A Helping Hand
WC: 3,877
Hare - Kincaid
Bob - Reilly
Semper Mihi, or Always Me. Depending on who you asked the name was either the owner’s own egotism being flaunted, or an attempt to be endearing. The owner himself wouldn’t say why he’d chosen the name, instead he’d smile a private smile and give the questioner a long, far off look.WC: 3,877
Hare - Kincaid
Bob - Reilly
A job-for-hire business run in a small neighborhood south of the Ruby Jewel, Duilius Fortis either had the greatest taste in his choice of locations, or the poorest luck, because the building which doubled as his home was out of the way just enough that no one visited without a good reason.
Fliers and advertisements were strung up throughout Terminus, reading: Stolen Goods Recovered. Prized Possessions Protected. Locksmiths. Healing. Low-key Hiding. Affordable Rates. Nothing Boring, Irrelevant, Harming of Innocence or Dishonorable Thuggery. Location south of Ruby Jewel. Ask for Semper Mihi.
Payment negotiable.
Each one was signed in his own hand, too. A private autograph for anyone desperate enough to need his help.
And so it went that those who were in great need unexpectedly found themselves turning down an unremarkable alleyway, only to turn again and find a quaint opening where the buildings seemed to have forgotten to fill in. It was here, in this empty square, there were two doors. One, at the bottom was as unremarkable as the alleyway entrance, but the second one -- the one at the end of a set of old wooden stairs -- had a small plaque with writing too small to see without standing in front of it.
Engraved onto the bronze face of the plaque read the words “Semper Mihi” in long curly strokes of penmanship. For embellishment, a small happy dissilo character had been added at the bottom right corner.
Reilly had been following his brother’s movements for sometime, but he never got close enough to alert him. He was content watching from afar, taking on the role of older brother despite being born the younger.
Reilly was cursed, but he learned to live with his curse. Kincaid was foolhardy and reckless, and that was bothersome. He told himself he would not contact his brother until he needed to. There was a reason they kept their distance, but... given his new job, he felt it was time he closed that gap.
For a long time his brother was using the name Kincaid, but then he went off the radar for a while. It wasn’t until another name caught his eye that Reilly thought he might have found his brother again. He told himself there was no way, but the spelling and signature was too damning. His brother was using his real name. A name no one knew exactly what it meant, or who it really was. Reilly’s guess it was his brother’s way of starting over.
Finding him from that point was easy. Reilly followed the obvious trail which brought him to his brother’s business. If that was a term that could be used for it.
Same jobs, new name.
Some things never really changed, he told himself.
Walking to the building he was slightly impressed. Neither of them really had a place of their own growing up, but this was assuredly his brother’s. It had his... touch.
Rapping his knuckles on the door, Reilly waited for it to be opened. He wondered how he was going to greet his brother; after all it had been a long while. A handshake might be nice, as well as a hug. Perhaps a friendly smile would break the ice.
As footsteps grew louder and the handle turned, Reilly was unsure what he was going to see. The door opened, and there stood his brother, a smile creeping across Kincaid’s face.
The smile of an ego too big for his body. The same smile Reilly saw hundreds of times when he was getting in over his head. That just made Reilly angry, and without hesitation his brother’s face was greeted with a strong right hook, sending the man back and to the floor.
“Hello... brother.”
By the greeting, there should have been venom dripping from that last word. Instead, there was nothing except casual recognition.
Kincaid’s only reply after a minute was, “I deserved that.” He might have deserved a lot more, but pain wasn’t the sort of thing one invited upon themselves unless they were repenting. Kincaid wasn’t the repenting sort.
Bringing himself back to his feet, the thief stumbled half a step back into his living room and shouted, “Please, do come in.” He hoped that would be enough time to have his now tender jaw recoup. Talking was only ever made difficult whenever Reilly started swinging.
Semper Mihi was slowly being furnished as Kincaid continued to work with the Conexus and Terminus Guard, and what had once been a mostly bare room was now decorated with a handful of paintings in romantic fashion. In particular was Lady Terminus overlooking the city with her arms enfolding the borders. Three chairs were set to the immediate left where Kincaid could speak with clients, and in the far back right corner was a small table nearly flush with the wall. Stacks of papers and books were left scattered about the table’s surface.
Heading for the back hallway which lead to his room, Kincaid shouted again, “What brought you to Terminus?”
“Work, believe it or not. I have been in hiding for a while, and I felt it was time I took a job.” Reilly walked over to the table and thumbed through the papers curiously wondering what they were about.
Not wanting to intrude too much just yet, he stepped away from them to admire the painting. It looked as if he was focusing on the painting, but in reality he was wondering how he was going to present this job to Kincaid. He needed his help, the people he was working with were green and foolhardy, and he did not want to die just yet. He figured maybe only one or two were competent, and given the stakes he needed to stack the deck.
Walking back, he took a seat in one of the chairs. Kicking one leg up over the other he withdrew his boot dagger and began to thumb the edge as he awaited. “Bring out the alcohol... and the good stuff.”
There was a single coarse laugh that echoed out from Kincaid’s room.
It wasn’t for another minute, but Kincaid came back with just what Reilly told him -- a bottle of Aridus Whiskey. The thief held the bottle up in the air and waved it there for his younger brother to see. “I swear, you only find me when I buy this.”
Strolling past the brawler, Kincaid handed the bottle off while he fetched the two of them proper glasses.
From the kitchen, Kincaid continued the conversation, prodding, “Work? Hiding? Not exactly words I thought I’d hear from your mouth.”
Reilly fingered the bottle slowly. This was indeed the good stuff.
Gripping the top, the brawler popped it and let the aged aroma fill the air. This drink was well worth the price, probably one of the few things he would not steal out of principal. When Kincaid returned, he took the glasses from his brother and filled each one generously before setting the bottle down on top of a stack of books -- creating a makeshift table.
Leaning back, Reilly let the aroma fill his nostrils once more before taking a long hard sip.
“Yes. Things have been rough these past years. My last job ended... badly, hence the hiding. Funnily enough I lived under a tree for several months. However, as you know we can’t live like that forever and my money was running low. Then this job appeared. The money was right, the risk high, and it was just something I could not pass up.”
“Can’t say I never tried to teach you how to hide well,” Kincaid said. The thief looked down at the glass for a good moment, not expecting anything to be said. Taking a deep breath, he kicked back the first sip of his drink before saying, “And you decided then, that since we haven’t seen one another in over two years or so, you’d come by and say hello in your normal fashion.”
Kincaid leaned against the table, and levelled his grass green eyes towards his brother. He was fishing. The two knew each other well enough that Reilly wasn’t visiting out of love for his brother.
The last time that had happened, Kincaid had left Reilly to be arrested.
Taking another long sip and letting the drink age a little longer in his mouth before he swallowed and continued speaking, “No, we both know I came here for a reason. It has to do with my new job I mentioned.” He rested the glass on his crossed leg and looked at Kincaid dead in the eyes.
“What do you know of Arx?”
Kincaid’s voice dropped into a monotone recital of information, “It’s a maximum security prison in the north of Terminus with some of the best guards. Well structured, from an architecture point of view, though it’s got some archaic flaws which double as some of its strengths.
“Outside of that, and some general rumors, I haven’t paid it any mind. As much as I excel at getting out of an arrest, I also don’t plan to end up in a maximum security cell.”
Kincaid didn’t look away from his brother. Instead, another silence passed between the two laicar. Slowly, realization began to dawn over the eldest and he straightened with a wide grin spread across his face. Combing back his brown hair with his hand, Kincaid kept his voice low and asked, curiosity piqued, “What are you going to do at the Arx, Reilly?”
He twirled what was left of his drink in the glass a bit as he chose his words. “I am going to break in and steal two of their occupants.”
He let that sink in for a moment before he continued. “There are five of us. Between you and me, we’re going to die. These other four don’t seem to have what it takes, but the money makes it worth it. We’re being paid anywhere from twenty five thousand... to sixty thousand.” He let hit number two set in.
“I want to stack the deck. I want to live and reap the rewards. So that is why I am here brother, I need your help to assure I survive this and get paid.”
Kincaid scoffed at Reilly’s plea. Not because his brother was asking him for help, but because the job was about money. About getting rich. Reilly knew his brother better than anyone, so when the thief’s face turned into a rare sour frown, the brawler wasn’t surprised.
Again, another silent pause between the two of them grew until the room couldn’t have gotten quieter.
Kincaid took another sip of his whiskey and then set down his glass. “So, let me see if I have this scenario right from what you’ve told me....
“You, along with four others who are greener than the grass in Paludis, are going to break into the best prison in Terminus -- maybe all of Araevis -- and free two people. If you succeed, you all get a large sum of money and maybe, just maybe, you get to retire like you’ve always wanted.” The sarcasm in Kincaid’s voice was blatant. They both knew neither one of them would retire from their life style.
Tapping his fingers on the table in idle thought, Kincaid made sure his and his brother’s eyes locked. “You want to stack the deck in your favor, but what makes you think I’ll do it? What’s in this for me, Reilly?”
He knew his brother was not interested in money, but neither could deny it is what made the world turn. It bought what they needed. No one can live any sort of lifestyle happily without some sort of income. While he understood his brother’s reaction, Kincaid did not really understand where Reilly was and what shape he was in. This money was a chance for him to fix what was broken and regain who he was, but he was not about to tell his brother what kind of shape he really was in.
“In it for you? The same thing that always is. Fame. Think about it, as you just said. Arx is the most heavily guarded prison with the best guards. How many people can say they have broken into it, or out of? None. That kind of boast would fortify Kincaid’s legacy as a master thief. Seeing as I doubt you want money, my employers and those who we break out will be grateful for a job accomplished. I am sure you won’t like them, but having people who owe you favors never hurts, especially in our line of work. While you may not come out of this with a load of cash, you will be rich in other... aspects. So tell me... what more do you need?”
Reilly laid it down just like that. He kept a steady glare with his brother, and finished his drink.
“Mmm,” was Kincaid’s only response. Followed by a simple question, “Who are we to break out?”
It wasn’t a guarantee that he’d join them, but for now Kincaid seemed interested to hear more about what his brother was getting himself into.
This was the risky part. Getting his brother interested in the idea was easy, but getting him invested to get it done was difficult. He poured himself another drink and drank the whole glass at once before setting it back down.
“We’re to break out Pax Solis,” he began to pour a third glass, “and, if we can, the Orator.”
Kincaid’s normal humor seemed to fall away. Instead of saying anything, the thief let the silence envelop the two of them once more, taking up his glass and sipping from it a third time.
“Astra non obligant,” he stated matter-of-factly, shattering the silence with the gravity of those three words. Strangely, with the revelation of the who, Kincaid’s eyes looked past his brother while plans began to formulate in his mind.
Then, a smile splitting his face, Kincaid refocused on his brother. “How could I say no?”
Knocking back the rest of his glass, the thief rose to his feet and swept his arms out to either side, “Kincaid, the greatest thief this world will ever know, performing an unforgettable feat the likes of which will only set the Conexus and Fraternatis at his heels -- never mind the amount of problem the Society will have to deal with!” He laughed then, and strode away from his brother.
“Oh, Reilly, you cunning man! You did not disappoint me!” Kincaid laughed again. “Danger, daring, impossible odds, how could I even back down if I wanted to! No, no! You shall have my help, and at no extra charge of your client.” He spun to face his brother, holding up three fingers, “But for you I’ll need three hundred exim upfront.”
“Three hundred I can do.”
That was small change given the advance he was given, and how much was he was going to make. A part of him had to restrain from punching him again when he began his show boating and grandiose speech. Kincaid knew Reilly hated it, but he was obligated to allow him to have his moment given that he was the one asking him for help.
“Good then. I shall elaborate on the terms on the job. We’re hired to retrieve Pax, for twenty five large. If we can get Orator as well, the price will double, but we’ll get nothing for only Orator. Also, we will earn an additional ten large if we kill none of the guards. If we succeed at all of this, we’ll earn sixty grand. Our point of entry will be in an airship, and we’ll zip line down to the roof for access. Our goal will be get to Orator first and then Pax, retreat to the top and escape.”
He gave him the rough and dirty version of the plan, as they’ll go over it a little more in depth later when they need to meet with others in two days.
“Nice to hear they’re taking a less bloody route with this,” Kincaid remarked. Striding away from the table, Kincaid grabbed some loose sheets of paper and brought them back over to Reilly with a bottle of ink and a pen. Setting the items before his brother, the thief said, “I want you to go over the plan in detail.” He even added, “And leave nothing out. Like usual, every detail is important to me. Also, tell me what you know about the others you’ll be working with.”
He took the pen in hand and began jotting down everything about the plan.
It seemed the quick and dirty version was not going to cut it. Every possibility that came to his mind. This is what Reilly was good at, thinking about possibility, it was the reason the brothers survived so many jobs despite Kincaid’s best efforts for glamour. It felt as if he was writing a story with the details as each word was written down.
He then approached the point of describing those who were on the job with him. The man and woman and team were the first to come to his mind. It seemed they were a bit too gunhoe for this type and job and too hot headed to think clearly. Perhaps they would be of use but they need a firm hand to keep them on mission and not to go off track. He did not trust them at all, but those who were on the job were not up for discussion.
The enlil was next on the list. She seemed well rounded and quite skilled, but he afraid she might be too kind hearted to get the job done. She knew her way around electronics and mechanical systems and that in itself was a boon for the team. She was also going to need to be guided if order to stick to the plan.
The last man seemed to the oddest as he did not say much but definitely felt as if he was the better of the four to bring along. He trusted him a little more than the rest, but trust was hard to prove. He felt he deserved a little more leeway but not much more. He was not going to have an issue sticking to the plan and would react fine in a fire fight and when, not if, shit hit the fan.
Finally he felt it was necessary to describe Cassum and Mortis.
Both of which were highly mysterious. Ever fiber of his being was telling him something was off with Cassum, with everything they knew about Arx, that man seemed to know more about the insides as if he had personal experience. He trusted him and yet he did not. Reilly expected to be betrayed, to be used as fodder and never paid.
Expect the worst and hope for the best.
This is what he was left with. Mortis, was highly emotional given this was her brother they were trying to break out. She was highly skilled with weaponry and with that weapon she carried around. She would be a huge asset, if she was not confined to be being the pilot.
As Reilly finished writing, his hand was beginning to hurt just a bit and most of the alcohol was gone. He had written several pages of information for Kincaid, doing his best not to leave out a single detail. Feeling satisfied with what he had down he set the pen down and leaned back.
“There you go, everything I can think of. We have less than two days before we have to meet them. Hope you can prepare in a rush.”
Once Reilly was done with the notes, Kincaid scooped them up and studied each for several minutes a piece. Then, only once the thief was sure he’d committed all the details to memory, he walked over to the fireplace and threw the papers into it. He’d start up a fire to burn them once Reilly left.
“No such thing as rushing. You’ve given me more than enough time to prepare.” Turning back to his brother, smiling still, Kincaid made the offhanded remark, “A few of those that you describe sound familiar.” Pausing in thought, Kincaid walked back over to Reilly and filled his glass with more whiskey.
“It sounds to me like astra non obligant is using old resources.” Taking a sip of his refill, he explained, “At the very least I’m sure of one person -- Deniisis Perfide. I managed to get a peek at his record, you know. He’s got quite the list.” Taking up a seat across from his brother, Kincaid’s face took on a thoughtful look
“You weren’t here for everything that happened last year, but I think I’m beginning to understand how they work.” Another silence fell over the brothers, as if the two of them were trying to figure out how to bridge their thoughts.
An unspoken agreement passed between them. A subtle shift in their seats. A clearing of the throat. Another long pull of whiskey.
Kincaid let a single word slip from between his lips. It was a question, needing confirmation, “Paludis?”
The word strung a chord with him. It had been a while since he thought of that night and horrors that went down, but he knew that was not all Kincaid meant by saying it. It had meaning between the brothers. Reilly thought for a moment as he played through everything once more, and with a silent nod he answered Kincaid.
“Better safe than sorry. That’s why I want you with me. If it happens I need someone there who I know will watch my back. As I said... stack the deck.”
“A wild card isn’t exactly stacking the deck,” Kincaid reminded. “But...,” he said after a moment, “I’m not about to leave you for that.”
He paused, tapping his fingers against the table in thought. “What do you plan to do after this job?” he asked.
“I don’t know honestly. The money will allow me to basically do whatever I need. Maybe open a shop for our kind, watering hole of sorts for people to gather in safety.” It was something Reilly had thought about for a while, but whether he was able to do it or not was still up in the air. However, he did knohat now was not the time to think about it, there was a job to do.
“I should probably leave you to your work, and I have things to pick up. Supplies, you know.” Reilly wrote down on a piece of paper where they were to meet. “You know what to do.”
Kincaid’s reply was a wide grin, and the words, “Be my wonderful self.”
He watched as Reilly got up from his seat and headed for the door. No words of farewell were exchanged between the brothers.
They never said good-bye.