"This way please." The waiter said, not completely able to hide his disdain. After directing the three of them into the private room, he laid a single menu on the table. "If you need anything, please press the intercom button."
Then, without any other explanation, he vanished into the long hallway, leaving Miranda alone with the two supernatural beings.
"So this is some kind of tavern?" Akula asked while kicking her feet up on the table. "Good, I could use a drink. What about you elfie, you thirsty?"
The Myrkalfar gave a sharp toothed grin. "Aye, though I doubt this place has any worthy vintages."
Miranda sighed as she took a seat herself., feeling a headache coming on. "Listen, we did not come here to drink. We are here to discuss what your goals are. And Akula, get your feet off the table. Even if we are using the backroom, this restaurant belongs to the Ortegas and by extension your master. Treat it accordingly."
"Haaaa…fine." Came the unmotivated response, followed by a quiet mutter of. "Prude."
Clenching her jaw for a moment to avoid lashing out at the unruly woman, Miranda regained control of herself with a little effort, and turned her attention to the odd creature across from her. "Now, why don't you start by explaining who you are and why you've come."
The elf, who had been looking over the menu, glanced up with a cocky grin. "Of course. Just a second, though."
She pressed the intercom button, and before Miranda had a chance to stop her, yelled out her order. "We'd like a bottle of the Chateau d'Yquem 2003, an order of the Black Olive Tapenade, and the largest possible serving of your cheapest beer."
There were a few moments of silence before an arrogant voice crackled through the speaker. "Very well."
"Oy, what was that about the cheapest beer?" Akula asked angrily. "You think I won't appreciate the good stuff?"
"Not at all," The elf replied with a smile, "but I assumed that you would prefer quantity over quality. Was I wrong in that evaluation?"
Akula glowered at her for several seconds before finally leaning back resignedly. "You're not wrong, but I don't like being treated like an ignorant peasant."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Ahem." Miranda broke in, sensing her moment. "I believe I asked you some questions."
"Ah, yes, of course. My name is a bit too complicated for human tongues, so you are welcome to call me Valka. As to why I'm here…" She trailed off, looking thoughtful before finally replying. "Curiosity, I suppose?"
"You expect me to believe that you attacked us out of curiosity?"
Akula muttered. "That would be in keeping for a Myrkalfar. They all have a screw tight...Or loose? What's the expression again?"
"Loose." Miranda offered before continuing her questioning. "Alright, can you explain in a little more detail. Why specifically did you come to this city and start a fight?"
"Ah, I understand what you are asking. A little while ago, my brother and I noticed a strange reaction in the Primordial we are in charge of. We were able to track the cause of it to this city, and more specifically to what I assume is your master."
"...I feel like I need more context."
The elf nodded. "We had reason to believe that your master was a representative of a mythical...force or entity, I suppose you could call it, that has often appeared in the stories of our kind. We have passed down legends of a living realm that will grant wishes of supplicants in exchange for tribute. I just wanted to see if the legends were true."
"That's not what-" Miranda started before having to cut her words short as the waiter arrived, wheeling in a cart.
Without a word, he set a wine glass in front of Miranda and the Myrkalfar, and what looked like a mini keg by Akula. After pouring a liberal measure of the deep crimson wine in the two glasses, he placed the tapenade along with a plate of bread in the middle of the table and left as quickly as he could manage.
Miranda waited until the door was closing before turning back to continue. "As I was saying…" She started before trailing off as she saw the elf was already digging in.
Sighing contentedly, Valka washed a bite of tapenade down with a sip of wine. "Hmmm, that's good. They have a decent chef, even if the service is a bit rude. Of course that's pretty reminiscent of the kind of restaurants you'd find in the old country."
"Can you focus, please?"
"Right, right. Sorry. It's been a while since I've had a decent meal. Despite our long history, my kind have never really developed the knack for culinary arts, and the humans we capture can only last a short while in our realm before going insane, so the only time I really get to enjoy good food is when I'm out on an errand."
Akula gave Miranda a knowing look while continuing her efforts to drain the keg of its contents. At some point, she'd managed to poke two holes in the top of the container and was working on chugging it while only occasionally stopping to breathe.
"...Right. Then let me cut to the chase. What do you want with the leader of our organization?"
"First of all, I want to make sure that he's the Ruler from our legends. And if that's the case, I would like to make a deal."
"I see. While I cannot speak for him, I believe our leader would be interested in meeting with you. However, he is unavailable at the moment. We can set up an appointment though. Would tomorrow work for you?"
"Perfectly! I don't have anywhere to be at the moment." Valka replied cheerfully. "Now that's out of the way, let's enjoy ourselves."
Pressing the intercom again, she promptly began ordering more food and drink.
[Was she like this the whole time?] Miranda asked herself. For some reason, she felt that the elf had given a different impression when they'd first met.
--------------------------------------
Adrian had been watching the shop for nearly three hours before he noticed anything unusual. Or at least unusual for this particular kind of business. He'd been observing the people coming and going, and had gotten a feel for how this operation worked.
Surprisingly, a fair number of women had shown up to get their nails done, but the vast majority of the foot traffic was from young men who'd gone in through the back door. A quick glance was all that was necessary for him to know that they were either drug dealers or runners for dealers. The fact that they left with different backpacks than they arrived with was a dead giveaway.
[I'm amazed their cover hasn't been blown yet. All it would take is a brief stakeout to pinpoint not only the location of the operation, but the opportune time to raid it. It seems like I'll need to instruct them on the proper way to conduct this kind of business.]
While he was considering possible reforms, he noticed that a white panel van had pulled up in the parking lot of the abandoned grocery store across the street. It looked like the kind a service technician or an electrician might use. Most observers wouldn't spare it a second glance, but Adrian could tell that there was something unusual going on.
[It's riding too high to be full of tools and equipment, but not high enough to be empty.]
He watched it for a few moments, noting that the driver had turned the engine off, but had yet to come out. Things stayed that way for nearly 20 minutes before something changed.
With a sudden burst of motion, the back doors of the van flew open and a quartet of individuals in grey hoodies and ski masks ran out. Each of them were carrying assault rifles, and in short order they were crossing the street and crashing into the nail salon. He could hear shouted commands of 'stay down' over the screams of the uninvolved patrons.
Stretching his slightly stiff legs, Adrian walked over to the edge of the roof and hopped down. Glancing once towards the shattered glass door of the salon, he walked across the street and approached the van, circling around behind it.
With the rear doors still open, he was able to see how the back portion of the vehicle had been converted into passenger seating, allowing for six individuals to sit lined up along each side wall. There were a few boxes of ammunition with military markings scattered haphazardly on the floor.
[Interesting. If they can get their hands on military grade ammo, these aren't just any thugs. Vance's assumption that they have high level backing seems accurate. As does his suggestion that they are amateurs. Professionals would have at least closed the doors.]
Shaking his head in amusement, he circled around to the driver's side. There, he could see a nervous looking man who was keeping his gaze fixed on the salon. Anyone with half a brain could tell that he was anxiously waiting for the rest of his team to return.
[Yep, definitely amateurs.]
Adrian opened the driver's door, causing the nervous man to jump, quickly grab a handgun that was apparently sitting in the passenger's seat, and swing it around. With ease, Adrian was able to put a stop to the motion by catching the man's elbow in an unbreakable grip.
Groaning in pain, the driver asked, panic evident in his voice. "What the hell?! Who are you?! What are you doing?!"
"That's not important." Adrian replied calmly before adding more strength to his grip. "Now I have a few questions, would you be so kind as to answer them for me?"
------------------------------------------
Mary felt the rifle jump in her hand as she squeezed the trigger, relishing the way her arm could absorb the force of the recoil without so much as a quiver. The sheer joy of reveling in her strength was almost enough to distract her from the sight of the gangster's body as it slumped to the floor, already spilling blood from the neat holes in his chest.
While a part of her wanted to stay and enjoy the feeling of invincibility that came with the killing, another more sensible part warned that she didn't have much time left before the Rapture wore off. She completely ignored the part that was quivering in disgust, fear, and guilt at the thought of killing another human being. That had become a lot easier with practice.
"Mary, come on! Stopping standing around like an idiot and give me a hand" Tiffany yelled, her assault rifle slung behind her as she consolidated the rolls of cash into a single bag. "Let's get moving. We probably only have a few minutes before the enforcers arrive."
Tiffany always kept a clear head during these raids, something that Mary suspected had to do with her long history as a party girl. If you can keep your wits about you in the middle of rave while high on three different kinds of drugs, even Rapture couldn't screw with you too much.
Unfortunately, her boyfriend Justin was the exact opposite. The athletic man lost all sense of time and purpose while enraptured, and had to more or less be led by the hand while they were on mission. At the moment he was busy playing with one of the salon chairs, leaning it back and forth while grinning like an idiot. As the strongest of them, he was useful if they ever needed to break through a wall to make their escape, but Mary couldn't help but feel some disdain for how worthless he was otherwise.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't get your panties in a bunch." She shot back while moving up to help. Glancing over at Bruce who was still watching the back door, she made sure to complain loudly. "Still seems shitty that the women have to do all the heavy lifting in these operations."
"If we could trust you to not wander off again, you could be the lookout, but I think we both know that's not something you can promise." The quiet man replied absentmindedly without even looking back. He was idly rubbing at a patch of blood that had soaked into the sleeve of his hoodie.
A sharp pang of anger penetrated the floating sensation she always got when enraptured, bringing her back to earth faster than usual. She stumbled and caught herself on the table, knocking several bundles of cash onto the floor.
"You asshole!" She yelled. "You broke my trance!"
This earned her a glance from the team's de facto leader. "Too bad? It's a good thing we're done here or you might become more of a liability than you usually are."
"Not now, you two!" Tiffany yelled, breaking up the brewing fight. "We can take care of that later. Right now we need to get out of here."
Bruce squinted back at her, obviously fighting some Rapture-induced impulse, but finally nodded. "Yeah, we've wasted too much time. We're ghosting."
Following their standard procedures, Mary grabbed her load of the money and headed for the door. She pointedly ignored watching as Tiffany cajoled Justin into motion.
"Come on, baby, let's go home." She cooed lovingly.
"But the chair...it will get lonely…" The jock muttered.
"It will be fine. There are a lot of other chairs here to keep it company. Besides, what about the chairs at home? Won't they miss you?"
"Oh, yeah, that's right." He replied, suddenly serious. Jumping up he stalked to the door, full of new purpose.
Sighing, Tiffany fell in behind him.
Bruce brought up the rear of their team, following them out once he'd placed the incendiary charges in the heart of the processing room. They operated off a timer, and would detonate five minutes after they left.
"Alright, good job everyone." He announced while they were moving back to the van. "A few more like this and we'll be close to meeting our goal."
[Whatever.] Mary thought. The vague goal that Bruce always talked about was something that bothered her quite a bit. Mostly because she didn't like the man himself. For all that he was a close friend of Lawrence, she couldn't bring herself to tolerate the smug way he threw around his meagre authority.
As she reached up to open the back door of the van, a thought occurred to her. [Why are these closed? Did Kevin do it?]
The second the door opened, she realized she'd made a mistake.The back portion of the van was filled with inky darkness that seemed to suck in the meagre illumination of the streetlights. Instinctively, she tried to step back, to escape, but as soon as she laid eyes on it, the shadows seemed to stretch forward and surround her.
An incredible pressure pressed down on her, making it difficult to breathe while a bone-numbing chill settled over her with a suffocating intensity. As a primal, animalistic fear began to rise up in the back of her mind, suffocating all other thoughts, she caught sight of motion within the dark confines of the van.
A cold voice issued from the depths of the shadow. "No escape now. It's time to reap what you have sown."