The Razorgirl's Five Hundred Suitors

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IamLEAM1983
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Re: The Razorgirl's Five Hundred Suitors

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Mary would have ample time to complete four entire revolutions of her apartment, each and every one of them confirming her status as being alone, safe and sound.

Then, just as her guard would have been lowered enough for her finger to be sufficiently away from the shotgun's trigger, she's hear the clink of a spoon against a teacup's edge.

There he was, seated in a chair she'd seen several times during her rounds of the apartment, and that each one had confirmed as being unmistakably empty. One foot was lifted to his knee and one hand held one of her own little China combos of saucer, teacup and little teaspoon. He wore the same floral-print vest he always seemed to, the same basic cutaway frock coat, the same high-collared shirt and cravat design, and the same top hat.

And Archibald Aloysius Holden didn't look bothered at all. A little more and you'd swear her shotgun was a mere stick.

"As a fellow Colonial, I would have expected you to carry an appropriate tea selection," he said, raising a critical eyebrow. "Considering, I hope you will not mind if I avail myself of your china and offer myself one of my own brews. Do be a dear and put that thing away, hm? Wouldn't want to shatter one of your family heirlooms into smithereens now, would we?"

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "I hope you can appreciate the novelty of the situation. It isn't everyday that one is given the opportunity to hold porcelain hostage."

He lifted the cup to his eyes for a second. "Remarkable craftsmanship, by the way. Clearly not a simple Hong Kong set. Henan Province, judging by the avian motif..."
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Re: The Razorgirl's Five Hundred Suitors

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Far from lowering her guard, Mary was actually getting even more paranoid and enraged the longer she went through her condo without finding anyone. How the hell had they gotten in anyway?! What good was all that money spent on security upgrades if it wasn't gonna keep two-bit punks out of her sanctuary?! She was seriously about to call the cops when whoever it was got her attention, and of course she ran like wildfire for the sitting room praying to God they hadn't-

Jesus fucking Christ, was all she could think as she fought not to blow Archie Holden away, which of course would ruin her mother's tea set. "You've got a lot of fucking nerve, lan yeung," the razorgirl snarled, the barrels hardly an inch from Holden's face. She was clearly distressed, breathing heavily, fighting against every instinct that screamed in favor of squeezing off both barrels and leaving the old clank a spatter of oil on the wall. "What gives you the right to just walk into MY house, huh?! This is private property, not some public bloody museum! We're not in England anymore and you'd better have a warrant or I'm calling the police!"

The gun trembled only a little as she continued staring at him from the other end of the weapon, her face and eyes a mask of panicky rage as she backed a few steps away, out of immediate melee range. To say she wasn't amused would be a colossal understatement; Archie would know he'd have to tread lightly if he wanted to proceed without unnecessary harm on either of their persons.
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Re: The Razorgirl's Five Hundred Suitors

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There was no sign of his considering he'd made a mistake, no visible sign of regret or of his even minding what he'd done.

"Dickface?!" he translated, his tone suggesting extremely light surprise, or feigned outrage. "Well, I've certainly heard better comebacks from more troublesome adversaries before!"

Again, he etched a smile. "I am a spy, miss Jameson. Operating with a warrant would defeat the purpose. I, however, am very much a part of this fine burg's constabulary."

In saying so, he reached inside his frock coat and pulled out his own Shield badge. "Do you desire to make a deposition? My notepad and pencil are both at your disposition..."

Before she could react to his lightly ribbing her, however, he set his cup aside. "Playful banter aside, I have come to call upon you. Know, however, that you have passed my first test admirably. You show ample deductive skills, resourcefulness and willingness to act to be of use to my organization. You have sought information amongst the disreputable folk instead of simply knocking on my door, which suggests you will not exempt sources from your investigative process if they do not align with your moral compass. Morality is, I'm afraid, a rather sizable liability in this cutthroat business...

As our recruits' direct handler, I can only impart so much. This goes without mentioning the fact that my Asian contacts are rather dated. I may weather the storm of the local Sicilians' schemes or batten the hatches before the squalls in the tormented seas of Irish loyalties and pan-Celtic gangs from the darkest depths. The Triads, however? The Yakuza? They, regretfully, stand as proofs of my comparative obsolescence. This is, my dear, where you come into play."

He leaned back in and took a sip. "I have an inkling of what Biggs told you; some understanding of what he fears. What we both share is insufficient. The Five Hundred Dragons are on their way, Marianna. I intend to be one of them by the time they do. I intend to reach in and find Watatsumi's precious Wanderer, his most treasured lieutenant."

The Clank paused. "Tell me: how would you feel about killing a man who is reborn every twenty years, a man whose every single demise only renders stronger in his following generation? How would you feel about, shall we say, freeing this poor soul from the old Vedic cycle of life, death and rebirth?"

Watatsumi's Wanderer wasn't a prisoner, but being freed of the dragon's hold over his soul would allow him to well and truly die. Instead of a "recycled" soul returning to him every twenty to thirty years, Watatsumi would be forced to start over for every generation that would follow.

All things considered, this would prove to be an effective crippling blow.
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Re: The Razorgirl's Five Hundred Suitors

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Mary glanced down at the badge, apparently nonplussed by it; as far as she was concerned, flashing your badge was like flashing your boobs. It got you places and drew attention, but it was faintly embarrassing at the same time and not something you did in good company. "Put that away, you're only embarrassing yourself," she declared, sniffing dismissively as she finally lowered the gun. "For future reference, don't just break into my place again, alright? This is my sanctuary, no one comes in here but me." The simple fact of Archie sitting there sipping her tea was plainly disconcerting to her even though she was trying to be graceful about it, evidenced by how she placed the shotgun across her knees as she sat down herself, rather than putting it away properly.

In any event she reached for the second cup of tea and sipped from it. "If I wanted to kill a Wanderer for good, I'd have to disrupt the magics tying them to their master," she said slowly, giving it thought. "Killing the Wanderer himself wouldn't be any harder than killing any other supernatural threat. Would need to do some research, of course, so we could pick out the right gear."

She looked at Archie over the rim of the cup. "I haven't worn an exosuit in years, Holden, and I'm not sure I'm ready to get back into one. The things I did while wearing mine..." She didn't finish, she just shook her head and looked haunted for a moment. "I'm sure you're familiar with my service record, right? The darling of the SCRT, perfect arrests, no outstanding failures or unnecessary casualties... and then that night. Fucking Christ."
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Re: The Razorgirl's Five Hundred Suitors

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"I am," nodded the Clank, his expression sober. "Believe you me, I have killed more than my fair share of things which arrogantly professed their immortality to me. All were monsters, however, and not because of their intrinsic nature. I, myself, am free of the constraints of Flesh, but I take great pains to look upon you and others as fellow travellers. As you well know, not all of us enter immortality with our hearts and loyalties intact.

Monsters come in many guises, my dear. Some wear smiles, others fangs; and more, still, are as vulnerable as the next man. All are wretched instances of lost individuals attempting to find their way. In some ways, I daresay mortal instances of wretchedness are more terrifying than anything immortals may produce. There were things being carried out, down South in this country, that would shock and disgust all civilized minds spanning the last two hundred years of our times."

He very lightly shrugged. "With this in mind, I may help, hinder or kill with a clear conscience."
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Re: The Razorgirl's Five Hundred Suitors

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"Some days I feel like I'm the monster," the razorgirl muttered, holding out one scarred and port-ridden wrist as evidence. "Alright, Holden, listen up. You want a Special Response instructor for your goody-two-shoes bunch? You want an in with the Yaks? Fine, but here's the deal: I'm not killing anyone unless there's no other choice, is that understood? If you came here looking for a murderer-for-hire you can turn right the fuck around and head back on out to your little museum. I'll kill if I have to and I won't lose any sleep over it, but that does not mean I like it. In fact I hate it, every bit of it, it's why I'll never wear an exosuit again if I have any say in matter."

She drained the teacup and set it back on its plate with a clatter. "Second, I'm sure as hell not doing it for free," she went on. "I've had my share of getting shot at and taking beatings for God and Queen and Country, and the truth is? It gets boring after a while, really boring. I'm enjoying my retirement, believe it or not, and you're not bringing me out of it cheaply. No way, no how. Otherwise?"

She didn't finish the thought, she just jerked a thumb in the direction of the front door and gave the clank an unyielding stare. Fork up or fuck off, in a nutshell.
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Re: The Razorgirl's Five Hundred Suitors

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Again, the automaton hardly looked surprised. He reached inside his frock coat and pulled out a cheque he'd already prepared.

"As I've said, I'm quite familiar with the mercenary aspects of our trade. Consider this a down payment for good observation, a few bruises and maybe the occasional unavoidable casualty."

The slip evidently came from his own account and not from Shield's coffers. The city wouldn't have been able to afford a single drop of five hundred thousand dollars on a single person and in a single shot.

He laid it on the table between their china cups, slowly and precisely. "More will come, if you find me satisfied," he said. "If I find you wanting, I will see to Kenji Watatsumi's demise myself, cleave my way through the Five Hundred and bring down every letter agency my meagre influence but massive body of evidence will attract. Men in suits will flock to Hope and the tatters of the North American Triads and Yakuza will scatter to the winds.

With that said, I expect you to impart the same restraint to our recruits. Your lack of a desire to kill will do our squad good. Speak of this arrangement to anyone, however, and your contract will be terminated. As far as anyone must know, the city is paying you."
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Re: The Razorgirl's Five Hundred Suitors

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Mary cocked an eyebrow at the sight of the check, but otherwise was unsurprised. "In that case... I'm your girl," she replied, picking up the check and sticking it in her pocket. "You won't find me wanting if I can help it, count on that." She got to her feet and stretched, then regarded Holden. "Now, I'm gonna change and then we-" She paused for a second, and then a devious expression crossed her face. "Hm, actually... as punishment for breaking into my condo, you get to watch me undress, Archibald Aloysius."

That shotgun came down and leveled at the clank for the second time that day. "Up and at 'em, Spy Guy. Bedroom's down the hall, last door."
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Re: The Razorgirl's Five Hundred Suitors

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Archie froze for a second, in the inhumanly precise manner Clanks could manage.

"Very well," he then said, setting his own cup down. He stood up, entered her bedroom and stood in the corner, one hand behind his back and the other on his sword cane's pommel, generally facing her wardrobe.
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Re: The Razorgirl's Five Hundred Suitors

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One wouldn't have guessed from Mary's bedroom that she disliked people so much. The walls were a light green with white molding, and the flooring was subdued cherry wood; the furniture was a dark oak, and though obviously well-maintained each piece had a traveled look to them, as if it had started life in Britain before crossing Europe and Asia to Hong Kong with Mary's ancestors, and then to here when she herself dared the Pacific and the American continent to arrive on the East Coast. There were no windows, but one wall had a large viewing screen that currently was posing as one, with a muted ocean view; the other walls each held large landscape paintings, with that Faerie quality so intrinsic to Irish artistry.

Two other doors led out, one to a walk-in closet and another to the master bathroom; from where Archie stood, it was hard to say which was bigger. In the middle, facing the door leading out, was the bed, a queen-size affair of the same weathered oak as the drawers, dresser, steamer trunk and armoire; the sheets were dark green Egyptian cotton, and though the raven-haired razorgirl was the only one who slept in it, it had a well-used look to it, and the bedside table held a half-full bottle of Glenfiddich, some shot glasses, and a small jar of pills.

"That won't do at all," Mary declared coyly, putting some order to the sheets and putting the pills out of sight. "Now, I expect you to look properly ashamed and excited, Archibald Aloysius; none of that wounded dignity bullshit, you hear me? Or I'll really wound your dignity." She started by letting her hair down, and went downward from there, clearly making a show of it by taking her time, running her fingers along herself and throwing Archie little glances now and then. Once she was naked she stood still, chest thrust out, looking like she'd start playing with herself at any moment... then she giggled and reached for her leathers.

One could assume that getting out of them was easy enough, but putting them back on was a slightly twisty affair, and she took the opportunity to stretch and show off for Holden's benefit as the silk and leather slid over her skin. Eventually she was dressed again, save for the laces up her back. "Do me up?" she asked, presenting her back to Archie. Presumably she could do it herself, or had some gadget to take care of it for her, but that wasn't part of the game. "Not too tight, now, this isn't a corset." She turned her head and regarded him over her shoulder. "Now, I do hope you've learned your lesson, hm?"
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