Rogues Gallery

Rogues Gallery

Part I

Restarting an entire economy and cleaning up a city whose infrastructure had been left to fall entirely to ruin was proving more difficult that Bacchae had thought. Even if he was able to shovel a lot of it in Kei’s direction now, he still had to be the guy with the grand plan. He couldn’t let her head get too big, after all.

This was significantly cutting into his fucking and smoking time. That was irritating. But every once in a while he got to give himself a little treat. Today, he and Jack were clearing out Sixth Avenue.

Sure, he’d told Malachi that his old buddies could stay there for a while, but “awhile” had definitely run its course. It was high time those buildings stopped gathering dust and actually did something.

It was like the rain forest, or whatever. You had to cut down the old, big trees to give the new stuff the sunlight to grow. And Sixth Avenue definitely consisted of a bunch of old, grody trees. There was only one dinosaur allowed in Discord, and that was Bacchae.

So here they were, about ready to knock down the first door. Bacchae didn’t really need to be here, but watching Jack make a bunch of assholes piss their pants sounded like a pretty good time.

“So, just how much piss are we talking here?” Jack asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Knock ‘em around a little, but no blood. We want ‘em scared, not dead.”

“What if they resist?”

Bacchae laughed out loud, and it maybe took him a solid minute to recover. “They’re capitalists, Jack. What’re they gonna do, call a lawyer on us? I dunno, surprise me.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Jack chuckled, before sticking out a boot dyed an unnerving shade of red and kicking in the door.

They had no idea what to expect on the other side. This building apparently held some sort of exclusive lounge, but they almost expected it to be empty. It was early in the morning after all, and didn’t businessmen like to wake up right around the time that Bacchae lost consciousness most nights?

The joint was certainly quiet, but it was occupied. Several well-dressed dickcheeses were passed out in the front hall, jackets used as blankets or missing. One had his tie tied around his head.

“Well, good to know they sin like the rest of us,” Bacchae shrugged.

Jack kicked one of them in the side. “Oi,” he growled, but all the man did was groan a little.

“And here I thought we were gonna be out of our depth with this one,” Bacchae winked at Jack, then pointed a finger towards the nearest light fixture. Every bulb in the joint started glowing and humming violently before every single one shattered simultaneously with a deafening pop and a tinkling of broken glass.

“Alright, listen up, fuckers,” Bacchae’s voice came out much louder than should have been physically possible. “This is your official wake up call, both literal and metaphorical. The big boss man has come down to the cubicles to preform yearly lay-offs, and I want your offices cleared out by… well, now. You don’t have to go home, but you sure as hell can’t stay here.”

By this point, most of the suits were waking, or already running. Bacchae couldn’t help noticing with a hint of satisfaction that many of them looked haggard or even hunted, with large bags under their eyes, and anxious expressions on their faces.

Discord had all types, of course, and he was hoping that some of them would decide to integrate back into Discordian society. Not everyone could be a drugged-up party animal, after all, just most everyone. But it was important to break up this coalition once and for all. They were already on their was out with Malachi gone, but if there was one thing Bacchae had learned recently, it was not to take any fucking chances.

Of course, not all of them left peacefully. A few were still a little drunk, or desperate. One man straightened his tie and walked right up to Bacchae, his fists clenched at his sides. He would have almost been a little intimidating were it not for his hair sticking up in about five different directions.

“What if we refuse?” he asked, puffing out his chest. He was just about as tall as Bacchae and probably had about fifty pounds on him to boot.

Bacchae simply smiled. “Careful,” he intoned. “Lay one finger on me and I’ll have to call security.”

“I’d be impressed if you could before I punch your lights out.” The man grabbed his collar, but he frowned when Bacchae’s expression failed to change in the slightest. He followed his gaze back over his shoulder, only to immediately receive a punch in the face.

He let go, reeling, and Jack wrung out his knuckles, laughing as the bigger man recovered. “Surprisingly not as thick as I thought it would be.”

The man shook himself and lunged towards him, but Jack ducked under his swipe and tripped him from behind. As the man laid sprawled out on the carpet, Jack flicked out his switchblade and leaned over him, pressing the tip to his throat.

“I’ve been told I’m not supposed to cut anyone today, but I just want you to know that I never forget a face, especially a posh one like yours.”

He held him there for a moment, before Bacchae clapped him on the back. “Alright there, Jack. Let’s throw him out with the others.”

They each grabbed the now frozen-stiff man under each of his armpits and tossed him out onto the uneven street. The rest of the floor cleared out very quickly, and the two of them hardly had to lift a finger. They leaned against the banister of the staircase and occasionally waved at the dirty looks that got shot their way.

“Jeez, if they’re all this easy, we’ll be high by noon,” Bacchae grinned.

But Jack shook his head. “I wouldn’t light up quite yet, mate. We haven’t gotten to the upper floors yet. Suits up there have got more to lose. Really gonna entrench themselves in, I reckon.”

“Then let’s make this interesting. Five bones says I get through more offices than you.”

“Cor, I’ll believe that when pigs fly.” He grabbed Bacchae’s outstretched hand. “You’re fucking on.”

He leaped up the stairs, but Bacchae held back a second. “Jesus, it’s dark in here,” he frowned. “Who turned out the lights? Oh, wait, that was me.” He flipped a nearby light switch and the hallway was bathed in a yellow glow once again, just as if nothing had ever happened to them in the first place.

By the time they reached the top floor, Jack was winning by three points, though Bacchae insisted that the guy he’d accidentally split in half should only be worth one. Once Jack kicked in the very last door they found themselves face to face with a large, balding man half-hidden behind his desk.

“What gives you the right to force us out?” he asked with a shaking voice.

Bacchae smiled. He’d been waiting for someone to ask him that. “Well, that’s simple,” he said. “I own them.”

“My lease was with Malachi, not with you!”

“Ahh, but’cha see… when asshat mcgee bought these buildings, do you know what name he put them under?”

The big man shook his head.

“The Tea Party!” Bacchae cackled. “Isn’t that fucking stupid? Cuz, see, I am the Tea Party, so now they belong to me.”

“Why do you want us gone so badly? I’d be more than happy to sign a new lease.”

“Well, a lot of reasons, really, starting with the fact that I don’t really like your face!” The big man did not laugh along with his really funny joke. “But really, I’m gonna sell ‘em, auction them actually, get ‘em in a variety of interesting hands. Better than letting ‘em rot once you guys are all gone. Now are you gonna keep asking stupid questions, or can Jack kick your ass now?”

“J-just one more,” he said, regaining a little of his dignity. “What happens if I refuse?”

Jack and Bacchae paused, then turned to grin at each other.

Unfortunately for the big man, he was about to find himself Jack’s second victim of defenestration that week.

~~ o ~~

It was only a few days later that the main room of that very same lounge was converted into a temporary auction hall. Sure, they could have used the stage underneath the clock-tower, but Discord’s elite might potentially find that location distasteful, what with its proximity to the gallows that were once again seeing regular use.

And as loathe as he was to do it, Bacchae would have to cater to them today. At least, if he wanted them to actually bother taking these empty fucking buildings off his hands. Because today was, of course, auction day.

Yet for all his complaining, all he really had to do was show up and put on a good show. Kei was the one who’d done most of the work in setting up this whole event, mostly because A). She was the only member of the Tea Party with any sense of class, and B). She was also the only one who knew who most of these people were. Even if half its population was technically immortal, the faces still changed after fifty years.

At the very least, she’d been able to bully Jack into setting up most of the chairs for her.

“So, he stuck you with all the work again, did he?” he asked.

“Yeah, well that’s me: glorified party planner.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but was cut off as Bacchae slid through the doors… thirty minutes after he said he would. “Oh, hell no,” she frowned after glancing up at him.

“What?”

“That’s the same shirt you were wearing yesterday. I can smell the skunk weed from here. Plus, the green’s fucking tacky.”

“Tacky?”

He tried to protest, but Kei pushed him right back out of the room before he could get a word in. Jack rolled his eyes and chuckled, before returning to the chairs.

They came back twenty minutes later, just before the doors were supposed to open for the initial reception. Kei had changed into a tight black and white number, held together in the middle by a half-corset. She’d also gotten Bacchae into a grey button-down and slightly cleaner shoes. He did not look happy about it.

“How come Jack doesn’t have to change?” he huffed.

“Because Jack is just going to stand in the corner of the room and growl at people. Also I think he might bite me if I tried.”

“Well, what if I bit you?”

“You don’t have quite the torque he does. At least I have to assume, on his end.”

Jack wanted to ask why she knew how hard Bacchae could bite, but ultimately decided that he didn’t want to know the answer. She was right, anyway.

The issue was quickly dropped as the first guests began to arrive and mingle. As she predicted, Jack skulked off into a corner as soon as it got a little crowded, but Bacchae didn’t have that luxury. He was the host of the auction, after all. Kei instinctively made to grab his arm to make sure he didn’t slink off somewhere when she wasn’t looking. But a second later, she glanced up at his face and remembered that she didn’t have to. If being sober in a crowd caused him discomfort, he certainly didn’t show it. Well, more sober than usual, anyway.

He greeted every single person they ran into like they were an old friend. She imagined that some of them probably were. As much as Bacchae was a man of the people, he could maneuver his way through this crowd nearly as effortlessly.

Kei supposed that since this group primarily consisted of avant garde artists, prominent business owners, and mob bosses, it wasn’t really your typical “society” gathering.

She almost grew confident enough to leave him on his own. But just before she took off, he grabbed her arm.

“Hold on, there,” he whispered, “where do you think you’re going?”

“To get a drink?”

“Okay, one problem. I don’t know who any of these people are.”

Kei was ashamed to admit she’d forgotten.

“Alright, let’s go over the people you actually have to worry about.”

She steered him over first to a slightly quieter corner of the room, where an older man in a waistcoat was conversing with a tall woman in a loose-fitting kimono. “That’s Mr. Debonair,” she explained. “He’s the president of the Merchant’s Gui—”

“Debonair? Rudy?” he interrupted.

“Yeah, that’s his name. Why, do you know him?”

“Do I? We go way back. Jesus Christ, he really sobered up. Hey, Big D!” Bacchae, still gripping Kei’s arm, sauntered over to the man, dragging her behind him.

Debonair looked up, surprised, before a smile broke out across his usually stern visage. “Bacchae, old chum. I’ve been looking for an opportunity to speak with you!”

“I woulda come over sooner, but I didn’t recognize you. This is… certainly a change,” he gestured to the old daemon’s physique.

“Yes, well, I thought it a little more dignified, given my position.”

“Last time I saw this guy, he was rocking this fucking goth twink,” Bacchae explained to Kei, who was honestly having a little trouble believing it. “Oh, you know Kei, I bet,” he continued after Debonair turned to her as well.

“I don’t think there’s anyone who doesn’t,” he said diplomatically, before briefly taking her hand, though he didn’t go far enough to kiss it. “And this is Kimiko-sama of the Yamashita family.” He in turn gestured to his conversation partner.

Bacchae certainly did kiss her hand. Of course he did, as she was fucking smoking. At least, that’s probably how he was putting it in his head right now. Her dark hair was pulled back high off her face, and pinned at the back of her head with an ornate broach. Though it wasn’t quite as intense as a Geisha’s might be, she had powdered her face and done her makeup in a similar style, which lent her an otherworldly sort of quality.

“Yamashita? Sorry, must be from after my time, but I guess all of Akuma-cho is. I hope things don’t get too hairy for y’all with the switch up up top and all.”

Kei tensed. That was nearly an accusatory sort of question.

But Kimiko simply smiled. “Though we may have flourished in his Lordship, we are no friends of Malachi’s,” she stated. “In fact, my family in particular is looking forward to the change. This auction could certainly be a first step in expansion for us beyond Akuma-cho. We would be the first family to do so.”

“Well said,” Debonair cut in. “The Merchant’s Guild feels just the same.”

They were sucking up. Kei knew that Bacchae hated when people did that. She even felt him tighten beside her for just a moment, and she prayed that he didn’t say something stupid.

“It is a shame that you are only limited by the bones your guild has allotted you,” Kimiko continued. “That could limit your bidding.”

“We’re confident that we have set aside enough for the occasion.”

The moment passed, and Kei let out a big breath. They spoke for a few more minutes and moved right along.

“Alright, that took longer than expected, so let’s go fast,” Kei sighed. She beckoned Bacchae a little closer to the stage to get a good view of the whole crowd, and he put his arm around her waist as she spoke quietly.

First she gestured towards the center of the room, where the more artsy types were doing what they did best: being very bright, and very loud. “Over there are some of the theater directors, artists, oh, and I think that might be the editor of the Lowball.” She pointed out a scraggly man with a mop of carrot-top hair and a notebook. “They’re mostly here to be here. Only person worth mentioning is that guy right there.”

At the very center of the group was a man in a very nice suit jacket, a pair of sunglasses hanging from his collar.

“He looks like he profits from art more than he makes it.”

“Ding, ding, ding. That’s Marcus Pierson. He’s a pretty popular music agent and producer. I heard he just signed that band Doesn’t Matter recently. He’s probably here to check out spaces for a new studio or something. I hear he’s been looking to get one of his own.”

“Cool, cool…” she could tell that Bacchae was already getting bored. Until a moment later his eyes widened slightly. “Whoa, who’s that?”

His gaze had landed on the far corner of the room, where a woman was standing apart from the crowd. Kei immediately saw why he’d locked in on her. Her skin was a bright shade of red, and she seemed to also be in possession of a tail, which flicked impatiently behind her.

“Uh… Halflight,” Kei struggled for a moment. “Miriam Halflight. She’s the unofficial head of the Brigadier’s Club.”

“Oh, wait. Shit. They’re, uh… that group of treasure hunters, yeah?”

“Well, nowadays they like to claim they’re a more academically-oriented endeavor, but pretty much, yeah. They’ll grab any plunder they can get their hands on from anywhere in the cosmos.”

Bacchae probably would have asked her more, but he also possessed the attention span of an overstimulated goldfish. “Oh, hey, I know that guy!” He turned suddenly towards a skinny man with blond hair and square spectacles. “Goddamn, it’s been awhile. Hey, Cowell!”

Kei would have followed him, and in fact took a step to do just that, when something stopped her in her tracks. Someone new was standing in the doorway. Just how long had he been there? It was someone she knew all too well.

“Ugh,” she sighed. “Holliday.”

This was not good. He was the last person she wanted to see here. She’d better go over and distract him before he found Bacchae.

“My dearest Kei! I must say you look ravishing today.”

Finally, Kei got her hand kissed. He even tipped his top hat and winked at her. If he hadn’t had an incredibly obvious ulterior motive, she would have been flattered.

“Thank you,” she said, trying not to grit her teeth. “How long have you been here?”

“Only a minute or two,” he grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “I wanted to ‘scope out the scene’ before making my presence known. But I must say, I’m a little surprised.” Holliday tilted his head and leaned on his cane in what appeared to be genuine confusion. “You told me that you worked for Bacchae. You never told me you were his woman.”

That phrase hit her like a trolley car going downhill. She’d never heard someone say something like that so genuinely, though she didn’t miss the small hint of malice in his voice. How could she play this off?

“You really take your ‘old-timey gentleman’ shtick seriously, huh?” she laughed. “I’m nobody’s ‘woman’.”

Holliday almost looked… amused. “This may come off as terribly rude, but if you don’t mind me asking: just what is the nature of your relationship?”

“I never lied. Like I said: I work for him.”

“Hmm…” he thought about that for a second. “And just how much of this ‘work’ involves doing anything besides lying on your back?”

Kei’s eyes widened, and it took everything she had not to punch his smug fucking face. “If you’re implying that he pays me to sleep with him—”

“Yeah, I mean, why would I need to pay her to sleep with me?” A thin arm snaked its way around her shoulders, and Kei groaned.

“You have… the worst timing. You know that, right?”

Bacchae was wearing his most confusing, shit-eating grin as he glared at Holliday. Despite this, the daemon didn’t so much as twitch. “So, how did you manage to worm your way in here, huh?”

“The door.”

The smile dropped off of Bacchae’s face.

“You appear to have left it open.” Holliday leaned on his cane, appearing entirely at ease.

Just as Kei was about to wiggle away and let them do whatever it was they were doing, Bacchae turned to her. “Kei, I thought you said you got rid of this crusty fucking customer.”

She sighed. “If anything, I only got rid of Bourbon Street.”

“And you never said anything about coming for a personal visit,” Holliday winked. “So I have followed the terms of our arrangement. It’s just me today.”

“Leave it to a fucking daemon to get caught up on pedantics,” Bacchae huffed. “Fuck off means fuck off, you know?”

“‘Fuck off’ can mean a lot of things, my good sir.”

“Alright, Asshat. Then what are you doing here?”

Holliday’s smile broadened. “Well, ideally I’d like a drink and a re-match—”

“—Name the time, motherfucker—”

“—But I’m here on business today. I heard you were auctioning off some very nice buildings, and I thought to myself: well, if I can’t bring Bourbon Street here, why not acquire a space for an entirely unrelated casino?”

“Well then, I wish you the very best of luck. You’re going to need it. Speaking of which, it’s time to get started. There’s a lot of other people who are looking for the exact same thing you are,” Bacchae said between gritted teeth, and turned on his heel.

“Nice to talk to you again,” Kei waved sarcastically, before following behind him. Between the two idiots, only one of them had reduced her to an object to be purchased. Though it was a bare minimum win on Bacchae’s part.

She caught up to him after a minute of pushing through the crowd. At some point between now and then he’d started grinning manically. “That little shit thinks he can just waltz right into my city—”

“Jeez, relax,” Kei rolled her eyes. “You know this is exactly what he wants, right? Don’t worry,” she smirked. “I’ve got a plan to deal with him.”

Truth be told, Kei already had a plan. She’d had one since Bacchae had first told her about this auction. But this way, she could kill two birds with one stone. Or rather, humiliate two doucheballoons with one bid. Whatever you preferred.

Part II

Distantly, the sound of the clock tower striking three o’clock reached the auction hall, and the assembled participants began to find their seats. Up on the stage, a podium had been erected, and though he was, as always, fashionably late, the auctioneer eventually ambled his way up in front of the crowd.

He slammed a bottle of rum onto the podium and grinned down at the audience. “I have the distinct feeling I’m going to need this.” That received a sizable chuckle from the crowd, and a tip of the hat from Holliday, who had sat himself very noticeably towards the front. Bacchae took a big swig of the rum while staring directly at him.

“Alright, party people, let’s get this show on the road. This is your traditional auction. If you wanna bid, raise your hand, scratch your nose, I dunno, do something. So I guess, uh, if you’re not bidding, ya gotta stay really fucking still. Cuz if you win, you’re buying it, or you’re gonna have to tango with Jack, and lemme tell ya, he’s got his fucking tap shoes on today!

“Anyway, we’ve got a bunch of very fancy properties for y’all to gut up for sale today. I can’t show you any of them, because I have no lovely assistant in a slutty outfit to show ‘em off.”

A series of disappointed sighs emanated from the crowd.

“Hey, it’s not my fault!” Bacchae insisted. “I got the death glare when I suggested it! But how long have all of you been eyeing them, huh? How long did that stuck-up sucker keep ‘em away from you? I’m sure you’ve got entire floor plans memorized by now!”

The eager anticipation that drifted perceptibly through the hall meant that no one need say anything. Holliday, for his part, looked slightly perplexed, but the smile did not drop off his face.

“We’re going in order of size, so small ones go first. The very last item is a whole block because for some fucking reason what’s-his-name bought them as a unit, and I can’t be bothered to split them up again. So make sure ya don’t blow your loads at the beginning, cuz once you’ve committed, you’d better slap a ring on it cuz that shit’s for life. Unless you foist it off on some other sucker, I guess. But until then, I will not take kindly to being screwed over, got it?”

There was a general consensus.

“Good! Then let’s fucking do this!”

He slammed his rum bottle down like it was a goddamn gavel. From somewhere in the crowd, Kei cringed, praying that it wouldn’t break.

“First we’ve got the former… uh…” he blinked at the paper in front of him. “La crepe salope? Salop? Salooee? Aw, fuck it, the fucking little French cafe, got an open front, couple apartments up top. Could be a coffee house, or like, a boba tea shop? A really kinky sex club… Anyway, all bidding will be in increments of a thousand, so who’ll give me a hundred? A hundred, a hundred here, a hundred where, can it be ov...bleh,” he sighed. “Yeah, that’s not happening. A hundred k?”

It was a pretty low starting price, even for a property as small as that one, so he immediately had some takers. “That’s a hundred, how bout one-ten? One-ten right there. Hundred-twenty? Hundred-twenty. Can I get one-thirty? One—“ he broke off as a single finger was raised, and he ended up pointing at Holliday, who had the most unbearable smirk on his face.

That place wasn’t big enough for a casino, so what did he want with it anyway?

“One-thirty,” Bacchae finished through gritted teeth.

“One-fifty,” rang out the commanding voice of Debonair.

“Aha, looks like we got ourselves a real contender!”

Holliday glanced backwards, meeting Debonair’s eye for just a second. “One-seventy,” he said, turning back to the front.

“One-eighty-five.”

“One-ninety.”

“Two-hundred.”

“Two-hundred to Mr. Debonair,” Bacchae announced. “Can I get two-ten? Two-ten maybe? Two-hundred going once, going twice—”

“Yeeeep,” Holliday raised his hand at the last second, and Debonair frowned.

“Two-fifty,” he responded, hoping to ice him out.

“Two-fifty goin’ once, two-fifty going twice. Now are you gonna fucking interrupt me again?” Bacchae glanced down at Holliday, who shook his head. “Fuckin’ sold! At two-hundred-fifty to Debonair!”

Holliday tipped his hat again, still with that odd smile on his face.

Bacchae hadn’t realized how long this thing was gonna take until he was in the thick of it. Like, jesus christ how many pretentious yuppy garbage joints could exist on one road? It didn’t help that he felt the need to keep an eye on Holliday the entire time. Since that first little cafe he’d stayed mostly quiet, only putting in a random bid here or there, presumably just to be annoying.

It was relieving when they finally got through the small fries and onto the mid-sized properties.

“Alright, this next one was… what? An office building? Just a bunch of big fucking rooms with no other purpose than to push money around? Well I’m sure someone’s got a better use for them. We’ll start the bidding at three-hundred.”

This was a popular one. He supposed that the basicness of it probably got people’s gears turning. A couple of randos who weren’t going to win bid it up thirty k, and right about then would be where the big fish started taking the bait.

“Three-fifty,” a commanding voice rang out. Some people turned in their seats to see who it was, but Bacchae didn’t even have to squint, even though she was at the back of the crowd. Miriam Halflight had her tail up in the air.

Even if her somewhat imposing aura caused pause, it didn’t even last long enough for Bacchae to interject.

Marcus Pierson raised a rolex-clad wrist and responded: “Three-seventy-five.”

Ahh, yeah, this probably made total sense for the both of them. Pierson had very specific needs for a building if he wanted a recording studio, so a bunch of empty, square rooms would be ideal. Halflight could want it for any number of things, whether that be internal storage or external display.

“Three-eighty,” she responded.

“Three-eighty-five.”

“Three-eighty-five right over there,” Bacchae filled in. “Can I get three-ninety? Three-ninety, folks?”

From the middle of the crowd, Debonair raised his hand quietly.

“We’ve got three-ninety.”

“Is that Debonair bidding?” Holliday asked suddenly.

“I’m not gonna tell you that,” Bacchae grumbled. “Now, are you gonna bid?”

Holliday shook his head.

“Three-ninety-one!” Pierson offered instead. What a lame-ass bid.

Then Halflight chimed in with three-ninety-two. It was clear neither of them wanted the bid to get above four-hundred k, but neither of them were willing to give it up, either.

That was when an unexpected contender chimed in. “Four-hundred, if you would be so kind.” Kimiko-sama’s voice was quiet but distinct, and tinged with just a small bit of impatience.

“We are officially up to four-hundred,” Bacchae gestured. “Any other takers? Four-hundred going once, going twice…”

Both Pierson and Halflight were sweating. Bacchae paused for an extra second, to see if either of them would put in one more hail mary.

“Four-hundred and one,” Halflight said finally, frowning.

Bacchae turned to Pierson. “You heard the lady.” But he sighed and shook his head.

“Then the lame office building is sold to Miriam Halflight. Here’s hoping it’ll be put to a more interesting use!”

Internally, he was hoping she’d turn it into a museum. He told himself it was so he could pull a wicked heist in it, but really he just wanted to see some cool swords and shit.

Pierson looked pretty pissed, but it quickly became apparent that with Halflight out of the bidding, it wouldn’t be long before he succeeded. Most of the bigger fish were holding onto their bones for the bigger ticket items after all. So he got was he was after pretty quickly.

Much to Bacchae’s chagrin, Holliday had helped him out with that one a little. It looked like Debonair was once again going to throw his financial weight around and there was no way Pierson could compete with the full power of the Merchant’s Guild. But Holliday had swooped in, bullied him out of it with a high bid, then promptly dropped out himself when Debonair didn’t want to play ball. Pierson had swept in like a vulture and scooped it up, and that had been that.

Come to think of it, now that the price tags were getting higher, and the pool of potential buyers was shrinking, Bacchae was starting to notice a worrying pattern. Holliday was following Debonair around like white on rice. Nearly everything he bid on, Holliday was soon to follow. But weirdly, he still hadn’t won anything yet. This was more than fine with Bacchae, yet he had to wonder: what was he doing?

He probably didn’t even have any money at all and was trying to be a tool. But then, why work so hard at making Bacchae more bones?

Admittedly, Bacchae wasn’t always that quick on the uptake, so it wasn’t until it was nearly too late when he figured out what Holliday’s scheme was.

“Alright, freaks and geeks, here it is, the moment you’ve all been waiting for: it’s the fucking block party. The entire block is a series of conjoined buildings. Keep ‘em separate, knock all the walls down in between ‘em, I don’t give a donkey’s ass. But it better be something cool, or I will be mildly disappointed. We’re gonna start the bidding at seven-hundred.”

That was a stupidly, disgustingly low price, and the crowd knew it.

Immediately, the bidding began. Seven-hundred… seven-fifty…

“Seven-eighty!” Debonair chimed in. Of course he did. This was the big prize for the Merchant’s Guild, after all.

“Is that Debonair bidding?” Holliday asked again

Bacchae frowned audibly. “Like I said, I’m not gonna fucking tell you!”

“And that answers my question. Eight-hundred.”

Debonair responded. Obviously. There was no way Debonair was going to lose to Holliday on this bid. So why did it look like he was starting to sweat as the bid crawled closer to a million bones?

And it was at that moment, when he happened to glance down at Holliday’s smug fucking face, that he knew what was going on here. Debonair had limited funds. No doubt the amount was positively enormous, but he was beholden to bid only to the amount that had been assigned for the event. No doubt it was a pool of funds from all the members of the guild, so he’d get in pretty deep shit if he went over.

Holliday must have figured that out somehow. He’d locked onto his biggest competition, and had been methodically bidding him up so that by the time they arrived at the big ticket item, he could outbid him easily. And with Debonair out of the way, who else could possibly stand to outbid Holliday, whose business was dedicated to stealing people’s bones?

Nearly starting to panic, Bacchae glanced over at Debonair, but that was not the right move. His dead stare was certainly not fucking confidence-inducing!

“Alright,” he gulped, trying to hide his own horror. “Here we are, this is the big one. Who’s gonna give me one-thousand? That’s really one-million shmackers!”

“Yeeep!” Holliday immediately responded, triumph etching into his every pore.

“That’s one-thousand… can I get eleven-hundred? Eleven-hundred anyone? Anyone at all?”

Please god someone raise their hand. But Debonair was shaking his head. He was out. This was the literal end of the world. He was about to have to let his greatest enemy gain a foothold in his beautiful city. That was the problem with being an anarchist. The instant he put his foot down about something arbitrary, the whole thing fell apart. He’d set up this auction. He was the one who’d said anyone could attend. Bacchae had no idea he’d been slathering his foot in butter to make it go down easier.

“Then that’s one-thousand going once, going twice…”

What a fucking nightmare.

“Twelve-hundred, if you’d please.”

He was going to kiss whoever had just made that bid.

Actually, as it turned out, he already had. Kimiko Yamashita was raising not one, not two, but three of her hands in the air.

Surprised, Holliday glanced behind him, and whistled as she smirked at him. “I see we have a new contender,” he drawled. “Thirteen-hundr—”

“Fourteen!” Another voice immediately interrupted. And now it was Bacchae’s turn to be surprised. For it was Kei who was triumphantly waving from the back of the room.

“Now see here, Bacchae,” Holliday looked almost a little too excited about this turn of events. “You must tell me how you’re getting all these gorgeous ladies to start coming out of the woodwork.”

“I’ve honestly got no idea, but I think I’m just as stoked as you are. We’ve got fourteen! Can we get that to fifteen?”

“Of course,” Holliday obliged.

“Better make that sixteen,” Kimiko interjected again.

“Seventeen,” the smile was starting to drop off Holliday’s face. He clearly hadn’t been prepared for an unexpected competitor, let alone two.

“Eighteen!” in contrast, Kei’s smile was only growing broader.

“Nineteen,” Holliday insisted.

“Twenty.” That was Kimiko again.

Something was definitely going on here. There was no way Kei had that many bones lying around. And for some reason, why did it seem like the two ladies were… cornering Holliday? But it was a little hard to think about that when Bacchae was just having trouble keeping up with the bids themselves.

For the first time, Holliday was starting to sweat. “Twenty and a half” he said. Jesus christ. Those two demonesses were breaking him.

“Twenty-one,” Kei said, cheerful as ever.

“Twenty-one and a quarter,” Holliday choked out through gritted teeth. Bacchae, for his part, had never been happier.

And with one final, broad grin, Kimiko-sama, head of the Yamashita family, took a deep breath, and delivered the final blow. “Twenty-five.”

The hall went dead silent as Holliday stared down at his lap, most likely rapidly running numbers in his head. Any other time, of course, this would probably be nothing for him. But clearly, he was still financially recovering after someone had cleared out his vault just a few months before.

“Ah, fire and brimstone,” he said finally. “Let those two sort it, I’m out.”

Bacchae was so busy delivering unto his enemy the most shit-eating expression he could muster that he almost missed Kei shake her head. “No need,” she said. “I’m also out.”

“Uh, right. Then that’s two-million, five-hundred thousand bones going once, going twice…” he was half-expecting another surprise bid. “Sold to Yamashita-sama! Congratu-fucking-lations!”

And then everybody clapped. Okay, not really. But they did in Bacchae’s head, which was more real to him than anything outside.

“Alright, that’s a wrap, people,” he took another chug of his rum. No point in staying sober now. “If you have made a purchase today, stick around. It’s gonna take us a minute to get our ducks in order. Just chill out, I dunno, mingle.”

Bacchae hopped off the stage, and the crowd took that as the signal to do what he said.

Since Holliday was right in the front row, it was easy to accost him before he slunk away. “Hey, where’re you goin’, dickcheese? Had enough of Discord already?”

“For the moment,” he was trying desperately to recover his pride. “But I think I may just grow to like it.”

“Too bad you couldn’t cinch that win, huh?”

“If it wasn’t for the both of them together, I may have gone a bit longer.”

“Not bad for a whore, huh?”

“I never called her that.”

Bacchae laughed. “Keep coping, dumbass. You’ve been rendered guilty by implication. Now get out of here. Your smug fucking face is starting to piss me off.”

“Would it be cliché to shake my fist in the air and prophesize my return?”

“Oh, would you please? I’ve been missing a good, cruel laugh at someone’s expense today.”

“And just why would I give you the satisfaction?” He tipped his hat and disappeared through the crowd.

But Bacchae didn’t have long to ponder the unfathomable dickery of that cane-spinning tool before he was interrupted.

“Oh, Kei-chan! I never could have done it without you!”

“It was my pleasure, Kimiko!”

Towards the back of the room, Bacchae’s eyes were drawn towards a surprising sight: Kei, the ice-cold snow queen, and Kimiko-sama, the imposing family head of the Yamashita’s, were hugging and giggling like schoolgirls. Had he put something in his own rum and just not remembered it? That had definitely happened before. But as the crowd parted and he made it to the back, that seemed increasingly unlikely.

“Wait, you two know each other?” he asked, as they glanced up at him. “Like, personally?”

“We’ve known each other for years,” Kimiko explained, looking significantly more girlish with her formal demeanor dropped.

“We’re like, best friends,” Kei added.

Bacchae frowned. “Well, why the fuck didn’t you say?”

Rolling her eyes, Kei stared back at him like he was an idiot. “Because then people would have assumed we were working together, duh?”

“Wait…” Bacchae paused for a little too long. “You were working together?”

They both stared at him. “I don’t mean to be rude, but is he an idiot?”

“More than you could possibly know,” Kei turned back to him. “Did you really think I have that many bones just laying around?”

“Well, no, but—”

“She was bidding with my bones,” Kimiko explained. “So regardless of which of us actually won, the property would be mine. But from anyone else’s perspective, it would look like there were not one, but two separate parties whom someone would have to outbid.”

“Someone like Holliday,” Bacchae felt a grin quickly spreading across his face. “Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw, that’s pretty clever. So, Kimiko-sama, if I may be so bold, what were you planning on turning your winnings into?”

He immediately disliked the looks that were spreading across their faces. “Oh, that’s simple,” Kimiko smiled in a thoroughly unpleasant way. “I’m going to bulldoze the entire thing to build a brand-new department store.”

Bacchae’s eyes widened and he felt a pit opening up in his stomach. “A…” he struggled just to get the words out. “A… de...depart…”

It couldn’t be. Not in the middle of his beautiful, grungy city.

“Oh yeah, It’s going to be so fancy!” Kei grew uncharacteristically excited. “A whole block of polished floors and upscale commodities!”

“It’s a wonderful opportunity for the family to expand into more… legitimate businesses,” Kimiko sighed dramatically. “Yes, the only thing that could possibly stop it now is if someone decided to take that block off my hands. With interest, of course.”

It was just then that Bacchae realized Holliday wasn’t the only sucker those two minxes had targeted today.

“This is extortion,” he frowned.

“I’d prefer to call it a perfectly reasonable business arrangement,” Kimiko giggled.

Eventually, Bacchae was persuaded to take the deal.