyes. "I'm sure you remember a few years back, we decided that, in case something posed a threat to your safety, you would be placed on the list of Sex Workers. That, after all, is one of the safest professions to be in these days for obvious reasons. The list even includes some of Cancers biggest business people. It's our form of a protection scheme." Belle moved the screens tab again. Then her expression changed. "Over the course of last night, a few bugs changed their little routines, and that's no good for anyone." He motioned towards the device she was holding. "Starting with you not bringing in your own catch. After that, pieces began to move, even within our own system." His eyes turned to Igy, who flailed a little with his own screen. "Oh, yes, well, it seems that some people of interest, linked to the accident five years ago, have been trying to converge on your location for the last 12 hours or so, but they lost you pretty quickly. They've even been looking into the details of your Ships whereabouts. Obviously, given your notoriety and our obligation to protect you, that's easier said then done." Falkner got up from his chair, pausing Igy mid flow.
"We don't pay you, and we've relied on what you do more than we should have, but we can't go back now. It's our job to protect our best, but I'm afraid that this time it might be a bit out of our hands." The tall man stood in front of Belle, not a hint of aggression so much as urgency in his voice and his eyes. "We need to know what happened. 5 years ago is still blank on our records, 6 bodies were found at the scene believed to be Thanatos Agents, and you have no idea how hard it was to cover that up. Now they're after you." He breathed. "We can only assume things. Given other details of information we know, this isn't just about Thanatos, either." Belle passed him the file back, crossing her arms. "I haven't noticed anything." Her voice came stern, but his came back more so. "Yes, but you've been busy the last few hours." His eyes met with Mephistos. "Let's just say I narrowed down the list of mole suspects to exclude just the people in this room."
"Kyla, you've become an enemy of one of the shadiest organizations and their pals in the last 24 hours, at least actively. Five years ago you came to us and changed your name, your address, everything. Five years ago, a handful of Thanatos agents wound up dead, and a good part of lower-Cancer slums destroyed. What do you, the accident five years ago, and Thanatos and friends, have in common? We need to know."
There was silence. The air around Belle was one of a person who has hastily buried something they needed to bury, ad forgot about it. But, in their haste, the job was half done, and the tracks lead straight back to them. Her eyes just met his with a knowing stare. Igy and Adia moved uncomfortably where they stood, not sure if having that strange man here was a good idea or not. "You've read every case-report from every dumbass I've dragged anywhere, yes?" Falkner nodded. "Then you know that some of it is pretty strange." He smiled and nodded again. "You assumed they were all just beaten out of their minds, none of you guys could find a trace of anything on me, but I can assure you, it's true." For a second, an almost shocked expression overtook Falkner. "Then why did you keep that information from us?”
“Because I didn't know if there was a Thanatos guy anywhere in the system, or at least, going through the files. It seems that they didn't agree with you passing my catches off as delusional. I'd had a suspicion for a while before the accident that they'd cottoned on to me. Thanatos is tied with some of the darker parts of Cancer. Organised Crime, Syndicates, everything along those lines, and I'm taking out their lackeys like flies. Didn't really put me in a good place, and I admit, I made a mistake not coming to you about it, but I'm a stubborn bitch so I wouldn't." She sighed. "When they finally caught up with me, they were...a bit more than I could handle. Turned out, at least a handful of the bounties I'd been chasing up in the previous few weeks had been Thanatos's attempts to track me. By that, I mean huge successes." Thee was a pause, her eyes dimmed.
"I don't remember an awful lot of that night, just that they almost had me. I'm running amok, clearly powerful, I have some kind of magic out of the gutter, for starters, I've been on the Bounty Hunters list since that list was made. They would want me. They almost had me but, they...didn't get me. I just remember feeling a massive power fluctuation that I couldn't control, and then, the Slums of Cancer doesn't exist. I wake up and don't know what to do. I fucked off quicker than a downtown escort for 100'000 credits an hour. I thought that changing my identity, laying low for a while, would throw them off of my case, think I'd died. But, that obviously hasn't worked. They knew me too well. I don't have that energy anymore, and they know it."
5 years ago. 5 year ago a massive fluctuation of power, a power no one could control. And then he, Mephisto, finds himself waking up in the ashes of a torn-down city. "Things went quiet, I slowed my work down, I stayed around Cancer more to avoid following any similar paths but I underestimated both Thanatos and the Syndicates massively." She looked up at Falkner, and though they wouldn't feel it, the source of her next question rested on the existence of a man she had thought was dead.
"I can't stay in Cancer anymore, can I?"
Falkner sighed, leaning back into his chair, almost as disappointed as she was. "I'm afraid it's unlikely you could stay for very long now, given the pace of these people. They'd either come down on you, come down on your ship, or cause more damage. We could try and protect you, but we can't do that forever. It's both a waste of our resources, which are thin enough, and a waste of time. They'd get passed it eventually. Especially so if my hunch about a mole is correct." Belle almost staggered back. She didn't imagine it would get this bad so fast. "Shit..." Falkner smiled, not in amusement, but some kind of grim understanding. "I know. But we can't do anything but tell you that this is going on without it being redundant in the long run." A pause. "I understand." Belle turned around, looking at Mephisto. There was a deep, crying loss in her eyes, a painful torture. "I suppose that's all then?" Falkner nodded, getting up from his chair again. "I'm afraid so. You are dismissed. It' been a pleasure." Belle smirked over her shoulder, now going to leave the room, gripping the door handle. "Too bad I can say the same."
And Belle left the room, leaving the group in silence behind her.
-
Five years ago. Those three words echoed in his head as he nodded quietly to the officers and officials, then turned and left with her. Five years ago.
Five years ago.
It was impossible not to see the connection; he didn't need Belle or anyone in that room to spell it out for him. Somehow, something had happened when Belle had confronted those who'd been hunting her, something that had triggered his rebirth into this universe. He doubted it was intentional on her part. Perhaps it was wholly accidental... or perhaps the Thanatos agents had done something.
Thanatos. Once it had been a name applied to a nation of people who'd shunned elemental magic and embraced what arcana other cultures of the time had shunned -- the "islands of entropy" as some had called them back then. Now, ages later, the name had resurfaced, reputation far darker than its Earth-bound counterpart. Mephisto knew the reputation of Thanatos Inc well enough, enough to know they were natural enemies of him and his operations... to find out they'd been after Belle didn't especially shock him...
... but that things had gotten that far, that they had almost captured her, THAT shocked him. Belle's words about what humanity invariably did to demonic oppressors, words uttered five thousand years before, came back to him with crisp clear meaning. It seemed that didn't just apply to 'oppressors' anymore, though. In Thanatos' case, at least, coexistence was just the waiting room before the dissection table.
In the elevator, they were at last alone; even then he didn't speak aloud, choosing instead to convey what he wanted to say mentally. ~So that's how bad it is. I understand now why you wanted me to come along with you.~ He turned and looked at her. ~I know Thanatos by reputation -- you know them by experience. You have a much better idea of what you're dealing with here than I would.~ He paused, thinking things over for a minute. Either any Thanatos lackeys pursuing her had decided that trying to take her at the grand opening last night was too public, too risky, or else...
... or else the chain of events that had led them to spend the night together had saved her from being found.
Worse, though, was the unpleasant thought that popped into his head immediately after -- that the soul transfer, and the powers they had just barely managed to keep in check, had been the beacon that restarted Thanatos' hunt for the demoness. Now, in a much lesser way, Mephisto understood what Belle had meant earlier about guilt -- if he had brought this tragedy back to bear on her then this was just as much his problem, his fault, as anything she had ever done.
And, from a purely practical standpoint, there was no reason they wouldn't come after him, too.
~What do you want to do, Belle?~ For sake of appearances -- because Mephisto was sure that in some way they were always being monitored in a place like this, he pulled out a small handheld electric tablet and pretended to read. It was the 'shopping list' he and Belle had recovered the previous day, the fateful stolen article of data that had reunited them. His eyes glanced back and forth between her and the screen, feigning interest in its contents. ~My resources are at your disposal. Just say the word and...~
Something on the screen had caught his attention; glimpsed just out of the corner of his eye at first, Mephisto did a double take...
M U S I C A L S H I F T
Complexity (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3xL4eOH_f24)
From the Frozen Synapse soundtrack
...stared hard at it for a second...
... and then dropped the small device with all the terror and urgency as if it had been a deadly serpent tangled around his arm. Belle wouldn't need to read his mind to know that he was shaken; it was plainly visible, but the maelstrom of thoughts going on beneath the surface was such that even Mephisto didn't rightly know what he was thinking.
"No... that's impossible." The demon muttered, trying to reassure himself. Hesitating just a moment, he reached down and scooped up the display, which now had a single thin crack running the length of the screen. Even so, the image there was plain to see:
A skull, segmented and almost mechanical looking in form, cast from what seemed a handful of different metals, staring at the screen with hollow eyes and set, bony jaw. With a dread urgency Mephisto tapped the image, revealing an array of other photographs taken from an assortment of angles. His mind spun, thoughts and emotions a jumble of shock, refusal to accept what he was seeing, and a veritable thunderstorm brew of dread and long-dormant, specific fury. Hastily he read the item's brief description... and the color drained from his face.
In the midst of it all, as he tried to regain his calm without much success, Belle would be able to pick one train of thought, loud and clear, out of his mind:
'There's only one person besides me who knew how that puzzle worked, and even I didn't know enough to build one. But he's DEAD.'
'I know he's dead.'
Taking a very slow, very deep breath, Mephisto looked over at Belle, voice just above a whisper but heavy-laden with concern. "...I think we may have one more problem. Both of us."
He held up the image for her to see, expression deadly serious. ~That... that damn bastard. This is one of HIS designs. You know who I mean, Belle. And it shouldn't exist.~
~Because I destroyed the only one ever made.~
-
As the elevator lowered, so did Belles mood. She didn't reply to him, only watching the large building pass in front of her from behind the darkened glass, her eyes dead, fists held tight. He spoke, but said nothing. Everything he had found important back there applied only to him. Thanatos and the Accident five years ago. But he wasn't concerned about her, that she had to leave. Not a word, or a whisper, not a thought to help, nothing that would tell her that the anguish was shared. That he didn't want her to go. There was just an offer of things that hadn't helped her before. Like he hadn't even listened, or really seen into her eyes. Never listening. Her rope, it seemed, had suddenly become very, very short. When he showed the image, she didn't look, and when he spoke she didn't listen. Her eyes closed trying to calm down, but closing her eyes only focused her thoughts and-
"SHUT THE HELL UP!"
A fist came crashing through the screen of the device he held. There was more fury in her eyes than he'd ever seen, but there was a hopeless sense of loss there to. She could read his priorities in his thoughts, in his attempted conversations-"I don't give a shit about your lists, or your resources, because it wouldn't help, or whatever fucking ornaments are floating about that look familiar. I've had enough of dead men coming back at this point, so I don't care much for another." - And found she was not one of them. When all that occupied her mind was not Thanatos and their threat to her, but the prospect of leaving him, after all that had already happened between them, she felt betrayed and lied to. His panic was not at the idea of losing her, but at the idea of Thanatos coming after him.
Her extended arm carried on, grabbing him by the throat and pushing him against the elevator wall with a crack that clawed at the glass. "Whatever that was, it's your issue and you won't be needing, or wanting, me. I don't have a choice in what I do now, Falkner, and the data he gave me, made that clear." The elevator binged when it reached the bottom, and the doors opened. Belle let go of him with a forceful push, going to exit the glass case. "I can't stay here anymore. Or did you fucking ignore that part because it wasn't relevant to you?"
"It's nice to see you finally have something important to focus on now, anyway." Her words were spat with all the spite of an angered god, she pulled a silver chain from her neck, and thrust it to his chest, before she headed forward, leaving him with his black sapphire. "Thanks for the food and the sex." Her voice came loud, not bothered about her surroundings, but obviously hurt all the same, back through the Atrium. She had places not to be, things she didn't want to see. A hurting heart to bury in alcohol and drugs, because no one else was going to help sooth it. Leaving was not just simply something she had to do. It was to protect Mephisto, protect all that he owned, and protect the people she knew. Last time, she barely managed to survive, and now, she was at a disadvantage. All she could do was run.
Outside, Belle didn't go back towards to car. She took a moment to look around, and breathe as if she was any less inside than she had been in the building. It was better to get it over with. She might have lasted one more day in Cancer but she couldn't be sure. Surely it wasn't worth risking her life just to see how long she could last here. Once they had sights on her, that would be it. No getting away. Catching a tram full of people as it went passed, guided by electronic lines, heading towards the Docking Bays, she didn't have time to react, no time to lay a ruse, hide, or try to plan and take on Thanatos. It was only a 15 minute walk, but she wanted to be gone, and gone quick. Cover ground without showing to much of herself, give them time to see her. She was angry, and nervous, lonely, and shattered. It was likely Thanatos would come after Mephisto if she hung around for too long, and it would be better if he didn't know where she was going.
He had to stay there. He had ties. He had his business. Cancer was an open book for him and he'd do well not to abandon it for all it could offer him. And it could offer him someone to replace her, even if he didn't think so. She slumped herself in a seat between two people, and slipped right into their numb expressions, no more a person running for their life as the next. And for a moment, she felt as if she might even cry. Fucking oxytocins'. The thought came loud to her head. Her feelings towards Mephisto were messing with her body chemistry. She pressed a palm to her temple, almost trying to subdue whatever chemicals he had awoken in her brain.
He had made a human out of her, and she, ever the fool, had let him.
-
Damnit.
Damnit damnit damnit!
It had happened again. After five thousand years one would think he wouldn't respond to the slightest hint of crisis with self-interested concern... but once again it had taken her rage and disappointment to put a mirror in front of his psyche and reveal the selfish creature he had resorted to.
He wanted her to stay, of course. After all they'd been through the previous night there was no denying that. He had just...
... just jumped to fix things, to address the problem, when his attention should have been on her. It was a classically male mistake... and, as he rubbed his neck and picked himself up off the floor, he realized that it should come as no surprise that she would react that way. Not only had Cancer become a home for her over the last five years... but, in a single night, they had both managed to forge something intimate, something... more.
And he'd been so focused on fixing everything that came his way, thinking it was for her sake, that he'd completely neglected her in the process of helping "her". The sting of the silver necklace as his fingers brushed it hurt more than it should have... an unpleasant reminder that, though it had seemed they were moving forward...
... he had just pushed them both back, perhaps further than ever.
"Damn it all..." He muttered as she was lost in the crowds. He couldn't track her -- part of him wanted to believe he could try, through some secondary method or another... but, teeth grit in anger towards himself, he let her go. He'd made a complete ass of himself when she needed him the most, and he felt it now.
She was running. She'd leave Cancer, and him, behind. But...
... but that didn't guarantee her escape, unfortunately. He cursed himself, wanting to run after her, to help... but knowing that his brand of 'help' would only make things worse now.
The devil paused, a thought coming to him. Maybe not...
'Whatever games you're playing will have to wait, old man.' He looked down at the shattered device, then straightened his coat and walked away. 'Assuming it's even you. You left your daughter exposed to the predations of the world, encouraged them in fact. And damn you to hell for it.'
'I refuse to be you.'
Approaching the nearest receptionist -- to the ire and protest of everyone he callously cut in line -- Mephisto spoke quickly and authoritatively. "I need you to take down a message for Commissioner Falkner Gray."
"Tell him Kyla wants to handle the investigation herself." The lie he was weaving would almost surely reach the mole, particularly with the fact he wasn't trying whatsoever to keep his voice hushed. He was, in fact, counting on it. "She's stormed off to where this all began -- he'll know what that means." And so, Mephisto was willing to bet, would any spy in the Cancer PD's ranks. "I'm going after her now; this is my cell number," He hastily scribbled the number for his most recent burner phone down and passed it to the paper-pusher. With that the Thanatos operatives hunting Belle would be able to track him, know exactly where he was at all times. It would be a lead they couldn't ignore; he would, so the ruse went, be leading them right to her in the ruins of the Cancer slums -- a place isolated, away from prying eyes, and perfect for laying an ambush.
Which, conveniently, was exactly what Mephisto himself had in mind.
"Tell him to call me directly if there are any new developments."
And with that, not giving time enough for a sputtering 'But sir, I--', the devil turned on his heels and headed for the doors... all the while issuing psychic orders to his employees like a general about to take the field. He might not be able to protect Belle indefinitely, but he could throw Thanatos off her trail long enough for her to leave Cancer space. And if doing so meant putting on one hell of a show and personally introducing any number of Thanatos secret agents to the afterlife, all the better. Without a word spoken he made his preparations. Weapons were purchased. Bribes were made. The area he had in mind was open and sprawling, a massive crater in the underbelly of the station that even the most desperate or most malignant tended to avoid if given the chance -- the epicenter of his rebirth, the place Belle had been ambushed and he, subsequently, had drawn his first breaths since five thousand years prior.
Mephisto paused briefly on the steps of the building. He would need someone to pose as Belle. Someone convincing. Someone who could work on short notice. Someone, ideally, who owed him a favor...
The devil grinned, then reached out with his mind. ~Corona, don't suppose you're free right now, by chance?~
~Vell vell, if it izn't ze devil himself! Vat good timing you have; I vas just about to be loking for any new vork. You have someting for me, da?~
Mephisto smiled, continuing to walk. He passed by the limo as if he didn't own it and hailed down a taxi instead. ~Indeed I do. A need a certain person to be at a certain place when in fact she is not. You still have that dermamorphic bodysuit I hope?~
~Zat I do. Whom shall I be impersonating, hm?~
Mephisto sent her a number of mental images of Belle including some rough estimates of her measurements and an impression of her voice and as quick of a summary of her personality and relation towards him as he could manage without revealing too many private details. ~Make it convincing, the best work you can do in thirty minutes or less. I'm laying a trap and you and I will be the bait.~
~A trap, he says? And whom, Mephistopheles, are we hunting?~
~Agents of Thanatos.~
He could almost feel the dozen or so curses that came into Corona's mind -- out of spite, not concern. Corona was nothing if not professional and had as much reason to hate Thanatos as any other 'gifted' individual. ~So business and pleasure, then. I think I vill enjoy this. But what if --~
~I already have a psionic camouflage field emitter, and it's being brought to the site right now. Knew I'd need it someday, just not for something like this.~
~Da, I understand. You have been thorough, d'yavol.~
~Corona, one more thing.~
~Da?~
Getting into the cab and throwing a hefty credit chit at the driver with a half-muttered instruction of "The lower levels. The cordon will be fine." Mephisto's diabolical grin widened. ~I want you to write me a symphony... and bring every instrument in the orchestra.~
~...This truly vill be a pleasure, then.~
The wheels now in motion, the devil scowled at the back of the driver's seat as the cab pulled out into traffic. He had no idea where Belle's ship was docked, which bay, or even what it was called. In all likelihood there was nothing he could do to get a message to her, let her know he would be covering her escape... possibly with his own life. The thought struck him as strange. Mephisto had never been the kind who subscribed to the whole 'knight in shining armor' nonsense, yet here he was, going into battle to ensure the well being of the one woman who'd ever really truly mattered to him... the one woman he'd ever loved. The devil playing hero, and rather stupidly at that. His hand found his forehead and ran fingers roughly up through his hair, half tempted to grab a fistful and rip it from his own scalp. He couldn't make up for ruining things so badly, for being so callous and short-sighted... but he could do this, at least. Give her a chance. Atone, after a fashion.
An atoning devil. What a joke. He couldn't help but laugh, grimly, at the comically deformed image of himself in his own mind. What a fool he'd become...
What a fool he'd been. A fool who now wanted to believe in redemption when he'd offered others no such hope. A fool who'd had the one thing that mattered and let it slip away while busily swatting at flies. In his own mind he damned himself, damned Faustus, damned Thanatos, damned everyone and everything that wasn't her. If today was to bring him his second death... then, in all likelihood, he deserved it.
Almost on impulse, Mephisto reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone -- not the disposable one who's number he'd left with the desk-sitter back at the PD, but his personal phone with all his contacts and important data. Yes... she'd given him her number. He checked; it was still there. She'd likely disposed of it already. Even if she hadn't, she wouldn't respond to a call from him. Even a text would likely be rebuffed...
... But he decided to try, even if she never saw it.
I'm sorry.
I love you.
Run.
Pushing send, he all but threw himself back against the seat, scowl deep-set on his face. The cab drove on... and fate spiraled towards a now-inevitable conflict.
------------------------------
Thirty minutes later, everything was in place.
What remained of the slums of Cancer was more like a dilapidated ghost town; scavengers frequented the area, along with those looking to dispose of bodies, but otherwise it was virtually forgotten. Even the most ramshackle parts of inhabited Cancer didn't approach how broken down and forsaken this place looked. It was like walking through a half melted down garbage dump; it would've been the perfect setting for one of those badly written space horror movies Mephisto had seen advertised from time to time. A faint sound echoed in the vast overhead ceiling, a scurrying, skittering sound like rats. Droplets of condensation fell at random; the atmospherics in this place were poorly attended at best, altogether broken or scavenged bare in other cases. Sometimes the air was impossibly dry like a desert, othertimes Mephisto found himself stepping around oily-looking puddles (not all of which seemed to be water), and in places frost sparkled on fallen metal beams and the air caused his breath to fog. Undeterred, the devil pressed on, his thoughts equally on the woman he'd wronged and the war he was now bringing down on himself to protect her. And here was where it would play out.
Up ahead, dimly illuminated by a hovertorch, "Belle" could be seen tapping away at a digital screen and running a handheld scanner over particularly ruined sections of their surroundings. Taking a deep breath he approached her... and, upon getting close enough, the demoness' doppleganger spun to face him, anger in her eyes and slapped him HARD across the face.
Mephisto recoiled, only partially pretending. He always forgot just how strong Corona really was, or how deeply she got into character when doing work like this. It was the chief reason Mephisto had turned to her, with another being that his corrupt power coursed through her in ample supply. Enough, he hoped, that she would pass for Belle on any scanners Thanatos might have.
"You have some nerve following me down here." The faux-Belle picked up a heavy piece of equipment and threw it into his chest, forcing him to catch and hold it. "If you're going to act like a lost puppy then put yourself to good use, at least. I assume you can work one of these?"
"I think I can manage it, yes." The device was nominally a deep-surface drilling sensor -- realistically it merely looked the part, serving another purpose altogether.
"Then do it and don't get in my way."
The stage was set, the actors in place. Mephisto kept his senses alert for the first sign of company. The Thanatos agents, when they took the bait, would be expecting to launch an ambush and take them both, likely through overwhelming force. They wouldn't count on being ambushed themselves, or on the shadowy businessman in "Belle's" company being able to sense them coming like lit torches in the dark. Already he began to feel souls creeping towards them in the dark.
'Run Belle...' He thought silently, scowling and looking down. He'd sworn not to fail her and promptly done so anyway. At least, in this, he could achieve something. 'I wish I could've done things differently... now and long ago...'
-
Somewhere in the glassy palace of the Police Department, a pair of eyes watched, and a pair of ears listened, grinning at the truly desperate scene before him. "So...It seems we have a deterrent. Someone is trying to cover our little demon's tracks. How...sad." A buzz of an intercom. "Relay the message to our dear Commissioner, nonetheless. Keep searching for Belle, and agree to this little performance of his. Under no circumstances drop your guard, even if you are convinced that what he says is the truth. If in doubt, you know her little secret."
"You know exactly where to push."
~~~~~~~~~~~
Belle was at her stop when the message came through. She stared intently at her phone, cold, as the tram passed on. He had...he had no idea. No idea how much they knew about her. How she worked. Whatever he was planning it was going to be an off note to end all other off notes. It would not be her. After all she had seen and lost in him, after every misdirected detail, every time he had looked into her eyes and missed her heart in them completely...he, and everything he thought he knew about her, would never be true to who she was. There wasn't anything about her heart he understood, and that was just him, with his pronoun, unwilling to change. He was a man, through and through, and he had not seen her when she had faced them.
There was no way in hell she would ever face them again. Even if it wounded her pride and tore at her, she would not risk facing them again.
She didn't need or want a hero.
She didn't need anyone to make a stand, or bare the brunt.
She didn't need money, or weapons, or 'resources'.
No.
She just needed...someone. A reason she shouldn't just give them what they wanted in her, because it would be easier. It was as respectful a way to go as she knew she deserved, and she didn't deserve. No headstone, no plaque, no coffin in space, or urn of ashes. Just whatever of her they had left. Why, even when he knew that, even when it was obvious, did he do it anyway? What was there to prove? How much he loved her? How much he cared? There wasn't much a corpse or memory could do to provide the warmth or pleasure of a body. He was not willing to live, to be so that one day she might have someone to come back to. His pride would rather die, and leave her hopeless. Leave her with the memory of emotions, but no way to feel them. He would leave her with his memory, and her heart, his personal graveyard. "Why did it have to be you.." Her hand threatened to strangle that device until it broke, when a voice came from the Docking Bay Entrance. “Because you're a glutton for punishment.” Adia. She stopped a few paces from her, and folded her arms. “You never change.” Belle just stared at her. “Who ever the mole is, they know. Of course they know. They've been stabilizing on his location, but with absolutely no fire power. They know.” The she-demon scoffed. “Naturally. They aren't that stupid.” The heavy-eyed woman grinned. “No one is.” Belle had to agree.
Y O U N G A N D B E A U T I F U L (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Te11UaHOHMQ)
Lana Del Rey
The two women walked together, going gate through gate in silence, until they reached the demons dock, and her ship. Her pride, her joy, the nearest thing she had to a home. Belle revered it like some kind of angel. All of it's scars were her's. "So." Adia's voice echoing in the enormous hanger bay. "What will you do?" Belle shrugged, a heavy heart. "What can I do? That man is beyond insane. Beyond any real comprehensions of me." Adia kept smiling. "What about me?" Slowly, Belle turned her gaze to look at the woman who she'd known for quite some time, in mortal years. And smiled in return. "I am an enigma, Adia. I've existed on records for hundreds of years, my face has changed but my DNA records are consistently identical. I don't think I will ever, not in a million years, find someone who really unlocks me." It seemed Adia was not exactly satisfied with that response. "That's a bit pretentious, isn't it?" The blond-haired woman didn't react, a somber, almost calm, expression on her face. She had resigned herself to whatever fate lay ahead. All her efforts to detach herself from it had failed, fallen apart in a day. She pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. Adia raised an eyebrow at her. “That's a little-” “I know.” Belle beat her to it, talking through the stick in her mouth. There wasn't enough left in her to care, taking a breath, and blowing toxic smoke into the air. “You must be the last person in existence to have that disgusting habit.” A laugh filled the air, as carefree as a laugh could get. "It honestly does nothing for me." It seemed Belle was an enigma.
A dark star, lost in a void. A place she wanted to be, but no way to get there. Her heart was empty, but then again, so was her soul.
"Igy...Igy wanted you to have this." Adia started after a minute or so just standing there together. Like at least one of them was normal. Her rough hand held out what appeared to be a -"A photo album?" There was a stunned silence, and Belle was almost touched. The military woman rolled her eyes a little as her not-friend took the thing. "Yup. Real photo's and everything. Cost him a lot to get that together. I think, somewhere, he always knew this day would come." Quickly, Belle scanned through the pages. Staff parties she didn't need to attend but did, birthdays and national holidays, festivals and carnivals, and every shot of her with a prize. Actual, printed photographs. Adia waved her hands at the realization at how stupid it was. "I know, I know. You're not very sentimental, but Igy is. You saw him at his wedding. The man barely made it down the isle. When they adopted their daughter no one in the office could escape the pictures for months." "God that was awful." Belle replied. "Just the worst." Despite it all, through all the gnashing teeth and vile words, it seemed the two woman saw eye-to-eye somewhat. Belle took the gift kindly with a nod. "Give him my thanks." A nod in return, Adia promised. Her eyes turned dark at the shorter woman, heavy, almost regretful. In the gaze, Adia shuffled on the spot uncomfortably. A genuine smile crossed the lips of the exhausted looking she-demon. "I almost wish I could have loved you." Then Belle flicked the burnt stub to the floor, crushing it under heel, her outfit beginning to change into that of a bounty hunter, as she climbed aboard The Black Scarab, and prepared for launch.
~~~~~~~~~Music End~~~~~~~~~
Mephisto and the unknown woman were stood in their place, ready to perform. It seemed Cancer really did have a replacement for Belle ready. In the dark, dank, almost unbearable conditions, not many lives roamed. Junkies and the homeless, the lost, and the diseased. It was a battle ground of sorts. A place that Cancers higher powers had forgotten, and would continue to, forget about, in it's rust. In the silence, occasionally broken by the sounds of deterioration, there was screaming in the distance. Howling and yelling. Like ghosts of the past, dead, and forgotten. In it all, the atmosphere of utter loss and desperation...Mephi sto's phone began to ring. The Commissioner. When, inevitably, he picked up, Falkners voice came panting, heavy, desperate, and rushed. "Get out of there, what were you thinking? They know, they know she's not there, do you hear me? They know it's not-" A loud, cracking, bursting noise broke the few seconds of rushed words. Panic.
Lights. One after another. Giant flood lights beamed right at Mephisto and his companion from almost every angle, out from the darkness. And then a loud voice, one he would not recognize, smooth, dark, experienced. "Nice try, Mr. Valor. But you don't fool us that easily." Thanatos had arrived, in all it's apparent force. They wanted him to know that he had indeed, not fooled anyone. They became surrounded by lower class agents holding nothing more than stun-guns. Obviously not there to kill or capture anyone, they were here for something else. "I won't bore you with the pretense, but I will say that one man with fancy tricks and a bleeding heart won't divert our forces from a target we have 10 years worth of information on, and a large sum of money promised for her safe return." A man came from the darkness, hands up above his head. "We have no intention to harm you or your friend, and should you give us the information we require, we shall harm neither your business nor your connections."
"We are ready to negotiate, self-proclaimed devil. She will not come for you now."
-
"Yes... I know."
As the floodlights out of nowhere had hit, they had found Mephisto looking down, presumably at the "drill" doing it's "work". His eyes, for the moment, were lost in harsh shadow, a shadow that didn't quite seem right given the amount of light concentrated on him. His hands dropped away from the device and he turned his body angle towards the one who spoke on behalf of Thanatos, still not looking up. "Belle", to her credit, didn't budge an inch when the ambush was revealed. It was, after all, expected, even if the blowing of her cover wasn't.
"I know she won't. She has no reason to. I've disappointed her time and again... tried so hard and gotten so close, only to have petty things distract me from the truths she placed right in front of my nose."
He grit his teeth, taking no aggressive action but voice spitting with its own violence. "Do you know how MADDENING it is? Do you have any IDEA what it's like? To find someone that COMPLETES you..."
"... and be unable to fit them in turn? To fail with every success and know, KNOW it's because you CONSISTENTLY miss the obvious that they're trying SO damn hard to tell you?"
"To be willing to live and die for someone... and yet know, KNOW that it isn't good enough, because regardless of how perfectly you may match them at moments, you still miss the one thing they're looking for... even when you finally KNOW what it is??"
"Hmph..."
A heavy silence fell as Mephisto chose his words, then in a voice so low that the agents were forced to strain their ears, he spoke. "Yes, I know. You've made it perfectly clear just how effectively you could destroy everything I've built. How Thanatos, almost at a whim, could erase my paltry little business empire from the face of existence. How they are, in fact, so damn powerful that I'm just a fly to be swatted away when he gets too close, a nuisance unworthy of any real concern or fear."
"You want to negotiate? Very well."
Slowly, very slowly, the darkness around the devil's eyes began to turn into light... hot, scorching, burning light that made the floodlights look dim by comparison. Recognizing the threat the Thanatos forces opened fire, hundreds of rounds sailing through the air... only to be blocked, stopped by a dome of energy that flared radiant colors from each impact it absorbed. Mephisto's device was in fact a portable forcefield generator, against which the stun guns of the operatives had exactly zero effect.
"You can negotiate exactly HOW MANY PIECES you want to be in when this is over, Thanatos scum." The devil spat. He gestured to Corona, who was already shedding her deceptive garb, pieces of the false image falling off like fragments of an eggshell. Underneath the guise of Belle was a heavily augmented woman (http://rjbartrop.deviantart.com/art/Female-Cyborg-Character-design-358110420) with a distinctive red streak in her ebony hair, heavy brown combat boots, a midriff jacket...
... and her eyes turning up towards the ceiling.
Mephisto's eyes, for his part, returned to normal as he took a deep, calming breath. "So... here's how this is going to work. Listen carefully, as I don't like to repeat myself."
The sound of skittering far overhead could be heard again, this time somewhat closer and louder. "Up above your heads are a dozen Charon-class fire support robots, eight-legged wall-climbing cargo carriers fitted with two independent weapon mounts. You might be familiar with them; they were a Thanatos design that got leaked onto the black market many years back and have been reproduced in dozens of different variants ever since. A bit dated, but rugged and effective. The ones with us currently bear a mix of machine guns and plasma bolt launchers, meaning they can mow down infantry -- that'd be you, all of you -- and even damage main battle tanks if necessary. But more importantly, each one carries a selection of weaponry that my assistant here has hand selected, able to be launched out of the droid -- or, in this case, dropped from the ceiling -- upon command."
"You came to this little 'show' with pea shooters and promised not to hurt me if I comply -- I came with an arsenal of deadly force... and promise to let you live -- today-- IF you tell me EXACTLY what I want to know."
"And that is this:"
Mephisto straightened his collar and cuffs, trying to look 'businesslike as he walked to the edge of the forcefield.
"Explain your interest in the woman you know as 'Kyla', fully -- including Thanatos' intentions and any plans they have regarding her. Don't skimp, don't lie; I can read people VERY well and I am NOT in a good mood." The devil extended one hand in a particular direction, almost at random. "You can, of course, try to run. There's an old saying that, when chased by a bear you don't actually have to outrun the bear... just your slower friend. I'm not sure how true that is when the bears are machines with turreted weaponry, but you're welcome to try. Or you can try and fight," He looked up at the ceiling with a dull grin. "Good luck hitting targets aaaaaaaalll the way up there, though. Even your floodlights can't spot that clearly at extreme distances I'm sure."
His gaze traveled back down to the speaking Thanatos agents. "Your superiors sent you here to die, all of you. From what you've said it's clear they knew I was laying out a trap down here and sent you anyways. Ask yourselves: how do you plan to spend what Thanatos is paying you... if you're not alive to collect it? Do the smart thing."
"Throw down your weapons... and answer my damn questions."
-
The man, the agent, sighed, pressing his index and thumb to his temple. It was almost like he was disappointed rather than caught-out. Either way, the surrounding troops lowered their guns, not because they were told to, but because their job was about to take a different turn all together. The Thanatos agent met eyes with Mephisto, like he'd already seen this brand of crazy. Not so much in an army-wielding maniac, but a cheated spouse. "I can only tell you that our relationship to Belle, and you would have known that is how we know her if your skills at reading people were quite as sharp as you boast, is purely under business. I could tell you the in's and out's without detriment to anything. Our plans, our employers plans, our pay." He ran a hand through his hair, or what you could only imagine to be his hair. The man was mostly drowned out in back-light. Any features were gone, lost in the contrast.
He sniffed, as if he had a cold, and continued. "I'd tell you, but it'd be better to leave you to realize your efforts are, again, a waste of time, and your energy misplaced. For all you know, we already have Belle, because I wouldn't know either way. You took your eyes off of her for an hour. That's a looong time." Like Mephisto, he went to straighten his jacket. "Touching speech, really. But I'm not the person you should be telling that to, am I?" His posture straightened. "You really are an idiot. It's been a pleasure." It seemed, in that moment, everyone surrounding them, pressed a watch at their wrists, a button on a jacket. The lights shut off with a boom, leaving the sudden, blinding darkness. And, when eyes finally adjusted...
...there was not a soul to be seen. Thanatos was not in the business of making noise were it wasn't needed, and certainly not in the business of doing more than it had been asked. In such situations, they would much prefer to disappear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The engines howled and screamed, Adia had left the chamber to see her off from the view bay, a string of glass along the side of the dock, where Igy maned the controls. They sat in silence as The Black Scarab warmed up it's engines, waiting for clearance, and building up it's FTL Drive. The pilot inside tried desperately not to think about what she was really doing. Saving her own life. She stared up, a one-way hatch, at the glass screen. Hoping, maybe, he would have used whatever powers he had to find her, rather than waste his time with the slippery agents of Thanatos. No. It was just another mission. Some ass out there in the wide Universe with money on his head, and painted on top, her sights. But she couldn't shake it. The truth.
Her hands tightened around the controls. The pressing horror in her chest returned, as if Mephisto's soul was still tight in her chest, but this was simply what was now. She had already done 5000 years with it. Damn her if she couldn't do another. ~Black Scarab you are clear for launch in 5 minutes!~ The Station Commanders voice came into her ships audio settings. "Copy that. Clear for launch." All she could do was stare at those colossal doors as the ever familiar hum of her ship echoed around her. FTL Drive at 75 percent. Oxygen at 99 percent. Internal Gravity Stable. All Engines at working capacity. Preparing for launch in 300 seconds. The ship spoke back to her. A sound that had once comforted her. Once it was the only thing that made her feel like she wasn't alone.
But now, now she had felt company. This? This was emptiness. When all you had to talk to was a ship's purring hull. Her knuckles went white. 'This is all you have to do, Belle. Leave, you have to. Just 5 more minutes, keep yourself together! Her breathing came heavy, repressed, physically having to hold herself back. Telling herself over and over, this is all you have. And a photo album in the space behind her. A space where once, another chair had sat. Just in case.
-
"D'yavol?"
For a long time after they'd vanished Mephisto simply stood there in the dark, expression lost in shadows. Corona, cybernetic eyes long since adjusted, just stared at him, expression neutral... with, perhaps, just a touch of pity. With no one left to target the robots overhead had anchored and gone into standby... and, seemingly, so had the demonic man. The assassin repeated her questioning prod, getting at length a heavy sigh from him.
"We're done here, Corona. Unfortunately. Your payment will--"
"Vhy did you not tell me this vasn't just about Thanatos? Dis voman, she is de vone you spoke of vhen you saved me, da?"
"I am in no mood to--"
"Eedeeot." Now it was her turn to sigh, though with frustration and annoyance. "Vhat are you doink here?"
"She's gone, Nadezhda!" Mephisto shouted,... then almost wept. "Gone. Because I was too stupid to see--"
"Den go to her, eedeeot." With an irked air about her she walked up behind him and slapped the backside of his head, quite nearly bowling him over in the process. The devil recovered and spun around to glare at her but his gaze didn't deter her at all. "You have much power, but you vaste it fighting shadows? Go to her!"
"I CAN'T!" His fist slammed against the ground, and for a second everything around him shook. "I can't track her directly, and--"
"Excuses do not suit you, d'yavol." She folded her arms stubbornly. This was the nature of her family, of her particular "clan". Always to the point, always blunt and cold but only with purpose.Even when they'd first met, with both her arms blasted to bloody stumps and massive injuries she had clung to life, if only to spit in the faces of the mercenaries who'd tried to end her. "You must choose: vat is most important? To vrestle vith those who vill not give you vat you seek... or to pursue dis voman whom you vere villing to fight for?"
He was about to respond, to lash back in anger and frustration... but stopped.
"There isn't any time left. She may already be gone."
"Then you must make time. Go, eedeeot! For pity's sakes, GO!"
What was the alternative? To return to the Black Sapphire and sulk? He realized with chagrin that the assassin was right. Belle didn't need him to fight her battles or give her his assets. She wasn't looking for a hero or a warrior, not even for a devil. She had given back his soul, nearly at the cost of her own life.
She... just wanted him.
Urgency pressing in his mind, he knew he'd have to move fast. A command whispered to a mind miles and miles above them and he was on his way, whisking out of existence like a mirage blown away by the wind.
"Udači, d'yavol."
--------------------
"Our systems are experiencing unusually high traffic right now. Please try your call again--"
Mephisto cursed under his breath as he tore out the front entrance to The Black Sapphire like a bat out of hell, cell phone pressed against his ear. Of all the times! He didn't even know if she was still Cancer-side or even in local space -- for all he knew she could be well beyond the reach of the station's mobile phone system by now, but that didn't mean he could give up trying. Not for a moment did he accept the Thanatos agent's suspicion that they had narrowed in on and captured Belle. No... he just refused to. Even if he didn't hold out much more than a sliver of desperate hope for himself, she was another story.
Even by car the docks were too far away to reach quickly, and although he had 'business contacts' there none were under the sway of his powers. There was no shortcut, not this time. He cursed aloud and dialed again. If he couldn't reach her he'd try the Cancer PD -- they had no reason to trust him, of course, but if they had any idea where she might be going...
... damnation. How had he let everything spiral out of control like this?!
'Damn it all!' His mind spun in a hundred different directions, searching for purchase, for anything that offered him hope. Nothing came to him.
Nothing except her words. A bond. He had no idea how it worked, what it could do, what it even meant. But it seemed the only thing left. Somewhere deep inside he thought he could feel something, like a string being stretched taut, a line with impossible tension on it but no pull... whether that was the 'bond' or just his own stress-addled mind wishing it to be so was anyone's guess. As his phone tried again to reach hers and his blackened heart thundered in his chest, he realized it might be all he had.
A long shot at best. Another futile effort at worst. He didn't know. Couldn't know. But had to try.
~Belle!~ Focusing on her, every thought he had of her, in his mind and bending every ounce of willpower, he reached out blindly, the psychic channel grasping for connection just as much as the phone. ~I'm a FOOL. An IDIOT! I was WRONG! PLEASE!!~
~TAKE ME WITH YOU BELLE!~
-
~Black Scarab, Bay Doors opening, stand by for launch~ The Dock Controls voice came through to her again, as the doors indeed began to open, sharing her the secrets of a thousand stars. Launch in 180 seconds. All Systems Normal. As every beam of light, every star and starship, glistened in her eyes she felt that expanse singing to her with every rumble in the universe. Every exploding star, every crashing asteroid, every race at war. It was life. Truth and mystery rolled up into a single, fragile moment, held between two steady doors. The achievements of mortal kind, screaming from the void, in a single moment.
(http://i823.photobucket.com/albums/zz151/BritishWolfy101/3a80e76e-ff22-4086-8dbb-9b8499c8f74f_zps831fcef6.jpg)
TEN THOUSAND YEARS WON'T SAVE YOUR LIFE (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VsnhCapNRUg)
Hammock
"I want to hear about your first time going up into space-"
"-and whether you were afraid,"
" the first time a ship you were on got ready to jump beyond light speed,"
" that something would go wrong-"
"-and you'd become just a smear of starlight over the skies of some uncharted world."
"GOD DAMN YOU!" Her fist collided with the dash bored of her beloved spacecraft as she huddled over the controls, hair a curtain over her face, trying to stay in control of her thoughts again. Launch in 120 seconds. It spoke back to her. Once, these steel arms would have provided her with comfort, a sense of security. But now that wasn't the case. Like the automated voice, and the humming of an engine, it was just a reminder. "God damn you." Her voice came again, shaking, quiet, in a dark metal container. Defeated. Looking up back at the stars, they weren't as beautiful anymore. For a few hours, at least, she had known, what she could only assume, was love. She stayed there, in that dark silence, as the doors opened up fully with the sound of hydraulics. ~Bay Doors open. Launch in 60 seconds~ The ship began to move, as the dock station the ship was held on rose up, away from the platform, and outwards.
This routine was not unfamiliar to her, it had been something she had undertaken hundreds, if not thousands, of times, but she was scared. All it took was an ambush just beyond those doors to take her out, even if the chances of taking her alive vanished. She didn't know if they wanted her alive or dead anymore. Did it even matter? Resolve didn't burn in her eyes, nor the spirit of adventure that those beckoning stars promised, a promise she had always counted on them for. FTL Fully Charged. At the noise, Belle was shaken from a trance, brought to eye-down, with more terror than she could remember, the lever that began to engage the FTLE. ~30 Seconds until Launch Black Scarab, good luck out there~
She pulled it with force, in a moment of letting go.
FTL Engaged. Preparing for Faster-Than-Light Realization
She breathed out. She breathed in. She had no idea where she was going. What she was going to do. She couldn't just engage her FTL, hoping it'd spit her out somewhere in the known Universe. Or, that wasn't recommended. Right now, what she needed was somewhere unknown. ~20 seconds~. Everything had come down to this. She had underestimated her opponent, after years of pride. This idea of being untouchable. It had come to this. She was running away. Not just from her home, not just from the people she knew, not just from the people who wanted her out of the picture. ~10 seconds~ But from the only man she loved. And the only man her heart would ever allow her to love.
Then, out of her thoughts she was shaken, upon hearing ~Engage Launch Protocol!~ her hand pressed the trigger, and the dock released her, and her ship, with force, out into the void of space, leaving Cancer behind her. ~Safe sailing, Black Scarab, see you in the stars~ And her connection to the Stations Control Systems was shut off to the next. On the left side of her screen, two messages from the Dock. Adia and Igy. We'll be waiting, Bounty Hunter. Belle almost smiled. I know you will. Her small craft, and the lonely heart inside, burst through the nothing. Another light in a sea of lights. That was it then. This is it then. She left Cancers Zone, entering FTL-friendly space. Once again, she took the lever, and pushed it back up. All Systems Preparing for Faster-Than-Light travel. 10 seconds and counting. And so, a counter appeared across the right hand side screen. Seconds and milliseconds. She closed her eyes, and braced herself.
And then she felt it, icy eyes shot open. It was-
~Belle!~
Her blood ran cold, her heart beat faster. Could it really be?
5 seconds
~I'm a FOOL. An IDIOT! I was WRONG! PLEASE!!~
4 seconds
~TAKE ME WITH YOU BELLE!~
3 seconds
2 seconds
FTL Engaged
"Okay."
Everything stopped. Pin pricks of blue and white light began to stream passed the ship slowly, as she closed her eyes, and focused on him, the way he focused on her. She pulled at him, clawing at him desperately. It had to be perfect, in the way they were not, or risk him being turned to nothing as the ship began to rocket through ether-space. She wanted nothing more. Nothing in the Universe, nothing in existence. Not even to be free of Thanatos. God she couldn't care less. Not if...not if...
...not if she had him. Her voice screaming out his name louder and louder. She needed him. Not to protect her. Not to defend her. Just to be there. So that she didn't have to be alone.
FTL Achieved.
When she re-established herself back into reality a few seconds later, she was burning all over, her nails dug into the flesh of her palm. Her breathing came in heavy panting, being lit up by the blue and white of stars as they were gone in an instant. Mephisto. The first though in her head, still dizzy. She woke up, realizing what that had meant. In her chest, her heart stopped, buckled over the controls, she bolted up into her seat. "Mephisto?" The chair spun around, looking into the compartment behind her, mostly used as a bed of some description, evidence of a chair long gone. "Please..." Her eyes searched the darkness as the light flew passed. Looking for the shadows to define a shape, and the glittering shine in his eyes. "Oh god please." She didn't even realize, the hot stream down her face, as she stared, she fell off of the chair, onto her knees, falling into a soft mattress.
And she cried.
"Please."
-
"Okay."
For a second, when her voice echoed in his head, Mephisto wondered if he was losing his mind. It was something he'd always wondered about, quietly, far in the darkest recesses of his thoughts. How long could one stay alive, see the world change all around them, watch the cycle of birth, life, and death play out while remaining unchanged, untouched, unmarred and unbroken... without breaking in another fashion? People, Mephisto had learned long ago, were fragile things. They clung to comfort, to reassurance, to routine, finding in those things the illusion of continuance, of a continuity that even while they knew was ultimately false they embraced anyway. Anything to drive away the specter of the reaper.
But there were worse things than death... he had seen that, too. Burdens to great for a mind to bear. Pain too deep, loss too great, fear too strong. And in those moments of impossible weakness the mind reached out for relief in any way it could... and in those cases where vice and addiction failed, where devotion and regimented duty couldn't fill the void, where nothing in heaven or earth could offer succor, the mind became so very much like a dying star. It would explode, or else collapse in on itself. People didn't go mad because they'd been cursed -- the curse of living on became worse than madness, and the mind withdrew into itself.
And he had wanted for so long to believe he wasn't 'people'. Because he feared that he was.
Had he... had he finally stepped over that line? All his life he'd kept busy, some plan or scheme, some idea or deception, something, anything to avoid duldrum, to escape those moments of quiet contemplation where the only thoughts were memories and the only contemplation that of himself. How "great" Mephistopheles feared the dark, a grand irony if ever there was one... how he feared the darkness he saw within himself.
And then she came into his life -- change, radical, violent, illuminating change, forcing him to question everything, rearranging his priorities from the top of the list down. Belle had consistently challenged everything he had ever thought he knew, expanded his world and, sometimes through sheer force of will, taken his gaze off of himself and his web. If she had not... then one day the threads were guaranteed to snap and unfurl, becoming a noose around his neck. A fate worse than death.
Just another mad devil for mankind to dispose. She had seen it long before he had even given name to that deepest of fears. The fear he would destroy himself.
It had been a natural transition, really, to devote himself to her, even to the point of the absurd. Perhaps at the outset it had just been a thirst for distraction, the thrill of finding a diversion like no other. Maybe she had always seen in him that creeping dark fear that he tried so very hard to deny, even to himself; she had always known him better than he knew himself, so it was certainly possible. But as she in turn attracted and rebuffed him, as he experienced what it was to endure her honest reproach and scrutiny, forcing him to peel away his own layers as he sought to understand her... somewhere, somehow, something changed. There had always been attraction, from that first moment he saw her in the chapel, flower petals raining down in heavy clouds around them, her gloriously naked and unafraid to be so. But the more of him she chipped away, the more poisonous armor Mephisto was forced to shed...
... the more he realized just how much he needed her in his life. Not lust. Not desire. They were there, but something else grew to consume even those strong feelings. Deep down he feared her, the grasp she had on his life, his very being... but what scared him more was her absence, the idea of never seeing her again. Of losing that increasingly vital connection.
Of being alone in the world with the one person he truly couldn't stand.
Himself.
And the further she pushed him from himself the more he needed her. To pin down exactly when it became love would be like asking for the moment when the tides change. It was gradual. It snuck up on him. But once it was there he couldn't deny it. Still, old patterns stubbornly persisted -- even to the very day of their reunion, and perhaps afterward. Time alone would tell if he ever truly shed himself and learned to embrace her. He had been so, so close...
And then lost it. And then buried his chances of recovery still deeper. And only at the very last second, when everything seemed impossible, when he was convinced that his truest nightmare was about to begin, did Mephisto hear her voice. The one thing he most desperately wanted, held out to him.
His mind fought him. In that endless moment when he heard her a war raged within, split-seconds triggering tempests within the ancient devil. Madness or hope... madness or hope?
Madness.
Hope.
And as he felt an inescapable pull come with her voice, like what he imagined falling into a black hole would be like, a single chilling thought echoed in his skull.
Maybe they're the same thing.
And in the next instant, darkness claimed him. And he embraced it.
It felt like he fell through the dark for an impossible time, plummeting into an abyss without end at speeds without limit. Paralyzed, petrified, the darkness burned and seared the uttermost core of his being like it was raking his soul over hot coals. It bit deep like a thousand daggers of ice driven into body and mind. Without voice it scorned him, without words it whispered nameless and formless terrors to him. Without fingers it picked him apart, piece by infinitesimal piece, and threw him away. And with jaws of pure oblivion it devoured him thoroughly. In this moment, in this endless moment, death danced all around him, watching but not touching, providing no release and no hope of escape. He tried to scream, to let the nightmarish terror and anguish escape in some way, the only one that presented itself, and was denied.
There was no sound here.
No light here.
Even the darkness wasn't right in this place.
Only pain.
Only torture.
He would be sacrificed for his sins, endlessly sacrificed.
For an object to achieve the speed of light, it requires infinite energy in infinite supply. Even for a single moment. The only escape of this rule is to bend reality itself, to somehow establish a loophole by which either the accelerating object or the space around it is treated differently than physics normally allows. Even under such cases, the energy needed to create such a bypass under any method is extreme. And due to the laws of relativity, objects approaching the speed of light experience time dilation -- relatively speaking, the universe moves radically slower as the accelerated object moves faster. It is also stretched, theoretically, into an ever longer chain of atoms which are, themselves, stretched beyond what reason and sanity would seem to allow. This creates a three-fold boundary to practical space travel that science grappled with for a very, very long time.
For a space ship, these rules are obstacles. For a living person, without protection, the forces needed to achieve FTL are death in no uncertain terms.
For an unnatural, nearly immortal being it was a re-imagining of hell. From the standpoint of the objective universe Mephisto's torture only lasted the scant picoseconds it took to be warped from Cancer to on board Belle's ship, in quite nearly the very instant the FTL drive was engaged. For the devil, however, it was time almost without limit. The only reason he didn't die instantaneously was because his physical body was in a state other than conventional matter at the time.
And the only reason he didn't die the moment he arrived had more to do with straight-up dumb luck than anything else.
Mephisto didn't transition back into reality with some resounding thunder crack or flash of light. No light could've escaped the realm between existence and oblivion that Belle, impossibly, had pulled him out of. Darkness, of a warmer and less absolute variety than the timeless prison, greeted him when at last his eyes bolted open, the terrors of an untold darkness still written large across his horrified gaze. His body felt every sensation with terrifying intensity -- the soft thrum of the engines was an earthquake, the brush of clothing against his skin was sandpaper on a raw wound, the temperature controlled air that filled his lungs pressed down on him like a sea and made him feel like he was drowning in burning ice. Everything was blindingly bright if it had the slightest illumination, and shadows scraped and clawed at his eyes with thousands of needle-like talons. For the first few moments his body didn't even fully exist, little more than an unseen phantom overlaid on the canvas of reality. Slowly, veeeeeeery slowly, the rest of him caught up, bringing new fullness to every horrible sensation until, in one merciful moment, everything was suddenly whole again... and normal reality, alien as it now seemed, began to reassert itself for the scarred devil.
He lay there on the hard floor, shivering, trembling, weaker than a newborn babe and unable to cry out.
But he'd heard her. In the midst of it all he'd heard her in his mind, the words of her voice stretched over the experiential timeframe of thousands upon thousands of years. He had clung to those words, to each stretched sound and syllable, the whole time of his nightmare... literally hanging on every word she'd said. And as he drew breath -- real air, that didn't scorch the very fabric of his mind -- an unspoken voice, so soft and weak that even a whisper would be loud by comparison, would reach her mind.
~No gods here . . . just me.~
~. . . Just barely.~
-
In the dark, she saw his shadows, slumped at the back of the compartment. His words, if they could be called that, drew a shocked, almost disgusted expression from the woman, that after all that, that was all he could manage. A stifled laugh, sounding almost like she was holding back tears instead, not in the slightest bit amused. Her eyes narrowed at him for a second "You're always so grateful." She sat back in her chair, and turned to face the passing lights. She felt like throwing in something about that, no matter how horrible the trip to make it here had been, none of that was on her. That was his fault. But he didn't exactly seem in the mind to listen. She sighed and pressed her head again her hands, leaning against the console. She didn't want to be wrong about letting him here. She didn't need his self-pity. He was alive. And she had made the choice that she had wanted him here, even if, on the outset, it didn't sound like he greatly cared. Against everything, his blindness, his deafness, his abandoning her to peruse something so obviously pointless. She had made what threatened to be the human mistake.
"Don't make me regret this." Her voice trailed, not even realizing she'd said it aloud, as she let the Universe past them by. This was it now, this was all she had. “Please don't make me regret this.” He was a fool, but so was she, and the still body in the back told her as much, wallowing in darkness, contemplated in sorrow. But she did regret it. She already regretted it. His presence made her so angry, and she had every right to be angry at him, but there was no point, in a hull this small. She wanted to make him hers all over again, and she wanted him to do the same with her.
Exiting FTL in 10 seconds.
The ships automated voice broke the silence, aggravating Belle more than was necessary. In the light of everything, she had become tender, sore, an open wound to everything. Nothing was brushing her right. She was confused and annoyed. The countdown ended, and the ship's loud purring quieted as the FTL Engine shut down, and instantly began to re-charge. The Universe came clear before them. Entering Sector Alpha. Belle sighed. Libra was the nearest port of call, and the large mass of a space-station loomed in the distance. While Belle preferred Space Stations to planets, did she really want to dock so quickly? That made her much to easy to track. It wasn't like she had an idea of where she was, where she was going, what she was doing other than running, and now she had Mephisto to worry about.
He certainly wasn't in an position to dock anywhere. This was already going horribly wrong, and she hadn't even encountered Thanatos yet. Once again, her head hit the console. She just wanted to curl up and forget everything. Thanatos, Mephisto, everything. Maybe she had expected too much of the devil, assumed too much. That he was ready for her at all. Ready for her and every crazy truck of baggage she had. All her life she'd been alone aside from the first few months they had spent together so many, many years ago. Maybe, it wasn't him. Maybe she wasn't ready. Belle wasn't the kind of person you pinned falling in love, and really, it had only been a day of realizing that truth. Would she ever be 'ready', in the conventional sense? Probably not. She was rejecting it violently, and she needed to be constantly reminded that he was willing to reciprocate until she was sure in her own mind.
Right now, he was everything other than someone who loved her. He was lonely, a nuisance, a freeloader. And she was just weak, human, and stupid.
-
Mephisto didn't respond to her jab about his gratitude as he did his best to shake off the trauma from "moments" before. She had every right to be furious with him, and he had no right to question it.
"I'll try not to." He said meekly, slowly trying to pull himself upright. It wasn't working. All he managed was to slump into a sitting position... strangely familiar, that. Once more he was in her home, her refuge, a guest not truly welcome but tolerated anyway. More than he deserved, clearly. It felt like somewhere in the experience of the jump he had simply lost the ability to be proud... and maybe that was good.
"... I came to apologize. I know I don't have the right to expect anything from you, not after acting the way I did at such a horrible moment in your life." He rubbed his throat and coughed -- everything hurt, everything stung, and he wasn't fully convinced that all the pieces of him had actually made it. Realistically, none of that mattered all that much; if she shunted him out an airlock right now it would be more than he deserved. "You'd just lost everything, and I stupidly tried to fix it when it couldn't be fixed. I let things grab my attention when I should have been there for you."
He paused, drawing in much-needed breath. "You gave me a soul and then lost a home. You paid an impossible price twice over... and I was too preoccupied to see that I was only making it worse."
"I was wrong. And I know I still am. And asking you to make me right again isn't fair either. I've hurt you too much to deserve that."
"Belle, I'm sorry."
-
In the reflection of the fake glass, an illusion, she watched him, and she listened. She was a fool, truly. There was no way she could ever escape him, and she didn't know if he quite realized the extent of that small, but infinite, insanity. It would never matter how angry he made her. Constrained and tense, her hunting suit strangled her, changing back into what she had been wearing previously, forgoing the shorts completely, letting her body sit as it should, rather than crushed in against tight clothes made for anything but being hunched over a ship's controls. This was her ship, and she was on no mission like before. It would be the little freedoms that made her feel safe. Pulling off the heels, she placed them to the side of the chair.
"Belle, I'm sorry."
There was a pause, and the engine's rumble seemed to get just a little more intense, as Belle guided the ship away from the direct line of Libra, and out into deeper space. For now, she wanted to leave civilization be. She needed a few moments with the stars, a few moments to wait, and think. An hour must have passed as space flew by outside. Belle didn't reply, as if some kind of automaton, programmed to do a job before she could complete their interaction. She wanted to put some distance between anything clearly marked, understandably. The stress could be felt, it was tangible in the air. But as the hour went on, her anger began to wane, calming down best she could. The Universe was considered almost infinite, and sometimes, Belle simply relied on the Laws of Thermodynamics to calm herself. She would, given time, return to neutral. This expanse helped her to remember that.
Eventually, she let go of the controls, and she pressed a button to the side of the steering boom-arms. "Intelligent Auto Pilot activate. 5 hour course. Anti-Radar Shields up." IAP Activated. Shields up and stable. Oxygen at 99 percent, FTL at 50 percent. The ship responded, and Belle stretched, arms pressing against the roof of the cockpit. Driving in deep space was mind-numbing. Belle pressed her hands to her face, rubbing her eyes with her palms, sighing. "I won't deny your...blindness, Mephisto. Even with you, I cannot ignore what is true. Even after..." She took a moment, leaning back in her chair. "...even after last night, you still didn't realize all I wanted, needed, was you. Not anything you owned, not anything you had gotten. Just you, simply." Again, she paused, after a moment, pulling back a compartment under the console, reaching inside and pulling out what appeared to be a cup of instant noodles. Then the chair spun around, Belle sitting, legs crossed across the chair, as if she were on the floor, the belts of the suspender pulled, leaving a shadow where the four straps pressed into her thighs, his shirt draped over her, clearly too big. It didn't matter. She wanted to see if he followed at least some male impulses she could live with. Embrace, even.
Pressing of tight fabric against soft skin, where instead it could be his hands. She wore his shirt, hiding her, but a whispering of promise. I. Belong. To you.
Holding out a hand, the scene played out, ever familiar. A bright-blue orb, pulled from existence. "I knew that I had failed very quickly." The words came in reference to his soul. "I still couldn't use these." It floated like a beckon across the relatively small space towards the hurting devil. She pulled a string from the base of the pot, and a hissing sound came, steam rising as she tore off the lid, taking the two chop sticks on the side of the cup. It had been almost three hours since they both had breakfast, and yet, everything that had happened just made her hungry. "Still have to eat to live." She smiled, somber, before she started on the, somewhat bland, noodles. Not that it mattered, not that she minded. For a while she didn't speak, just ate. The stress had taken in out of her, and it continued to eat away at her, clearly. Finished, she paused, before reaching over, shirt being pulled up to spy the belt resting at her waist, she put the now empty container into a separate box. Sitting back down, she willed the two containers back into the space below the panel, and the 'door' shut behind them. "Don't worry about losing me a home." Her eyes gazed into his. "You know I've never had one."
No matter what, she couldn't help, and chuckled, softly. "You know, you could do anything to me, and it'd never change how I felt. I guess that's why I get so angry at you. I don't hate you, I'm afraid of what's been." Those icy-eyes dimmed. "Afraid that you might use that against me, because you could, easily. Strip me of my use, dump me somewhere, beat me, leave me as good as dead, and I'd..." She had to pause, control what she felt. "I'd never feel any differently about you." Both her hands cradled together in her lap. Her shoulders fell low. Her hair fell in front of her face and she brushed it behind her ear just at quickly. He made her feel what people feel, pushed her senses to capacity. They were alone, but she was not alone. Then, it could be agreed, that to say they were alone, was not both a poor choice of words, but simply a lie.
-
For a time, as they drifted further and further from the common lanes of space travel, the silence pressed on him. Like a child his first instinct was to think she was punishing him... but the silence wore on, and so did his thoughts. They had been and done so much in the last twenty four hours, each had their worlds turned upside-down, righted, and then upended once more. They had been painfully close and then painfully distant... after a while, he realized, that in its own way the silence was soothing. No pursuits. No plans. Even the anguished ache in his chest and head, more a symptom of heart than of body, dulled just a fraction. And not a soul anywhere within his ability to sense. Quiet... like he'd never known before. Ever. The sheer newness of it struck him, even as he wordlessly awaited her judgements of him. Judgements, he knew, that would be well deserved.
When the silence at last broke she spoke the truth he'd only realized at painful length. 'Just you, simply.' The irony struck him that, in truth, that was all he wanted, too, had from the moment he'd seen her round that corner and step back into his tangled mess of a life. Somehow, he'd thought he needed to earn that, to somehow prove that her faith in him wasn't as misplaced as it had surely seemed in a bygone age. Like a boy fumbling through a first date he'd tried to impress her with gifts and play the hero at the first sign of trouble, perhaps out of shame at the thought of how he'd once been... and then, in absurd irony, more-so when he'd clearly disappointed her. It was pathetic, and she knew it. A peacock displaying his plumage -- a thespian on the stage. Pretense and vain attempts to woo. All rubbish.
They should have been past all that. He should have been past all that. And for a precious sliver of time the night before, it seemed as though he had been.
It was time to set such things aside.
As the soul floated over to him he took it in one hand, eves still glued on her. It was an odd 'dinner date', certainly, a stark contrast from breakfast... and, in hindsight, a welcome and authentic one. As she ate so did he, the soul's vitality warming Mephisto from within not unlike hot soup or tea -- he hadn't realized just how cold he was until he'd swallowed it, the merciless chill of that terrible non-space still lingering within his being. His own soul, reacting and absorbing it, sent the renewed strength coursing through him in soothing waves. He had badly needed that.
When she mentioned never having a home, he almost cringed. He couldn't tell how much truth there was to those words -- he still remembered how numb she'd been after receiving the Commissioner's news, and how she'd reacted when he'd utterly missed the vital moment. Mephisto knew what it was to be a vagrant, certainly; those who could outlive the common ken of mortals by dozens of lifetimes or more didn't really have the option of putting down roots, at least not anywhere nice. Still... still, Cancer had meant something to her. Those people had meant something to her. They likely still did -- he'd noticed a conspicuous book earlier, during the hour-long silence, that would have indeed confirmed his suspicions had he the brass to have opened it.
Belle's soft chuckle brought just a touch of surprise to his expression... and what she said, even more-so. Did she... was all of that really true?? For a long moment all he could do was stare, disbelieving, her words running through his mind on a loop.
M U S I C . . . (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=boCtChiP-yQ)
'You could do anything to me...'
'I'm afraid of what's been.'
'...Because you could, easily.'
'I'd never feel any differently about you.'
Slowly, he stood. Walked over. Knelled in front of her. Placed his hands over hers and looked up into her eyes.
"...Then that makes two of us."
And it was true, utterly true. The two of them had already done frightful and terrible things to one another, both deliberately and through either careless disregard or misguided good intentions. The burden of his death weighed on her; the burden of his life weighed on him. In all truth, weren't they both equally guilty and worthy of the others' condemnation? She had been his betrayer and murderer, while he had been every selfish thing she had ever fought against ad nauseum. They both had the right to retaliate, to use or destroy the other utterly. Neither had the will to do so. It was just the opposite.
At last, Mephisto was really beginning to understand. It wasn't their differences that had been driving them apart. It was their similarities plus his ignorance. And now it all seemed to be so utterly clear... how had he not seen it before?? Again, himself. So wrapped up in himself. Even his attempted devotion to her had been choked by it.
No more, he resolved. No more.
The foolish man's hand reached up to her, running through her hair from her forehead to the level of her ear, a tender caress without urgency. He didn't speak -- for now enough had been said, and words would only complicate what really needed to be expressed. For the longest time he just lingered there, eyes exploring every incredible curve and angle of her face, the way those amazing eyes were framed, the way her hair fell and the ways it accentuated her features. The more he looked, the more he saw... and the more he wanted to see. She was beautiful, that was a given... but there was more, so much more to be found there than just physical beauty. She was utterly unique in all the cosmos... and for the moment, Mephisto was content to be fully entranced by that sole fact.
His hand in her hair traced downward, fingers softly gliding over the edge of her ear, the curve of her cheek, contour of her neck, slope of her shoulder, and on down the length of her arm until he gently took her hand in his, placing a lingering kiss on the back of it. It was a gentleman's kiss, almost a greeting...
...as though trying to make a first impression. As though trying to start over.
Rising somewhat, his hands still on hers, he leaned in and let their foreheads rest together, nose tips almost touching. Mephisto's eyes gazed into hers, not searching for clues or bearing any intent, merely drinking in the color, the pattern, the way that the starlight the view screen bounced into the cabin reflected therein. There was no haste or lust in his advances, nor was it necessarily 'romance' or 'seduction' in the more common senses. Now, away from everything, they could take their time. No meetings, no running, no preoccupations.
They were each others'. It was, finally, just as simple as that.
-
She didn't know what to say. There wasn't anything to be said. Her eyes held what could only be described as wonder, surprise without the shocking discomfort. Looking back at him, they were blue and red, ice and fire, a Y and X. Feeling his hand through her hair, lips on her skin, as he knelt, her pupils grew large. Unlike him, she was somewhat human, and though she saw in him that sense of more he saw in her, that feeling of a marvel, it was inescapable, the burning, twisting in the pit of her stomach, as the cross on her neck shot heat through her body. But she had the willingness to be slow. In his eyes, the stress of her overall situation almost dissipated. She would linger there, the pressure of the short day on her chest alleviated.
Eventually, she closed her eyes with an extended breath, holding her head forward as so their noses met, before falling slowly from her position on the chair. Her legs wrapped around his waist, arms holding at his neck, her face buried into his shoulder, just wanted to hold herself against another. Again, everything smelt of him. In turn, her hands tangled into his hair, feeling his chest push against hers as they breathed. There was silence. "Kneeling doesn't suit you." Her voice came, calm, almost a stab at his words previously, that guilt didn't suit her. Just a reminder of what they did to each other without realizing. Maybe, this time, she would let her explosion be a quiet one, eased into a critical mass, with kisses and attention needed, rather than forced, just because they knew how to melt down. For a moment, her grip held him tighter, before she pulled away slightly. Hands at his jaw, her hips pressing more to counterbalance. For a while, like him, she got lost in crimson eyes, both her hands moved to brush his hair away from both sides of his face.
For a moment, she scanned his features, and, in the end, she let herself go, gave in to the human heart.
Her lips pressed against his, in a moment not so much fueled by desire as sentiment, her arms moving back to support her weight, mostly suspended from him, and her legs pulled her closer. They were hidden, hidden like they hadn't been back on Cancer, in the void where there was nothing to find, and nothing to hide. The whole ceiling of the ships cabin began to reflect the stars above them. Usually, she switched between the front view and the panorama as needed. Though showy, it was what she wanted. To gaze at the two things she loved most. The stars, and all their promises, and Mephisto. She kissed him and she kissed him, genuinely, without a greedy hunger, but a necessary longing.
A laugh emitted from her throat, and she broke their kiss with a smile, laughing still. Resting her temple against his again, it was like she was human. A young, spirited one, with hope for the future she might build with him, ever aware of the one they might not even have. Placing a playful kiss on his lips again, her eyes flashed upwards momentarily. "I've never made love on a space cruiser before." Her words came amorously, amused, like it had never occurred to her before. Her eyes met his, biting her lip, once again like that young, spirit human. Someone she might have been. "If you want, we can..." In truth, and in honesty, Belle had only really 'made love' once before, with him. Every other time it was just sex. But she loved him, and she cared about him, so surely the more loving term, no matter how strange it felt for her to say was correct. There was a purposeful pause, her eyes deepened their gaze. "Unless, you'd rather not." A concept she had never voiced before, a choice in the matter.
And she was willing to make whatever compromise with him. Even if it meant forgoing what she wanted. She wanted what he could give her. But she didn't need it. Only him. After how he had been, she didn't know if he just wanted to rest. If so, she would let him.
-
"As though I could ever not desire you." Came the devil's response, hands finding their way into her hair and running through it with deliberate slowness, as though savoring every moment. Somewhere in his mind he knew, felt really, the trauma and terror of the spaceless void... but no matter how his body ached and protested, it meant nothing. He had just felt like unto a thousand years apart from everything, with only the soundless echo of her pleading words ringing in his soul to latch onto.
Like hell he wanted to rest; what he wanted was to lose himself in her until the cold ache of that memory fizzled out of his being.
But there was no rush -- this wasn't about male need, not entirely. As the clothes began to come off, a silver and black-sapphire necklace clattering down out of his pocket, what he sought wasn't so much stimulation or excitement... just to touch her, be touched in return, and let that connection heat up slowly.
And it did.
Time quickly lost all meaning, the two ageless lovers losing themselves in each others' embrace and the pinpricks of starlight. The night before had been a frenzied, wild dance of passion and rapture... this, by contrast, was a waltz, slow and refined yet, in its own way, just as thrilling. He made sure to trace every curve of her body, feel and touch everything, not just the pleasure zones. For a while in fact the devil simply massaged her, easing sore muscles and doing his utmost to rid her of the stress he had so recklessly contributed to. It gave him another chance to just admire her, in all her glory. Starlight suited her skin remarkably well, he realized.
------------------------------
Strangely, sleep fled Mephisto, even long after they had both at length exhausted themselves in their passion. He was tired, a very good, well-spent sort of tired... but he also couldn't will himself to sleep. Maybe it was the lack of 'background noise' -- there had always been the cacaphony of human emotions at the edge of his senses, and now for the first time ever there wasn't. The starlight was soothing, and he enjoyed the simple absence of distraction. It was all so far away now... everything that had happened, everything that would happen, was far away, and he wished it would stay so for a long, long time.
He didn't want to think about Thanatos. He didn't want to think about that damn puzzle skull, an obvious message for, specifically, him. He didn't want to think about the one who sent it. Even if it was who he thought it was behind it -- impossible as that seemed -- was it really so critical? Not at all. There was only so much point in worrying over things he didn't know, things far away -- she was right here, with him, his arms wrapped around her and body pressed into his as they lay together. The rest of the cosmos didn't have the same importance. All those things vying for his attention were distant stars, and for now Mephisto was content to let them burn far, far away from him and just bask in the distance.
But they were still out there. And some part of him hated them for that simple fact.
Turning his gaze away from the ceiling, he placed a soft kiss on the shoulder of the most amazing woman he had ever encountered... and held her just a little bit tighter. He didn't want this to end. If this moment could last for eternity he would be content. He hated that it couldn't. That, by the sheer necessity of having only so much food, oxygen, and fuel on board, they would have to set a course.
This moment would have to end. And he reviled that idea, even as he forced himself to accept it.
Not now, though. For now he held her. For now he closed his eyes and just breathed in her scent. For now, the stars sung down on them in silence.
For now, they were untouchable.
For now.
-
In the hours that passed, she really did just let herself go, under his kisses and touches her body sang and moved against him. She let everything he did to her pull her down, drown out every nasty emotion until she was left only with her bliss, her pleasure, and her love. The grace and majesty of a four-poster bed discarded for a mattress, and a blanket. But they had swapped out the darkness for stars.
Once again he managed to pull her voice from her throat as if he'd spent those thousands of years away learning how to do so, learning to master her body down to the fine tuned motors of her nerves. He picked a key, and made her sing for him.
At her heights, she just gazed out into the void of space, wondering how such things could be felt in such a small space. And she would return all of his efforts in kind. For all the energy in the stars, all the brightness in the galaxies, they were not this.
Her toes would curl and her knuckles go white, as he took his time on her, making the most of his internal silence. Simmering her to her critical mass, and he would make her melt down. Over and over, until she could not tell the stars in the sky from the ones burning in her brain, and she swayed with the beat of the universe.
She held him, always wanting to make sure that she was still alive, and that this given moment of bliss and aliveness was not just some will of her mind as she died. All she wanted, all she needed. Him. It didn't matter, the whens, there wheres, the hows, the whys. He, in himself, had become enough. And, if he payed enough attention to his other only, read her like a man should, he would find that her tattoos were more than marks, more than just an irreversible symbol of her ties, her love, her bond, to him. They were her overdrive. Under his touch, his kiss, they would melt her down before him, with fires to rival that of the largest star.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Belle had not slept either.
Her body wanted her to, but not more than she wanted to stretch this time out with him, the peace of a soft satisfaction. His kiss against her shoulder made her whole body tremble under him. The littlest but loudest sign of affection. She turned over with a contented hum, her head pressed against his chest, listening to his beating heart. Here lay two beings powerful enough to destroy each other in a second, and instead they loved with more passion than anyone would think sane for the things that they were. So stagnant in their feelings towards anything else that the image of them like this was impossible and possibly humorous. Mephisto would feel her smiling, her cheeks pressing against his skin. "I don't know how you keep managing to do this to me." The voice came with the slow tone of the morning. "Not that I'm complaining." Very rarely in her life, and through some fault of her own, had Belle ever fooled with a man who could really make her feel anything notable. The majority of the meetings that hit her spot were held by the very same man who's heart rung in her head.
Like him, she would not complain if somehow they could spend the rest of forever this way. A mess. Even just in the tone of his breathing, she loved the sound of his voice. Never more so than when he said her name. She let him pull her closer, breathing him in as he breathed in her. Eventually though, she did sit up from him, pulling her blanket, the excuse for a cover, over her, as she gazed out into the stars. As the moments passed she just left him in the relaxed, contented silence. Pulling her knees up, she rested her head. "I wish I could have shared all of this with you a long time ago." Her voice finally trailed through the semi-darkness, brushing her not-so-messy hair out of her face, over a shoulder. Giving a pause, she looked over her shoulder at the red-eyed devil. Forever, she would be happy just to look at him, watch him breathing. The knowledge that they could both be killed, that, while immortal, they were not infinite. Her eyes turned back towards the stars, the crosses on her neck on show, the curve of her back exposed.
Back here, she felt hidden, safe. With him now it felt shared. Now he had made himself a mark in her memories of this place, it felt more like a home. This was their escape from everything. The only place they really only had each other. She spied the dropped necklace from behind the discarded clothes. A smile, quickly, before she reached over the short distance, and admired it in her hands. It carried a weight with it now, and it's silver no longer bit her skin like it had. She showed it somewhat subtly to Mephisto, eyeing him, calmly, relaxed, back over her shoulder. And she asked him a favor. "Could you...?"
-
"Certainly."
He didn't mind as he felt the fiery touch of the silver against his skin, pushing thoughts of pain aside as the thin chain burned its mark into his fingertips. The unpleasantness would pass in time, and like never before he found himself able to bend his full concentration onto one thing. He draped the necklace across her, carefully brushing her beautiful length of hair to one side. He could see the marks now, more clearly than ever before... one seemed to glow, radiating just faintly of colors without names -- a sight so strange he was at first convinced he had imagined it. That light was by no means natural... he almost felt it more than saw it.
The clasp fitted itself where it was meant to, the token of his unreserved affection for her once more around her neck. His fingers steamed from where they had touched the glittering metal, skin red and sore as though he'd just seared himself on a white-hot kitchen pan. The devil ignored it... and, out of equal parts curiosity and affection, planted a brief kiss on the back of her neck just above the markings.
Oh yes, there was power there. In no small amount. It jolted him slightly, like a shock of static electricity when he got close. The red-haired man stared at the 'tattoos' with earnest interest and just the slightest hint of concern... he couldn't help but wonder.
"...You don't have to answer if you don't want." He began, tentatively. "I'll certainly respect your privacy if you wish it. But... how did you get these? What are they exactly?"
-
The faux-demon breathed out, not so much sighing at all. Her shoulders dropped lower, but not out of anything too troublesome. She had told him that she would tell him about them, if he wanted. That they would help him to piece together why he had come back in the first place, and it had less to do with her stealing his soul than he might realize on his own. Besides, that mark was just as much about him as it was about her. Probably more so about him, in the truth of it. They were on her skin, but she had not been the one to put them there.
Her hands reached back to hold his, burned by the silver in not short measure, and a pang hit her heart as it reminded her of what she had done to him once. "They are...not there through any will of mine." Her words came slowly at first, trying to piece together how to explain something she herself didn't fully understand. It was hard to understand the how's of things, when you were the only example in the Universe. "I don't really know what to call them, honestly. Tattoos, marks, bindings, whatever you fancy, really." She pulled the blanket up further. "I remember that the top one, I got it a very long time ago, when I was young. See, I only know who 'gave' it to me. It was the man my father brought with him now and again. He was a man who played beautiful music, and he attempted to teach me when no one else was looking."
"When I look back, though, I don't feel anything. My best guess as to why that is, is that I was human, or close to it, at the time. When I transitioned into, well, this, the reasons, the emotions, never made the jump over, got left behind. But he left this mark, anyway." She thought for a moment, leaving him to notice that the top one was far more worn than the bottom one, but showed no signs of going away. "All I know about them come from you. When-" She stopped herself momentary. "When I found out I had it, I was busy being thrown about in the dungeons of Connloath. One of the White Lily's asked me what it was out of interest and I couldn't tell her. But I knew." Her eyes met his. "Oh gods I knew."
"From what I can tell, from all I know, they are signs. They appear when I find someone who fit's the role of what I hate, the reason I was, but didn't quite fit. It's a joke, a tormented punishment. I was only allowed to feel things for the types of people I felt contempt towards. The people who had turned me into what I am. Back, all those years ago, I made the mistake of spending too much time on you. Too much time with you. We shared things in common, I couldn't help it."
"It connects me to you, forever, no matter what happens to either of us. You are the second, and the last, man I'm ever going to be able to feel anything other than hate towards. It's a way I feel more than just hate. Through it, through you, I can feel love, despair, longing and loss." Something changed around the two marks, skin turning white, uneven. "There is nothing I can do to help it." Scar tissue, overwhelming amounts. Echos of harm inflicted upon herself in some desperate means to try and remove them. Remove the people they bonded her to from her heart. "I tried. I tried so hard to help it. To make them go away." She pulled herself in more. "I don't know how I get them, only that I have no control over it. I don't know what they are, exactly, because I have no one else to compare them to."
"What they are not are my personal signs of affection, they are not mine. One of them is yours. And they bind me to you, your soul, and your heart, forever, regardless of whether you always feel the same. It is the mark you left on me. The mark you will always leave on me."
-
"I... I see..."
Long ago, when they'd first met, Mephisto had assumed Belle to be a demoness -- their connection as 'creations' of a certain deplorable arch-sorcerer all but assured him of that. Looking at those marks, however, two strange crosses -- crosses, of all things! -- surrounded as they were by scars and terrible signs of violence she had inflicted on herself, he wasn't in the least bit sure anymore. It had been a label that, in that ancient age, had fit an agent of rage and retribution such Belle...
He had made so many assumptions with her, Mephisto realized. Assuming that she had involuntarily succeeded where Faustus had failed, that her wrath against mankind was a sign that they were the same somehow, no matter how different. Perhaps 'demon' was a meaningless word... perhaps, in the knowledge of this age, there was a greater truth about them both to be found than some archaic word for evil spirits. They were both, certainly, so much more than that.
And the marks... something, some force, that bonded her to others against her will. One to a man who was, doubtless, now just dust on an almost-abandoned Earth... and the other to him, a somewhat high-functioning nigh-on lunatic who fancied himself an incarnation of evil mostly because no one had ever quite convinced him otherwise. There was sympathy in his mind and eyes as he considered those marks now. To be bound to someone by chains unbreakable, only able to feel alive in some ways when they 'allowed' you to. It was sadistic, a cruel punishment that seemed like it could only have come from a crueler still punisher. Was this the price she paid for rebelling against the life that had treated her like a doll, a plaything? Or was it some cosmic twist of fate foisted upon her regardless of her circumstances, some malevolent cosmic joke at her expense? The thoughts of it all, what she must have experienced, the sense of isolation, made his head spin. No wonder she feared what he could do to her if so inclined...
... were the roles reversed, how then would he respond? What manner of hell would dominate the dark places of his mind?
Almost on instinct, he decided. She would feel the moment that the demonic black blade flicked into existence in his hand -- at this distance she could hear the air hiss and feel it tingle with the release of energies. The devil acted swiftly, trying hard not to give her time to respond; deft reflexes, too long unused, flexed and fired and sent muscles in motion, unfamiliar as that motion would be.
As the tip of the blade pressed into the back of Mephisto's own neck, he bit down, drawing black blood from his lower lip. The first cut went straight down -- his eyes burned bright white with willpower, forcing back a pain far greater than the silver chain. The cut had to be deep to leave a mark, otherwise it would simply heal on its own. The thin line burned with demonic red and black flames as he seared not only flesh but his very concept of himself; wounds were to him like splinters, foreign things to be extracted from his essence and core being, but this... this was different.
He wanted this. It had meaning and both were being chiseled into the very weave and make of him.
His free hand gripped his hair hard, pulling it to one side... and threatening almost to tear it out as he fought to endure. This was no mere flesh wound, but surgery upon the very depths of his existence. He gasped and grunted in anguish as the vertical cut came to an end... then sucked in a hard, sharp breath and gave himself no time for hesitation as the knife went in again, this time horizontal. He wanted to scream, but held it. He had endured far worse, and kept telling himself that as black blood ran down his back in tiny rivers, lighting and burning into mist as it fell. With his hand he bore the mark of her into his skin -- with his mind he bore it into his soul. It wouldn't be the same as hers -- he had no means to recreate such a thing, no knowledge of what could have done that to her. It was a gauche and carnal imitation at best... but it left a message. A message he could now NEVER forget, not for a single moment of the rest of his life.
I.
BELONG.
TO YOU.
Pulling the knife out, its work done, Mephistopheles howled in pain, the instrument of his self-torture vaporizing as it fell from his grasp. Teeth clenched, eyes screwed shut, he willed himself to endure, to wait it out, to resist and force back the powers within him that were trying to undo the "damage". His hands grabbed at the bedding like claws, taking fistfulls of sheet and mattress and holding onto them with a horrible desperation. Slowly, still racked with pain, he forced one eye open and looked at Belle.
"... Never again."
"... You will never have to be alone again."
"I swear to you!"
-
The expression on her face was one of horror, a pained agony. But she couldn't stop him, he didn't want her to, so she couldn't, and even then, the actions left her paralyzed, unable to really process what he was doing while he was doing it. In the wake of his words, she left a heavy silence. Stunned and hurt, that he would see fit to damage himself this way in the wake of her torment. Her eyes just looked into the one he peered at her with. She was at a loss as to how she should respond. A strange mixture of pure outrage and humility, unlike whatever odd emotions she had felt over the short course of the last few days.
The back of her hand met the side of his face in an act she didn't even think on, her expression changed to one more of distress, a burning and confused sadness.
"You don't have to do that to yourself to show it!" She raised her voice at him, but not shouting, certainly a concerned tone. "Why do you have to have all this drama, these outrageous acts of whatever! I'm happy with this, just this. Just this tiny space, with shitty food and a shitty bed with old covers that you make comfortable! You don't have to prove anything, you don't need to make a show you just...have to be here." A moment, she just looked at him. "Why is that not enough for you?" Was she being hysterical? She didn't know if she was acting as she would normally. Once again those chemicals her brain created because of him threw her train of thought off completely. Eventually, searching his one open eye for clarity, she leaned back up, heart thundering in her chest.
She couldn't say that. Her eyes softened, though still confused there seemed to be understanding in the ice-blue eyes of his demoness. He had done this because it had felt right for him to do so. In his own way, he was allowed to do whatever he knew was right, and if that meant reflecting a mark she bore at his own suffering, a symbol to himself, then she would be heartless in an attempt to either stop him, or shame him for it. It was not her choice to make. His body was not hers to police or criticize. After all, she had lived thousands of year, unable to escape those who would criticize her choice, her body. She, of all people, should have known better. "I'm sorry." The words of apology drifted, and her thoughts placed upon them. His choices were his. She had no rights over them or concerning them.
After a short few moments, she moved closer to him, kneeling as she leaned over to kiss him. She understood. And that was fine. The kiss was soft and slow, before she broke it, to once again sit facing him, legs around his waist, as she held him close to her, skin to skin, she willed that silver necklace out of being, for now, not wishing to burn him. "I'm sorry." Her words came again into his ear, realizing her moment of insanity, of stupidity. She, like him, placed a kiss on his shoulder. "But don't hurt yourself like that again." Her mind reached out to his, and she helped him to suppress the pain, but not to erase the wound. It was important to him, and the least she could do was respect that. "We are two lunatics floating in the middle of the cold void. The least I could do is not hurt you." Her laugh came self-mocking. Though, the question soon came, either way. "Do you want more than this?" The question was vague for a short few seconds. "Than shitty food and a shitty bed, with an old cover that only you make comfortable?"
Every time it got like this, she would happy repeated the past of not long ago. She had spent 5000 years living with herself, and her love for him. It wasn't surprising he lit her up so easily just by being close. She had no clue, just that all they had done, everything he had made her feel, it wasn't a scratch on the pain of the years alone. But she would embrace it as it came. She would love him as he pleased. And in the moments when they needed to realize, they were still trying to find where they fit each other, patience was a virtue, and the only virtue they need ever learn.
-
"I..."
He took a deep breath, steadying himself. Part of him knew she would be shocked at his action, perhaps disappointed or enraged even. It wasn't even something he had really thought about... just an impulse, a desire in some way to share her burden, to reflect his trials in himself, even if it was mostly just a symbolic reminder.
"I want," Mephisto continued. "To be someone who understands, who honors and respects you. I want to be reminded, constantly, that there is someone in this 'shitty' galaxy," He uttered the profanity with a hint of a stupid grin mingling with the pain. "Who relies on me -- is trusting me -- with the parts of herself that she doesn't want to forsake, things she cherishes, reminders of what it is to be really alive. What I want, Belle, is to be the man -- the person -- you need me to be, consistently, unflinchingly."
"And I can't do that if I keep getting lost in myself. We've both seen what that leads to. So now I won't be able to see myself without seeing my commitment to you."
"Fate made those marks your bonds, your chains. But it made one big mistake when it did that." The devil smiled at her through the pain. "It bonded you to someone who doesn't believe in fate."
Mephisto sighed and leaned into her embrace. "I am yours, now and for however so long as I manage to live. Whenever you need me, however you need me. A lover, a shoulder, someone to make shitty beds more comfortable. Someone to listen. I just... wanted to do something to get myself out of the way so I didn't muck it up every time you need me."
The last of the blood burned away, leaving a strange scent like incense in the air and a clean black cross-shaped scar on the back of his neck. He could feel it throbbing there... and somewhere else, an edifice in his mind. "Gods, I must seem so stupid to you sometimes. I'm supposed to be sly and clever, but all I usually manage is to fall on my face in an assortment of ridiculous poses." He laughed, and the laugh hurt. "Wherever you want to go -- a high-end space station, a train wreck of a world, somewhere that no one's ever set foot on before, hell itself -- I'll go there with you. And if we ever have to part, you know I'm just a whisper away -- yours, now and always, yours."
-
Belle pulled herself away from Mephisto, looking at him. It was strange and awkward. They boasted glorious power and hate, they were the rivals of the universe, or so they'd made themselves out to be this whole time. But with her, and with him, those edifices faded away, melting under the touch of the other. For the longest time they had considered themselves demons; evil beyond comprehension, the rightful fury of mortal kind. This showed so much more than that. That they had more in common with the mortals they pitted themselves against than they had ever wanted to realize, and that truth came in the heart of the other.
They were an unnatural show. A canvas of beautiful skin and long throws of hair, lost in the forever night of the universe, and in turn, lost in the eyes of the other for as long as there were the eyes to look into. For now, and for the rest of their existence, they would find escape with each other. They were not justified by each other, however. Belle would never seek anyone to be justified for. Simply, they made this existence more bearable for the other. For that, they would both be forever grateful.
Her smile radiated back at him. In these moments she was so human, something she always should have been, just a hint of playful-evil in her ice eyes. Even with each other, they were corrupted. Not exactly the form of evil they had always imagined themselves to be, but they certainly were not good, or even neutral. After the pause, she pushed him over, her smiling growing into a playful grin, pinning him to the mattress, she leaned over him to adorn his neck with kisses. Her hands found his, and brought them above his head. "Then you won't mind if I use you for a while?" Once, she might have worried about what he thought of her, and her appetite for certain activities. It was something that only he could make her feel concern for, with other men she couldn't care less, but with other men, she'd never had the chance to truly indulge her urges. Her own powers reached into Mephisto's head, muted his pain, and enhanced in him whatever she felt. Her impulses, her desires.
After all, no matter what, she would not force anything onto him, even at her own expense. She carried on, biting and teasing at the soft skin, happy just to lather him in all of her, to give where he could receive. And while giving what not something she would often do to men, he was an exception. He was the exception. She would always remember that, and she wanted him to know that, too, with all of his being, as her lips traipsed lower, moving away from his neck slowly. Her eyes watched him like a hawk, wanting nothing more than to see what her touch did to him.
-
His smile was one of slightest surprise and true delight as she all but pinned him to the mattress, finding within himself no real desire to stop her. Stop her? Even after as much sex as they'd had in the last twenty-four hours, Mephisto was more than content to be used however she chose.
"Why stop at 'a while'?" The devil was clearly enjoying what she was doing to him, the way she was teasing and enticing him. She made him groan with desire and sigh with satisfaction, his eyes watching her take her time with him and absolutely relishing what he saw. Even though he knew Belle could 'mess with his head' to some extent he still felt himself melting and rising for her -- and not caring whether she was dabbling in his mind or just letting her touches and kisses intoxicate him for her. "Use me, Belle -- to your heart and body's contentment."
Mephisto lay as she had pushed him, content to move only his eyes and tilt his head up to watch her. Heavens and hells, she was insatiable... and he, for his part, absolutely loved that about her. Wondering what she had in mind was just one piece of the excitement; finding out exactly what she liked, and how, was another.
Gods, she was just impossibly beautiful.
-
As she moved lower down on his body, her hands trailed down his arms, and as she rested at his stomach, her hands came to press again at either side of his neck. Her thumbs pressing into the softness under his jaw, she tilted his head back. His voice reached ears and greatly pleased her. He was the only man in the universe she wanted to please in turn, the only man who's sounds were her only needed reward. Knowing that the devil could be melted at her hands was quite the starter for her own engine. He was her fuel, and he added to her natural fire in a way she couldn't describe.
Every kiss was placed with both love and desire, every bite a mark of ownership. She took her time like she was worshiping him. Belle believed in the importance and greatness of pleasure, it's natural place in the lives of everyone. If your body would let you feel it, then you needed to. She moved down again, tracing the line of his navel, but she lingered there for longer than usual, before moving back up to him again, rolling her body against his. Her lips met his neck again, baring her teeth again the skin. "Are you sure about that?" Her words came, taunting and telling. And before he could reply another noise (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HG-ZK7yRR7s) came, and every 'screen' flashed a red hue, the ships voice blaring, breaking the perfect atmosphere between them.
ALERT - ALERT - ALERT - ALERT - HOSTILE SHIP APPROACHING
Belle shot up, her eyes suddenly filled with terror and frustration. "Looks like we'll have to finish this later." She pressed her lips to his passionately. Moving away, she grabbed his coat and threw it over her shoulders, placing herself in the pilots seat, it turning to face the controls. A face came up on her screen as she adjusted his coat, not really covering much, a live stream from the other ship. Belle pulled up another screen, information about the cruiser. It was larger, made to be maned by a small crew. She leaned over into the control-arms. A voice came through. "You'll have to jump further than that, sweet Belle." Her eyes narrowed as he paused. "...Not interrupting anything am I?" Belle snorted a huff. "What's it to you? Jealous?" The voice laughed back. "When I catch you...we'll find out." A threat. A threat with clear intent in it's purpose. "If." All the engines burst into life. FTL at 100 percent. Engines at full. Oxygen at 60 percent. Shield up. Weapons Active. She couldn't help but smile, and she shared it as the face smiled back. "You've been using quite a lot of that, haven't you?" The she-demon laughed. "Possibly."
The ship shot forward, she cut the call out, rocketing through the void of space. "Hold on Mephy!" In that second, she had seemingly nicknamed him.
C A N ' T K I L L U S (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qKxDzyHPo0o)
The Glitch Mob
The first shots came. Missiles edged at the edges of the screens outward. The Black Scarab rattled and shook. Here, at these controls, he would see her in an element of her own. The ship maneuvered under her will, flipping over on it's previous course, turning up-side down, gravity keeping them in place. Their ship came into view. There were separate turret areas, manually worked by two people. Cross hairs came up on the front panel. "Engaging Pulsar Laser!" She order the ship, and it obeyed. On the side on the controls, she flipped open a switch, steering closer and closer to the Thanatos ship. She pressed the button, and then pulled away last minute, blue-light firing straight into the hull, breaking through the shields as the rest of the ship passed by them. The laser attacked everything, shields were no problem.
She rounded back around, coming in, switching to bullets. The Pulsar was designed to do continual damage as it worked it's way through the ship. Ideally, you only need to use it once, and then keep the target busy. She pressed the button again, and the machine-gun repeater noise echoed along the structure of the ship, metal shells colliding with the shield, blue and white forcing trailing along the invisible force, occasionally breaking through to crash into the ship. She was targeting the engine compartments. She wanted to put them out of service for as long as possible. The bullets kept attacking, she kept firing. They had more fire power, but her nippy little ship had an excess in speed and agility. They swerved and dodged, as if they were invisible.
But that couldn't last.
A riddled string of bullets found their way across the shields, and weakened them. Weakened them to make way for an anti-shield missile. It collided, hitting with a force that would have thrown the cruiser into a spin. The force threw the ship, no doubt, Belle buckled over the control. She grit her teeth, but she saved it from going out of control. She'd spend hundreds of years behind these triggers, she knew how it worked. But she couldn't take shots forever. The FTL was up, but at this distance, they would have no trouble following in her trail. Her voice boomed, a determined panic in her voice. She had no way of getting through their shields on fire-power without specialized equipment. "How's your hacking?" Now she relied on her judgement. "Or at least know a guy who might be decent." Even if someone guided him through, better if he knew. If in his 5 short years his enterprises involved stolen information, then this would be a walk in the park.
Sheilds at 67 percent. Fuel at 90 percent. She needed her assumptions to be right. At least this time. Just this once. She could have done it herself, but she had her hands full. Trying to shake off their assault.
-
Hell and damnation.
The moment he heard the alarm go off, all too much like it was there to rouse them both from a flawless dream, he knew they'd run out of time. Thanatos. The word burned at the forefront of his mind with a rekindled fire -- the murderous variety. The last time he'd faced their operatives it had been a fool's errand, since they had nothing to lose by fleeing. Now the situation was reversed...
... and escalating by the moment.
He was on his feet just a tick of the clock behind her -- faster than he'd expected, considering -- with the first set of clothes that came to mind (http://www.beinglovingdoing.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/dior-homme12.jpg) materializing around his naked frame in twists of hellfire. It wasn't much and he didn't care; vastly more important things than wardrobe choices were going on right then.
The familiar voice coming from the video feed riled the demon's anger yet further, Mister Cloaked-In-Shadows emerging quite unpleasantly for the second time in much-too-soon. First he had a near-legion of agents at his disposal... and now a cruiser. This was not a foe without resources, and all of them seemingly bent upon Belle's capture. The singular focus unnerved Mephisto enough, the emphasis behind it even more so.
And then, after a brief bit of verbal sparring, the fight to escape and survive was suddenly on. He felt the ship lurch with momentum beneath his feet and steadied himself against the nearest bulkhead, a moment later uttering a playfully faux-wounded cry of " 'Mephy'? HAH."
And then, very quickly, Belle showed him how she could make the stars dance.
The demoness' ship was remarkably well armed, he had to admit. He also had to admit, with a touch of shame, that this was his first actual battle in space... and he found himself a bit outside of his element. Screens spun through ever-changing information and readouts fluctuated, some wildly, as he tried to orient himself and figure out how he could contribute to the situation. The unfortunate answer was 'not very well'. He had, over five years, adjusted himself well enough to computers as to be proficient, but that was the variety used for personal or business angles -- these, these were military machines, and he found just as much of it alien as he did familiar.
"How's your hacking? Or at least know a guy who might be decent."
Mephisto knew the basics, enough to break simple encryption (decently well, most of the time), but that was it. For just a moment after Belle's request he panicked, then pushed the feeling down hard. Focus. He might not know the skills needed, but...
... and then he panicked a second time. Try as he did, he was beyond reaching those he held a corrupted connection with on Cancer -- the devices of the time had methods to reach across the stars and ferry their meanings, but even with soul restored Mephisto simply didn't have the power. A brief moment of helpless trepidation snaked its way at the edges of his thoughts, then --
~Mephistopheles! Damn you devil, can you hear me or not?!~
A voice, a lone echo in his skull from much too far away to even speculate, broke the internal silence. Female. Strong. Uncanny in its familiarity, yet bearing something else that he didn't recognize, a dry crackling like fire and a sharp ringing like steel. The voice burned with a power all its own, one that maintained the tether across depths of void that never would have been possible otherwise. For not the first time that day Mephisto's mind spun, trying to place it, trying to--
~I'm not going to do the freaking deer-blood ritual again you lazy bastard -- there aren't any left, for one, and I--~
Impossible... but inescapably true.
~Juviel?~ Mephisto realized there was no time to be impressed. ~This is a bad time, whatever it is. Our ship is taking fire and--~
~Well I'll be damned, look who FINALLY picks up the psychic phone! Good time or not, we need to talk.~
~Maybe after Belle and I get done not dying.~ His fingers raced across the nearest computer terminal that seemed equipped for digital send/receive functions. ~I'm just a little busy trying to hack a cruiser's mainframe and have barely any damned idea what I'm doing.~
There was a pause on the other end; Mephisto wasn't sure until a few seconds later whether Juviel was even still 'there'. ~Cruiser, firing at you and Belle. I'm guessing you're just aiming to scramble their sensors, not get the master control codes?~
~Right now I'd consider myself lucky if I can give them a mildly annoying email virus -- it's a hells-damned Thanatos ship, so I rather need to focus and --~
~Mephisto, three things. One, shut the hell up. Two, shut the hell up...~
~And three? I damn near invented the computer, so listen close and do exactly as I tell you.~
Without a word more of protest, the diabolic man suddenly began transcribing line upon line of computer code as fast as his fingers could type, following instructions Juviel sent that were halfways knowledge and halfways well-honed instincts. And it was working. Barrier after barrier in the cruiser's network crumbled and fell away, leaving the ship exceedingly vulnerable. Mephisto grinned, then at last responded to Belle.
"Guy? Not one that's available."
"How about a really old friend?"
-
She smiled, all the while concentrating on the matter at hand; not dying. Dodging and diving, trying to escape the range of any real damage that she knew Thanatos could deal to her little ship. "Yeah, Mephy." She repeated. "If you don't like it, you can get off my ship." Her tone was playful and joking, despite the severity of their 'situation.
Their shots came fast, heavy, loaded with intent. Maybe they really didn't care if they had her dead or alive anymore. They certainly wouldn't take her alive if she could help it at all. But she also had Mephisto with her, and she wasn't going to throw him into her mess if she could help it. Though, the chances told her he had probably done that himself already. He always liked to get himself into her mess. Normally she wouldn't mind, but this might be more than he knew. This was something even she hadn't managed to escape from, and she'd been running for ten years.
While he busied himself, she was protecting both their hides best they could. She grinned to herself, despite it all. She still had uses for that hide of his. Of course, she knew Mephisto probably had never left cancer. Never even been into space in this way. No doubt was there in her mind that all that was happening now was a bit beyond him. Every piece of information, trying to keep track of the stars as so to correct the ship's trajectory, spacial awareness reached a whole new level on this playing field. Even she remembered it feeling like a bit too much when she had first undertaken the task of learning to fly such a thing. Learning to drive a car had been a walk in the park compared to this. Though auto-ships were available, unmanned ships like most of the cars, Belle stuck with her manual. Her years of learning would not go to waste. Her skill, the trust in her own judgement and reflexes were unshakable. She was one of the last pilots of caliber to use manual.
Mostly, though she'd never tell you, she just didn't want to let Scarab go. Without her hands on the controls, her ship was no longer an extension of her. She loved this hulk of crap, and she only ungraded what she needed to.
"An old friend, eh?" Her grip on the triggers tightened. "She does a good job." Her scanners let her know, the shields were coming down. Inside the ship, there was panic. Despite their firewall, all their measures, the hack was a solid one. It did it's job like nothing they'd ever seen. "I want her to tell you how to cut their communications network, distress signals and all!" Her eyes narrowed on her prize. No, today was not the day they would take her. "I don't want to give them a chance." She prepared to fire, but not until the work was done. Too much damage to the ship would cut their computers out. "Then you set a course. They know me too well for me to choose where we go now."
-
~The comms and distress beacon, Juviel -- can we do that?~
~Feh, at this rate? Not a problem. In fact...~
~Hm?~
~Just keep typing; I'm feeling a bit malicious.~
And type he did, after reassuring Belle that their 'old friend' was hard at work on it. He thought it a bit strange when Juviel had him pull up Belle's music playlist -- this was no time for that, in his mind, but Juviel was insistent he 'give her something to work with', so he went with it. The blacksmith found something in the early part of the list that seemed to satisfy her and had Mephisto build it into a particularly invasive bit of coding... which, if he was reading properly...
"Oh, this is good." 'Mephy' halfways muttered under his breath, grinning mischievously. "This is good."
Under Juviel's direction he re-checked his work, doing a swift mental reading of every line of code. A few minor corrections later, Mephisto hit 'TRANSMIT' like he was launching a nuke... and the Thanatos cruiser went straight to hell.
The code Juviel had him build went above and beyond all expectations. It rerouted all communications to the internal PA system and shut down any external transmitters through raw digital force, overloading them with mass-generated auto-code that would block out access attempts through sheer overwhelming odds. It took the digital paths that controlled the distress beacon and tangled them up in knots such that they interfered with each other... and that was just for a start.
All across the cruiser, the internal comms and speakers began to blare out an old, familiar song (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R3_0Pky8vVg) at maximum volume. It ran from every device, every headset, every phone. It was pervasive and relentless. And, as Mephisto let loose a sinister laugh at the sensor readings The Black Scarab was getting... the fire suppression systems in every part of the cruiser turned on, pulsing in time with the music, dousing the crew and equipment mercilessly in waves and pulses of water and flame-retardant foam spray.
"Oh, what I wouldn't give to see the looks on their faces!" The devil rejoiced, barely able to contain his chuckling. It was a juvenile prank taken into the space age and given teeth... and Juviel's expertise had pulled it off BRILLIANTLY. No useable comms, no distress signal... just the poor old Thanatos lackeys, left to 'face the music' in the most damp and soggy fashion imaginable. It was POETRY.
But as much as he would've loved to stay around and see them suffer, he and Belle had places to not be -- here being one of them. ~That was superb, Juviel! I'll have to thank you for that sometime.~
~Yeah, don't waste it. Get your sorry arse going; you and Belle better not go dying on me. And don't forget - we NEED to talk later.~
~You have my word.~ Mephisto quickly plugged in a set of coordinates and sent them to Belle's command screen. "It's a small nebula on the edge of an asteroid field, about one jump out from Edanith. We should be able to reach it. There are some pirates hiding in a small base there who owe me a favor -- the kind that can easily get us repairs and resupply. How's that sound?"
-
"Sounds like you're having way too much fun back there, and without me!" Belle commented, trying her best to avoid too much more of the Thanatos onslaught. They were ever more relentless, and even she knew this was more than Thanatos would usually expend for just a single woman. At some point, she was going to have to explain her situation. Why Thanatos had sent out him as the leading agent in her capture. She found herself in a position she had hoped to avoid for a little while longer. It was all she could do for the time being, make sure that they didn't get blasted into oblivion before their time while she ran around her new lackey, and his contact.
Though their amusement at her little trick was a shared experience, and Belle truly appreciated the extra effort, giving everyone on board the other cruiser a little more than anticipated. A grin on her face, she set her sights on the ships engine compartments and switched to missiles of her own. Driving the ship back around, she fired, and sent their engine flying out to space in pieces. Oh how that pleased her. They wouldn't be going anywhere for quite some time, and the look on the face of the man inside was one she would have dreamed about forever more, if she had only gotten to see it. She decided, while she could, to send one message to the cruiser, with a hack like Mephisto's informant, to occupy every screen.
ALL
FEAR
THE QUEEN
She took his coordinates gladly. "Edanith? Doesn't get more boring than that." She chimed. Before she could activate the FTL, she had to get away from the ship they would leave behind, just in case. The ship was much steadier, though clunking sounds indicated that, certainly, moderate repairs would be needed at the least. Belle patted the control desk. "Mission accomplished ya' old tin can." The words came with the fact that, for the longest time, this ship had been the only source of comfort, the only thing she had. Eventually, when Belle decided they were far enough out of range, she pulled the lever. FTL Engaged. Preparing for Faster-Than-Light Realization Belle looked over her shoulder at Mephisto with a knowing grin. "I promise, this won't be as bad as last time." And then she pushed the lever back up with a clunk.
Preparing for Faster-Than-Light travel. 10 seconds and counting.
As the ship counted them down, and prepared to shoot through the stars, Belle laughed to herself, before adding to the end of her previous statement. "At least, it shouldn't be." At that, the stars began to warp, streaks of light consuming the panels, bending physics to the will of science. The start of light-speed travel wasn't dissimilar to being on a roller-coaster, a pressure of g-forces that the ship was too slow to correct right away, but eventually died down as everything stabilized. Arrival in the outer zone of Edanith in half an hour. And it was still a distance. Traveling still took time. When everything set to normal, not too long after the initial wave, Belle got up, donning still only Mephistos coat, barely concealing her breasts. She leaned against the chair, and eyed him wickedly. "See, I'll make a crewman out of you yet."
-
Her promise was true... and in fact, as he watched her, wearing nothing more than his coat and the black sapphire necklace with the viewscreen behind her, starlight smeared impossibly and bleeding vibrant colors at the edge of each brilliant white line...
... he wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything... quite so beautiful.
Without even really waiting for an invitation and acting entirely on the spur of the moment, Mephisto strode up to her and kissed her full on the lips before pulling back and smiling at her.
"That was the most fun I've had in a long time. Not the 'us getting shot at' part -- the other bit, where we worked together and threw mud in their eyes." His smile briefly resolved into a wicked grin of victory before returning to one of contentment. "I'll be your 'crewman' anytime you want me to. Might be a while before I earn my way to 'co-pilot', though."
"And you're right..." Putting his arms around her with a sense of familiarity and comfort that surprised and pleased the old devil, he turned his head slightly towards the viewscreen. "This is better. I never knew that starlight could look like that."
Mephisto paused. "I... never said it properly, so let me do it now. Thank you, for bringing me along with you."
-
Belle smiled that same wicked smile at him, looking very contented at his kiss. Then she shrugged giving a look of 'well, I don't know', replying "I dunno. Getting shot at is pretty exhilarating, too." These past few hours had been a whole slew of things. Love, anger, terror, sadness, longing. All kinds of things she simply didn't feel otherwise. It felt like, now, in the shadow of all that had happened, things were started to level out to be a little more even. That struck her as odd, and not in the least bit true. Things never stayed even when they were together, but she didn't greatly mind.
For a short while, she was happy to stay there, held against Mephisto. This was all so strange, this love thing was going to take some getting used to, and some part of her was still processing him, being alive and back larger than life. It was silly that there were parts of her thinking that, pretty much every part of her was unable to deny. She chuckled against his shoulder. "Dragged you along." She left it at that for a few moments, before she turned back towards the control panel, leaning over the side of the chair, not saying a word.
The next 20 seconds or so Belle spent flicking through a list, with a good many titles that, likely, Mephisto had never heard of before. She picked one, somewhat against her will, knowing that it was completely out of character of her, but she wanted to do it all the same. After all, in the next 20 minutes they would no longer be alone, so she wanted to make good use of it. Pressing a button and typing in a number she turned back to Mephisto with what could only be described as a spring in her step.
She took his hands and pulled him a little away from the Pilots chair. With a devilish spark in her eye, she asked him a telling question. "I hope your dancing fared as well as everything else." And at that, she leaded her head against his shoulder again, an old song, likely one he didn't know, though aptly suited, played through the speakers of her own ship. She laughed, it reminded her of that time, way too long ago, the world in a throw of modernization. Her music collection was very telling of her deep affection for, at the least, the creativity of mortals. She clung to it, just in case. An archive of whatever she deemed good in them. "God only knows what I'd be without you..."
I M A Y N O T A L W A Y S L O V E Y OU (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x7ogV49WGco)
But as long as there are stars above you
You never need to doubt it
I'll make you so sure about it.
God only knows what I'd be without you.
She sung along quietly, just happy to spend her time here, if not slightly embarrassed at her stupid little confession, the two of them more swaying together than anything, as the stars shot their light it pure beams around them.
(OOC: They shouldn't be allowed to be cute BI Feel free to take it to wherever, on to meet Juviel or what not)
-
It was a curious thing, knowing that what he was listening to would doubtlessly sound old and antiquated to nearly anyone else... and yet to him, it was entirely new. As he and Belle swayed, more holding each other than actually dancing, the old devil thought over how much he'd missed... how much he'd missed with her. There were entire eras that he knew only as a collection of brief facts, but those times had borne music and dance, art and literature, small wonders and quiet marvels that he would now never know. Things that had once been new, full of lustre and hope and promise, now relics of a bygone age. Belle had lived through all of it -- known its ways, its pleasures and terrors, led an ongoing revolution that had culminated in the greatest sense of equality humankind had ever achieved. He bore her no ill will over what she'd done or what he hadn't gotten to see or do... only, really, the desire to have seen and done it all with her lingered. And he held her a little closer because of it.
"Whatever are we going to do with ourselves, hm?" He asked, knowing it was a question without answer and a riddle only time could unravel.
-----------------------------------
"Percy Miller, age 32. Known commonly by the alias 'CodeSnake' -- one of several you seem to have established over the years, the rest discarded to hide your tracks when your illicit data-mining business drew unwelcome attention."
The CPD detention room was a standard design, simple and effective, little removed from earth designs in the pre-spacefaring era. A single light hung overhead, shining down on a long metal desk with a steel bar, like a handrail but for an entirely different purpose, running the length of one side. It was to this bar that the interrogated prisoner's handcuffs would be secured, looped between table and bar as they sat in a plain, unpadded, and simply uncomfortable plastic chair. Opposite them the lone seat of the interrogator, and behind it a black-glass one-way window over which hung a simple security camera, one of three watching the room from a number of angles. In this instance the prisoner was the two-bit hacker that Belle had had delivered to the police center the previous day, the interrogator a female officer with coldly professional green eyes, tightly tied back black hair, and 'Lt. Belora' sewn into her uniform along with a long-string ID number. 'CodeSnake', for his part, was despondent, obviously none too pleased about having been caught and not anticipating release anytime soon...
"52 known counts of illegal hacking of private data, 12 counts of hacking or attempting to hack the systems of the Cancer authority, it's offices, and authorized cooperative organizations. One count of trying, unsucessfully, to hack the Cancer station central life-support system. Two counts of attempted hacks of two separate docking bay master control systems. And those are only the known charges against you."
... but there was a dark curiosity in his eyes, along with just a touch of fear. Something wasn't right -- he couldn't pin it down, but something was very not right. He'd been interrogated the day before, given a half-hearted partial confession to just enough of what he'd done that leniency might be shown, as well as implicated enough other 'persons of interest' to be back out on the streets of Cancer in, he guessed, a handful of months.
Why the second go at it, then?
"You also stand accused of various and sundry counts of smuggling contraband, blackmail, intimidation, hundreds of counts of deploying viruses and malware for the purpose of data mining, and both soliciting and obtaining illegal construction services for a domicile in violation of dozens of codes, ordinances, and regulations, commonly known on the street as a 'bolthole'." The officer, sitting perfectly still until now and speaking entirely from memory without so much as a glance at the datapad in front of her, now leaned forward slightly. A shiver of fear, completely unexpected, ran up Percy's spine.
"None of this is of any interest to me."
The lieutenant tapped the book-sized digital display once and it lit up, displaying the usual desktop interface. This promptly switched back to black, then a list of mugshots and digitally rendered faces appeared, projected in the air holographically between them.
"Answer truthfully and completely and you'll be back in your cell in short order, dreaming up new ways to swindle dangerous people." There was a note of dry sarcasm in her voice -- the first hint of an emotion she'd given since entering the room. "Waste my time, and you will regret it."
"H-Hey, hold on a second here." The finkish man mustered up his miniscule courage to speak. "I've already told you all about --"
"Irrelevant." She narrowed her glare at him. "Your disclosures before this point have nothing to do with my investigation. Now, do you recognize any of the people in these photos?"
Percy scanned the faces for a long moment, then shrugged. "None of 'em strike me, no."
"A simple yes or no, mister Miller." The lieutenant tapped the screen again and another list, this one of names, appeared. "Have you had encounters with or know anything about these individuals?"
"...No, I don't think so."
Another list. "Have you ever taken money from any of these organizations for any purpose?" Another no. "Have you ever been to any of these locations or been contacted by someone claiming to be from these locations." No, again. She tapped the screen.
"You collect data in vast quantities and sift it for useful information, leverage, and sellable secrets. Recently you intercepted a data cache meant for a number of gray market merchants and buyers here on Cancer. Think hard, mister Miller. Do you remember seeing any of the items on this screen in those manifests?"
It was quite a list she presented him with -- the objects on display ranged from illegal computer hardware and software, various both ship and personnel weapons, to antiquities and even alien artifacts. Sighing, he pointed up at the screen. "That one, that one, that one in blue, that one, the front half of that one, that one, that one I think, that, that, definitely that, that, and that."
"I see." The selected items were highlighted, then vanished from the projection... all save one. The officer stood, walking to the end of the table. "Now, mister Miller... this 'ornamental skull'. What do you remember about it?"
"Look, I just grab and sift the data. There was a lot of stuff on those lists. I didn't bother to research every nick-nack that some wealthy pig in the spires is gonna--"
His train of thought was interrupted as, in one movement that seemed far too swift, the lieutenant strode across the handful of steps in-between them and slammed his face against the desk. Blood poured from his nose and he groaned and grimaced in pain. "I did not come here to listen to your trite platitudes. Now think, hard. Remember. Or the pain you're feeling now will be the least of your concerns."
"Officer! H-Help! She's--"
"They cannot hear you." She brought his head down on the desk again, this time likely breaking his nose, just to prove it. "There is no one on the other side of that glass. The camera feed is being diverted and a false render playing in its place. We are alone. You are alone." She pulled his head up by a fistful of his hair and forced him to stare into her cold, blank expression. "Now, the item in question. What do you remember?"
The hacker sputtered, coughing up blood, staring at her with terrified disbelief. For several long moments it seemed he'd forgotten how to speak. "T-T-The s-skull thing... yeah, I -- I remember." He was clearly forcing himself. "Supposedly from Earth, an antique. Seller got it from a --"
"Spare me the obvious details -- I have a copy of the manifests." His head was pulled just a little bit higher, forcing his chin up and stretching his neck slightly. Her grip didn't even seem human, utterly unyielding -- the sheer steadfastness of her hand and arm, not the slightest bit of waiver or sway hinted at the darker truth behind this 'meeting'. "Who were the interested clients? What was the chain of possession?"
"I-I-I-I--!" Face. Table. More blood. "D-Descartes! He's the one I stole the manifest from!"
"Reymond Descartes. The others?"
The hack-job rambled off a list of clients, his own and the seller's. The 'lieutenant' seemed satisfied with what he divulged, indicated mostly by the absence of further blunt force trauma. "Now... one last question and we're done."
"Yesterday, a cargo ship carrying this item to a warehouse was boarded, looted, and left to drift. Were you aware of this?"
"...Yes."
"Did you sell the information you had about the shipment to anyone?"
"...Yes."
"Who?"
"Oh gods, please don't hurt me!"
"Answer the question."
He did, in detail. The data had been sold to another of his ilk who'd resold it to a known group of pirates -- a detail he'd conveniently neglected to disclose to Mephisto during the brief head-butting interrogation. He'd thought he'd managed to get one up on the underworld club owner, take advantage of how distracted he'd been by the bounty hunter. Now, it seemed, he'd simply traded one problem for another.
The 'lieutenant' let him go, head dropping and blood finding the floor in fresh, heavy drops. "Thank you, mister Miller. You've been reasonably helpful. As thanks, we will arrange not to have certain acquaintances of yours stab you with improvised weapons in your cell tonight. Sleep well."
Leaving him bloody, bruised, and suitably terrified, the lieutenant turned and exited the room... leaving Percy handcuffed and alone until whenever someone chanced across him.
Whenever that would be.
Concealed as one of the Cancer PD, Asheroth wound her way through the maze-like rooms and corridors of the mighty building. No one around would have suspected that it was a military-grade cyborg walking amongst them -- to these people she was just another busy coworker, and she varied her disguise as she went so as not to draw suspicion. With the spy Thanatos had inserted here keeping tabs on things it had been easy enough to don the right holographic facade, pull the right strings, hack the right files through back doors that the operation hunting Belle had already put in place, and arrange for Percy Miller to be alone, unattended, and unwatched in an interrogation room for just long enough. The officers responsible for him likely wouldn't even realize he hadn't been checked back into his cell or accounted for for hours, as she had deliberately scrambled the chain of custody so badly that each would be pointing fingers at the other and the whole matter would go in circles until someone actually went and looked for him. His injuries would be seen as another administrative mess and one, perhaps more, of those suspected of 'misplacing' him would end up accused of vigilante justice and assault. Whatever story the man himself told was irrelevant, as there would be no way of tracking the incident back.
As she stepped into the elevator the cyborg returned part of her attentions to the ongoing argument, on carefully encrypted and masked channels, between Commander Coveks and the Thanatos infiltrator. Notifying the company's personnel that their resources were being briefly borrowed had been necessary -- waiting for their consent, not so much. This left an uncomfortable social situation whereupon the Commander had to deal with the concerns, complaints, and general wariness of accidental discovery that the spy perceived as inherent in meddling with a covert operation; there was no truth to his concern, of course, but it was the business of spies to be paranoid. The experimental corps were following the trail of a potentially high-value target; so, too, was the infiltrator's superior. There were bruised egos all around. Asheroth couldn't care less.
She did, however, notice a certain broken device in the corner of the lift. It was not the kind of equipment most people casually discarded, especially in such a place. Likely no one before her had cared enough to notice, focused on other things or simply seeing it as someone else's problem -- she reached down, whilst simultaneously hacking into and reviewing security footage for the lift.
Reymond Descartes... and Belle, the target of the infiltration. He seemed concerned by what the device displayed; she promptly destroyed it, violently and angrily. And a quick reconstructive scan of the datapad revealed why.
Adding herself unceremoniously to the ongoing conversation, Asheroth interrupted both parties in the middle of a heated debate over departmental jurisdiction. {Commander, it would appear that our goals are not incompatible with theirs. A simple solution is available.}
{We should assist.}
-----------------------------------
To call it a 'base' may have been technically correct, but what the pirates Mephisto had mentioned were operating out of was only a space station in the sense that it was in space, and stationary.
As Mephisto fed the computers a series of sensor filters that he'd been given by his pirate contact, meant to resolve the stark interference from the nebula and allow for safe passage, a profile of what awaited inside emerged. It was, in actuality, the wreck of an Edani carrier ship, just intact enough that it had held together despite clear battle-scarring and impacts from rogue asteroids. What's more, parts of it had clearly been scavenged from and others built up, particularly one hangar on the port side of the ship and its surrounding areas.
"Well... not what I was expecting." Mephisto admitted. In addition to the nearby space rocks there was also a fair bit of electrical interference in the nebula, lighting the whole cloud up like a thunderstorm. It was no surprise that a pirate base could go unnoticed there -- few people were crazy enough to venture into such active nebulas, and it was a rare breed indeed who were bold enough to set up shop in one.
The devil's senses, reorienting from the jump, finally resolved into clarity. He could feel the people inside, dozens of them. "They know we're here; probably picked up the jump." He turned to Belle. "My contact said they would honor a passphrase: 'All the world's a stage'. That should let us dock."
-
Back in the pilots seat, her sensors picked up almost nothing as they went to delve into the mass of crammed solar-space in front of them. She would have to use her eyes in order to make her way through this hazy nebula and all it's trials, even if the dock wasn't awfully far off in any real sense. She sighed to herself, an annoyed huff. "Why a Nebula? I hate Nebulas'. Everyone hates Nebulas'." She had still hadn't changed, still only adorning his coat. And she honestly had no plans to change that little fact. They could put up with it. Nothing boasted danger than a woman willing to step into a pirate den wearing pretty much nothing.
As Mephisto gave the ship his sensor filters, everything began to get a little clearer, radars registering a ship, a carrier, within the shielding effect of the giant cloud. Still didn't change the fact they were about to fly into a Nebula. This wasn't turning out to be a brilliant day for her...even if there had been brilliant moments along the way.
She looked over her shoulder at her wicked devil. "Just so you know, it's very likely someone on there might want to kill me." Her tone was almost unsettlingly casual, like it didn't even really matter. "You know, famous bounty-hunter, famous ship. If they know who I am it won't take them very long to notice." Waiting for the sensors to become fully restored, her fingers drummed again the control arm triggers. She smacked the control panel as if it would make the software take any faster, not that she personally was in any rush, but even if the Thanatos ship managed to get back online anytime soon, let alone follow their trail, this Nebula would do very well to hide them.
At least he had promised the likelihood of repairs here. The Black Scarab, while not in a bad way, certainly needed a few jobs done. She leaned back in the chair after a few minutes, letting the ship slowly move towards the finer coordinates he had given her when they had jumped. Opening the door belong the control panel by will, Belle pulled a packet of crisps, and began to munch on them happily. It seemed that she wasn't the kind of woman who avoided food. It was probably one of her only remaining pleasures. Apart from him, of course. Arm, crisp-packet in hand, appeared from the looming chair. "Want some?"
-
"Much obliged." He nodded his head and indulged in a few of the thin-sliced potato snacks. They probably weren't even real potato, but the saltiness and flavorants made up for it well enough. "Humans certainly did get inventive with food while I was gone. Potato crisps, mint candies, sugary fizz drinks," Mephisto gave her a bemused look that said 'and I'm betting you really enjoy...' "Ice cream? Where did they even get the ideas for most of it?"
He gratefully munched on a crisp before continuing. "About them trying to kill you -- the though had crossed my mind, yes." Mephisto looked off into the distance for a moment, as if straining to listen to some far away sound. "Hmm... no, doesn't seem like they're too happy. Everyone on board is quite on edge at the moment..."
A quizzical look came over him. "Except for one. Absolutely calm. That's... unusual."
"I suppose I should mention exactly who we're dealing with." The devil shrugged apologetically, then crunched up a second crisp before continuing. This group, he explained, were a small closely-knit 'clan' of sorts, mostly outcasts and outlaws from Edanith who'd taken to piracy in the years after the war with Aedolis. They were a private lot with a goodly number of mercenary connections; some claimed that they were more privateers than out-and-out pirates, renegades who believed themselves to be fighting Edanith's battles in a time of peace (while profiting from the effort), but there was no certainty to that. More likely they were just simply common freebooters living by their own rules and taking what they needed or wanted from anyone they saw as fit to be targeted.
"Not sure what they're called -- I found out about them when I had a chance encounter with the daughter of one of their leaders on Cancer." He placed his hand on the console and leaned forward, as though trying to peer through the thick vari-colored haze of the nebula before turning back to Belle. "You might have heard of her, as she has quite the bounty on her head. An assassin-for-hire, goes by the name Corona. Favors plasma weapons and pyrotechnics to go with her pseudonym. She broke away from the pirate group some years back and was making a living doing hits on Cancer when she found herself going after a target in the middle of a small syndicate war. Didn't go her way; one of her plasma weapons exploded and reduced most of her body to slag. After a full-body cybernetic refit she was virtually penniless and desperate for work so she started taking increasingly risky jobs. When I found her she was down two legs and an arm, clutching a plasma pistol in a hand that wasn't responding."
He held up his hands as if to absolve himself. "Before you ask -- yes, I corrupted her, no, I didn't cut a deal for her soul. She'd lost enough already, and..." He looked away, seeing the shadow of the carrier/base looming in the haze. "... I suppose, in some way, I hoped she might help me find out where you were, whether there was anything between us that could be put back together after so long. I never said as much to her, of course."
The devil bit down on another crisp. "She thought everything I did for her was... I don't know, maybe a sense of loss? Heh. She may not have been entirely wrong either, in retrospect. Anyway," Mephisto waved his hand as if clearing away the thought like smoke. "She's the one who told me about this place -- said she'd let them know to repay the debt for her if ever I needed. I suppose we're about to find out just how close their ties are."
A few moments later, a garbled broadcast was sent to Belle's ship. "Ve're sending you flight path now; do not deviate. Our leader vill vant to speak vith you vhen you land. Do not cause us trouble, Black Scarab, and ve vill be done vith each other quickly."
Mephisto grinned, then shot Belle the thought ~Not sure where the accent comes from, to be honest.~
-
"I'll try not to." Belle chided back to the accented woman. The ship received the directions, and Belle fed it to the auto-pilot, pressing buttons and such. When the course went through, the ship automatically adjusted, and started to make its way around to the correct place. She shrugged at his thought words, and with a smile, simply said "I think I might like her. She sounds like she's got a gut full of spirit." Then she chuckled to herself, taking a crisp herself. "But that much just be the accent." Belle didn't know if Mephisto knew an awful lot about stereotypes, old or new. In fact, she supposed, most of her jokes, when ever they came, would be lost on him. References to things that required experience. If she were to reference a popular yet loathed musical number from the modern age back on earth it was likely he could know the song, but not really get the experience behind it. Why it was funny.
She was the pop-culture overlord. She'd seen it all, and he was some old goony unable to really grasp any of it. For a few short moments that made her wonder if, despite it all, despite all they had unearthed together now they were back, they were really compatible. She was older than him but carried herself in the age of her face. Acted young, daring, adventurous. He...he preferred to stand back, he moved slower than she did.
Slowly, the carrier, or 'station', came into a clear view. It was certainly sizable. It wasn't so much as a scratch on a place like Cancer, but still fairly big. The process of landing was slow, it was always slow. Authorization, readying of docking ports, all that junk that slowed things down but were, inevitably, necessary. She turned to Mephisto as the ship steered itself. Her hand, now discarded of the packet, played at his hair, admiring him still. "You know, if I had the money I'd probably indulge you in all my favorite foods and pass times these mortals gave me." Her voice was wishful, almost distant. She chuckled. "I'm kidding. I do have the money. Only, it feels like a cheat code to life. I don't like using it." Her eyes looked up, once again a devious stare and a cunning grin. "And I've already indulged you in my favorite pass time."
God she would have kissed him and made love to him all over again. They did say, after all, that the best way to increase sex drive was, well, to have sex.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
They landed after another fifteen minutes. When the pressure inside the ship matched the pressure of that in the ship they were about to enter, she was given the green light from The Scarab that all was well, they could leave when allowed. Belle got up from her chair and stretched, shaking out her hair, and putting on her shoes. Now wearing one more piece of clothing. She stood opposite to him on the other side of the ship, arms folded, but not looking incredibly stern. "So, do you know anything about their 'leader' who apparently wants to speak with us? Granted, the only person you know is the one who contacted us, I was assuming it's her." She breathed out, leaning against the console, pressing a hand to her neck, trying to relieve an ache. "I suppose you should go first when they demand we come out. If people here know you I imagine that would go down better than a naked woman in high heels."
-
He chuckled -- she really did intend to go out like that, just either because she couldn't be bothered or wanted to see the looks on their faces. Gods, he loved this woman. "What do they call it in this day and age? Being a 'shock jock'?" He couldn't help but laugh a bit. "Damn, but you are good at it."
His expression became slightly more serious. "I really haven't a clue -- this is the first encounter for me as well. Corona was the one who knew them, and I knew her; it's a bit of a tangental connection at best." He looked out the viewport, now displaying the landing bay. "They're a serious bunch though, I can sense that." His eyes narrowed as more people started entering, taking up positions behind crates and other available cover, their unarmed counterparts quickly clearing out. "... And it looks like we'll be having whatever conversation's coming at gunpoint. This should be fun."
-------------------------------
Mephisto was the first down the ship's boarding ramp, hands held calmly inside his pockets and a well-practiced poker face on. He'd realized at some point that he'd neglected to include shoes in his ensamble, right around the time that the hatch opened and the air of the landing bay, a fair few degrees cooler than the steamy cabin he and the demoness had been sharing, hit him. He realized that was probably why Belle had put hers on and he'd almost completely missed the cue; somehow she managed to be far more alert and practical than him, traits he made a mental note to cultivate in himself.
"Hands vhere ve can see them!" One of the pirates, assault rifle pointed his way, shouted. A middle-man in the chain of command, no doubt. "You're on Black Kestrel grounds now, so do vhat ve say!"
"Is this really necessary?" Mephisto stopped, sighed, and held his empty hands up. This whole scene was just too predictable. "I'm a friend of Nadezhda. Can't we just--"
" 'Black Kestrel'? Huiplet!" One of the other armed pirates, close to the one who was giving orders, half-muttered at his compatriot. "Last veek it vas 'Blood Vings', now 'Black Kestrel'? Vhat are you, obsessed vith ptitsy?"
"As if you've come up vith anything better, oyobuk."
" 'Starsea Pirates' is better, tolstak!"
"Yob tvoyiu mat!"
Mephisto raised an eyebrow -- he didn't need to understand all the words to understand the juvenile nature of the argument, much less how little sense it made. "Excuse me... weren't we doing the whole 'put the newcomers in their place at gunpoint' thing?"
"Zatknis' na hui, outsider!" The pirate resumed barking at his compatriot. "Golubaya bl'yad!"
"Kooshi govno ee oomree!"
The devil sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, which quickly prompted a repeated demand to keep his hands up. This obviously wasn't the smartest or most well-organized group -- at the very least, those two didn't make it seem so, and the tired glares and eye-rolling of the other pirates made it clear that they were weary of these shenanigans as well.
~I think they'll be too busy with infighting to pull any triggers.~ He shot a telepathic message to Belle. Part of him was curious to see just what reaction her presence had on these poor fools. There were women in amongst their number as well, just as hardened-looking if not more-so than the men, but he was willing to bet that anyone striding around half-naked without concern, especially someone as striking as Belle, was going to cause a few jaws to drop.
-
There was a clicking of heels that seemed to pierce the noise that was, echoing off of the walls, the approaching of another. Belle stepped out of her beloved ship in all her womanly glory, stepping just a little in front of Mephisto. She was the pilot, she was in charge. With her, she carried an air of unwavering authority, she was confident and not in the least bit phased. In her lack of clothes spoke words of the things that had passed between her and the devil, red-purple bruises lined her neck and collar, lovingly given. It was the Belle he remembered. The Belle he had known all too long ago. A mistress of power. Slowly, she raised her arms above her head, revealing her body in it's full. Her grin was cocky and one-sided. “Might want to focus on your other priorities, boys. Besides...it's cold out here.” She side-eyed Mephisto, seeming to enjoy the scene herself. “You think you regret wearing shoes? Shameful.” She prodded at herself. The cold pricked at her skin, breaking out into goosebumps but it didn't bother her.
“I assume there is some kind of order in this place?” Her voice came condescending, like she was royalty presented with dry bread at a feast of Kings. “The guns aren't necessary, after all. Any extra forces aren't worth your time. We're here to meet someone and get my ship fixed with as little hassle as possible. If you could get on that really snappy I'd be...” She paused, heavy with undertones, eyeing the people who she could tell were orientated in such ways. “...Grateful.” Belle rose her head slightly, looking down at them. The marks on her body she treated like medals, gifted from the lips of her love. She was a woman unafraid and devious, confident. She knew she looked good and she wanted everyone to know that she knew. That no manner of gawking or flattery would soften her heart, she didn't need it.
Her eyes scanned, picking a few of the better looking men, staring them with glittering eyes as if to say 'yes, you/”. She huffed, standing strong. There was a pause, Belle didn't so much as shift her position, glaring intently. “So? I'm not going to stand here all day.” Her voice came stronger, commanding, like she didn't need to be told her place, as she would make it herself.
-
"No, in fact I'd rather you not."
The voice, that of a woman, came from the far end of the landing bay -- looking in that direction would reveal a rather rough and ragged looking (http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2010/346/8/8/not_your_typical_businesswoman_by_kitsunekittis-d34qlqg.png) woman with skin so deeply tan as to almost be dark, wearing a simple and businesslike red dress with a pair of combat boots and a military coat thrown over her shoulders like a cape. She gazed at Belle steadily, as if unphased, and took a long drag on an old-fashioned cigar that Mephisto would've guessed either to be home made or else exceedingly expensive... perhaps both.
At the approach of the commanding woman the pirates seemed to come to order, most doing their best to look away from Belle long enough to stand and salute. Not all suceeded. In passing she blew smoke towards one particularly wide-eyed young man who couldn't seem to drag his eyes away... at least, until they began to burn slightly from the smoke and he turned away to cough. There was a sense of control about her, a dry, wry humor that only the very battle-scarred and strong can truly maintain. With an accent just slightly lighter than her followers she bid them lower their weapons and get back to work, then walked right up to the two demons with an appraising eye.
"You know how to make entrance, da." Her violet eyes angled towards Mephisto. "Your friend, not so much."
The devil raised an eyebrow at that but otherwise kept silent, though the performer in him was all but begging to issue a retort. Turning to blow a ribbon of smoke away, her free hand reached onto the coat's inner pockets and drew out a cigar case with a built-in lighter, an emblem from the Edani military emblazoned proud on its bronze facing. She offered one to Belle, then flicked on the flame once the demoness made her selection.
"I know that ship -- back during var, my superiors in desperation reached out to mercenaries, bounty hunters, anyone vho they think help us turn the tides against the dragon-slaves." The pirate queen seemed to be searching Belle's gaze, as though trying to dig out some kind of secret hidden there. "Some said the Black Scarab vas used by members of a group, others that it vas prize taken by one victor after another. I am not sure vhat I believe, but ship has reputation that I know very vell. Always fighting, always hunting, always hungry."
"But not in var. Not vith us."
She let that stand as it was; Mephisto didn't know all the details, but with what he now knew about Belle's recent history he was guessing she'd had other concerns ten years ago than fighting other people's wars. He kept quiet, of course -- this wasn't his conversation at the moment.
"So vhen the name of the d'yavol of Cancer," She spoke the word with some amusement, as though it seemed more a joke than a title to her. "And the famous Scarab crossed our comms at same time, I vas quite curious. Ve don't get visitors here, after all." Her eyes inspected the Black Scarab for a moment, gauging the damage. This was the kind of woman who would know the wounds of battle when she saw them.
"Seems you have problem vith volves, da?"
-
Taking the first recreational puff of smoke, Belle chuckled, rather pleased at this woman, her stern attitude an the prod at Mephisto. She knew of her ship, and thus, her, in some manner. And for now, not in a bad way. Their eyes locked, not exactly with any kind of loathing, but just a simple attempt to understand who the other was, and no doubt this woman, with her worn face but fresh authority, had some idea as to the nature of Belle, even if just an inkling. Whispers of an immortal pilot. Or at the least, a changing face. For the moment, she let this other woman speak, it was only due, the respect Belle could tell she deserved. And after that poke at Mephisto, Belle was happy to let this woman take the lead, obviously well traveled.
Belle huffed, joining this woman to look at her wounded ship. "I have many problems, with many wolves. But this is...certainly the bigger pack, yes." Another breath of smoke into the air. The two women seemed to find common ground very quickly. "It's a long and boring story, let me assure you." Belle certainly didn't recognize this woman in any fashion. She had not been involved with the war at all. At that point she was doing fairly well for herself, and she may have caught off-shoots of either side at points, but Belle had always aimed to stray from large conflict. She, and her ship, were to remain an enigma. It had no loyalties with anyone, but herself.
"Me and 'the devil' go way back. That's almost a long and boring story." She repeated, puffing out the smoke once more, like these lines were a staple. Simply to let people know that following her tracks and the destruction behind them wasn't a wise idea. "Let me assure you." The words came long and drawn out, like she was contemplating something long been, and that wasn't exactly far from the truth. Belle turned a little more sternly, initiating more directing conversation. She wanted to get to the reason Mephisto had taken us here. "Whatever price to patch up and fill up, I'll pay. I'll pay for lodging, if we require any. Though, I cannot say harboring us for too long won't bring you trouble sooner or later." Hinting at the extent of the trouble she and the devil found themselves on the run from. "You sent us the coordinates, I assume? You want to speak with us?"
-
The commanding woman turned and gave a low, dry laugh. "No charge, not for you. Is repaying debt, though I feel this alone does not really cover it."
At this point Mephisto stepped into the conversation. "Corona has been a staunch ally for me in times of need, and even though our interactions have always been on the business level--"
A look that wasn't quite stern, more strong and proud, came over the pirate queen. "Saving the life of my adopted daughter ISN'T business, d'yavol. Not from how she tells it." She took a few steps closer to Mephisto, to the point where she was definitely in his personal space -- it didn't take a demonic empath to tell this woman wasn't about to be brown-nosed. "I vas always vondering vhen she vould reveal vhy you did so much for her. Cybernetics don't run cheap, especially not the top-shelf variety. I thought at first you vere vanting her for a hound, a viscous dog on short leash, but she tells me you contact her seldom and pay her vell. I vorry you maybe be that kind of man, interested in things not natural, and try to take advantage of her."
She cast a glance over at Belle. "Now... I not think so."
Mephisto raised an eyebrow. "Your daughter. That's a new wrinkle in the skien."
"Da." The cigar was waved to one side, leaving a trail of smoke and falling ash. "Is, how your barely dressed friend says, long story. She was orphan after var. Gifted, but I am thinkink you already knew this."
"Yes." There was a slight smirk playing at the devil's lips -- and the moment she saw it the pirate queen looked like she wanted to rip it off, clean her boots with it, and feed it back to him the wrong way around. "Your name, however, is another story."
"Zhana. Zhana Helrecrose Klishpanov. During var I vas chief gunner for carrier; now, I am vho I choose to be, fighting the battles I choose to fight and followed by those that choose to do so." She stepped past Mephisto walking towards the Scarab, examining it.
"You chose to come here, knowing a debt owed to you vould be honored here. Fine. Vhatever. And as for this trouble, ve are not vithout teeth of our own." Her eyes turned to Belle. "Ve do not back down if a fight comes to us. I vas not the first to try to salvage this wreck, nor vas I the last to come lookink for it. Ve can take care of ourselves."
Zhana waved half-heartedly at one of her crew. "Jovalzki!" The pirate turned from his welding, lifting a heavy safety mask to look over at his leader. Zhana stuck a thumb in his direction. "He's the closest ve have to an engineer -- he can fix your ship up vell enough. You need food, ve have; nothing good, but is food. You vant beds, ve get you a cabin. Bored, stay out of engine room, bridge, anywhere with red tape on door. Use exercise room, vhatever, just not secure areas. No computer access, no messages -- nebula scrambles everythink anyway, so it's pretty useless."
"As far as a talk..." She blew smoke lazily. "Jovalski vill show you to my quarters in half an hour. Ve shall drink," She pointed her cigar at Mephisto. "And you shall tell me how Nadezhda is getting along. I hear from her rarely enough these days -- everything in burst code, barely any details. And perhaps ve talk about volves and things as vell. Your decision, really."
-
To say the least, Belle was surprised. Not just by this woman, how well off they seemed to be, but the 'hospitality' was not something she had expected. In all, she wasn't even sure what to make of it, just accept it, for now. She smiled, almost out of a slight confusion and surprise, not something unwelcome. Belle had certainly had enough of unfriendly forces for one day, and somewhere like this was as close as she could get to feeling safe now. Although, the fact she wasn't going to have to pay was certainly a plus. It would leave her in debt. Bounty Hunting often left her with hardly enough cash to sleep on a mattress and eat anything or stay anywhere, after refuelling, oxygenating, fixing the ship and restocking weapons ammunition. Once again, she had her little 'cheat code'. But the struggle was what made life, and she would choose to keep it that way for as long as she could.
Belle added to the smoke, along with her rather interesting acquiescence. “Kids, am I right?” Belle joked calmly, not meaning any offence, just an age old stereotype that had never gotten over itself. “Drinks sound good. Beds sound good. Thank you. I, personally, owe you. Debts owed to Mephisto have nothing to do with me. So I owe you.” The demoness pushed any stray hair from her face, before, with the same hand, doing up the very top button of Mephisto's coat. She'd made her entrance, and it was still cold. “You seem like a person even I could learn a bit from.” It seemed that Belle's language, from years, hundreds of them, and turned into something naturally gender neutral when it involved people she didn't know. Just one for sign that, somewhere, Belle cared for the customs and respects of mortals in some sense. Willing to change to accommodate people otherwise unacommondated.
Before too long, Belle and Mephisto were being led along a hall towards the cabins they would probably require, another chisel-faced man. It was unlikely that work on the Scarab would take less than a day, if not less than three days. It was almost like Belle was pinning, honestly worried about her ship, the closest thing she had ever gotten to a home. By now, Belle had almost finished the cigarette, just trying to make it last until she found a bin, not really willing to throw it on the ground. Belle smiled to herself, having registered something. “Looks like she was wrong.” The muse came to herself, not even realizing she was speaking allowed. “I'm not the last person to have this little habit.” Adia. The demoness's expression soured visibly. Remembering what she had left behind, even if the single most important thing in the Universe to her was right at her side, she couldn't help it. Bringing herself back around, Belle prodded Mephisto in the ribs in jest. “I wonder if we get to share a room. God I hope they're bunk beds.” He would catch her looking just a little too amused at her own little joke. It was unlikely there were many double rooms in this place, and if there was, it was likely it belonged to Zhana.
“So, it looks like you've turned into something of a hero, between the last time we met.” Belle spoke, more directly too him. “Partly proud...partly shamed. You were never one to do right, let alone good.” Finishing the tar-laced stick, Belle looked at it. All she could do for now was hold onto it until she found an ashtray or bin of some kind. Even then, she'd rather stick it down the side of a bed than throw it on the floor, not that it was immaculately kept anyway. In the presence of their little guide, Belle wasn't going to open conversation too honestly. But at the same time, the two of them already had some kind of rep going on. Belle had a keen eye for keeping up appearance that leaned towards the more mysterious end of things. She carried that air with her constantly. Accept for when she was alone, by herself or with him. For the most part, that was her conformation that what was between them was more than shallow attraction.
Besides, she wanted to share a room with him. And she'd nearly be upset if they didn't.
-
"Me, a hero?" Mephisto turned a greatly amused gaze towards Belle, laughter in his eyes. He'd clearly never been called that before. Bastard, demon, hellspawn, scum, incubus, deciever, scoundrel, all those and more were the banners of infamy that hung like tattered tapestries across his name, history, and self-concept; heroism, with precious few exceptions, wasn't in the equation of who and what he was.
But there had been exceptions.
He wouldn't need to say it; whether she was reading his thoughts or no, the look in his eyes made the meaning clear. He was no hero, but in this case he hadn't exactly been a villain either. Something else had driven his motivations to save the pirate queen's adopted daughter from an unfortunate fate, something far less intrinsically rooted in either ideals or egotism than the terms 'hero' or 'villain' would describe. It was more like he was... honoring something, someone, beyond himself and his interests the same way that Zhana was honoring the debt she perceived to Mephisto. The way he was looking at Belle, the subtle hints and clues in his expression, would give her a good idea of why he'd done what he had.
"You know I'm no 'hero'." His voice was low, just above a whisper. He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant but failing miserably. "She needed help, likely would've taken it from just about anybody. I offered her... a few choice words. Money. Hope." He paused, giving Belle a 'you know where I'm going with this' look. And she would -- he was echoing her own words to her from over five thousand years in the past. "Anger. I gave her what she needed to defy fate."
'Because that's what you would have done'. The words didn't need to be said; it was written all over him, his expression, his body language. And if she ventured a glance into his thoughts and followed the thread therein, other names, faces, and incidents would surface -- one or two within the last five years, though of far less dramatic caliber, and more, acts done before he'd died, women in need of whom he had taken nothing and to whom he had extended an open and undemanding hand. It was a policy with him, one he'd never spoken of -- one he'd adopted immediately after the business with Juviel, in fact. Out of respect for Belle... and out of a love for her that he had only partially understood or appreciated at the time.
She had changed him, this devil, this madman thespian. Her imprint on him ran deep and true, just as much so as the cross-shaped scar that would now forevermore adorn the back of his neck.
"In any case," Mephisto tried to change the subject, not wanting to seem like he wanted a pat on the back -- in spite of how much Belle's approval did mean to him. "What are the accommodations being afforded us?"
"Ship is very big, many rooms to choose from." Their guide gestured up ahead, where the rows of plain blast-proofed self-sealing metal doors gave way to ones marginally more ornate, looking like they may at one time have borne name tags and insignias on them that time and scavenging had stripped away. A few of them had fresh names that had been hastily drawn, etched, or stenciled onto them but most were blank. "This is the secondary officers' quarters, or vas, anyway. You can have any unclaimed room here. Is much better than enlisted bunks, let me tell you."
He pointed further on ahead of them. "Mess hall is two lefts, right, and straight to the end. Lift is right and straight; you'll find map in lift in case you vant to go anywhere else."
Jovalski turned to them both, a curious look in his eyes. "Ve don't get guests here, ya know. The commander isn't really the 'entertaining' type. Vhatever she sees in you crazy people, she must think you're important." He shrugged. "Anyway, feel free to settle in. If you need anything from your ship, use comm panel in room and ve bring it to you." He flashed a seedy grin, not unlike a used car salesman would. "And, hey, if you're looking for merchandise, ve got some pretty good stuff ve're not using. Maybe ve make a deal or two vhile you're here, eh? Hit a cargo hauler recently -- high end stuff, rather nice. You come see after drinking vith the commander, da?"
-
Her eyes met Mephisto's, reading that truth in his eyes and she smiled. She went to take another puff of smoke, looking marginally disappointed when she realised all over again that she had already finished it; it wasn't so much a chemical habit as it was simply to have her hands doing something. “I never realised that I had made that much of an impact on you.” Her voice came amused, no entirely truthful, more indulging in his unspoken tale of change, and time. But, silently, she appreciated it. They way he had come to remember her was a respectful one, and one she would have supported. In reality, she was flattered. But she would never bring herself to tell him that. At least, not for a while. Maybe when the Universe ended they could thank each other for a life worth living.
This ship was certainly sizeable, and it was organized. That alone spoke volumes about the kinds of 'establishment' Zhana was running, the kind that wasn't simply a blood-thirsty band of hound dogs. These people had rules, not doubt they had a code, a law of some kind. A kinsman-ship. A weird little fucked up family, and Belle wasn't going to complain. She rather liked the feel of it, it was refreshing. Outside of the law, completely, but not barbaric in any sense of the word. Obviously, from what she had heard, this place certainly had morals, they all shared a common interest. For a quick moment, Belle wondered as to the sheer breadth of this community. How they might pass the time in order to come close to a normal, sanity-enforcing life. It didn't seem like crew-members killed each other in fits of hysteria, so obviously they kept some normality. After all, it couldn't all just be militaristic governance. There had to be a line between work, and life.
Belle smiled at the guide, not so much pleased but that she question his ignorance. “I'm sure it wouldn't hurt to browse.” She mused at him, neither a promise of coming to see him, or an outright denial. For a moment, Belle simply wasn't sure if he ran that little enterprise himself, off of the records. Having faced their 'leader' the demoness didn't really want to get on her bad side. It was in his face, that smug grin of his.
She took a few moments to look around her, examining the rooms available. Everything without a tag or name. Continuing forward, Belle picked a room that was curiously as far from any taken room as she could find. Liking her privacy, obviously. Stopping outside the door, she examined it. “Sooo, no key-card or access code we'll be needing to open this thing?” Her voice came questioning, not too keen on the idea that just anyone could walk in on anyone else, tapping on the metal door curiously.
-
He gave her a soft, telling smile, speaking without words. ~An impact unlike anything else, Belle.~ He gave her a slight, telling nod. ~Unlike. Anything. Else.~
Mephisto didn't really bother to respond to Jovalski's offer of 'shopping' with anything more than a shrug. All his assets were tied up back on Cancer -- he had a couple hundred credits in the pockets of his coat, the self-same one Belle currently had draped about her, but that wasn't really enough to do more than buy a few trinkets probably. "We'll see."
Jovalski pulled a small, worn-looking handheld from one of his oversize pouch-like pockets and typed in a series of commands. The door Belle had chosen hissed, the release of pressurized air ruffling their clothes for a moment before it slid in to one side. "Is made to respond to occupants vith sensors." He pointed to a tiny black-glass square set into the wall over the doorway. "If power goes out -- and it vill, from nebula or other things -- then manual release is there." His finger redirected to what looked like a heavy switch built into the side of the wall. "Von't vork vhen there's power; vhen there isn't, lift up, pull out, and door should open. Won't close, though. Can be locked from inside, da. In case you vant privacy." He gave Mephisto a seedy look and received a 'mind your own business' one in return.
The room Belle had chosen was reasonably spacious by military standards. A large central bed, unmade, dominated the center area with a desk off to one side. The door leading to the bathroom was similar to the main door, and a broad wall closet open opposite. There was simple overhead lighting and a large display screen that dominated the back wall behind the bed, doubling as a 'window'.
The devil glanced in. "Not bad." He gave Belle a playful look. "No bunk beds, though."
-
Belle didn't know if he realized quite the effect those words, spoken through to her mind, had on her. The things they did to each other, it was crazy, he made her crazy. He was the only man she would ever truly want and it was like he knew that a little too well. Not using her, exactly, but clearly he liked to elicit a response when he could. It wasn't like Belle could really help herself. Icy-eyes trailed to him, filled with knowing, a hint of desire playing upon her features. She knew that since they'd met again she'd demanded...a lot of him. She barely gave him enough hours to reload the gun, before her own desires took over. No, Belle would make a point to wait. But that didn't mean she wouldn't tease him all the same.
Her eyes filled with a second of annoyance, the air release of pressured air was cold against her bare skin, not exactly pleasant, shivering slightly. Jovalski explained the mechanism of the door well enough. Belle couldn't help but stifle a laugh when he mentioned 'privacy', and her, in all her snark and charm simply couldn't resist the opportunity. “What, jealous?” It wasn't necessarily a nasty comment., and more of a humoured one. These people had let them on to their station, let them eat their 'food', use their beds. It would be wise to stay somewhat on their good side, and that meant not pissing anyone off to any great extent. But her personality was unwavering, and for the most part, could only be restrained, and not switched out. The crew seemed tough. If they couldn't take a gab, personal or otherwise, Belle would be disappointed to say the least. Wounded pride was something she had already had enough of from Mephisto, she didn't need a whole crew of uptight morons, too.
She met Mephisto gaze with a similar expression. “I know. I'm almost sad.” Turning towards the unmade bed, she simply waved a hand, and it began to make itself. Up to this point, Mephisto had only had hints to her power, it uses and applications in everyday situations...and more intimate ones, too. Belle strode further into the room, glad that it was warmer inside than on the outside, a small dial next to the lever for temperature control. Making herself comfortable, she undid the only button on Mephisto's coat she had done up, and shrugged it off of her shoulders, leaving her stark naked in front of the two men. She turned around with a grin waving at their little tour guide. “That'll be all, I imagine. See you at dinner.” She winked at him, before giving Mephisto an eye, waiting for when, eventually, the accented man left them. The she demoness walked forward, once again only in her high heels, brushing shoulders with her Devil.
Closing the door, she lent against it, giving him her best pair of fiery eyes, a cunning smile. “So.” She began, happy to keep herself against the door. “I imagine they'll be calling us in 20 minutes or so.” A sigh fell from her lips, a mocking contentedness, but her eyes narrowed at him. “Not a lot you can do in 20 minutes.”
-
She always had a presence about her -- as theatrical as Mephisto was by nature Belle, to him, knew how to 'work a scene' far better... and something told him she didn't even know she was doing it at times. The look on the pirate engineer's face as Belle's powers made bedsheets and pillow covers obey her was one of slack-jawed amazement; when she disrobed without the slightest sense of concern, the poor man looked like he was somewhere between a mild heart attack and and badly needing a hard drink. Grinning at him, Mephisto made a rotating gesture with one fingertip and a slight point towards the hallway -- the pirate, briefly too awestruck to argue with the obvious hint from them both, turned quietly and walked off, clearly more than a little impressed.
She had that effect on people. It was amazing Belle had managed to keep her profile so low for so long... either that, or maybe she just enjoyed showing off in front of him, specifically.
Twenty minutes. The devil couldn't help a smile. "Oh, but I beg to differ. You can do quite a lot in twenty minutes, if you rush into it." He approached her, his shirt dissolving with a flickering of hellfire. The devil ran a hand gently across the side of her face, fingertips tracing her hairline and tucking stray strands behind her ear. "But I think we can make better use of the time without rushing... my love."
Mephisto leaned in and kissed her, slow and light, just the faintest brushing of lips. He smiled at her. "Give ourselves something to look forward to later."
-
As he came slowly towards her, she marvelled at him. Everything about him was unlawfully attractive to her. His calmness, his presence, his power, and more instantly, his body. Her hands were eager to touch the warm skin, just as unnatural as hers, scars from his past life told his story to her, his timelessness. He was his own infinity. She pulled him closer, arms wrapping around his neck as he brushed the hair from her face, leaving her a just a little short of breath. To her, Mephisto was a poison unlike anything in the universe. Just a look at him, his bloody-red eyes, and it consumed her, ran in her blood like the fires he commanded. His voice came toxic, yet true. Truth that you had to rush to get anything done in twenty minutes. And the truth that rushing wasn't worth it. Slow, steady, climbing. Tension was key, thoroughness was key. She couldn't deny that truth. A fact that made him more than a man.
But he kissed her, anyway, sending shivers through her body, a rush of heat and anticipation. But he was right, she knew he was right, and she had to get control of herself. Part of her still hadn't gotten over it, gotten over him. Or gotten enough of him. Her intensity was her only anxiety. That the way she was, almost always hungry for him, and not afraid to show it, would be too much even for him. Her sexuality was powerful, and now she had someone to love onto which to project it, and that might not be a good thing. And though she kissed him back, as light the touch on him as he on her, she reserved, and pulled back.
Her smile, gone.
No, it wasn't him. This was her own issue. He, thus far, had been happy to indulge, but how much was too much? Was she too much? The struggle was in her eyes. There was never that there, but it was. Like he was the only one she could love...but the only one who could make her truly think. Think enough to find flaws in how she was. Nodding, she looked down, resting her head under his chin, and simply spent a while breathing him in. “Yeah...” The reply came lightly, almost stoic. It troubled her, but how did two immortal beings, seemingly over their imperfections, masters of themselves, snuffers of their anxieties and troubles, being to talk about the image issues they had...with themselves? She certainly didn't know. It was something she had never had to deal with before. Communication wasn't a strong point.
Moving away from him, she dressed herself, filling the closet with clothes for both him and for her. She worked to make it somewhat homely, even adding extra decorative pillows. Her outfit was simple enough, formal. High-waisted black trousers and a plan white blouse tucked in. A hair band appearing in her hand, she walked into the bathroom, and did up her hair quickly. “Might want to make yourself comfortable.” She said, trying to change the subject. “We'll probably be here a few days at the least.”
-
Mephisto looked at her, confused. Part of him almost immediately assumed he'd said or done something wrong, something that upset her. One moment she had been all playful teasing and feminine allure, and the next...
It wasn't that she was being cold, per say. Something was definitely bothering her, something that had taken the wind out of her sails, and almost before he knew what was going on she was all business, settling into their new accomidations in exceedingly practical ways. He found himself, shirtless, standing there blinking away the confusion... then followed her into the bathroom as she did up her hair.
"I am comfortable." There was no hostility in his voice -- concern, yes, but nothing that would be a reproach to her. "Comfortable with you, with us, however we turn out or whatever that brings." The demonic man paused, searching for the right words. "I can't read your mind, Belle, but I can tell something's bothering you. Please, talk to me. I want to help if I can, or at least understand." And now he quietly cursed himself within his own mind. "Regardless of how bad I've been at it in the past, I have always wanted to understand you."
"Whatever it's about, please confide in me. And if it's something you're not ready to talk about I'll respect that, of course. I just..." He was grasping for words again, trying to find the right way to put what was in his heart and on his mind. The momentary flash of her thoughts from the Black Sapphire came into his mind. "... I just don't want either of us to have to suffer alone anymore."
"You've had far too much of that already."
-
She sighed after a moment, looking at their reflections in the mirror as she tied her hair in to a loose bun, so to keep it out of her face, appear cleaner. Mephistos words hung in that air, dancing for a while in her otherwise occupied mind. Putting her hands either side of the sink, Belle lowered her view, staring into the ceramic bowl. He was right. Obviously he was right, and she agreed with him. Some part of her was still disillusioned with the idea that they were 'a couple', or whatever they were or could be called.
For all her life she got by without anything personal getting in the way of how she worked, but now she faced that problem, realising that , at least in her mind, she had a problem, a flaw. Even if it wasn't an opinion of her they both shared, as far as she was concerned, it could drive him from her at some point. Suddenly Belle had discovered an insecurity.
After a few moments of silence, she turned to face him. Her eyes told him the truth, that clearly she still wanted him. Her heart and body agreed, but her mind wasn't so sure. Not that she didn't want him, her body burned like a dying star, but she didn't know if it was necessarily a good idea. Suddenly she was very aware of time, the time they had spent together and what. For the most part.had been their occupation during that time. And that she was by no means done with him. He satisfied her, of course he did, but not for more than a handful of hours at a time. By now, with that realisation, even she was annoyed at herself, annoyed at her body, seemingly never satisfied now she had a man that she really did love.
She was so... Human. It was showing.
But he seemed to finally be understanding her, listening to what she meant when she didn't say much at all. He really did nothing to help her, standing before her without a shirt and concerned. "I.." She started, obviously very distracted, and not just by his body. "Am I too much?" The question came with, asking it more because I'd she didn't take the moment to say it she never would. As if she didn't just legit out she would fester on it until she ruined whatever they had. Maybe it hadn't been clear what she meant, and now she had started she might as well elaborate for him.
"What I mean is in less than two days I've 'asked' a lot of you. Maybe too much...probably too much." She didn't know if she sounded stupid or not. She sounded annoyed at herself, like she was fed up with it, her desire. "You might say that's fine, enjoy it even, but what about after a week, a month...a year? I don't know if I'm going to calm down or not, get over, well, you. Even I'm fed up of it, annoyed that I can't control it." No matter. It was eating away at her viciously. There was only so much about herself that she could control, and her longing for him was not one if them. "I'm afraid. Afraid that if I carry on asking of you what I ask of you, that I'll just force you away, overwhelm you." This wasn't quite a petty sex-qualm. It was a concern of hers that ran deep.
She was intense, and that carried over in how, and how often, she loved him. It wasn't healthy, not for her or for him. Clearly, she was nervous, and a little embarrassed. She wanted him. She always wanted him, and she didn't know what to do about it.
And that was the problem.
-
So that was what was bothering her. Mephisto was caught somewhere between concern and extreme flattery; he was worried with her, of course, but at the same time to have that level of an effect on her...
...no, this was serious. And no place for his ego to get in the way.
For a long moment he didn't speak, didn't say anything -- just pulled her into him and held the demoness close. She could've read his mind at any time, of course, and found out with ease that Mephisto didn't entirely know what to think either. It wasn't something that had an easy answer, this; there was so much tangled up in the future, in everything that could take place between them, that 'easy answers' were about as far from likely as he could imagine. But, at the same time, 'impossible' things happened. He was proof, and so was she. Did they have differences, things between them that didn't quite fit perfectly all the time? Yes, absolutely.
But was there anyone else he could ever imagine himself with?
No, not at all.
"Whether you ever 'calm down' or not is irrelevant." Mephisto said at last. "I don't care. It's something we can work out over time, together." He pulled back, hands on her shoulders, a pleading look in his eyes. "I don't want this to sound possessive, Belle, because you're your own person and you'll always be free to do what you want as far as I'm concerned. I just... I can't lose you."
"Please, my love," He brushed her cheek with his fingertips. "Please."
-
In the moments he felt his silence, Belle continued to shrink back, not quite ashamed, but put on the spot, more like embarrassed. His silence didn't assure her in anyway, if anything it made her feel more broken, that whatever it was they had with each other was more fragile than she thought...and that it was her fault. That she was too much, that she was overbearing. That sooner rather than later he would find her too much trouble, too much effort. That he couldn't keep up with her 'demands'.
By the time he embraced her, warm and comforting, she was all but elsewhere. Sinking into her own head, worrying. Even now that he was back, her existence was a tormented one. Having him back didn't so much solve her problems as it did replace them. It was likely she was still overwhelmed with his return, and she would eventually settle into a more healthy system of desire. But right now it didn't feel like it, like the fires he had always lit in her were ready to burn for more than eternity, and that something out there that revelled in her suffering would make sure of it. She closed her eyes against his warmth, intoxicating and maybe just a little too real. All of her wanted to hold him back, but it wouldn't help her. It sounded so stupid in her head but it was causing her pain. That justified it, right? That it wasn't stupid or petty.
He pulled away, looking into cold eyes. Maybe, if she hadn't killed him, the transition into a bound pair would be easier. The emotions from so much time with him clawing at her mind but just not there made it all so much worse. She wasn't herself, that much was clear. She was so, so human. So simply not in control. A mess, so lost and confused in herself that, alone with him, she could barely function. She had always been human, and these bonds to people were made to channel that. The jump from without to with piled on her emotions. This time, now, on this ship, the closest thing to safe they would be until it no longer was, might be the ideal time to start getting a grip on things. On each other, properly. Use this time to calm down, talk. But her life had been built of her taking advantage of and reclaiming her sexual prowess, for the most part, it was, apart from her hate, the only thing she really knew. And she decided maybe she should voice that to him. Communicate.
“I don't know if it's because sex and hate are the only two things I really know that I'm like this...” Her voice, for the first time, was quiet. “I don't know how else to deal with how I might be feeling. How else to show you I love you.” She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. “Like I said, what are we going to do? Picnic, hold hands, do all those mushy mortal stuff...” They were both s full of pride that it was going to be hard to let it go, if not just for the two of them. She certainly felt she needed another 'outlet' for how she thought she was feeling before she pushed him away. But they were two demons who didn't really know any better. They knew the conventions of mortal love, but did that apply to them? She liked to 'have him' in certain ways, that would never change. Her attraction to him was a universal truth, as true at the tattoo on her neck. But that couldn't be all there was. She brought her hand to lay across his, close to her face.
Away from this, from them, she was still the conquering queen he met her as. She would always be the rage and fury she was born to be. But this wasn't then. Now she could break down. Shed herself to show things she didn't know she had. Emotions, troubles, conflicts...and a heart.
“You will never not have me, Mephisto.” A pause, heavy. “That's what I'm worried about. You'll never not make me crazy. I'll never not want you. I don't want to become too much for you to handle. I don't want you to feel I ask too much, take too much...am too much.”
-
He smiled at her, softly, with just the faintest chuckle. "I don't think anyone's ever worried about being fair to 'the devil' before."
Becoming more serious, he continued. "You are so much more than sex and hate, Belle. I saw that about you from the very beginning. You genuinely cared for the women you helped; you had strong reasons for making their fight yours. That wasn't just hatred -- hatred drove you to kill, but it didn't drive you to liberate, or even to meddle in things like you often did. You're smart, clever, and loyal to the things and the people you believe in."
He placed an affectionate finger under her chin and nudged it up slightly, as if to encourage her by suggesting the old phrase. "When we first met, I ignorantly thought that what I saw in your was just sexuality and hatred, a succubus born to ravage mankind in the way she chose, spilling blood and feeding an unquenchable flame of lust. Back then," He fixed her with a look, a 'you know this is true' look. "I was an idiot. But it didn't take much time before I started to see so much more to you than that."
"Sex and hate are your tools, Belle, and in a way they will always be part of you. But that doesn't mean they define you. You are so much more than that." He paused, thinking. "This, being in love, is new for both of us. In a sense it shouldn't even be possible, but yet here we are anyway. I don't have all the answers anymore than you do. That's going to take time, beautiful."
"Fortunately, time seems to be something we were made to have."
Another pause, ending with a coy smirk on his face. "Besides, if you weren't too much for me to handle, trying wouldn't be half so much fun. I enjoy the challenge, my beautiful firebrand." He leaned in, whispering with a sultry voice into her ear. "Half the fun in playing with fire is risking being burned. And I want you to burn me, Belle. Over and over. I can take it."
"Now," He glanced around the bathroom. "I know you've just gotten yourself done up... but the fact is, we're about to meet with the commander for drinks. Neither of us had a shower this morning, or since our last 'time alone'."
He nodded his head towards the faux-glass door to the shower, which looked just roomy enough to accommodate them both. And he knew how she loved showers.
"Shall we? I'll scrub your back for you."
-
The honest truth was that his words didn't really make her feel too much better. She didn't want to burn him, she didn't want to be too much for him. But if he didn't mind, then it would do, comforted by his touches, the finger to her chin that told her that she should keep it there, high, as she always had. With nothing to be ashamed of. The way he called her beautiful, and his love, warmed her cold heart. She only hoped that she could find some ways of showing him all her appreciation for what he was to her. They were two mighty evils, a pair of demons, but in a strange way they brought out the best, the good, in the other. To the other, they were the only person in the universe they could truly stand.
And she couldn't help but smile back at him. Not her usual, playful smile, not a wicked or cunning grin of knowing and scheming. Just a smile back, a smile caused by his. The fact he was no less put off of her, despite her worry. That he would still share with her the moments she so much craved, but no longer had the guts or spirit to ask for, or demand of him. Nonetheless, she undid the first few buttons of her plain white shirt, revealing her collar, and all the loving decorations he had left on her. Her eyes did eventually take on a more playful look, still a little uncertain in herself, not sure whether indulging her rampant desire was a good idea or not. But there was no way in hell she was going to turn down an offer from him. “I don't know.” Her voice slowly rising back up to the tone of before. “You might have to persuaded me...”
She couldn't help it. Sometimes she just wanted to see how much he wanted her, to what ends he would obey her hinted little commands. Belle pressed her body against his, her hands running down the length of his body. For now, while he danced her little dance she would try and forget her nagging fears. Make the most of him while he was willing to give himself. As far as she was concerned, she were to treat him as if at any point they could be separated for good again. They were two people, on the run from a force larger than both of them, hiding out with the modern day pirates, in the middle on a nebula, waiting desperately for their ships repairs. Belle might be more than happy to play along. But she wanted him to, first, bringing her face just a little closer to his. “...Or make me.”
-
"Persuade you to enjoy a shower? There's something I never imagined I'd hear." He teased her back, inching his face closer to hers. His voice dropped, becoming a low and sultry whisper. "But if you want me to make you..."
And then, in the next moment, the devil was nothing but mist in her arms, swirling around Belle to reappear behind her, arms clutching her close and lips leaving slow, strong kisses on her neck. There would be more lovemarks to join her collection soon enough. The kisses traveled up, gradually, as his hands undid more of her buttons, finally coming to rest just below her ear.
"I think I can do that."
He undressed her from the top down, starting with her hairband and pulling off each piece of clothing as it came undone, kisses following to the unconcealed skin of her back, her hips, and her legs. When at last the devil had removed all he could his arms reached across her back and the backs of her legs, picking her up in his arms. Somewhere in the midst of it his own clothes had disappeared and he quickly shimmied off her shoes, trousers, and underwear off. The kisses quickly resumed, this time the passionate kind that had them locking lips; working by memory Mephisto somehow made it over to the shower door, somehow got it open with his foot, and carried Belle inside. Only then did he break the kiss, looking into her eyes with a whispering question: "How hot do you like the water, gorgeous?"
-
Belle gladly let Mephisto work his way with her, how could she not? It wasn't like she was adverse to his advances, not in the slightest. In fact, she loved nothing more. With themselves now somewhat safe behind the fire-power of well established pirates, and the hazy mist of a Nebula, it was only right, it was only fit they take the time to slow down. At least pretend that everything was fine. That nothing was wrong at that they could afford to take time, to spend it on one another. Although, this place was hardly anyone’s idea of an ideal honeymoon, it was the best they had. Memories of his bathroom they hadn't used. Or the pool she had never gotten to try. She hoped that, if they were ever to go back, it would still be there. It was his livelihood, what he had spent the last 5 years achieving. A certain amount of him and his vision had gone into it. Effort and time.
Even his hands, his kisses, couldn't shake that feeling of guilt, of shame. That she had pulled him from all his efforts, and that they might not be able to return to it, as it was, though it melted away, slowly. Remembering that this had, in some senses, been his choice. He had demanded to come with her, despite everything he had made. So surely it was not right for her to feel such guilt, when he was still willing to give her something much more enjoyable.
Some part of her mind was incredibly amused when he picked her up, kissing her. They were mighty beings, and yet he carried her. But she let herself fall away under his kiss, push all her negative thoughts from her mind, and just focus on what mattered. That, somehow, they hadn't been blown apart by Thanatos, that he hadn't been ripped to shreds by space and time, that they hadn't gotten her before she left Cancer. Her arms wrapped around his neck to help hold her to him, a grateful sign, that she wanted to be close to him, that she was counting their lucky stars, and for now they had been kept safe by the universe from overwhelming forces, just a taste of how things would probably be from now. Like, maybe, in some weird way, they had been through enough, and lived long enough, that the Universe pitted them, and, for now, would let them simply be.
Her eyes met his, almost disheartened that he'd had the gall to stop kissing her, but nonetheless, still holding her in his arms. The brief look of disappointment was replaced at his question with a smile. She kissed his neck, working up to below his ear, a hint of playfulness that she knew the greatness of her reply. It was certainly a jump to make the connection, both flattering and teasing. Her voice came like his a whisper, a simply reply and she hoped to assess his attention. “Like my coffee.”
-
Her response brought a gratified chuckle from the demonic man. "I see..." And, carefully setting her feet down, Mephisto closed the shower door and turned up the dial. The initial cold spray struck him in the back sending a slight chill up his spine; turning it to his advantage he pulled Belle in close and kissed her anew, the slight shivers making him kiss her all the more intensely as his body sought out her warmth. Soon enough, though, the shower was filling with steam... in more ways than one.
------------------------------
"Running a bit late, aren't ve?" Zhana snapped closed an antique silver pocket watch on a chain as Belle and Mephisto, freshly cleaned up, were ushered into her quarters. It was the kind of place befitting a pirate queen; large and spacious, the room had almost certainly been intended for the private use of the the carrier's captain... which, effectively, it was. A large central desk, behind which she was seated and on the faux-wood surface of which her feet were propped up, was the focal point, with a large bank of screens and monitors -- several notably turned off or inoperable -- commanding the wall behind her. A door on the far right suggested a separate bedroom, making this more of a conference room, and a heavy machine gun auto-turret retracted into the ceiling made it clear that this was no place of vulnerability for her by any stretch, a notion reinforced by the rack of heavy weapons along the right-hand wall. To the left were the woman's trophies: more than just the spoils of piracy and shiny baubles, there were to be seen in prominent display over a dozen Aedolian uniforms, all officers and all with some evidence of having been torn or cut from the bodies of those who last wore them, on prominent display. This was the den of a predator, one that favored a very specific type of prey.
"Vell, I thought you might be." Swinging her legs off the desk, Zhana walked over to a liquor cabinet alongside her gun racks and began to pour herself a glass. "You made that kind of impression, after all. I hope Jovalski didn't pester you too much -- man's a zalupa vith a penchant to run his mouth, but he does decent vork vhen ve need him to." She raised the bottle for Belle and Mephisto to see. "Vodka? It's the good stuff."
-
Belle couldn't help but think that maybe Mephisto was pure evil, indulging in her desires so much. Just the press of their bodies against each other, skin against sin-soaked skin, was enough to have Belle on an instant and powerful green light. And she knew this was just a tease. They had the evening to look forward to, and although Belle would have been happy to forget about Zhana's orders to meet her, truly get carried away, yearning to feel her devils touch, it wasn't something they could do. As he carried her away, the water she was still so enraptured by beginning to heat up, she couldn't help but feel, in some sense of twisted irony, that she was drowning. And by all the gods, she would let him drown her.
~~~~~~~~~~
The pair of them turned up at her office in a much better state than they had the Commissioners back on Cancer, Belle dressed back into the shortly worn outfit. At least the soap and the water washed them clean, and left them not so much the walking statement of their doings, not that anyone on the ship with a brain needed that being told to them. Zhana certainly knew, and Belle was almost flattered. But she couldn't help but notice the impressive set up she had. Certainly it suited her. Though, out of it all, Belle was drawn most to the watch. It had been an age since she'd seen an analogue clock of any kind, digital was quick to move in, replace the gears and cogs. The old style watch still had strong appeal to those who dared to care about the things of the old world. Belle was certainly one of them. Everything was part of her past, her time spent watching everything go forward as it did. Much like that watch, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was an antique, or if she'd had it made for her.
A grin grew across the face of the she-demon when their host offered them a drink. Belle nodded. “Not a woman to turn down a stiff drink.” Or much else. Belle knew she was racking up quite the list of items borrowed, but if they were willing to fix up her ship, give them a room, food, access to the facilities, it was unlikely a cigarette and a drink would topple the scales of what she apparently owed Mephisto for saving her adopted daughter, whom Belle had yet to meet. Silently, she mused over just how many little connections he had. And if any of them wanted to kill her. “He wasn't too much of a problem. I think I gave him a little...fright, but that was about it. Scurried off fast enough.” She couldn't help but chuckle to herself. “Did mention something of a little Black Marketing. Didn't want to take him up on it, just in case. He had that tricksters look about him. Not that I don't not trust you or your crew, just there seems to be a sense of independence, and people like to get up to all kinds of things when they think no one is looking.”
Her gaze at the other woman became one of a sharp knowing, a respect. “But I don't doubt you have quite the keen eye.”
-
Zhana gave a bit of a chuckle. "Da, I know about his little side business. Is perfectly fine -- one incentive I give my crew is that, vith a few restrictions and rules, they can claim loot and salvage for themselves from vhat ve catch. Makes them vork in unison vhen ve hit a ship, then competitively vhen ve board. Everyone pushes to be that much better, that much faster, to secure and claim areas quickly and efficiently. Ve form teams and small groups -- strike squads that agree to vork together for better take. Some specialize -- engines, bridge, hostages, cargo." She quirked an inquisitive eye to Mephisto, holding up an empty glass and having just poured Belle's; he gave the pirate queen an appreciative nod and she began pouring his as she continued. "I make special arrangements vith teams that vould get little or no share, reward them based on performance from my own cut. It keeps everyone happy, focused, fightink vell."
"Jovalski has connections, black market -- typically others sell vhat they cannot use to him, and he to a select few 'entrepreneurs'. Is how ve get vhat ve need, thing that piracy alone does not provide." She set Belle and Mephisto's drinks down in front of them on the desk, then went back for her own. "He likes business, too much for my taste, but is necessary evil, da?"
The pirate queen raised her glass in a toast. "Za grabezh!" And then quickly downed the entire contents of her glass in a single go, seeming quite content with the drink when she was done.
"So," Placing her glass down, she leaned against her desk. "You two are interesting pair. Descartes -- or Giles, or Tashren, vhichever name you prefer -- you I know of. And of course I know of Black Scarab by reputation. But you," She gave Belle and amused look. "Who pilot so great a hunter and have this man in tow, you are interestink to me. I have not asked your name or business yet, as I vas not sure you vished them disclosed amongst many ears." She gestured, somewhat dismissively, with her hand. "I trust my pirates to do three things: fight vhen told, steal vhen told, and obey orders that I can enforce. Vith them, everything is reward and punishment. Keeps it businesslike. But secrets -- net, those I do not trust many with. And identity and purpose of Black Scarab's gifted hand has long been secret vell kept, da. Many names, many faces, or so I am to understand."
"You assume I'm not the captain." Mephisto jested, casting a look at Belle that said plainly 'she's certainly sharp'.
"Da." Zhana took on a grin. "If you vere captain, Nadezhda vould have told me." She leaned forward a bit, eyes on Belle. "Besides, I know ships, and those that vork vith them. Vhen you said 'my ship', it vas vith a familiarity that few can pretend -- vhen you valked out it vas in your stride, and vhen you looked at the Scarab there vas no mistaking the rightful pride of it in your gaze. The Scarab is yours," Zhana leaned back. "And though ve are pirates, you may rest upon my vord: ve shall not try to part you from her. I know the pride, and the pain, of being captain of a vounded ship."
"But, is neither here or there." The pirate queen plucked up her glass, swirling the tiny amount that lingered in the bottom of it and eyed it, fiercely, as though considering an opponents he could as yet only imagine. "Vhat is here, and there, is that someone saw fit to take a swing at a ship with the Black Scarab's formidable reputation. I vould not be so bold, and I have a small fleet of fighter-bombers here. For size, Scarab is supposed to be quite strong, befitting of name."
She cast her gaze Belle's way. "So, tell me of these volves that hunt you."
-
Belle shifted her weight, breathing out heavily at Zhana's question about her wolves. Certainly, it was not something Belle was likely to tell, in full, to anyone, anytime soon, and that included Mephisto. Taking a drink quickly to settle her mind somewhat. It was more placebo than anything, but it was something, and it was the best she had with a mind like hers.
Even so, Belle was somewhat impressed that the name of her and her ship had come so far out. She dealt with underhanded criminals, pirates, too, so it really wasn't unlikely, but it was more the lack of despise towards her that granted her curiosity in kind. She didn't keep track, to it was highly likely that Belle had never had a single hand in taking anyone that meant anything to these people. Or, so she hoped. This group was certainly more than your general anger hooligans, who caused trouble for everyone one. No, they had a station, they were stockpiled, they had order. That was no mean feat. It was impressive, saying the very least. Zhana knew the likenesses of pilots, something that was true to each one, or any pilot who really cared about their ship. Belle did, how could she not? For the longest time, it had been the only thing she had.
Eventually after a few moments silence, Belle's gaze met that of the accented womans. They had much ground in common, but they were not here to make friends. "I can tell you they're not like most." Belle began, playing somewhat with the glass. "I can tell you you've heard of them." Her eyes turned dark, gazing into hers. "I can tell you that telling you would give you a better idea of my...nature." A stifled huff, a laugh, fell from the icy-eyed womans lips as she averted her gaze slightly, not wanted to seem as if she looked to pose a threat of any kind. Not directly. "But you're not stupid; I'm sure you have an idea, at the least, as to my nature. The Scarab and her reputation tells as much as you need to know." People didn't like to go to the obvious conclusion as to how The Black Scarab was still sailing, still very much a prolific part of the Bounty Scene. It was unlikely. No one wanted to believe in the immortal anymore.
Everyone had grown so skeptical. Rightfully so, Belle would agree. If she didn't have enough to sway her towards something else. There was no such thing as coincidence. As she had once heard it put, the Universe is rarely so lazy.
She took a breath. "I've had this little pack on my case for ten years, and five years ago I thought I'd lost them. Seem's I just made em' angry." Belle shrugged. "Obviously I didn't just piss someone off. Ten years is a long time. That's a lot of resources to chase someone like me, for anyone who would want to try." Taking another drink, she left a longer pause. On one hand she didn't really want to say too much straight up, but she also didn't want to annoy Zhana with riddles and hints. Clues didn't suit her, she seemed more a person who liked to get to the pointy end of things as quickly and effectively as possible. But, it wasn't like her wolves were unknown. Like they weren't noisy enough in there silence. "My wolves hunt only certain prey, as you might have guessed. With a track record as dirty as mine, it wouldn't take long for someone to sell me out, and they put someone on my case who..." There was a pause that was unlike the last ones.
There was something important there. A history she wished she had never created, but lived with, frequently, and had grown to mean a lot to her. "...who isn't likely to give up, I know that much for sure. The ten years says it all. And however much before that."
-
"Ten years. So, it's like I thought."
Zhana sighed and stepped away from the desk, walking over to her trophies. "Ten years ago. Felt like the vhole damn universe vas collidink then. Explains vhy the Scarab never got involved." Her eyes darkened as she cast them towards one particular uniform -- a lowly Lieutenant by the markings, chump change compared to some of the officers liked up in proxy before her.
"Even then, the volves vere huntink. That pack sometimes hides vith others, da? The better to sniff out their specific prey. They vere on both sides -- ours and theirs. Ve simply didn't know it at the time."
She turned to Belle, a telling look in her eyes. "I know the volves that hunt you. They hunted my daughter, not long ago." Her gaze traveled to Mephisto. "They vould have had her, too, if not for you."
The devil found himself briefly surprised, and it showed on his face. "Nadezhda was being hunted by them? She never said."
"She vouldn't, no. Is like old saying says: speak of the devil, and he appears." She turned away from the scavenged uniforms. "In this case, devil is Thanatos. Perhaps she was concerned you vould rethink vhat you did for her; not many vish to draw their attention."
"No..." His ruby eyes traveled to Belle, mulling over what she'd said. The weight of what she'd said -- and hadn't said -- wasn't lost on him. Thanatos had been hunting her for ten years, persistently, and were choosing now to try and close their net around Belle. What's more... what's more, she seemed to know the person leading the chase, most likely the mystery man from the destroyed slums and their fracas with the cruiser. There was an unspoken significance there, he could feel it. "Not many do. But that's beside the point, isn't it?"
"Da." Zhana gave them both a nod, then a half-hearted grin. "It sounds as if ve vill all be needink more drink, anyway. And," She gave Belle a look as she went for the bottle of vodka. "Vhat name do you go by, lady Scarab? Eh?"
-
"Many." Belle started, not exactly sure what to do with herself. "A person like yourself deserves to choose what you may call me." She grinned. "If too many people call me by the same name, it's like a bread crum trail. I was Kyla on Cancer, I am Belle to this Devil. I am a letter to every unknown officer. My short time with the Devil taught me the power of a name; a power I was somewhat aware of when I chose my new name, abandoned my birth one, and re-assigned it after I lost something more important to me that I might ever hope to describe." She and Mephisto had held their names to different levels of power. Her's held her down, tied her to the men she loathed more than any other. His gave him power, it tied him to people, and fed him.
"I hope I'm not being too cryptic, though I'm sure you have and understand of why I am." In some ways it felt rude to be so secret towards her. They were on her ship, after all, an not to say, one of the only people who'd known of Belle's escapades and not wanted to kill her for it. Zhana knew of Thanatos but then, who didn't. Even if Mephisto had helped someone in their path before, it was unlikely he had the power to sway her hunter from his prey.
Long ago, Belle had made a mistake. And it was sitting in the hanger of this station.
Mephisto had listened. It was in his eyes as he had turned them to gaze upon her with her previous words. Belle had done something. That below this chase there was more. So much more. It crept in her head, an unwelcome ghost, something that, very nearly, terrified her. It reminded her. "More drink will most certainly be needed. If you don't mind, I must seem rude." Belle quirked. She didn't want to get drunk, sure, but there was likely not enough of the stuff on the ship to do such a thing. Belle very nearly had a body of iron.
-
Zhana chuckled. "If I thought you rude I would not pour you drink, now vould I?" She placed freshly filled glasses in front of both Belle and Mephisto with a slightly amused grin on her face. "In my time I've dealt vith many people, lady Scarab. Soldiers, commanders, smugglers, mercenaries, and of course pirates."
"If I thought everyone who wanted to keep a secret vas being rude, I vouldn't be vhere I am today."
Once more she leaned against the desk, swirling her drink in her hand and staring at it intently. She was clearly chewing something over in her mind; Mephisto could almost hear the gears turning and sense the intensity of her thought process. After several long moments of uncomfortable silence the pirate queen threw back her head, downed the vodka in one go, and grinned.
"Valkyrie. Vas tryink to remember vhat code name ve used for your ship back during var, vhen ve vere considerink hiring you for missions. You know term, I'm sure, but most do not know meanink. 'Chooser of the slain'." She gestured with her hand, as if painting the mythology in the air. "The valkyries vere more than varriors; they culled the dead of var, separating the vorthy from the unfit. They vere bringers of doom and hope in equal measure. How is that, da?"
Mephisto, meanwhile, was mulling over Belle's words as he was his drink. To say much had happened to her in his absence was obvious to the point of absurdity; in specific, of course, he wondered at the connection she'd insinuated between that Thanatos operative and her... and, with a certain curiosity, the notion that she'd take back up her birth name at around the same time. There was something there, he could feel it... but also knew it wasn't his place to pry. Belle would be candid with him on matters at hand in her own time; even if he didn't entirely know the context in which she was being pursued, he trusted her, now more than ever.
"Anyways,..." Zhana spoke up again after a brief lull. "Vhat do you plan to do? Runnink from volves seldom vorks for long, especially if they have your scent." She smiled, a hint of 'business' coming to her expression. "Nebula is good place for ambush, da? Maybe ve vork together, take them by surprise. Thanatos ships are good salvage, especially the ones they don't admit to havink." Her smile grew somewhat. "The thing about volves? They think they are hunters always, never hunted."
-
Belle grinned to herself. "I think I can live with that." It was always interesting to know what other people knew of her, what they called her and knew her by. She had many names to her ship, her face seemed different to many. By no means was that simply self-indulgent, it humbled her almost, that there were people out there who paid attention to the ramblings of a ship lost in the stars. People knew her as a bleeding heart, a dreamer, a psycho with well placed violence. That didn't seem to matter as much to her, however. "I appreciate such a title." Belle more than appreciated it in the honest matter of things. It was an honor.
It was clear simply in how her red-haired devil held himself that he was making himself busy with her words and their intentions. He was listening to her now, and though she might not yet be willing to reveal their true nature yet, time certainly drew them closer to the truth of it. Not yet, though. Now, under the protection of these pirates, was their time together, as best and calm as they could be. This would be their honeymoon. Like two esteemed people of power they would go about their business, knowing that there might be knives or guns upon them at any time that their pursuers assumed to be right.
So it would be that way.
The she-demon sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "I have been running for many, many years, and my wolves did not chase me when I was aware they already were. To tell you the truth, I don't think they will follow me, or pick up my trail, until I've been persuaded into a lull. No matter how long that takes." Thanatos weren't stupid, by any means, and her hunter even less so, but he was blinded and enraged all the same. "At the same time, I wish not to stay here longer than intended. Attacking them...would not halt their hunt, and you don't owe me protection." Assuming it was not rude, Belle held out her glass, a refill was in order it seemed. "You don't owe me anything. No, it is quite the other way around. I'm afraid I have nothing much left to give." She smiled to herself.
"Last time I met toe to toe with Thanatos, I blew a hole in Cancer that they still haven't patched. I want to avoid that again, I hope you understand." Belle raised a now full glass to the Captain nonetheless. "While we are here I should let you know that my hands are yours. If you need an extra pair, I feel in no position to deny the request."
-
Zhana, obligingly, refilled Belle's glass while giving her a slow, understanding nod. "So, the ones after you are both persistent and patient." Her expression darkened slightly with concern. "That is, in my experience, the worst kind of foe by far. Even by Thanatos standards you are in deep govno, Valkyrie."
"I would ask vhat you vill do after leavink us... but, is better I not know your plans, da? Just in case." The pirate poured herself another after making short work of her glass and extended the bottle to Mephisto; his was only barely sipped at but, not wanting to be rude, he let Zhana top him off.
The scarred woman's eyes took on a curious expression as she mulled over what 'Valkyrie' had said about 'last time'; whether she knew about the slums of Cancer or not it would almost certainly be something she asked Corona about at some point. She seemed, however, to try and pass the comment off with a smile. "This old ship has holes aplenty; one more vouldn't make too much difference." She chuckled. "But in all seriousness, it sounds like either you or they vere packink quite a bit of firepower. And as to debts..."
She shrugged and put the bottle down. "Truth be, I vas hoping to take a swing at vhoever vas pursuink you the moment I saw the condition of your ship. Anyone who vould tangle vith the Black Scarab vould be makink quite the prize... but, if you are right and they vill vait for you to drop your guard again, that von't be happenink, vill it?" Zhana drummed her fingertips against her shoulder, an expression of thoughtfulness on the pirate queen's face. Slowly, she began to smile, then turned to look Belle's way.
"A pirate, no matter how generous, vouldn't be much of a pirate if she went passink up opportunities, da? And it occurs to me that ve have here an opportunity." She waggled a finger Belle's way. "I'll tell you vhat. Since you're offerink, how about this: vhile you two are my guests you can help vith the trainink of my 'soldiers of fortune'." The smile became a full-on grin and she walked over, standing with one hand confidently on her hip and the other gesturing as she spoke. "Is not everyday that a pilot as skilled as the Black Scarab's makes our company, however briefly. Ve have simulator, sure, but real practice -- vith someone vho knows vhat they are doink -- that turns rookies into pilots and pilots into aces."
"I lend you one of our fighter-bombers, you show my people how it's done, da? Maybe if ve're lucky ve'll even get a cargo ship to hit vhile you're here. And if you're villing, maybe show them a bit of marksmanship and other things? You seem every bit the capable sort." She paused, reaching back over for her glass and holding it out as if for a toast. "So, vhat say you, Valkyrie? I have a few raw recruits vho could use a bit of straightenink out and some regulars that need to up their game. You could be exactly vhat my little den of piracy needs."