Victor Delacroix approached the door cautiously, every muscle in his body tense with anticipation. The coded knock had unsettled him, bringing back memories of a past he had tried to leave behind. Taking a deep breath, he swung the door open, ready for anything.
Standing before him was a figure that looked out of place amidst the darkened streets of New Albion. The vampire, with his teenage appearance and feminine attire, looked almost ethereal in the dim light. His long, dark hair fell in soft waves around his face, framing purple eyes that glimmered with a mischievous light. Victor recognized him immediately.
"Lucien Duval," Victor said, his voice a mix of surprise and wariness.
"Victor," Lucien replied in a high, girlish voice that would have fooled anyone who didn't know him. Victor, however, knew the truth—that beneath the façade, Lucien's real voice was deeper than his own.
Lucien stood there, waiting. Victor sighed. "I suppose you want to be invited in?"
Lucien batted his eyelashes, a playful smile on his lips. "Oh, Victor, you know me so well. May I come in?"
Victor rolled his eyes. "Fine, come in. Just don't touch anything."
Lucien stepped inside with a flourish, his movements graceful and theatrical. "Touch anything? Now, Victor, where's the fun in that?"
"It's been a while," Victor said, trying to keep his tone neutral.
"It has," Lucien agreed, his voice still that deceptive, lilting tone. "I've heard quite a bit about Hell's Kitchen. So, I decided to see for myself."
Victor narrowed his eyes, suspicion creeping in. "What are you doing here, Lucien?"
Lucien smiled, a gesture that was both charming and unsettling. "I quit the assassin life, just like you. And when I heard about your new venture, I thought I'd come looking for a job. After all, who better to understand the unique requirements of your... exclusive establishment than someone like me?"
Victor crossed his arms, studying Lucien carefully. They had been colleagues, but they had never gotten along well. Lucien's penchant for mind games and his flamboyant personality had always put them at odds. Still, there was no denying his skills.
"And why should I trust you?" Victor asked, his voice cold.
Lucien's smile widened, revealing a hint of his fangs. "Because, my dear Victor, you know exactly what I am capable of. And I know what it takes to keep your clientele satisfied and discreet."
Victor remained silent for a moment, weighing his options. The logistical challenges of running Hell's Kitchen were daunting, and having someone like Lucien on board could be both a blessing and a curse. But there was no denying that he needed help, especially with procuring the more unorthodox ingredients.
"Fine," Victor said finally. "But let me make one thing clear—this is my restaurant. You follow my rules."
Lucien's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Of course, Victor. I'm here to help, not to take over."
Victor smirked, though he remained wary. "Just remember, Lucien, I know all your tricks. One misstep, and you're out."
"Oh, Victor," Lucien purred, "I wouldn't dream of misbehaving. Well, not too much." he added while sticking out his tongue mockingly.
Victor shook his head, unable to suppress a dry chuckle. "Come on, let's get you settled. We've got work to do."
Victor led Lucien into the dimly lit dining area of Hell's Kitchen, the warm glow from the chandeliers casting soft shadows on the polished wooden tables. The restaurant was still a work in progress, but the atmosphere already hinted at the luxurious experience it promised to offer.
Lucien took it all in with an appraising eye. "I must say, Victor, you've outdone yourself. This place has an air of mystery and elegance. Quite fitting for someone of your... unique talents." he said with a smirk.
Victor rolled his eyes. "Flattery isn't going to get you a raise, Lucien. Let's talk about the job. What exactly are you proposing?"
Lucien turned to face him, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "I was thinking, with my charm and, let's face it, unparalleled social skills, I could serve as the maitre'd. I'll handle the customers, ensuring they're discreet and satisfied. After all, managing the front of house is just as crucial as what happens in the kitchen."
Victor arched an eyebrow. "You, charming customers? The thought alone is terrifying. But you do have a point. Discretion is key here."
Lucien's eyes gleamed with mischief. "And who better to maintain discretion than someone who's been living in the shadows for centuries?"
Victor couldn't help but smirk. "Touché. But I assume you're not doing this out of the kindness of your heart. What's the catch?"
Lucien's playful demeanor turned slightly more serious. "In addition to the standard payment, I have a... unique request. I want the blood of your humanoid kills. It would be a shame to let it go to waste."
Victor narrowed his eyes, considering the proposition. "You're asking for quite a bit. What makes you think I'll agree to that?" he asked. The blood of certain species was extremely valuable, especially to mages and alchemists.
Lucien shrugged, his expression nonchalant. "Because you know I can be an asset. And let's be honest, Victor, you've always been more pragmatic than sentimental. It's a fair exchange."
Victor sighed, rubbing his temples. "Fine. But you follow my rules, no exceptions!" As much as he loathed to admit it, having Lucien around added a spark of excitement he hadn't felt in years.
With Lucien settled into his new role, Victor decided it was time to test the vampire's culinary sense and see just how well he could handle the darker aspects of Hell's Kitchen. As the night deepened and the restaurant lay quiet, Victor moved to the kitchen, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
"Lucien," Victor called, beckoning the vampire over. "How about a little treat to celebrate your new job?"
Lucien, ever the curious one, floated over with a playful grin. "What did you have in mind, chef?"
Victor opened a hidden compartment in the magistone refrigerator, revealing the stored leftovers and blood of the orc he had hunted earlier. "I thought we could have some blood soup. It's a delicacy you might appreciate."
Lucien's eyes lit up with genuine interest. "Blood soup, you say? How delightfully morbid. Show me your culinary magic, Victor."
Victor smirked and began gathering the ingredients. "Watch and learn. First, we need to prepare the broth."
He filled a pot with water and added ginger, garlic, and a few cloves, bringing it to a boil. "We start with a flavorful base. Ginger and garlic give it a nice kick."
Lucien leaned against the counter, watching intently. "And the blood?"
Victor stirred the pot, letting the aroma fill the kitchen. "Patience. We'll get to that."
Once the broth was simmering, Victor carefully measured out the orc's blood, straining it to remove any impurities. He added a pinch of salt and set it aside. "The key is to keep the blood smooth and well-mixed."
He then added chunks of orc belly and tofu to the pot, letting them cook until tender. "Orc belly for richness, and tofu to balance the texture."
Lucien sniffed the air, clearly enjoying the scent. "You really do know your way around a kitchen, Victor."
Victor rolled his eyes but couldn't help a small smile. "Of course I do. Now, for the main event."
He slowly poured the blood into the simmering broth, stirring gently to mix it evenly. The soup darkened to a rich, deep red. "You have to add the blood gradually, stirring constantly to prevent it from coagulating."
Lucien nodded, watching the transformation. "It looks... intriguing."
Victor tasted the soup, adjusting the seasoning with a bit of soy sauce and a dash of white pepper. "Just a few final touches. We want the flavors to meld perfectly." he said, elated.
After a few more minutes of simmering, Victor ladled the soup into two bowls, garnishing them with chopped cilantro and green onions. "And there we have it. Blood soup, ready to serve."
Lucien accepted the bowl with a nod of appreciation, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "You always did have a flair for the dramatic, Victor."
Victor smirked, raising his bowl. "To new beginnings, then. And to keeping this place running smoothly."
They clinked their bowls together, and Victor took a sip, savoring the rich, complex flavors. As the warmth of the soup spread through him, he couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. This was what Hell's Kitchen was all about—blending the macabre with the exquisite, creating something truly unique.
As they sat and ate, they began trading stories about their old assassin missions. Lucien's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Remember that time in Raven's Hollow? You nearly got us both killed with that stunt in the ballroom."
Victor chuckled, shaking his head. "You mean the time you insisted on masquerading as the duke's niece? Your getup was so convincing, I almost fell for it."
Lucien pouted theatrically. "Well, someone had to distract the guards. Besides, you enjoyed the show."
"Enjoyed it? I was too busy trying to keep us alive," Victor shot back, rolling his eyes. "And what about you in Moonshadow? Using that poor merchant as bait. Classic Lucien."
Lucien laughed, a melodic sound that filled the kitchen. "Ah, good times. He did have it coming, though. He was a double-crossing rat."
Victor nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. "True...you have to admit, we made quite the team. Even if we didn't always get along."
Lucien raised his bowl in a mock toast. "To old enemies and new friends. It's nice to finally belong somewhere after all that."
Victor raised his bowl in return, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie. "Yeah, it is."
As they continued to eat, the banter flowed naturally, filled with conversation and genuine laughter. In truth, deep down, they were friends; both of them were just loathe to admit it.
As they finished their meal, Victor couldn't shake the feeling that with Lucien by his side, Hell's Kitchen was poised for greatness—or utter chaos. Either way, it was bound to be an interesting ride.