Whore & Wolf

Whore & Wolf

Part I

Most people weren’t very fond of Laughing Jack. He was off-putting, creepy, greasy. Also, he killed people and ate their hearts for fun. Though that wasn’t as much of a deal-breaker in Discord as one might think. His presence was, at the very least, tolerated because of one, particularly important thing: he was a damned good hangman.

The job itself wasn’t that hard, of course. It was mostly a matter of dragging the poor bastard of the day up to the gallows, stringing him up, and pulling the lever. What really made a good hangman was the showmanship. It was the one time where everyone else in the room was just as bloodthirsty as he was.

This particular hanging, one of the first since he’d been rehired—as it were—was a doozy. He was still getting back into the swing of things. But it was returning to him pretty quickly.

“Now there ain’t a lot of rules in Discord, and I think that’s how we all like it!” He shouted to the crowd. Jack always enjoyed the jumbled up emotions on the audience’s faces. They tended to range anywhere from extremely uncomfortable to uncomfortable amounts of ecstasy.

“But there are some things that are just reprehensible, rules or not. So, remind me again, mate…” he put a hand on the shoulder of the daemon standing trembling next to him on the platform. “How many little girls was it you diddled again, eh?”

Despite being nearly a full head taller than him, the daemon refused to look in his direction, let alone respond. Even if he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have been heard over the hissing and booing of the crowd.

“It might seem a bit arbitrary, sure. But more than anything, come on mate, that’s just pathetic. I mean, what kind of lowlife would go for a child when you can just put a bow on any old whore?”

That got a laugh.

“She’ll scream just like one too if you try hard enough.”

That didn’t.

Not that Jack really cared. He just slapped the daemon on the back, hard, and kept grinning. “Fecking idiot. So should we cut him up first or just put the poor bastard out of his misery?” He asked the crowd.

He cocked his head this way and that, trying to discern the difference between the sadists and the righteous. Jack couldn’t always hear the best on his right side, considering that his ear was gone, but he tried.

Disappointingly, both sides seemed to be in agreement today. “Aren’t you all a bunch of bleeding hearts. Gonna give ‘im the easy way out?” Jack took out his switch blade anyway and held it up to the daemon’s throat. He whimpered. After a minute, however, he put it away. “Shame,” he sighed. “I was looking forward to cutting off his fingers, since he can’t seem to keep ‘em to himself. Aw well.”

Jack rolled up the sleeves of his once-white shirt, though now it was more yellow than anything, and shackled the daemon’s hands.

“No, no please! I-I’ll do anything!” he begged.

“Ahh, cold iron’s got you talkin’, eh?” Jack laughed. “What’s the point of a hanging if the sob don’t stay dead? Now up you get.”

The daemon tried to resist being manhandled to the gallows, and Jack growled. “No point in making a fuss, mate. Either I hang you, all nice and clean-like, or I slit your fucking throat, and I’ll make sure it takes you bloody ages to kick it.”

“Fuck. Fuck!” the daemon muttered, and it wasn’t until Jack’s knife cut the seem on the back of his coat that he stumbled over and up onto the gallows.

He stood there on the wooden platform, trembling amidst the ruckus of the crowd.

“Anyone brought any tomatoes?” Jack asked, and in response, several things were thrown at the offending daemon. He laughed along with them, until someone tried to toss in a match. “Oi, oi!” Jack shouted over the cacophony. “Nothing flammable, ya cunts! Goddamn gallows made of wood!”

He allowed the noise and tension to rise for another minute, before he held up a hand. Jack didn’t have quite the raw hutzpah that Bacchae had, so it took a few seconds for them to quiet down. “Alright lads,” Jack pointed behind him, to where the daemon was now openly sobbing. “This is what we call a pathetic sack of shit. And what do we here in Discord do with pathetic sacks of shit?”

“Kill em!”

“Sorry, I’m a little hard of hearing. What was that?”

“Kill em!!”

“Like this?” Jack hovered his hand over the big lever. His lever. He was still pissed that conniving whore had touched it.

The crowd cheered, and Jack led them in a lengthy chant of “kill, kill,” just to draw it out more. Then when he was satisfied, he cackled for a solid minute, and pulled the lever.

From the side of the stage, right between two buildings, Kei watched the daemon dangle with a grimace. She’d shown up as late as she could, but Jack proved to be more of a ham than she’d anticipated. Truth be told, she wouldn’t have been here at all if she could’ve managed it, but orders were orders. At least for the time being. She didn’t like the gallows. They brought back.. unpleasant memories.

It seemed like Jack didn’t want her here just as much as she did, for as he hopped off the stage, pulling his coat back on, and saw her, he scowled.

“Bravo,” Kei offered, not entirely trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Truly a riveting performance.”

“What are you doing here, whore?” he growled.

She rolled her eyes. “Nothing I want to be. Boss’ orders.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bacchae told me to come meet up with you. Apparently he’s got a job for us.”

“The both of us? What the fuck’s he smoking?”

“Probably a bit of everything, if we’re honest,” she sighed, and Jack chuckled, despite himself. “I actually asked him that very question and his response was, quote: ‘How are we supposed to be a happy little family if you two keep trying to tear each other’s throats out?’ End quote.”

“It was only the one time,” Jack muttered. “And is he seriously going to make us do a bonding adventure?”

“Well he said it was either that or we have to fuck, and personally I’d rather tear my own throat out.”

“I’d do worse.”

“It’s not a contest, Jack.”

“So, what’s this ‘job’ then?” Jack asked, leaning against a wall and running a hand under his nose, sniffing dismissively.

Once again, Kei couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “It’s honestly only an excuse to get us to work together. He said he wants to know where Malachi is, so he can keep an eye on him if he decides to try anything.”

“I would think there’d be higher priority tasks to do.”

“For once we agree on something,” Kei grimaced. “Most of his toadies have long scattered by now, but I managed to track down just one who’s still in town.”

Jack pushed off the wall, grinning. “Well then, what’re we waiting for? Let’s go skin ‘em.”

“We’re not going to do that,” Kei said, and Jack opened his mouth to respond, but she talked right over him. “If he’s able to open a doorway before we catch him, he could be anywhere in the cosmos and we’d never be able to find him. No, if we’re really going to do this, then we’re doing it my way.”

Jack was not pleased.

~~ o ~~

Kei’s way, in Jack’s opinion, was the most boring option possible. No torture, no killing. Just a lot of talking.

“So why’s this bloke even still in town at all?” Jack asked, as he followed Kei down into the heart of the Distillery District. “One would think he’d be lynched by now.”

“He probably would have, if not for his mistress. Paul-Allen’s been sweet on this girl at Club Cela.”

“Club Cela?” Jack eyebrow raised an inch. “That industrial joint down on Larpenter? Didn’t know they had whores.”

“She’s not a whore, she’s a call girl.”

“Sorry, a classy whore.”

“And I think she has a special arrangement with the club. They let her use one of the private rooms to entertain her clients. Also she has a name, you know.”

“You never offered.”

“It’s Janie. And you’re going to be nice to her, She’s helping our good friend Paul lay low until it all blows over. We’re going to convince her to tell us where he is. So you will not swear at her, or make any lewd comments, or call her a whore.”

“Then what the fuck am I s’possed to say?”

“Nothing, if it’s that hard for you to think.”

Jack frowned, but made up his mind then just as the beat of Club Cela’s electronic music began to pump through his chest. He was simply going to do whatever he wanted. Kei wasn’t in charge of this little mission, even if she seemed to think so, and the only reason he was here at all was because he had nothing better to do.

The driving beat only got louder as Kei and Jack passed the bouncer without incident—in fact he practically bent over backwards to let them inside. The room beyond was dark, lit mostly with strobe lights and lasers, with most of the excitement occurring in the middle, where they’d cordoned off a dance floor cum mosh pit. Along the sides were two layers of steel-mesh walkways, and it was to the left side that Kei was walking.

Yes even as she started making her way upwards, Jack paused, and sniffed the air. Something didn’t smell right to him, at least behind the nigh-overwhelming scent of booze and body-odor.

“You coming, or what?” Kei shouted to him over the music.

Jack waved her off. “Like you said, I’ve got nothing to say.”

She rolled her eyes, but turned anyway. What a nuisance. Of course, Kei figured that she’d be doing a vast majority of the work for this “assignment,” because from what she knew, Jack was worthless at anything that didn’t involve general psychopathy and other acts of mayhem. Whatever, she was just going to get this over with and report back. The horned bastard wasn’t going to get what he actually wanted, but as far as Kei was concerned, that had never been in the cards in the first place.

Various pipes and girders stretched over her head as she made her way to the third floor. From up here she could see the whole dance floor. It all just looked like a bunch of noise and confusion mostly, probably would have made more sense if she was drunk. The DJ was… oh what was the word? Fire? Yeah, that was it.

Her boots clunked against the steel grate as Kei wormed her way down the balcony. She had almost worn stilettos, mostly because they would have made her at eye level with Jack, but she was glad she decided against it. The heels would have slipped right through.

The private room she was looking for was at the very end of the balcony, at least, Kei hoped her intel was correct. She knocked on the door briskly, and within a second, a feminine voice told her that the door was open. After turning the knob, Kei had to push aside a bright red curtain. It was probably due to the visual shielding that she got in at all.

“You’re running a little late, Seb—” the woman on the settee’s voice fell off as Kei stepped in.

“Sorry,” she said. “Not Seb.”

“You’re…”

Kei didn’t miss the tremble in her voice. She was nervous. Then again, she was harboring a fugitive and the interested party had just walked through the door. Anyone would be.

“I’m Kei,” she smiled pleasantly. “I’m here to ask you a couple of questions about someone I think you know.”

“Aw hell no,” the woman, Janie, shook her head vigorously. “You’re that Tea Party skank.”

Kei elected to ignore that comment.

“I’m calling the bouncers.”

“Hold on,” Kei blocked the door as she almost stood up. “Think about this. If he wanted violence, Bacchae would have sent Jack or just come himself. But he sent me. All I wanna do is talk.”

Janie pursed her rouged-red lips as she thought. “Sure,” she agreed after a moment. “Let’s talk.” After grabbing one of the throw pillows from the settee to squeeze, Janie gestured Kei to the identical couch across from her.

Flopping down, Kei sized her up briefly, forming a plan of attack, before she spoke. “I’m sure you’re aware that we know you’re hiding Paul-Allen.”

“That’s why you’re here, right?” Janie’s bare shoulders tensed as she glared at Kei. “To take him up to those gallows of yours and make an example out of him.”

She looked confused when Kei started laughing. “I, uh, think you’re under a bit of a misconception about how important your friend Paul is. So, let me try to explain the food chain. Paul-Allen was a pawn under Malachi—let me finish,” she held up a hand once Janie made to interject. “And I am now, unfortunately, a pawn under Bacchae. I was able to single-handedly best Malachi, so you can see why Bacchae isn’t really concerned.”

“Then if he’s so unimportant, why bother us at all?”

“He has some information we would like to have. That’s all. If he agrees to spill, you two are free to go on with your lives, no more interference from us.”

Janie seemed to consider this. Of course it would be tempting, after all the stress of keeping him hidden. “For real?” she asked, wavering.

“For real,” Kei nodded.

Sighing, Janie shook her head. “Alright,” she muttered, “but you have to promise you won’t hurt him.”

“If he doesn’t try to hurt me.”

“He’s at my place, over by Arcan Row…”

“Liar.”

An all too familiar voice interrupted. Kei almost groaned. The dickhead had to have picked this moment to ruin her perfect… oh shit.

“Look who I found trying to sneak out the back.” Jack pulled aside the curtain to reveal that he was gripping a rather unfortunate, suited man by the hair. “Seems like the whore had a lay right before you.”

Without hesitation, Janie gabbed the glass ashtray that was on the table in between them and smashed it over Jack’s head. “Run, Paul!”

It didn’t do much, but it surprised him enough that Jack loosened his grip and Paul-Allen was able to squirm away and back through the door.

Kei and Jack stared at each other for just a moment, Kei processing the twist and Jack processing his new concussion, before they both took off running after him.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Jack grinning as they barreled down the stairs.

She spared one quick second to shoot him a glare and scowled.

“Fuck you.”

~~ o ~~

They only had a few seconds before Paul-Allen made it through the mosh pit and out of the club. But both of them knew they weren’t going to quite catch him in time.

“There must be a back way out of that room,” Kei clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Bitch must’ve been trying to stall me long enough for him to get out of there.”

“You didn’t even tell her I was there, didja?” Jack chuckled, knowing full-well that Kei’s plan had been to cut him out of the picture entirely. “Aw well, dun matter now. I’ll catch him. And when I do, we’re doing things my way. So just be a good little whore and watch me work.”

“Gross, and in your dreams.”

Fortunately for them, Paul-Allen was a bit of an idiot. If he had tried to blend in with the mosh pit they might have lost him, but instead he made a mad dash for the street, where they could pick him out much easier. Jack spotted him immediately, turning a corner into an alley, and sped up, giving chase.

Kei knew she’d never keep up with either of them, but she certainly wouldn’t be useless. The alley they were running through curved strangely, so Kei shortcutted to the other side. Perfect. There on the corner was a woman shredding on the violin, and she had gathered quite a crowd around her. Pushing through them, Kei grabbed the violinist’s shoulder. “Would you stand over there, please?” she pointed to the alley’s opening.

The violinist looked confused.

Kei shoved a fist full of bones in her hand, and repeated her request. The violinist shrugged and made it over just in time for a rather disheveled man to come barreling right into her—and the crowd that had come with.

Jack’s grin widened, and he pushed himself even faster as Paul got caught in the crowd. He flew over the uneven cobblestones, closing the distance. Reaching out a hand, he made one final leap, but he just missed the back of his shirt collar.

Desperately, Paul managed to squirm through the crowd, and Jack swore under his breath. Luckily, he didn’t fall too far behind as just then someone in the crowd realized who he was and they very quickly dispersed.

Kei was now pretty far ahead of them, and she used the few precious seconds allotted her to try to predict where Paul would run. If she was him, she’d try to run in a straight line, because at a full sprint Paul was taller, so would probably be able to outrun Jack, at least for long enough to disappear. But she was not Paul-Allen, so most likely, he wouldn’t do that at all. He’d make as many turns as he could to try to shake Jack, she could bet that much, because it was a dumbass move.

After the previous incident, he’d probably avoid crowds as well, which left… there! She hurried down the side street that looked the curviest and grinned. Discord’s state of amalgamation imbued it with many odd and often useless architectural accessories. One of these happened to be a giant, rot-iron gate right in the middle of the street. Of course, it was always left open, so the lever that closed it might not even work anymore. But she couldn’t test it out, not when she only had seconds before Paul turned that corner, and when he did, he’d turn a different direction if he spotted an impediment.

So she waited. Five seconds, ten. She was making a real gamble here. Had she been wrong? Yet just as she was about to take off, Kei heard distant sounds of confusion and two sets of feet thundering down the pavement.

Just as she’d anticipated, Paul-Allen turned the corner, looking rather worse for wear. Her hand twitched towards the lever, but she waited until she saw Jack a few strides behind, closing off his only other exit.

With a small prayer to the cosmos at large, Kei pulled the lever and waited. For a moment, there was only a whir and a groan, and Paul was gaining. She almost ran into the center of the street to use her own body as a much less effective barrier when there was a loud clunk, and the gate swung shut just as Paul-Allen reached it.

He wrenched at the bars desperately, but quickly gave up when they proved incredibly solid. Turning, he took a few steps back, maybe hoping that Jack hadn’t caught up to him yet. Though before he really got anywhere Kei stuck out a leg, and he tripped right over it.

Jack slowed, laughing as he saw Paul-Allen sprawled out on the ground, with Kei standing over him.

“There you go,” he grinned. “Now that’s how it’s done.”

“Uh huh,” Kei glared at him pointedly as she watched him pant. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

The smile quickly fell off his face as he glanced between Paul-Allen, the closed gate behind him, and Kei, with her leg still outstretched and her hand on the lever.

Jack scowled.

“Fuck you.”

Part II

The sky was beginning to darken as Kei followed Jack—and their prisoner—to a nondescript building about midway up the hill. Looked like they might be in for a rare Discordian rainstorm. It fit the mood rather well as Jack led them both down a flight of stairs, past a creaky metal door, and into a small, concrete box. Several suspiciously red stains covered the walls and floor, but the room was devoid of any other features save a chair and a drain, both near the center.

“You have a torture chamber, huh?” Kei asked. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Oh fuck,” Paul-Allen muttered, inevitably realizing what deep shit he was in. “Fuck!”

“I almost cried when Bacchae showed it to me,” Jack seemed to be misting up a little just thinking about it. “Really had to put it back together though, give it that homey feel, you know? Previous hangman, the bloke before me, really didn’t treat her right. You think any of these bloodstains are mine? Nah, I can make it cleaner than that. Well, okay maybe that one is… and that one too…” he pointed to the ceiling.

“How?” Kei asked, glancing upwards and noticing the faintest traces of a very wide spread of light maroon.

“Sad bastard here’s about to find out.” Jack turned back to Paul-Allen, and Kei realized that his spiel had been just as much for the unfortunate daemon trembling between them as it had been for her.

Without much further fanfare, Jack shoved Paul-Allen onto the hard, wooden chair, which squeaked horribly against the concrete. He turned back to Kei. “Keep an eye on him for a minute. I’m gonna go get my things.” Before she could protest or even make a quip, he was already gone through the door on the other side of the room. He quite obviously left it open, however, so they could both hear him rummaging around.

As she stood there, as close to the exit as she could manage, Kei had to admit she was a little impressed. She’d expected Paul to be already begging and spilling his guts before Jack even had a chance to, well, spill his guts. But he wasn’t doing that. He was just sitting in that chair muttering “Fuck, fuck,” to himself over and over.

“You should just probably talk now,” she pushed him. “Cuz Jack’s not gonna go easy on you, I’ll tell you that much. All you’ve gotta do is tell us where Malachi is, and I can make it so that it’s like this never happened.”

“Fuck you,” was all he said, in a surprisingly harsh tone.

“Suit yourself,” Kei shrugged her shoulders, but didn’t get a chance to say much more before Jack came back, slamming the door behind him.

“Sorry for the wait,” he grinned, dragging in a small cart behind him. “I was considering bringing out the thumbscrews, but I thought: this is my first proper torture in a bloody long time, so we should probably stick with the classics.”

The many knives, scalpels, and other miscellaneous sharp implements rattled as they were trundled across the uneven floor. They ended up right about eye level with Paul, and he jumped as Jack slammed a machete on top of the pile.

“A bit overkill, maybe?” Kei commented.

He raised one side of his upper lip. “Oi, you never know when you might need a good machete. Great for hacking off limbs. Or tongues.”

Paul-Allen whimpered.

“So, unless you’ve got a burning desire to see some mutilation, that’s your cue. The door is right over there.”

Truth be told, Kei was looking for any excuse to extract herself from this situation, so gratefully took it.

Jack waved her off, wiggling his fingers. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

He figured that Paul-Allen would break pretty quickly. He was already shaking, after all. But Jack was surprised. A half-an-hour later and he still hadn’t squealed. Jack supposed he hadn’t done anything permanent yet, he wanted to give the kid a chance. Plus, he needed him conscious.

Yet even the cold iron around his wrists wasn’t deterring him from his silence. Jack wasn’t frustrated, necessarily. There was a lot of fun to be had in a slow escalation. But he was confused.

“You know I’m gonna have to start getting rough now?” Jack frowned, gently replacing the blood-crusted scalpel he’d been using to cut open his face. The daemon didn’t even respond.

“Sorry, mate, I find myself a touch confounded,” he drawled, fiddling with his favorite switch blade. “Why haven’t you talked yet? I mean, what’s the fucking point of getting cut up over it?” He gestured to the growing puddle of blood that was lazily working its way over to and down the drain. “I mean, I know you’re a daemon and all, but it’s still bloody painful, aye?”

Though Jack waited for a response, he still got nothing. He supposed Paul-Allen’s lip was pretty swollen by this point.

“So, what is it, then? Fear? Loyalty? Malachi doesn’t seem like the sort to inspire either of those.”

Finally, his victim spoke. “You really think this is about Malachi?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Nah, fuck Malachi. I was just using him to claw my way up. I saw that bitch Kei tumble and thought I could do better. No way. My bone to pick… is with you cocksuckers.”

“What, the Tea Party?”

“Yeah, the fuckin’ Tea Party. Maybe I’m in the minority when I say this, but things were way better before you guys rolled back into town. At least there was some actual law and order. Kept people like you off the streets.”

“Bloody terrible, innit?”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You’re just a straight-up murderer. Bacchae acts like he’s a dumb party boy, but deep down he’s the sort of guy that keeps people like you as his confidants. And that’s not even mentioned that bitch,” he tilted his head to the door, at least as much as he could without ripping his cheek open any more.

“Kei?” Jack frowned. “You really think she’s worse than either of us?” Truth be told, he found himself a touch offended.

“She’s got no shame. She’ll tell any lie, pretend to be anyone to get what she wants. One minute she’s getting her ass ousted by Bacchae and less than a month later she’s in his inner circle. And I guarantee I know exactly what she did to get there.”

Jack had to laugh to himself, because Paul had no idea what he was talking about. But it was curious. He’d never actually considered the type of person who would hate the things Kei did more than those he did. Now that he thought about it, he imagined there might be quite a lot of them.

But he shook himself. Couldn’t leave Paul thinking he’d softened him. “Thanks for the critique, mate,” he grinned, grabbing the biggest knife in the collection. “We’ll take it into consideration.”

Paul-Allen braced himself, yet before Jack could so much as touch him, there came a soft yet persistent knock on the door. Jack scowled. What could the whore possibly want right now?

“This is going nowhere,” she said after Jack closed the door behind him. The sky was really getting dark now, which left the stairwell in such a coating of inky blackness that he could barely see her face. “Let me talk to him.”

“You think that there’s something you can say that I can’t do with me knife?”

Kei nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Though he rolled his eyes, Jack gestured her over to the door. “Then be my fucking guest.”

Paul-Allen glanced up, somehow managing to look surprised despite the blood loss. Most of his fingernails were gone, and there was barely an inch of him that wasn’t covered in slash marks of some kind.

“I guess… you heard all that,” he mumbled, though a certain light still remained in his eyes.

“Door’s not exactly thick,” she shrugged. “Not like it really matters. I’ve heard way worse from people way more important than you.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes starting to cross a little. Loathe as she was to do it, Kei grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. “You’re a selfish prick,” was all she said.

“Huh?”

“This whole time you’ve been going on about spite and how you’ve been wronged. You’ve entirely forgotten about Janie.”

His eyes focused, just a little.

“She put herself in harm’s way for you, and you’re going to give all that up, let Jack rip you to pieces, just because you hate us? Cuz if he comes back through that door, it’s all over for you. And that’s gonna make Janie pretty upset, don’t’cha think?”

“I…” he thought about that one for a second.

“We’re not even planning on doing anything, you know,” she said. “We just wanna make sure that Malachi doesn’t try anything. What’s the point of destroying someone’s happiness for something so inconsequential? ...All I need is a location.”

“And you’ll let me go back to her? If I tell you?”

“Sure thing.”

Paul-Allen fell silent, the only sounds his labored breathing and the dripping of his blood on the concrete. “Fine,” he said. “Fine… he’s in Dryden, getting some sea air or something. There, are you happy?”

“I am, thank you,” Kei sighed. She really didn’t take pleasure in what came next. “I am also very sorry to say that your earlier assessment of me was pretty much spot on.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you see… I didn’t really lie, exactly. If it was up to me I would totally just let you go. But, you see, Bacchae’s worried that you might squeal to Malachi, so… yeah…” she picked up one of the knives from the cart. “Sorry, boss’s orders.”

There were no words. Not even a sound. Kei blinked, and his hands were around her throat. Shit. She’d miscalculated. She didn’t think he had the strength left in him to even stand. And since the cold-iron wrapped around his wrists was now touching her neck as well… Kei had no idea whether she was gonna make it out of this one.

“Hey, Paul!” came a voice from over his shoulder, and in surprise, Paul-Allen loosened his grip just enough to glance behind him. Kei managed one breath inward before Jack cut clean through his neck with the machete. Blood sprayed onto her face before the body and head both fell to the ground with a hollow thump, though the head bounced a time or two before coming to rest, the eyes staring in blank surprise at nothing, save the two of them covered in its blood.

“So that makes it, what, twice I’ve saved your bacon today?”

Coughing a little, Kei swiped a bit of the blood off her face. “Then I guess that makes us even.”

Jack clearly wasn’t even phased by the headless body resting between them, and Kei tried desperately to appear the same. “Pardon?” he asked.

“You found him and killed him, and I caught him and got the information we needed. So it all evens out in the end.”

“You caught him? I’m the one who did all the bloody running!”

“Feels real bad when someone does your job for you, huh?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“And on that note,” she turned on her heel, trying very hard to make sure Jack didn’t see her skin crawling. “I’m going to let you deal with the mess. I would like to get the blood off before it starts caking.”

She was almost at the door before he spoke again.

“Oi, Kei.”

Pausing, she turned back. She wasn’t sure she remembered the last time he actually used her name. “You may be a whore,” he muttered. “But you’re a damn clever whore.”

Though she couldn’t be sure, Kei thought that he might have been… complimenting her. “And you’re more wolf than mutt, even if that still makes you a dog.”

“Oh, fuck,” he frowned, looking irritated.

“What?”

“You remember what the whole point of this run around was, right? For us to actually get along?”

“Shit,” Kei’s expression matched his own as she realized just what he was getting at. “The bastard got what he wanted after all.”

“Dun know why, but that pisses me off.”

Kei laughed, rolling her eyes. “Well, at least there’s one thing the two of us can agree on, huh?”

~~ o ~~

The storm had begun in earnest by the time Kei stood dripping in the flat’s foyer. It wasn’t her apartment, which was all the way across town. Even though the rain had washed most of the blood off by now, she was not about to waltz across the city after what she’d just seen, trolley car or no. So the flat it was.

Bacchae had handed her the key only about a day or two after she’d rejoined the Tea Party, despite her protestations that she already had a place. Apparently every member got a flat just off the plaza and there was nothing she could do about it. Well, she guessed that it came in handy for moments like these.

So here she was, wet and in the dark in an empty, unfamiliar location. Kei didn’t even know where the lights were. After a good, pathetic minute she located the switch and managed to pierce a bit of the gloom beyond. The flat was fully furnished, though thank god it looked nothing like a model house as she’d feared. From what she could see of the living room, most of the furniture looked like stuff you’d find in a second-hand store or inherit from some distant relative. That was good. It didn’t feel as clinical that way. Maybe she’d spend the night here, instead of just waiting out the rain like she’d initially planned.

Kei took a deep breath. In and out, trying not to think about decapitation. It was all going to be okay. She had seen much worse, and she probably would again. She’d take a warm shower and then see if there was any tea to be had in the kitchen.

She had just calmed down enough to bend down and unzip her boots when she was suddenly and unexpected slapped on the ass. Straightening abruptly, Kei whipped around. She relaxed as she saw who it was, and then immediately tensed again as she realized who it was.

“Jesus Christ,” she scowled as Bacchae waved at her. “How long have you been there?”

“Is it funnier if I say thirty seconds or all afternoon?”

“Both have implications I’d rather not think about.”

“So, let’s not then. How did it go?” He pushed off the wall and emerged from the gloom, taking a few slow steps towards her.

He was changing the subject, but it wasn’t worth her time to call him out on it. So she just sighed instead. “I got what you asked for. Malachi’s hiding out in Dryden, and Paul-Allen is dead.”

Bacchae’s grin turned slightly more lopsided. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Kei couldn’t believe she was about to say this. She gritted her teeth. “Jack is a horrifying, greasy little creature, but… he has his uses. We came to an understanding.”

“And you doubted my methods.”

“I didn’t doubt your methods, we just both wanted to spite them.”

He leaned in, only a few inches away. “And that’s exactly why it worked.”

More and more, Kei was learning something about Bacchae. He wasn’t smart. Not at all. He might’ve been if not for the copious drug use, though that was more than a lost cause at this point. But if there was one thing Bacchae was, it was clever. And that was the last thing most people expected. She may be able to lay down schemes that he’d never even think of, but when the moment came to strike, he may just be able to squirm his way out of anything she could throw at him.

“I’ll admit, you played us like a fiddle. Lemme guess, you also predicted that I’d end up here because of the rain, and you’ve been waiting here for who knows how long just to gloat.”

“To be one-hundred-percent honest, I didn’t even think about the rain. I figured it was gonna be the blood that did it. Speaking of which, since you finally cracked this shit open, wanna take the tour?”

“Being invited into a strange house by a strange man, what’s not to love about this situation?”

“Aw, don’t say that,” he smiled playfully and grabbed her chin, pushing it gently upwards. “We’ve got history, don’t we?”

No, they didn’t. Kei really didn’t know this man at all, unless… ah, there was only one thing he could be referring to. Alright, she’d play that game. Ultimately, she didn’t really think that she had an option to refuse. Hidden deep within that gleeful expression was something, just the smallest amount of something, that she didn’t like.

“Alright, why not?” she sighed. “Just know that no matter how much you sell it, I’m still not moving in here.”

“Oh, come on. There are so many more fun ulterior motives to have.”

The flat wasn’t too large, so it didn’t take that long to see it all. “You didn’t seem like the type to want a lot of space,” Bacchae commented. Kei almost responded that he didn’t seem like the type to consider stuff like that, but decided against it.

The main room was a combination kitchen and living area, with a staircase to the side that led to a bedroom loft. This was ultimately where Bacchae ended his tour.

“Great, and now that that’s over with, you can fuck off,” Kei took a step back down the stairs.

“Hold on there, Kei,” he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him, “did you really think you could get rid of me that easily?”

Kei expression tightened. “Thought you were being real clever saving the bedroom for last, huh?” She took back all of her thoughts from earlier.

“I was aiming more for charmingly pathetic,” his shark-like grin only widened. “That’s your type, right?”

He wanted her to say it. She knew he wanted her to. But his gaze was too dangerous to assume that anything good would come from it. All she could do was deflect. “I don’t have a type,” she scoffed.

“Then what’s the problem?” he asked, his arm weaving its way around her shoulder. “Like I said, we’ve got history already, don’t we?”

“History?” she laughed. “Sure, a history of threatening to hunt me down like a dog and then psychologically tormenting me for two weeks.”

“I was flirting! I thought you were into it.” That arm that had been around her shoulder had somehow wandered its way down to her waist, where another one quickly followed it. When he was this close, the unfamiliarity really hit her. He was just too… tall. Just a little, hardly noticeable unless she was looking up at him like this.

She was sure that he could tell exactly what she was thinking. Behind those bright green irises there was almost something… accusatory in his gaze. It was an achingly familiar expression. Why are you hesitating, Kei? It seemed to be asking her. Is there a certain, specific reason, perhaps? But both of them knew exactly what the answer was.

“Unbelievable,” she scoffed. “Genuine question, have you ever considered that someone might not want to have sex with you?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Never once crossed my mind. But, look, if you sincerely don’t want me then I’ll fuck off and never mention it ever again.”

This was her out. She should tell him right now that she was not interested.

“But I think we both know you don’t really want that.”

“Oh yeah, And just what makes you say that?”

“Well, my hand has been pretty firmly planted on your ass for the last ten seconds and you have done… literally… nothing to stop me.”

Ah, right. There was that. What Bacchae hadn’t said was that beyond that, they were pressed firmly together by this point.

Yep. That was it. It was far too late now. This was definitely going to happen. As confused, and anxious, and almost guilty as she felt, the number one emotion running through Kei’s head was disappointment. At herself. For just how much she really wanted it.

~~ o ~~

A few odd minutes and some change later, and Bacchae was thoroughly railing her from behind. She was thin, but she had enough that she jiggled in all the fun places with every thrust. Oh yeah, this was exactly what he’d been hoping fo... wait, wait. Not yet, too soon!

Bacchae paused for a moment to catch his breath, enjoying the warmth of being inside her. He bent forward, pressing his chest into her back. As he squeezed her breasts, grunting slightly, he noted with satisfaction that Kei was letting out a soft moan with each labored exhale.

This was the moment to bring it home. Grinning, Bacchae leaned down and whispered into her ear: “Hey, Kei…”

“Yeah?” she barely managed to push the word out.

“I’m getting the weirdest feeling right now,” he continued. “Why do I feel like… we’ve done this before?”

At the mention, Kei stiffened, and involuntarily squeezed him tighter. Bacchae straightened, resuming his thrusting, and cackled. Oh yeah, that felt real good. He’d finally found someone fun to trade his little mind games with. Oh, and the sex was awesome too. That went without saying.