WC: 1,170
Kinciad’s breaths came in slow, steady pulls. It was his first clue that he wasn’t dead. The next was the discomfort, the swimming headache, and the taunting sway of light beyond his eyelids that almost tricked him into opening his eyes.
Hands bound, some automatic part of his mind noted. He felt pressure at his back and under him. I’m seated. Hunched over. Explains the breathing. Legs bound... they really didn’t want me getting away. He twitched slightly, testing the rope holding him, and mentally sighed. The ropes were good, probably recently bought, though whoever had tied him down knew how to do it without making the rope cinch against the skin in that way that liked to leave marks.
Wonder if that murderer I caught got free. No, he didn’t even see me. Wouldn’t know Duilius Fortis, let alone Kincaid.
The thief was slowly working back through his thoughts, tracing the last thing he remembered down the shadow-cloaked alleyways that were his memories.
“You don’t have to pretend, Fortis,” said a mechanical voice. Familiar, too. Kincaid didn’t have to think very hard. The list of machina that he knew could be counted on one hand.
It was Apertis. No last name, just Apertis. Or maybe that was his last name, and his first name was Captain. Captain Apertis of the Terminus Guard’s Larceny Department.
“Or perhaps you would rather I call you... ‘Kincaid?’”
Dull grass-green eyes looked up then, and the familiar mechanical mug was boring holes into him with yellow augers set into a copper face. Per usual, the captain was impeccably dressed in his own pragmatic way. A plain-white button collar shirt was tucked into black slacks, the cuffs rolled up half of his forearm with the only decoration being a harness for his pistols under each arm. The overcoat Kincaid was used to seeing the captain wear was tossed to the side, resting on top of a shipping crate.
Peering around, Kincaid wondered which district of Terminus he’d been taken to. Depending on how long the thief had been out, he could still be near the Emerald Jewel or all the way at the Elantus Docks just outside of Terminus.
Returning his focus to the machina, Kincaid wondered if a demvir could be blinded if their eyes were broken. They were an unusual race, neither bred nor grown, but simply found as they were or so he had been told.
Kincaid still hadn’t answered, and Apertis heaved a sigh having grown tired of waiting in silence. His left hand dipped behind his back, and Kincaid heard the soft sound of metal against leather before the captain revealed a sleek blade about six inches in length.
Reflexively, on instinct Kincaid tugged against his bonds, realizing too late that Apertis had been so thorough with tying him down that he’d forced Kincaid’s hands into balled fists and bound them to the chair’s leg.
Apertis rose, and stalked forward towards a shocked Kincaid. The thief’s brain rushed through all his options, but nothing guaranteed his life.
He tried to reel backwards, away from the knife, knowing full well that this character could not be Apertis. Not the calm, collected, rational man that Kincaid had worked under. That man wouldn’t kill. He believed in the law too much.
The polished metal was close now, and Kincaid’s eyes flickered one last time to the cold yellow eyes before he closed them. Waiting for the inevitable sickening feeling of metal slipping between his ribs.
Only, it never came.
Instead he felt the flat of the knife slipping against his wrists before the ropes binding him were cut away, falling to the ground.
Kincaid let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding in, his grassy eyes snapped open and he turned to look at Apertis. The demvir simply looked back, puzzled. “What?” he asked, then looked down at his knife. Understanding washed over his face, then in an incredulous voice he said, “Castus preserve, Fortis. Really?”
Kincaid could only shrug, helpless for an explanation. “You caught me off guard in an alleyway, Apertis. I’m not exactly in the line of work where you wake up alive for very long.”
“So I’ve noticed. Back to your smuggling ways..., if you ever did smuggle.”
“Now, now, that’s not fair,” Kincaid replied. “I did smuggle at some point, I’m sure.” Feeling a bit more like himself now that he wasn’t bound, the thief smiled from ear-to-ear.
The captain let out another tired sigh and walked back to the crate he’d used as a seat only moments ago. Sitting down across from Kincaid, the old demvir -- Kincaid placed him as old, though with them it was so hard to tell -- asked, Fortis. No, Kincaid. Since you left the larceny department, I’ve been following your work. You’re... an unorthodox criminal, to be sure.”
Spreading his hands outwards, as if caught, Kincaid waited in silence. “So I imagine you have something on this... ‘Kincaid’ then? I can’t see you going to such lengths if you didn’t. Would be a breach of the law to hold a man against his will like this for nothing.”
Apertis dropped his head, and Kincaid knew he had nothing. But then why all of this... this... show?
“Honestly, I have nothing. Most of your work has been skillfully done, and in most cases doesn’t even qualify as larceny.” Here Apertis sat upright and looked disappointed. “Anything more recent has been covered under your conveniently established guild. Some rumors have it that your guild leader, Deniisis Perfide, has connections to Astra Non Oblige, and planned all of this.”
“Poor planning,” Kincaid quipped with his usual deflective smile. “Guild barely gets enough business to make ends meet. So few people are willing to hire us when the suspect we’ll turn information over to the Conexus about our dealings -- despite our repeated insistence that all information is confidential.”
“All of it?”
“All of it,” he repeated. “We can’t afford to give out client information. It undermines our business, and our guild would have gone under outside of a month.”
“I never bothered to actually visit your guild. What was it’s name?”
Something was wrong. Not in any threatening way, so far as Kincaid could tell, but Apertis was fishing for something. Before he answered, the thief asked, “Why am I here, Apertis? You could have just as easily made the excuse that you needed me to consult with you on a case. Instead you’ve kidnapped me, and spirited me away to this abandoned warehouse. The only reason I’m still here is because you’ve piqued my interest.”
“That and your legs are still bound.”
“Minor inconvenience,” he assure the machina. “If I wasn’t interested they wouldn’t still be there.”
There was a long puse between the two men, while they silently fought over who would speak up next. Kincaid was dead-set not to say anything. Afterall, Apertis needed him for something.
Finally, after the silence, in a small, defeated voice, Apertis admitted, “I need to hire you.”
What Old Beginnings
Kinciad’s breaths came in slow, steady pulls. It was his first clue that he wasn’t dead. The next was the discomfort, the swimming headache, and the taunting sway of light beyond his eyelids that almost tricked him into opening his eyes.
Hands bound, some automatic part of his mind noted. He felt pressure at his back and under him. I’m seated. Hunched over. Explains the breathing. Legs bound... they really didn’t want me getting away. He twitched slightly, testing the rope holding him, and mentally sighed. The ropes were good, probably recently bought, though whoever had tied him down knew how to do it without making the rope cinch against the skin in that way that liked to leave marks.
Wonder if that murderer I caught got free. No, he didn’t even see me. Wouldn’t know Duilius Fortis, let alone Kincaid.
The thief was slowly working back through his thoughts, tracing the last thing he remembered down the shadow-cloaked alleyways that were his memories.
“You don’t have to pretend, Fortis,” said a mechanical voice. Familiar, too. Kincaid didn’t have to think very hard. The list of machina that he knew could be counted on one hand.
It was Apertis. No last name, just Apertis. Or maybe that was his last name, and his first name was Captain. Captain Apertis of the Terminus Guard’s Larceny Department.
“Or perhaps you would rather I call you... ‘Kincaid?’”
Dull grass-green eyes looked up then, and the familiar mechanical mug was boring holes into him with yellow augers set into a copper face. Per usual, the captain was impeccably dressed in his own pragmatic way. A plain-white button collar shirt was tucked into black slacks, the cuffs rolled up half of his forearm with the only decoration being a harness for his pistols under each arm. The overcoat Kincaid was used to seeing the captain wear was tossed to the side, resting on top of a shipping crate.
Peering around, Kincaid wondered which district of Terminus he’d been taken to. Depending on how long the thief had been out, he could still be near the Emerald Jewel or all the way at the Elantus Docks just outside of Terminus.
Returning his focus to the machina, Kincaid wondered if a demvir could be blinded if their eyes were broken. They were an unusual race, neither bred nor grown, but simply found as they were or so he had been told.
Kincaid still hadn’t answered, and Apertis heaved a sigh having grown tired of waiting in silence. His left hand dipped behind his back, and Kincaid heard the soft sound of metal against leather before the captain revealed a sleek blade about six inches in length.
Reflexively, on instinct Kincaid tugged against his bonds, realizing too late that Apertis had been so thorough with tying him down that he’d forced Kincaid’s hands into balled fists and bound them to the chair’s leg.
Apertis rose, and stalked forward towards a shocked Kincaid. The thief’s brain rushed through all his options, but nothing guaranteed his life.
He tried to reel backwards, away from the knife, knowing full well that this character could not be Apertis. Not the calm, collected, rational man that Kincaid had worked under. That man wouldn’t kill. He believed in the law too much.
The polished metal was close now, and Kincaid’s eyes flickered one last time to the cold yellow eyes before he closed them. Waiting for the inevitable sickening feeling of metal slipping between his ribs.
Only, it never came.
Instead he felt the flat of the knife slipping against his wrists before the ropes binding him were cut away, falling to the ground.
Kincaid let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding in, his grassy eyes snapped open and he turned to look at Apertis. The demvir simply looked back, puzzled. “What?” he asked, then looked down at his knife. Understanding washed over his face, then in an incredulous voice he said, “Castus preserve, Fortis. Really?”
Kincaid could only shrug, helpless for an explanation. “You caught me off guard in an alleyway, Apertis. I’m not exactly in the line of work where you wake up alive for very long.”
“So I’ve noticed. Back to your smuggling ways..., if you ever did smuggle.”
“Now, now, that’s not fair,” Kincaid replied. “I did smuggle at some point, I’m sure.” Feeling a bit more like himself now that he wasn’t bound, the thief smiled from ear-to-ear.
The captain let out another tired sigh and walked back to the crate he’d used as a seat only moments ago. Sitting down across from Kincaid, the old demvir -- Kincaid placed him as old, though with them it was so hard to tell -- asked, Fortis. No, Kincaid. Since you left the larceny department, I’ve been following your work. You’re... an unorthodox criminal, to be sure.”
Spreading his hands outwards, as if caught, Kincaid waited in silence. “So I imagine you have something on this... ‘Kincaid’ then? I can’t see you going to such lengths if you didn’t. Would be a breach of the law to hold a man against his will like this for nothing.”
Apertis dropped his head, and Kincaid knew he had nothing. But then why all of this... this... show?
“Honestly, I have nothing. Most of your work has been skillfully done, and in most cases doesn’t even qualify as larceny.” Here Apertis sat upright and looked disappointed. “Anything more recent has been covered under your conveniently established guild. Some rumors have it that your guild leader, Deniisis Perfide, has connections to Astra Non Oblige, and planned all of this.”
“Poor planning,” Kincaid quipped with his usual deflective smile. “Guild barely gets enough business to make ends meet. So few people are willing to hire us when the suspect we’ll turn information over to the Conexus about our dealings -- despite our repeated insistence that all information is confidential.”
“All of it?”
“All of it,” he repeated. “We can’t afford to give out client information. It undermines our business, and our guild would have gone under outside of a month.”
“I never bothered to actually visit your guild. What was it’s name?”
Something was wrong. Not in any threatening way, so far as Kincaid could tell, but Apertis was fishing for something. Before he answered, the thief asked, “Why am I here, Apertis? You could have just as easily made the excuse that you needed me to consult with you on a case. Instead you’ve kidnapped me, and spirited me away to this abandoned warehouse. The only reason I’m still here is because you’ve piqued my interest.”
“That and your legs are still bound.”
“Minor inconvenience,” he assure the machina. “If I wasn’t interested they wouldn’t still be there.”
There was a long puse between the two men, while they silently fought over who would speak up next. Kincaid was dead-set not to say anything. Afterall, Apertis needed him for something.
Finally, after the silence, in a small, defeated voice, Apertis admitted, “I need to hire you.”