liam griffiths

The door opened at last, receiving a quick glance from Solomon who no longer took chances, even in War territory. Last time someone had walked in uninvited, they’d ended up having to stay the night. The hand that had lingered on the holstered gun eased back down at the tall sight of Liam, and the Dominion went back to staring at the near-gone man, holding back the whistling, allowing the expensive room to be awash in the sounds of breathing ( one erratic and wheezing, two very alive but steady ) and the locking of the door. It’s an impenetrable fortress as the killer looked at the target, whose eyes were too closed to meet his: maybe he was gloating in a silent pride, basking on the beauty of his man-made carnage. A task achieved in overmeasure. And yet, there was something rigid in the way he stood, muscles tight like rope and breathing so controlled it was mechanical, in, out, in, out. Unlucky bastard. It repeated in his brain even as Liam spoke, but he can wait, damn him. Unlucky bastard, who didn’t realise that Gabrielle Warden held the bloody city, the bloody country, even a growing chunk of the bloody world in her blood marked hands. Unlucky bastard, who thought War wouldn’t invade and obliterate, who saw them as a distant conflict with smoke rising and no consequences. It was the kind of pity that hit him at times when looking at the primordial enemies of War, new ones as well - they don’t know that they’re fighting a losing fight. It could have been him once, a clueless low level criminal unaware of the minefield London truly was. Oh, how she could have eaten him alive. 

You lucky bastard. 

Solomon turned back as the silence had stretched into a near minute since the other’s question. “Took a moment. That’s not the point, though.” The knife in hand, a clean and shining one, was swirled so that his gloved hand held the deadly blade, black handle turned to the other. He’d switched his mind on the interest for an audience. “Thought I’d ask if you wanted to share a little back alley glory.” It wasn’t a test. Sol had done far enough of those, and eventually it was clear that all he had for it was negative marks, so there wasn’t much of a point. Liam was committed enough, or Solomon would blow his head in himself. Instead, it was a genuine acknowledgement of his view on Liam’s luck. To be picked for the winning team, instead of the body bag. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let ya do the hard work and then claim the spoils myself.” It’s a nicety, in a way, and Lord, has he not been nice to him lately. “Thought it could be a bit like, uh, dunno, cathartic? Hotel, someone getting in business they shouldn’t, ends up as a problem that needs taking care of. Except big man over here didn’t get a membership out of it.”

Back alley glory? Liam mulls the words over quietly for a moment before shaking his head and taking a seat far from the scene as he can manage, idly working at the band of his watch to slip it safely away in the pocket of his jacket. he did not want it coming into contact with blood nor cleaning agents. “Not exactly my idea of glory,” he doesn’t exactly know what his idea of glory would be actually, maybe simply getting away from all of this damned gang business one day but that was certainly an idea far out of his reach for the time being. 

He had hoped that Solomon would be done by now, the deed done and the time they would have to spend in each other’s presence minimal. But it seemed like tonight was a night that the other man decided to play with his food, to droll on with a twisted monologue that only sought to widen the eyes of the man in the chair. He shook with a fear that Liam was loath to say he was long desensitized to. 

He didn’t fancy himself any sort of executioner any more than he did judge or jury. He didn’t know what this man had done and he didn’t want to know. Who was he to determine how they met their end? He sure as hell didn’t need the facts of whether or not the messes he had to clean up were deserved or justified or not. The dreams that followed his sleep from time to time didn’t need more fuel for the flames. “We have a schedule to keep to, do we not?”

Liam brings up Solomon and Kashvi thinks, with displeasure, how these grudges between the two men are still alive. She prefers not to speak of her Dominion in front of her Power and vice versa: Liam is a sore spot for Sol, and well — whatever inhibitions Liam might hold towards his Dominion weren’t entirely unfounded. Kashvi considers her words as she chews on an appetiser, not entirely fond of the insinuation that she and her partnered Dominion might disagree on something ( which they often did ) and that it could lead to issues ( which it hadn’t, yet ).

“You getting a higher position is nothing but a benefit. Besides, your work for War will remain the same,” she says. Just because Liam wouldn’t be cleaning up after tourists any more, didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be helping clean in other ways. “If he makes it an issue, let me know. I’ll talk to him.” Conversations about Liam had been had aplenty, with Kashvi suggesting that Solomon ought to let go of the bitterness he reserved for himself, Liam and the situation that had led to their agreement. She’ll tell Solomon not to make anything out of this, remind him that Liam stepping it up in a Warden-owned company was good. “But it shouldn’t be a problem.” There’s something like assurance in her tone, a determination too. Kashvi refused to have this good thing be twisted by bitterness.

“Do you intend to bring it up, during your meeting with him?” Meeting, here, meaning body-clean-up, of course. Kashvi considers her tiny plate with tinier bites and decides to refocus on Liam. “Or do you want to wait until things are definitive? Might be smarter.” She wasn’t going to ask how he felt about his upcoming job, the role of it, the blood of it. Clean up wasn’t pretty work, but Liam had done it long enough that Kashvi had faith that it would go over well. 

.

As much as he didn’t particularly care to voice it, Liam had always thought that Kashvi was a good balance to her counterpart. Where Solomon was ever unnerving, she was constant in her ability to reassure - even if her methods were sometimes a little outside the conventional. Their crew had always been always stood on shaky ground as far as comradery went and where Solomon was not exactly a people person, and Kashvi certainly made up for that. She was at least a little easier to take orders from than Solomon. He didn’t particularly want to consider what it would be like, or where he would be, if Kashvi had been cut from the same cloth as the other.

He nods in the end, inclining his head and setting down the empty appetizer plate on an empty surface. “Maybe. Not sure. We’ll see how things go, I guess.” Liam glanced down at his watch to catch the time, briefly making a mental note to remove the accessory before he got to work. It only took one instance of painstakingly cleaning up blood between the links for him to never want to do that again. He boxed up the thought with the rest of his worries. He couldn’t be too distracted tonight. And with a final glance between the stage and the door that Greer had slipped out of, he turned to give Kashvi a stilted smile. “I should get going. I’ll talk to you later - thanks again, really.” 

Mitzi: I would say you could have tried and replace me but I don't think you would have been able to find anyone that compares to my exquisite taste so it's a good thing you don't have to break the chefs heart like that

Mitzi: Ha. Ha. Ha.

Mitzi: You're acc being such a dick, it's not a cute look on you

Mitzi: What would I need to do to get it out of you?

Mitzi: Just tell meeeeee

Mitzi: Also you're right, Rita is unstoppable...but if you give my cousin your Thames disease then I'd have to hurt you

Liam: Ah, yea, can't have that happening can we?

Liam: Hmm, you're smart I'm sure you'll figure something out

Liam: Ah, I've got to run. If I put off feeding my cat any longer he's going to start toppling bookshelves, the menace

     The local arcade had been one of the few ways to entertain himself in the small town he grew up in and in the military, between rounds of beer, he and his troop would visit them too if they were available. Simple fun. And it feels as if it’s apart of another life, one before his occupation strayed into criminal territory, simple almost equating to innocent in memory, and there’s a creeping sense of nostalgia that takes over him as he watches a pair of kids duke it out on the game in front of them. 

     At Liam’s reaction to the plastic fake, Domenico chuckles, perking a brow in curiosity as he looks at the other man, “You never been to one of these places before?” He begins thinking of other toys mimicking weapons, adding another question, “You ever played with a Nerf gun?” Stepping up, the Dominion aims the gun at the word START on the screen, pulling the trigger to begin the next round. “I would’ve thought the birthday guy would have chosen a place you knew you liked.”

“Both of my parents were rigorous academics, a kid spending time in a place like this would have been nothing but a waste of time for them and me. Academia was their life and so it must be mine too, no?” Liam gave a wistful look around the venue briefly before turning his attention back to the screen. “Can’t say arcades were exactly at the top of my list of things to do when I finally peeled myself away from my studies and had enough agency to explore the world.” 

where. – the ritz.

when. – 10th of june, 2021.

@lgriffiths​

at the very end of a purposefully left empty line of rooms, behind a locked door, a whistled tune filled the space. it was a rather cheerful line of sounds, resulting from the heightened mood that had erupted in solomon ever since the victory of the thames. the target in front of him was not yet gone, but might as well be - pale and silent, asleep and soon for good. this was the kind of work he’d always done for war, once they’d realised romero was a natural assassin, brimming with potential, should he be given the right skills and logistics. once upon a time, he was even known for his quick clean work, but by now he’s got a much more specialized fixer in liam, so less of a worry in his mind. all that remains is the goal, and taking his damn time with it. in a way, he was rather grateful to be confined in that room instead of outside, at the meeting, doing any kind of group-effort work ( working with liam doesn’t really count as a collaboration ). some particulars still bothered him, but in that very moment, in the silence only interrupted by his own tune and by the rough breathing of the other human in the room, a grotesque peace washed over him. they’d sunk death. the famine partnership didn’t end in disaster. kashvi was fully moved in with him. his favourite jeweler had called back that morning, confirming that an ordered watch had arrived. the major and minor all combined into the perfect mood, shared with the unlucky bastard zip tied in the chair. 

with all his questions answered, and a rather long kill ever extended, solomon is pretty much done. the assassin takes a look at his wristwatch and groans, lowering himself right in front of his target - a clean sharp knife dangling from one hand, the other in a bloodied glove, elbow resting on his knee, fist holding up his head. “now where do you think liam is?” the room is already prepped by the cleaner, but solomon wishes to hold off the end for him to see. if anything, as a tradition: not that solomon wants to have any with liam, he’d certainly say, but because it was the one thing they did in good sync. perhaps it is even a testament to all that could have been, had sol kept on with his original plan for liam, rather than ditching him in the wolfs’ den the moment he regretted dragging him in. little traditions that were founded on forced loyalties and a relationship that never materialized. liam also provided an audience, which made the conclusion of his solitary work forcefully acknowledged. if something was to be done well, regardless of how inhumane, than it was deserving of appraisal. 

For most people the shareholder’s event had begun at a brisk 11AM, but for Liam his day had begun far earlier, starting with the outfitting of a room prepared for a murder. He hates this kind of pre-established death, arranged in a schedule with its very own time card, but all the same it allows Liam a rare opportunity to make the clean up for after a little bit easier. Tarps and plastic sheeting, delicate furniture moved to appropriate sides of the room, windows shaded and the appropriate tools for clean up stowed and ready. The surrounding rooms above, below and neighboring blocked off in availability to keep prying ears from suffering a similar fate. Even a kit for Solomon was in the room, saltines and all, if he needed. 

After parting ways from Kashvi’s company, Liam had slipped out of the ballroom, heading towards the arranged room with no particular urgency. He’d had more than his fair share of encounters cleaning up after people’s messes as War’s reluctant cleaner, but he didn’t particularly care for observing just how the messes came to be. He already had enough of a imaginative subconscious, he didn’t need any more actual memories to all but add to the realism of his dreams. He had plenty enough of that already.

Unease twists in his stomach the closer he ventured to the room; for all the times that he’d had to clean up and tolerate Solomon’s presence, it never got any easier. As he exited the elevator, he carefully began to fold the sleeves of his jacket up, making his way up the empty hallway in relative silence. And then he stood before the door in question, the realization not lost on him how very much this paralleled the first time he’d met the man and subsequently been caught in the maw of War. With a deep measured breath, he palmed a key card against the lock with an unassuming ‘Do Not Disturb’ placard hanging from it, and let himself inside. What he found was an unfortunately still breathing target and a seemingly impatient Solomon Romero. Liam backed his heel against the door, pushing it closed with a click that seemed to echo in the room. He lingered near the door for a moment, taking in the scene. The man was... not in good shape. “...He not talking or something?” He asked after a moment, wanting to ask without outright asking why the fellow was still alive. 

Her gaze sticks to her father’s back for a moment, fondness painted on her features as she watches Dhaval mingle. For all his faults – and there are plenty, numerous, a staggering amount that Kashvi doesn’t voice unless in Solomon’s or Remus’ company – he is good at this. She supposes she is too, considering so much of what happens at these events is based on charm and feigned personability. Her mother’s warm spirit lives forth in Kashvi and it helps, here.

But with Liam, at least, there’s no complete urge for pretense. The Power knows of all else she does for the Warden’s, besides being a business partner and future CEO, if all goes right. And it’s not like Kashvi doesn’t find a certain amount of enjoyment in the fact that so many people here do not know of all that goes on behind closed doors ( as she does: there’s something thrilling about well-kept secrets ), but it’s still nice to be around someone who knows more of her than most here. Her gaze travels from her father to the stage, to Greer’s absence. 

Kashvi is quick to snatch a few hors d’oeuvres herself, giving them a quick one over before placing something meaty-looking on Liam’s plate. “Don’t think that one’s vegetarian,” she explains, before giving him a look that tells him she’s listening. She hopes Liam had grown his vague ambition into something more substantial, and as he asks for her favour with an opening position she gives a small smile. “Peggy, she’s a good woman.” Kashvi certainly knew her, if only because of her own late nights spent working on the arsenal and the fact that Peggy didn’t ask questions. She’d send her flowers, once she was properly retired, she decides. “I can do that, yes. It’d be good to still have you at the hotel, and you see even more as a night manager besides.” The fact that Liam is willing to step up, too, is a good sign: maybe this could mean that he’s no longer feeling like someone backed into a corner, but someone wanting to make the best of an unexpected situation. “I’ll put in a good word with management and the Wardens.” Maybe having a taste of nepotism would warm Liam up a little more, too. Her face scrunches up in disgust. “That sounds … horrid. Time to get you away from such warzones, I think. I studied in the States, you know, so I mingled with my fair share of American students. Stories like this make me glad I never did the dorm life.” 

There is relief in his shoulders at her words as he nibbles on the appetizers neatly. The smile on his lips is slight, but its there and its genuine. He’s sure that perhaps the excitement at doing something else besides cleaning rooms on the daily might be a bit more outward if it weren’t for the anticipation lingering for what he must do in no short amount of time. The food he eats, while he knows it tastes decent on a normal occaision, 

“Thank you, really. I appreciate it.” And he does mean it, because for all the years that he’s had to ‘warm up to’ War by being pulled in through the unfortunate happenstance of being the wrong place at the wrong time, the choice between cleaning a mess and becoming a part of it, Kashvi is one of the few above him in the hierarchy of War that he thinks he can trust to air some of his dissatisfactions with the potential for solutions and not fear of immediate reprimand looming over him. It may have taken years to get to that point, sure, but he’s glad for it. He hadn’t even considered the fact that he could get out of hospitality in any concept close to reality until Kashvi had made it seem like something that was actually plausible. He valued that belief, however insignificant an act Kashvi may or may not consider it.  

“Solomon,” he asks, almost hesitantly. “You don’t think he’ll take issue with it, do you?” For years he’d stuck with a job that that no longer held a spark of joy and inspiration for a writing project he’d since shelved, all because Liam didn’t know what to expect out of the Dominion. For all the that they were in a crew together, the unease that had settled in Liam’s being since the first night he met him had not lessened over the years. It had been a feeling he’d carried constantly in the early years, and while as he learned how War worked, what certain people expected, learned the ropes of how to navigate gang life, that knot of unease had lessened considerably -- as long as the factor didn’t involve Solomon. That mix of both fear and anxiety around the man had not changed much over the years, except perhaps, the stifled anger that had joined the tangled knot. Liam gave the man a wide berth unless it was absolutely necessary.

Mitzi: Only a little?? You know what, I'll take that. It's better than nothing, although, I think you probably were more worried about not having good company to get burgers with

Mitzi: Oh don't be a prick!!! Elaborate!!!

Mitzi: tbh I think you should quarantine, you know public safety and all, you need to make sure that you've not caught some form of deadly disease from the Thames that you'll pass onto everyone. Stay away from my cousin for two weeks!

Liam: Ah, yeah that would be a downer wouldn't it? I'd have to tell chef he'd need to stop ordering in Pistachio ice cream and I do hate to be the bearer of bad news.

Liam: Hm... So what happened was

Liam: [...]

Liam: [...]

Liam: [...]

Liam: Just kidding :)

Liam: You're not getting it out of me that easily

Mitzi: Tbh, I wouldn't call a few little cuts getting hurt...they're really minor so really nothing to be concerned about.

Mitzi: Are you worried about my safety Liam?

Mitzi: Yeah, the explosion was definitely big

Mitzi: What do you mean by you took a swim you didn't expect?

Mitzi: You were in the Thames? You need to take about 10 showers minimum to get rid of that

Liam: Maybe a little

Liam: Well I took an intentional swim and then an unintentional swim and no I shall not elaborate you'll just have to live with the mystery

Liam: Believe me I took a great long shower when I got home

[She was wide awake after having spent an hour talking to Rita, ensuring that she was alright to her cousin. Making herself a late night snack, a small smile forms on her lips at the name that appears on the screen of her phone.]

Mitzi: Hi

Mitzi: I'm fine, I got out and I'm home. I have a few little cuts but I think they make me look dangerous so watch out

Mitzi: Are you okay? You were there too right?

Liam: Well I'm not glad to hear that you got hurt but I am glad that its nothing serious

Liam: That boat went up a bit more ...exuberantly than I expected to

where: Four Quarters Arcade

when: 17 June 2021

He finds the marksman standing at what Samir had informed him was a target shooting game, the one with two twin, brightly colored guns that seem to be some bastardization between a SMG and a rifle attached to a stand across from a large screen. The other man seemed to be critically watching a pair of younger arcade attendees make their way of the game, and when their allotted time ran out and they declined to continue the game, Liam approached the imitation firearms. They were startlingly light compared to what he’d handled before, the shape encumbered by the cord anchoring it to the stand, and the design itself is  something he’s sure would have had Kai in fits. 

“Jesus, these are....” Liam grimaced as he adjusted his grip on the toy, tying to gauge the balance of it. He was sure it was completely nonessential to its purpose for playing the game, but it was unfamiliar, surreal, and frankly disarming. “Are all arcade target shooting games this inaccurate?”

with. – @lgriffiths where. – the ritz, shareholder meeting when. – 10 june, after evren’s performance

It’s kind of fun, really, trail around the meeting on her father’s side. Kashvi likes representing her family, likes to appear as the face of Singh Industries’ future and play the room with her warmth. She is liked here and respected, most of the time, even if there are middle aged men who like to recall how small she had been, once. Family friends, business partners: it all blurs together, honestly, everything connected in one way or another. 

She sits next to Dhaval as they watch Evren sing and Kashvi murmurs to him that she’s on her crew, a detail she can surely leak to the previous War member. The presence of War is hard to miss if you pay attention, anyway: Kashvi sees traces of it everywhere. Somewhere, she hopes it reminds her father that he’s intrinsically tied to the organisation, even if he’s not as directly involved any more. As the last song dies out, they mix as they’re expected to, Kashvi attempting to keep Dhaval from Gabrielle’s periphery and finding Liam in the process.

“Oh, Liam!” she pipes up, pulling her father along, “Looking sharp.” Kashvi gives his suit an up-and-down, liking the corporate look on her Power, before nudging her father forward. “This is my father, Dhaval.” Hands are shaken and Kashvi beams a little, before scrambling for an excuse to get rid of her darling father, not having forgotten what the entire performance had been for. A distraction. Greer must have found her target by now. 

“The two of us both have business at the hotel, dad,” she’s quick to explain, which tells Dhaval enough. The hotel belongs to the Wardens, after all. Must go, he says, already waving at another partner Bellum Nova and Singh Industries have in common, good meeting you, Liam. Kashvi watches him trail off for a moment before redirecting her attention to Liam. “So, is this making you reconsider joining corporate life? Because it’s a lot of this, though not always on this scale.” Kashvi starts to walk, eager to find something to sip or bite at and keen to get away from sharp ears who don’t need to hear about murder clean-ups, too. 

The shareholder meeting is a logistical affair that teeters on the fence between both marvel and disaster, a sequence of events that dazzle and carry along with an elaborate call sheet, all for the sake of providing a guise for events that aren’t to be seen. A majority of the room is there for the business and politics of it all, to schmooze with fellow shareholders and other high ranking officials, and for them the night is only that, a ‘networking’ affair for the rich and affluent. Not as such for War. For the schedule of the evening there is another beneath it, and when Evren takes the stage Liam knows that his role for the evening looms ever closer. The moment when he sees Greer’s curls duck out a side exit with a target in tow, he starts a mental count down of his own. 

He knows what to expect from what will follow, but he doesn’t quite expect to be pulled in by Kashvi to be introduced to her father for a thankfully rather short encounter. When they part ways the tone of their conversation shifts to a more comfortable energy not stilted by small talk. 

“someone once told me you have a fondness for maps. so i hope you’ll find your way in this world.

when you find that place, write to us, or about us, whatever comes first. happy birthday, liam.”

best wishes,

samir and evren.