𝗚𝗔𝗡𝗬𝗠𝗘𝗗𝗘.ᴬᴾ

nconangel​:    “And here I thought our relationship only went past you breaking my arm after sparring, and giving you checks, Jaybird.” He leans back in his chair, the grin on his face easy and welcoming. “Is there anything you want to share with me, or is this a game of twenty questions, because I don’t guess well and I’m shit at detective work.”

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓, 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓,  and the occasion would feel like a rare treat were it not for the fact that he had purposely waited for it to be so. the roil in his gut reminds him that he ought to feel a sense of guilt for hiding ––– but his sense of self preservation outweighs the churning of his stomach. the quiet tick of the clock on the wall is an unrelenting metronome that offsets the way his footfalls seem to echo in the still silence as his boots strike the floor.

                                                                his eyes.                                                     do they look like mine ?

the question had been innocent enough at the time ;  the dread had come later, when the autopsy revealed––– either high levels of evo poisoning or, yes, the man had been a SOLDIER. the dread, then, had creeped in slowly. he hadn’t recognized the man, not by his face ;  and the SOLDIER corps wasn’t big enough for jace to truly forget a face. was it? or was his memory now slipping so fast?  not that he’d ever been a particularly social butterfly, but he knew ––– was certain ––– the man couldn’t have been 1st class. regardless, the implications plagued him, and the thought of SOLDIERs turning up dead at doorsteps was just another to tack onto his worries: he and fox being classified as deserters, after everything.

the physical evidence was under lock and key, but the key, he knew, was easily found if one knew where to look. he twirls it between his fingers now, eyeing the glint of the metal, the pale light of dawn reflected back at the window as it slants through the outer wall and the plate above. his top row of teeth have bitten his bottom lip raw by now, his deliberation as he twirls the key back and forth almost never ending. if he finds what he expects to in the evidence lock up, it further cements his fears. 

screw this, he thinks, and stalks across the room in quick strides before he shoves the key into the lock. it turns with a satisfying click before he’s pulled the drawer open, reached inside, and withdrawn a single bag with a single bullet. holding it up to the light, he turns it this way and that, until unnatural eyes catch the fine engraving.

                                                            R.H.    /    O.P.

❛ ah–––––– ❜    but the moment is interrupted ;  a splitting pain shooting white hot through his temple, jace drops the bag, and it falls to the floor with a muted clatter as his hands come to grip his head. wincing, his breath hitches as flashes of fuzzy memory swim in and out of his vision: an outstretched hand, palm open and reaching ;  the dull aspect of a warm voice drowned out by the blur of faulty memory ;  the weight of his broadsword at his back heavier, somehow, feeling the shape of the handle in his hands as they fall from his hair, empty. his fingers flex around the phantom weight as he stares with saltwater eyes.

swallowing the wild thumping of a rabbiting heart in his throat, he reaches back to pull his weapon from behind him: sees initials, there, at the hilt, but does not recognize either pair as his own. there is pain still pressing in, narrowing his vision as it throbs at the base of his skull and blooms over half his face. but it has dulled some, the acuteness of the sudden onset fading.

placing his sword once more at his back, he pulls his phone from his pocket and flips it open to shoot a quick text.

                                                   message                                        to: boss                                        subject:                                        msg: hq. asap.

                                       7:52

hqjupiternpcs​:               When the pair of ex-SOLDIERS walk into the bar,   they see the scattered remains of last night’s celebrations.   Tables shoved together,    chairs tipped over–   some with patrons still sleeping on them–   and a mix of bottles and peanuts decorating the floor that’s currently being sweeped by a frowning waiter.   At the bar counter,   they spot the only customer still awake and kicking.   Dirk Wynn is in the process of ordering a drink from a bartender who openly casts her suspicions of Dirk’s ability to pay his growing tab,   serving him with a mild look of contempt as he waves his coin code back and forth while he promises that he has enough to pay it off. 

       Upon their entrance,   Dirk leans against his chair and turns his head towards them,   giving them a casual once-over before returning to his bargained-for drink. @kieranfox​ & @jupitermerc​.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋,  pungent old peanuts and the sickly sweet scent of spilled liquor. jace’s nose scrunches up the second they step foot into the place: for all the world, he’s smelt immensely worse things in his life, growing up beneath the slums and then again in the corps ––– but nothing quite compared to a bar after the summer solstice. the crunch of shells under his boots serve as a reminder.

nconangel​:    𝚂𝙾𝙻𝙳𝙸𝙴𝚁𝚂 aren’t something one exactly comes across, but in his experience with the two in his employment, they’re something you’re glad to have in your back pocket. Especially with the current turn of events. A dead body at a party—it was almost something out of a crime serial; the next thing you know, Angel would say that the butler did it, if they had enough discretionary funds to have one.

“No rest for the wicked, I suppose,” he replies, looking at the dead man being fussed over by Hiromi. He doesn’t have the capability, nor the desire to understand what they were doing, cutting open someone to gain clues, but it seems better than standing around doing nothing. At least he had a drink in hand. “Do you think this’ll be over by next week, or do I need to clear out half the calendar for this, J? In your… professional opinion.”

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐒.  the casual way with which it’s spoken something that pricks his skin and roils in his gut ;  feeding an ire he liked to think he kept a fairly tight lid on  ( he did not ).  the tick of muscle at the bolt of his jaw was evident enough of the sentiment gone unspoken. angel had become ––– perhaps not a friend, a colleague was a colleague, but angel’s the one that cut the paycheck. besides, jace still felt a sliver of dread any time he recalled their last sparring match.

hiromiono​:    she examines the threads with great care, the way they seem to be pulled apart: unraveling. “neither,” she resolves, “general wear has weakened the fabric and during the altercation and flight he must have ripped and torn right through. although there’s some that appear to have been caught on something perhaps while he was attempting to climb something.” 

as she takes the coat and shirt off the body, the tearing becomes the least of her concern. the first thing she notices are the scars, thick and white ridges that cross and dot his muscular form. all of them vary in size, depth, and style. “he must have been a fighter,” she said, “or got into a lot of fights. there’s many different weapon wounds here. long since healed.” 

the freshest marks on his upper half are also the best clue she’s gotten so far as to what might of happened to him. red, blistering rings around his wrists. “he appears to have been tied up,” she says, eyeing the fact that all of his arms are quite bruised, “and handled quite roughly. judging by the level of abrasions on his wrists, he was either tied up for some time or attempted to break his bonds. there isn’t enough signs of healing to denote that he was tied up for more than a week, but it’s hard to say.”  

“do we know anything about this man? his name?” 

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇,  and he takes all of a heartbeat to be half impressed as evo – laced eyes swept the corpse to follow along with her assessments. but the scars ––– the moment the fabric was peeled away to reveal a myriad of mottled skin, long healed here, or there ––– he felt a creeping sense of dread. pushing off from his place at the doorway, arms falling ;  he takes careful steps, quiet footfalls amplified by the silence of the train graveyard, and crosses to hiro’s side, kneeling by the body next to her.    ❛ don’t know his name, ❜    jace admits.    ❛ but these scars... ❜    he trails off, uncertain of his question.

jupitersummon​:         In his long life, Belladonna has been called many things by SOLDIERs. Lizard is among the more tepid of insults. He has heard them all. Lizard, reptile, beast, monster, worm. Fifty two years ago, he was in possession of a commanding officer that liked to call him snake. He has heard worse. So much worse. So it’s not that word that makes him react; it’s the other word that does it. Pet.

His sunglasses have barely finished shattering underneath Fox’s boot when Belladonna moves, his palm jamming up against the soft, vulnerable underside of Fox’s jaw, fingers clenched tight around the human’s cheeks. He tilts Fox’s neck back until it strains, and leans in close, a barely restrained snarl baring sharp teeth.

“For what you just called me, I would extract an apology from you,” he hisses. “Willingly or by force, it matters not.” He exhales, the sound like a far-off earthquake, too-cold breath hitting Fox’s cheek. “Now say you’re sorry.”

kieranfox​:                   Had Belladonna meant to scare him, his attempts are proven fruitless by the steadiness of Fox’s heartbeat. It does not fasten its pace; does not skip a beat — it does not change any more than the rest of his composure does. In human form, Belladonna hardly seems like much of a threat to the soldier. Common sense would argue that he’d be wise not to underestimate the summon, but arrogance beats the little voice of reason inside of his head. Fox is certain that  the same pride is evident in his eyes, unblinking. Even from the uncomfortable angle he is coerced into.

That is not to say that he isn’t bothered by the fingers currently digging into his skin. Not fear; annoyance — yet despite it all, he cannot help but to scoff at the ridiculous command that his cold breath carries. “ So you do have a sense of humor, after all. ” 

Whatever hint of amusement had sparked inside of him fades as fast as it had come. Belladonna’s wrists are jerked away by force, and within that same movement, Fox presses his hands against the male’s chest and shoves him out of the way. He’s got half the heart to simply exit, and another half filled with anger he’s got yet to release. Instead of leaving, his eyes narrow at the man in front of him; fingers curling and uncurling into a fist. “ Stay out of my way. I mean it. ” 

𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇,  every intent to cross their quarters to his bike to prepare her to carry a bulking bag of dead weight, so to speak  ( admittedly, blue eyes might have also been on the look out for a particular brunette before he departed ;  but if one were to so much as breathe the word co – dependent around either of them, they’d be just as likely to lose their head ).  casual in his stride as he adjusts the leather of his gloves, snug over his knuckles before they come into view ––– jace hears the voices before he sees them, truly. but the split second between one moment and the next isn’t enough for his whirring mind to formulate all the right questions. he already knows what the curl, clasp, and release of fox’s fingers means.

hiromiono​:    she regards him with a faint, reassuring smile. hiro has never been the type to dismiss any extra company, especially during such troubling incidents, but she also didn’t need anyone around. if she felt they could not handle the ‘heat’, so called, she would ask them to leave as kindly as possible. just as she did with eriksa. 

“perhaps that’s a good role for you to resume. unless, of course, you’d like to be more hands on.” she sighs, wishing there was an adequate table to perform the autopsy on. but no such luck. she’d worked with less. she knelt by the body and unfurled her kit of supplies, “i will be dictating my findings to you as i work. for the sake of posterity and my own clarity of thought. no need to write it down. i’ll be recording and documenting it.” 

she flips the device on her wrist and presses the button to audio record. before lifting her arm and taking a snapshot of the entire body. 

“bloody and torn clothes,” she speaks, her voice clear and steady, “blood centralized on the chest and left thigh. wear and tearing throughout.” hiro begins to unbutton his shirt, “apparent bullet wound in mid-chest. likely cause of death. further bruising.” 

she glances up at the soldier at the door. non-verbally checking in on him before she proceeds. 

𝐆𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐓.  not that he hadn’t seen worse, exactly ––– more that he hadn’t seen anything quite so graphic in his time since leaving SOLDIER. unless, of course, one counted the sound of a blade slicing open the belly of a monster for all the bowels to gush out: but that was pretty standard for a merc. not every doomrat stayed outside the wall, and everyone in the slums knew not to travel through the scrapyards at night. which, jace thought, might’ve slipped this guy’s mind. he glances up from his place leant in the doorway, arms folded over his chest ;  ankles crossed as he’d listened to her work, the heel of a boot occasionally tapping the toe of the other as he waited. with a curious, narrowed gaze, he asks,    ❛ those tears ––– claws or knife ? ❜    

hiromiono​:    It’s been quite some time since she’s done one of these. And never before on a body so intact. Most of the autopsies she’d performed in the past were for the sake of ensuring the monster had not infected or planted something in the body which could gestate. This was all so …normal. It almost made her uncomfortable, the thought that the body in front of her could have been killed by a human. Gulping down her trepidation, she looked to the figure at side. 

“Have you ever performed an autopsy before?” 

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄.  he’s perfectly aware of what the others might have heard about SOLDIER ––– but he’s got a feeling hiro’s own military experience begs the question out of what might be a better sense of familiarity. whether SOLDIER or not: he knew neither of them to be strangers to dead bodies. he just hopes this one has fairly minimal post mortem bruising from being placed over the back of his bike and driven through the slums.

oftaran​:    “This can’t be the first body you’ve dealt with, right?” Taran asks, lip curling in amusement as he regards the former soldier. He’d made the mistake once, and learned from it. Former was key. It wasn’t exactly Taran’s first body either, but he wasn’t about to boast about that. “I trust you could transport it without jostling any evidence around?” @jupitermerc​