2006, 8th February
Dublin, Ireland
Ciara threw back what the bartender had claimed was the strongest drink in the establishment with barely a grimace, as she waited for Aaron to arrive.
A meeting with Aaron when she was trying to play two of the most powerful crime lords in Europe against his faction would be a risky manoeuvre; for someone else.
For Ciara, it had been simple enough to track the people both Nolan and her own mother had set on her tail.
From then on, it had been a simple matter of disposing of them in various entertaining ways that could not possibly be traced back to her to pass the time.
She threw back another glass; perhaps her time with Apotheosis had influenced her more than she realised.
“Having fun?” Aaron asked her as he approached the table.
“Could be better, could be worse,” Ciara replied with a slight slurring of her speech, “You have any tails on you?”
“Not that I noticed, no. My father’s people are being hit hard; he can’t keep it together as well.”
Ciara frowned; joining Nolan and Maeve to work together required them to view Jack as a legitimate threat.
“Could Nolan have made a move earlier than we thought?”
“I don’t see how, unless he’s some kind of psychic and none of us ever noticed. I needed to see an information broker when one of the senators on my father’s payroll announced a visit to Ireland. Barely an hour in, I’ve broken into the man’s place to find him, but he’s been murdered and stuffed into his own vault.”
“Some solid educated guesses could have led someone to that guy. Or it’s just a coincidence, and he got killed by someone over a heated game of poker, though that’s less likely.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences. And my father’s people are getting hit hard, as I said. No coincidence there. Maybe your mother and Nolan made a move before we guessed. You should find out. I still haven’t decided whether I should save this ship or let it sink.”
“I’d take the latter option, personally,” A man emerged from the crowd, seating himself at their table with an air of authority.
Somehow, his movements seemed calculated and deliberate.
Almost mechanical.
There was something wrong here; Ciara and Aaron both immediately picked up on that fact.
“Who are y-”
“Aaron, shut up!”
“Ciara-”
“Shut. Up.”
“I came here for a conversation. Shutting up isn’t serving anyone,” The mysterious stranger told them.
“Who are you,” Aaron asked him.
“I am the one that has been attacking your father’s holdings.”
“Were you the one that killed-”
“Your information broker. Not personally, but I was responsible for it, yes.”
“Aaron… He’s not here..” Ciara choked out.
“What?”
“He’s not- he’s not here…”
The stranger blinked, eyes wide and glassy.
“Truly, you are the products of your parents. They were-”
The man stopped abruptly, as if he did not wish to expand on that sentence any further, and Aaron had the vaguest feeling he should take offence, though it was hard to take his eyes off Ciara, who had turned pale as a sheet.
“Ciara, what are you talking about?” He asked her, a forced calmness in his voice.
“The body isn’t his. It’s someone else’s psyche… Just looking at it.. God…”
“You are easily intimidated children. If this is all it takes to cow you, I would suggest a retreat before you find yourself with no escape left.”
“Alright, that’s enough-”
“Aaron!”
Ciara’s voice was filled with gut wrenching urgency, her breaths quick and shallow, perspiration beading on her forehead.
“Aaron, please…”
Aaron was fairly unnerved, and he sat back down; he may not like Ciara much, but he did not doubt her talent, and whoever this man was, she had seen something in him that struck her nearly insensate with fear.
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“Your families are parasites in my way. They will be crushed soon enough. I had hoped to see what potential you had, but it seems lacking. So stand back, or you will be crushed underfoot along with them.”
The mysterious stranger left their table, and they looked at each other hopelessly.
Ciara knelt her forehead down on the table, eyeing the rest of her bottle from the corner of her eye.
Aaron tried to contact Michael, but the call went ignored.
They were well and truly on their own.
“Whoever this is,” Aaron cautiously broached the matter at hand, “He’s clearly got some reach, and he knows how to use it.”
“He’s going to wipe them out anyway… I say we hang back, and let him,” Ciara said.
“Apotheosis won’t accept that. This guy isn’t just some vigilante, he has his fingers in a lot of places. And based on what he’s done so far, he’s in clear violation of our Non Interference policy.”
“Then they should damn well send someone better suited for this shit! Like a Talon! What the fuck are we supposed to do?”
“Talons are walking WMDs, they don’t just get deployed willy nilly… What the hell did you see in this guy anyway, that has you like this?”
Ciara merely answered with a deep sigh.
Aaron leaned back in his seat; if they were to get to the bottom of this, they couldn’t do it alone; they needed to get in bed with the very vipers they were here to kill.
“Ciara. We’re very likely on our own for this one. I need you to pull it together.”
“You didn’t see what I saw.”
“I didn’t. But that only means I need you to work with me. And just the two of us aren’t going to do anything.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“We need them to know there’s a common enemy for them out there.”
“We’ve already spent this much time convincing them to go for each other’s throats. They’ll never go for it now if we-”
Ciara trailed off as Aaron gave her a look.
“...Right. What was I thinking.. I just need to modify some memories..”
“You haven’t recovered from the shock of whatever you saw; I get that, but I need you functioning. There’s no way I can do this on my own.”
Ciara nodded as a cellphone buzzed in her purse.
She reached for it, and Aaron heard the screeching on the other end of the line, even without his enhanced perceptions.
Maeve wanted to see her.
Ciara drove back home, but her car came to a screeching halt as she found her mother being escorted away with several men, with police cars surrounding the place, and hastily pulled a sensory veil around herself and her vehicle, driving back out the same way she had arrived.
Things were progressing rapidly.
The tires of the car screeched, but were paid no attention to as the very thoughts of people slid off the veil, and Ciara made a beeline to see Nolan.
Nolan seemed busy, but not too busy all things considered.
He looked up at Ciara approaching him with a frown.
“I’m a little-”
“My mother has been arrested.”
The man sat up straighter in his seat.
“Has Jack made his move already?”
She shook her head.
“Jack seems to be taking heavy losses to his own business. You seem to have a competitor.”
Nolan growled.
“So- now that chief asshole has up and disappeared, worms start crawling out of the woodwork.”
He started pacing in his agitation.
“Well- good thing we were waiting before making a move against Jack. It seems we have to set that aside and unite for the sake of our survival again. Maeve won’t be out of the picture for long either, but we don’t know what’s next.”
He turned to Ciara and frowned.
“Well? What are you waiting around for? I don’t need you to stand around looking pretty; Brothels are your mother’s thing. Fuck off, I have some calls to be making.
Typical.
Ciara left the man to himself; now it was up to Aaron.
“Father, we need to talk.”
Jack Sterling had taken to his work with an almost religious rigour, pushing back to keep his organisation from sinking.
“What is it, Aaron?”
“Maeve O’Brien was just arrested.”
“And you know this how?”
“I have a talent.”
Jack took the explanation at face value; He knew his son had some talent he was not privy to, and very powerful people had sought him out for it.
He wouldn’t waste this information.
“Does Nolan know?"
“I believe Ciara may have escaped and told him.”
Jack frowned in displeasure; Ciara was talented the same way his son and Pierre, Nolan’s now seemingly deceased heir were, and it was that fact that had first brought them in contact with each other in the first place.
“Is Ciara working with Nolan now?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. My best guess is, she escaped the police, and went to the first place she could think of with this information.”
“I suppose it makes sense… And you always did have a habit of antagonising the girl.”
Aaron remained silent; It was true enough, and bringing up any defence now would waste both their time.
“I have to call Nolan,” Jack said, “If we are being targeted, then it behoves us to work together. For now. By then, I expect you to have equalised the playing field between us somehow regarding Ciara. By whatever means necessary.”
The implication was clear enough; either find some way to lure Ciara to favour Jack, or dispose of her.
“Maeve will probably be out shortly,” Aaron added.
“Indeed. I’ll have to do something about that as well.”
When they saw each other again later in the evening, Aaron asked Ciara if she was particularly attached to the idea of killing Maeve with her own hands.
“No. Why would I be? I’ll be fine as long as I can be rid of her…. Where is this coming from?”
“Nowhere.”
“You’re thinking of Nolan, aren’t you?”
Aaron’s face darkened noticeably.
“Will revenge really make you feel better?” Ciara asked him.
“I don’t want to hear any platitudes, Ciara.”
“I wasn’t going to offer any. If you think it’s best, knock yourself out.”
Then Ciara frowned, her eyes fixed on the television screen hanging on the wall of the bar they had chosen to rendezvous at.
“I have a feeling we’ve got the identity of the man who came to see us today. Or the body he was riding, at least.”
The incident had made national news; a reporter of some renown gunned down at a dropsite of illicit drugs he had somehow managed to infiltrate.
Apparently, their mysterious adversary’s masterstroke against Nolan had been played.
“This day just keeps getting better. And it’s still only been one day,” Aaron sighed.