“Guess if he won’t say it, I will,” Ay’s voice came muted through the thin panel separating Mask from the crew, but the meohr spoke boisterously enough that even a granny could have eavesdropped.
It was one of her deficiencies which had already been noted; it had been intentionally left unaddressed. At least so far. With the team solidifying and with plans in motion, it may be time to correct the bad habit. That, or relocate to a base with thicker walls.
However, for now, Mask used her volume as an opportunity to safely listen in without triggering any Talents in return.
“...Welcome to the team! Did Belobog already show you where I’m bunking?” Ay finished, soliciting as either a joke or something more. Regardless of which, it was not overly a concern. Unless the girl was foolish enough to develop emotional ties–which, now that he thought of it, she was foolish enough to do. He would consider nipping this problem in the bud when he returned. But for the moment, he let it be.
As the discourse wrapped up inside, Mask withheld any reaction that might disturb his surroundings in any way at all, breathing only a fraction of what baseline humans required. And when the bar’s inhabitants began to move about, Mask slipped away from his nook and padded away from Laverna’s Cup.
He was unsure if Jackie would be a boon or not, but it was undeniable that she had skill. The evening would tell, he supposed.
While he departed Laverna’s Cup, Mask let one persona drift apart while another took its place.
Most of the changes were subtle. But it was always the subtleties that mattered most.
His lips grew rigid, wrinkles appeared in some places while disappearing from others. Technically, none of these changes were the result of an alteration, but of skilled practice and application of facial control. But he doubted doing so would be as easy without some of his aids, he supposed. His shoulders rolled backwards and came across as a juxtaposition of both arrogance and wariness; overall unyielding, but still ready to hunch and bow if required. His gait increased in stride, placing more weight on his heels with each step.
In short, Mask ceased being a bartender and sometimes fence; instead, he became someone else, a man who appeared and acted as though he were important enough to avoid questioning if spotted, but not so wealthy as to trigger unwelcome curiosity. If he were to label this persona, he would call it that of an attending high-class accountant; one who felt some irritation at being called upon at such a late hour.
Mask continued climbing Blossom Hill, past the residences of the upper middle class and passing into the richer neighborhoods.
During this time, he passed several patrols of anxious Peacekeepers.
However, no action was required on his part. His act convinced them without more than a brief set of questions and a passover with a lantern. A minute’s delay, at most.
Humorously, the same could not be said for a few of the unlucky louts caught out that night. Mask passed more than one pulped and bloody corpse dragged off to the gutters. Mask found it ironic that these possible criminals or late-night adulterers had been caught and punished for a crime that they very much never committed.
None of this budding emotion showed upon Mask’s face, except for a sneer. He gave the messes a wide berth, to avoid staining his soles. Another face would have had a different reaction.
Traveling was made slightly more irksome on this night, though this was not due to the increased patrols. It was due to precautions he was forced to take. Afterall, Jackie had been correct in that regard: it was terrible operational security to travel direct routes.
Ironically though less humorously, the possible tail that concerned Mask the most was in fact Jackie. This concern had been one of the reasons he spent such a long time eavesdropping.
Thus far, he had failed to detect any shadow trailing him from the rooftops. But Jackie was skilled enough to avoid being easily seen. This necessitated certain measures.
After one patrol of Peacekeepers passed him by, he ducked into a shadow and took a long pause. With his keen ears and sight, he thought it likely he would detect any who followed him. After several minutes failing to prove anything, he dropped his mask and slipped on another, this time a man returning from a party, merry, sloshed, but of a high enough quality to avoid any aggressive actions from the law.
Enterprising thieves or muggers would be a concern, at least they would have been, had it not been for the enthusiastic patrols.
Mask followed the shadows through one alley, into another, and then emerged onto a street several blocks diagonal from where he had started. He faked a stumble and walked in a failure of a straight line, but all the while he kept his senses keen. Nothing was revealed. He even attempted humming a poor rendition of a popular upscale taproom song, as the volume would make any tail less cautious.
Unless the tail was as skilled as he suspected Jackie might be.
However, he refused to admit sloth into his routine just because of one girl that might avoid falling for such common tricks.
Was this paranoia? Perhaps, but Mask had forgotten the meaning of the word long ago. One had to.
Soon, he found a locked cellar belonging to an out of the way manor–the cellar itself remained obscured by a garden, only visible if one knew where to look.
Mask produced a key, unlocked the greased mechanism, and slipped in through a crack before relocking the door behind him, as well as sliding a bar into place. Even should the lock be picked, the bar would pose a challenge unless a more destructive means were deployed.
With this done, he dropped the act of a well off merry-making aristocrat and slipped into that of a footpad. Unnecessary, but some habits were beneficial to keep.
He stalked down an underground path, a tunnel carved into the stone that composed most of the Middens infertile kingdom, and he entered the gloom. Not a single light was used. Each step was probed first with his toes prior to taking his weight. His hands remained outstretched and bent, to detect any tripwire or trap. He remained somewhat crouched, reducing his profile further.
In such a way he traveled another block, taking advantage of the solitary tunnel before emerging once more into another manor’s gardens. This side was lacking a door of anysort, but the tunnel was well hidden by a wall and the cover of an ornamental tree.
From there, he continued onward with his stealth, traveling another three blocks and dodging all patrols with ease, until he finally arrived at his destination.
He let himself in through the back of an upscale apothecary before descending into its deeper than necessary basement. Once there, he lit a small lantern sitting atop a wooden table and he sat at one of the two plain chairs. He let his persona drop, entering the most neutral state he was capable of.
It was another sixteen minutes until he heard a faint click.
Seconds later, a small one-way spyhole closed with the very same click, followed by a pair of immaculate yet heavy shelves sliding further into the wall, revealing a yawning opening from which very little light was produced, and from which a woman draped in loose clothing and a deep hood emerged.
Mask remained where he had been all the while, sitting at ease yet observing every detail to the minutest degree. This included the woman who sat at the table across from him.
While the shadows and the scarf concealed much of her face, her eyes all but glowed in the scant light from the candle. This was the agent of his client. And while Mask may have had suspicions as to who his client was, and to who this agent was, he did his best to forget. Afterall, he frequently came in close contact with a psychic of some ability.
The silence thus remained for a minute longer as each the man and the woman regarded each other. Mask would have allowed this state to persist quite a while longer, a fact which the woman knew quite well. It was thus the woman that broke the silence by speaking first.
“Some details from the night’s endeavor have reached our ears, but they are likely exaggerated by rumor-mongering and intoxicated witnesses. What have you to report on the matter?” the woman asked, attending directly to the matter at hand. Mask appreciated the habit.
“A substantial amount,” Mask answered. “What matter should I report on first?”
The woman considered briefly before answering, “Begin with the results, if you would.”
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An easy enough task, Mask thought. He had already reviewed their objectives and their achievements several times on his way here. Unfortunately there were scant material gains to prove their success, at least not that he had been permitted to catalog.
“All of our primary objectives were accomplished with no losses,” Mask said. “The location and identity of our assets remains unknown, despite several security risks that will need to be resolved.”
He was thinking of several bad habits that the crew had developed, although he felt a twinge of disappointment when the woman refused to take the bait.
“And as for our secondary objectives?” she prompted.
“Mixed results,” Mask said. “Our newest asset triggered an alarm while accessing Baron Ore’s safe.”
“And yet all primary objectives had been accomplished,” the woman said, tapping her chin. “She managed to gain access regardless?”
“Correct. The asset exploited unknown means to crack the safe and secure its contents.”
Again, he laid bait. And again, it was left ignored.
“Which of the secondary objectives were failed?” the woman asked, instead of requiring of withheld capabilities from their newest asset.
The woman continued, “From the rumors spreading, the baron suffered much embarrassment. From the deaths alone, I expect a certain amount of instability to result.”
“That is true,” Mask admitted. “The newest asset was quite effective at stirring the pot. Much more so than any of us anticipated.” After allowing the observation to settle, Mask offered another supposition without prompt. “It could be argued that she succeeded too well. A larger target has been set upon her as a result. This will make future operations more difficult.”
Whe woman waved the concern off. “That was always to be the case. An artifact such as a Grimoire cannot be stolen without raising significant ire…” she paused, a hint of worry seeping into her voice. “There was a Grimoire recovered?”
“Yes,” Mask said, before adding a caveat. “My inspection was brief, but I observed this is either a convincing forgery or a genuine article.”
“Do you doubt that this was our target?” she asked for his professional opinion on whether the baron had duped the team or if the baron had perhaps been duped himself.
“If it is a forgery, which I find unlikely, then I doubt it was planted by the baron.”
“I am of a similar opinion,” the woman said. “The man is a horrid actor and all reports show him as livid regarding the loss.”
“Then it is likely genuine,” Mask said. The topic was near enough to one of his greater concerns that he broached the next topic. “Should the Grimoire be spent so frivolously?” Mask asked with perhaps a touch of unfeigned concern, though even he was unsure if that was what he felt.
“The asset, Jackie of no-surname, was promised it as payment,” the woman stated. “According to Belobog, that was the asset’s primary motivation in joining the team and for performing this job.”
“Correct,” Mask affirmed.
“Then, you are suggesting we remove the asset from play?”
Mask shrugged slightly. “I suggest we consider doing so, at the very least,” he said.
The woman mused, but not for an overly long time. She snapped her fingers and made a decision of sorts.
“Then consider it we shall,” she said. “Though I expect a decision and action would be required promptly, if we do decide to remove it altogether.”
Mask affirmed her assumption and added additional confirmation verbally. “She would not have used the artifact yet, but likely within the next several hours.”
“Then such considerations would not be entirely without merit, I suppose,” she said. “Very well, state your reasoning.”
Mask kept emotion from his voice as he quickly stated his reasons. To him, it was just good business.
“The movement could put such a Grimoire to good use elsewhere. While our newest asset is competent, her short to mid-term value is much less than the worth of the Grimoire. Were we to remove the Grimoire from play, then we would necessitate the removal of our newest asset. As quite a few enemies were made tonight, I expect additional value could be derived from spending the asset as a balm to soothe burnt aristocrats.”
“What of the asset’s value?” the woman asked. “The assistance of a capable infiltrator, thief, and possible assassin would be a great boon.”
“Are any missions slated for the next several weeks?” Mask asked, already knowing the answer.
The woman’s eyes narrowed and her lips likely pursed beneath her scarf.
“No,” she said. “Orders are to remain low and to make little to no waves.”
“Then what value would the asset have, except in the long term? Will we still have the asset’s loyalty at that time?”
“From what we know?” she asked. “Yes, I believe so.”
“Those files need to be appended,” Mask stated somewhat abruptly.
“Is this relevant?” the woman asked with a cautious voice that sounded a touch weary.
“Perhaps,” Mask said. “The asset is not human.”
“Deviant, then?” the woman asked.
“No…” Mask trailed off. “I am unsure of what nature asset is exactly, but it seems to be some nature of beast.”
The woman exhaled, deflating slightly.
“This is a detail that should have been caught earlier. How was this missed for so long?”
“A competent disguise or illusion,” Mask theorized. “LIkely, she has received a Spell at some point.”
“Another Grimoire?” she asked. Her voice sounded slightly incredulous.
“Unknown,” Mask stated.
“This is a somewhat pertinent detail, indeed,” the woman said, finally aligning with Mask’s own thoughts.
“Exactly,” Mask said. “It would be possible for the asset to escape our grasp with little planning or forethought.”
“That is one possible perspective,” the woman said.
Mask tilted his head slightly, making an effort of demonstrating his confusion.
“I take it that you disagree?”
“Only somewhat,” the woman said. “I agree that she could escape our grasp easily, but this is due to her ability and competence. This has only increased her value to our organization. I can imagine great use of such a person in the future. Her loyalty is to be secured, not spurned.”
Mask deflated slightly. “Then, it shall be done,” he said.
“Excellent. She will fit in well with that team, considering its constituency. If additional incentives are required, request them with haste.”
“Noted.”
“With considerations closed, which secondary objectives failed?”
“Less wealth was taken than expected,” Mask said.
“Drastic?”
“Only the one safe was breached. None of the secondary targets were taken.”
“I imagine our asset was in something of a hurry after the alarm sounded,” the woman said, tapping her chin. Her tone was not amused, but it was leaning that way. “Was this a point of contention with the team?”
“It was, yes.”
“And?” she prompted.
“Resolved internally.”
“Good. Very good,” the woman said. Her voice made it sound as though she were now smiling.
She likely was musing all of the benefits that would be derived from the evening’s events, and Mask was content enough to remain silent himself.
After some time, the woman began filling in Mask on some of the potentially relevant context. While this was largely unnecessary, it showed a certain amount of trust. That Mask knew she was sharing largely to improve rapport between him and her was immaterial to the woman. Mask mused that it was always possible that she had failed to perceive his apathetic profile, but he doubted her skill to be so lacking. And besides, sometimes the context would become relevant.
“Baron Ore has sent demands for every establishment to be turned over, from the least hovel to the most influential mansion. He even included Princess Marissa in his initial demands. After some less than gentle protest, his demands were scaled down. Additionally, he lacks the manpower to perform his desired search. His men know it. He ought to know it. The fact that his men will likely choose not to fully implement his orders but claim that they did will likely further ruin his reputation.”
“And the rumors spreading about Princess Marisssa! Did our asset encounter her?”
Mask’s eyes widened a fraction. “I am unsure. Why?”
“She apparently helped pursue the thief. In her pursuit, she killed and wounded several of the baron’s staff.”
“Jackie did?”
“No, the princess. From the rumors, her intervention in the matter was largely incendiary.”
“Do we know her angle?”
“We are not yet sure, but she is likely readying for her own takeover.”
“I see. Has the baron withdrawn from the centennial games?” Mask asked, curious.
“No, not as of yet, at least so far as we have determined,” the woman answered.
“If he plans on continuing, then I am interested to discover what incentives he plans on using.”
The woman huffed a faint laugh.
“I am certain that your crew of thieves is as well,” the woman said, clearly amused this time. “When we know more, likely another job will be scheduled.”
As this became something closer to a discussion between equals, Mask allowed himself to slip perhaps a bit too far towards the casual end of the spectrum.
“I am concerned though,” he said. “Are we not weighing the scales too heavily in Princess Marissa’s direction?”
The woman scoffed. “So long as the city fails in the games, we remain indifferent to the city’s political climate.”
“Even if she–” Mask began, although the woman cut him off, reminding him of the differences in station.
“-I will not be going into speculative details regarding Kwin Red,” she snapped. “You know this.”
“I suppose I do,” Mask said with a neutral tone.
After some further discussion, Mask raised his final concern.
“Without any immediate tasks, it is possible that the team’s skills and cohesion will worsen.”
The woman stood from her seat as he mentioned this, although she appeared unbothered in the slightest.
“And yet, further stirring the kettle at this time will harm our efforts more than aid. The guidance remains.”
“How then, should I keep the team occupied?” Mask asked, privately doubting that the organization would grant him any immediate solution, but going through the efforts to voice his complaints all the same in the hopes of better future treatment.
The woman clicked her tongue.
“I trust that you will strive to find a way,” the woman said, turning back to her still unclosed entrance.