Bivona
The Blind Vulture
Mafia Time
Despite its decrepit exterior, however, the bar was a sparkling new, completely different world. The first thing of notice was a spotless, vermilion carpet floor, adorned with numerous black domino patterns. The flawless dark wooden walls could have only been the fruits of a master's labor, and the tables were made of seemingly the same material. The numerous stools scattered around the place, each around a table, were composed of a fine midnight black leather with long metal legs - except for the ones around the bar counter, which appeared to be of a crimson red in color. Behind the bartender there were a few shelves which held the drinks, each exhibited bottle more exotic than the previous. Finally, the ambience was illuminated by no shortage of colorful (though faint) neon lights.
There was no absence of customers inside. A lot of them were like you’d see in those ancient black-and-white detective films, wearing matching suits and hats that have long since fallen out of fashion. Some liked to show off their body scars, others their tattoos, most are cheerfully having drags off their cigarettes and sips of their exotic beverages provided by a rough looking bartender. They sat in groups around the tables, making merry and betting against each other on the roll of dice or their hand of cards, though most of the gamblers seemed to be concentrated on the far backside of the place.
Near the bartender, however, was a figure that quite stood out from the inexplicably monochromatic crowd, wearing clothing more befitting a desert bandit than a generic mafia mook. He seemed to be making small talk to the man behind the counter in an effort to pass the time until when he could go off ahead to mind his own business - whatever that may be.
Needless to say, the blue-haired girl that had just entered the bar seemed far out of place at a glance. Dahlia didn’t seem nearly fazed by the finer upholstery nor its rougher clientele, however. She folded back her hood just a little bit, exhaling away the conversation with Mikodimus as well as the bit of frost that had formed on her red nose. The short woman worked her way towards the counter without need for introduction, clad in a purple-and-grey cloak that looked rather… comfy compared to most of the attire in the bar.
Dahlia took a seat a few feet down from the bandit-esque man, giving a subtle ‘not drinking’ signal to the bartender. She wasn’t here for that. Once the man behind the counter had gone on to tend their more profitable clients, she finally spoke up with an attempted formal tone. ”Ausse Avara.”
The figure shifted in his seat a bit into a more formal sitting position from his previously lax stance. Having just finished his drink, he slammed the empty cup down onto the counter, sliding it over to the bartender for another round of… whichever bottle he was currently holding, really. ”Hello there, Ms. Dahgan.” He seemed to be trying hard to stifle a chuckle at the saying of her “name”. ”I take it you’ve come seeking information as usual, is that correct?”
Dahgan couldn’t help but pass a chortle as well. So much for the serious film noire meeting. She pulled out a leather wallet, sifting through the various cards and bills from within her cloak. ”Perhaps. The lead you have on Loinia was good. We found a lot more than we bargained for down there."
The cloaked scholar took out a small wad of bills, carefully sliding it towards her informant. She still hadn’t looked his actual direction. "We’re working on the paperwork right now, but I figured you deserve an upfront bonus."
The figure carefully took hold of the bills and counted them one by one, before shaking his head and laying them down on the table once more, sliding them back towards his client. ”I appreciate the sentiment and your generosity, but I don’t have much use for any monetary value beyond what we agreed on. Rather, I’m much more interested in the reasons for your return trip.”
Dahlia reluctantly slipped the bills back into her coat pockets. "My crew will be refueling and working with a buyer soon, and we’re shipping some of the good back home. But that’s not why I urged to meet so soon.” She paused for a moment. ”We found something down there… a...:”
She motioned vaguely with her right hand around her head. She knew exactly what it was, a robot. But it was a robot that was just a little beyond a brief description. ”An interesting lead.” The scholar sighed for a moment, deciding now would be a good time to cut back to the chase. "Have you ever heard of Oakland Industries? Or, an Oakland Industries Overseer?"
He remained silent for a good few seconds, hands clasped in front on him on the counter, as if thinking about how best to relay that information. ”...Not as much as I’d like, I must admit.”
Dahlia nodded. ”Well, we found one. A full, working one of a line called 'Overseers.' She’s…" the scholar paused to find her words as her brows furrowed, ”She’s a character. I was wondering if you knew anything about them."
Nonchalantly as ever, the bartender arrived with the informant’s new drink, a glass of red wine, before heading back to tend to the other customers. The figure nodded a silent ‘thank you’, and turned back to his client beside him. ”I’ve seen a few ones, but they were all either a bunch of dismantled parts, or damaged beyond repair.” He paused to take a sip of his new drink, shortly afterwards placing it back down on the counter and running his fingertips in circles along its rim.
”It’s quite advanced tech, but I thought it had all been lost to time. To find out that one still exists in a working state is…” He caught himself mid-sentence, his voice suddenly turning to a tone of worry. ”...your crew didn’t damage it, did they? This has to be the first mention of a functional one I’ve ever heard of. I can’t even begin to give an estimate of how much they would be worth - I’m willing to judge them priceless antiques, even.”
There was a quiet, loathing hiss from Dahlia, directed more at herself than anything else. "Unfortunately, there was some… collateral damage. When it first activated, it tried to- well, kill us." The scholar took a moment to get the story straight. "Their reactor blew out, but they’re still in one piece. According to them, there was a virus sent out in a fake update. An aggressive one, sent from somewhere higher up. That… might explain why people are only bringing back chunks."
She got lost in thought for a moment, before snapping herself back to reality, "Now, they’re- calm, is the only word I can use. All I know is they know a lot about what we want to know. They’re looking to help us out but, they want ours in return. Something about checking up on some unfinished deeds." She paused for a moment, realizing just how ridiculous that sounded. "I don’t trust them as far as I can throw them, and judging by how much armor they were laden with, that’s not very far."
He let his head drop into both of his hands, covering his face in dismay. ”...collateral damage, you say…” There were a few quiet seconds of mourning before the informant slowly picked his head back up, hands dragging across his face, and looked down at the reflection of his drink. ”...well, let’s hope that it knows how to fix itself, at least. Because I strongly believe that any further tampering with it by unknowing hands will only damage it further.”
”But, yes, that would explain quite nicely. They’re being destroyed in self-defense, or the virus is causing them to, somehow, damage themselves. And… it seems that it would be in your best interest to heed the requests of the unit - if you’re still interested in pursuing that legend, that is. They certainly know more about themselves than I would ever be able to, and will be able to answer your questions about Oakland in further detail.”
He turned his head to once again look at his client, his eyes narrowed in what would seem to be annoyance. ”If they’re willing.”
She rolled her eyes. ”Please. I’ve been contemplating that for the past three days." She sighed, setting her hands on the bartop. "They seem crafty. I imagine they’ll try to fix themselves using whatever we’ve got on-board. Might need to lock up engineering until we can trust them."
”...Anyways,” she segued into a new topic, ”I had a few people jump ship as soon as we landed. I guess the idea of them actually dying to a robot was enough to set them away. Not like it wasn’t in the contract."
The scholar ran a pale but roughened fingertip up and down the grain of the wood surface. ”I’m telling you. We’re catching onto something big here, I feel it. If this Overseer is worth nearly the amount of credit they look, we may hit it. If you want in, we could use another gun.”
She looked over at the informant, one very blue eye peeking out from the sides of her folded hood. ”One with some trigger discipline.”
The informant mulled over her words for quite a while in an unnerving silence, no shortage of wine sips in-between. When the glass was finally empty once more, he signaled for the bartender to take it away - it was in his best interest to try and stay (mostly) sober during the meeting.
He briefly leaned back into his seat and stared up at the ceiling in thought, before speaking up. ”I am more experienced at striking unseen than being useful in a direct confrontation.” The informant pushed his travel poncho a bit to the side, revealing the prototype bracer strapped to his left arm, presumably to reinforce his point. ”And you do know, of course, that my methods are entirely non-lethal.”
”If you have no qualms about that, then I would gladly accept your invitation to get out of this place.” He vaguely motioned with his right hand towards his surroundings.
Dahgan let the air out of her lungs. That was a perfectly fine set of skills. ”That’s fine, just so long as you can carry some weight too. We need some more tranquility judging by how that fiasco went down.”
The scholar eyed the bracer momentarily, and rolled her eyes lightly. They eventually landed on the various bottles lining the wooden shelves. ”That thing doesn’t flash and scream, does it?”
”I can certainly haul some things around if you need me to, yes. A soldier’s physique isn’t just for show.” The informant chuckled lightly at her later remark, and shot back with a rhetorical question. ”It wouldn’t be optimized for stealth if it did, now, would it?” As he said that, he brought his right hand to the smallish screen of the bracer, and seemed to be typing in some sort of password. Maybe it would be better to show rather than tell.
”It’s just a prototype, so it’s not entirely flawless, but…” At the input of the final digit, some sort of field flickered briefly around the informant before he and his belongings became entirely transparent, invisible to the unobservant customers of the bar.
A few seconds later and after a bit of shuffling, he reappeared back into full visibility on the opposite side from Dahgan where he once sat, resting his boots up on the bar counter and sporting a snarky grin on his face. ”...for my needs, it’s just perfect.”
The scholar gave a flat “pffft” at the soldiers witty remark. "Good, one is enough on the ship. Speaking of, we do have an engineer-" Dahgan’s eyes widened briefly as the informant had disappeared. She was, however, expecting the sudden reappearance and had leaned her head over in that direction. "Ha-hah."
Her incredibly fake laugh trailed off for a moment, before remembering what she had seen stalking around outside on the way. "I take it you’ve probably seen the people in black n’ teal walking around with the odd looks? Are they in with the Mafia or something?"
The informant’s grin turned into a tight-lipped frown just as quickly as it appeared. His legs dropped from the top of the counter back into a more acceptable sitting position, though he shifted in his seat a bit, seemingly uncomfortable. ”Part of the mafia…? No. Not at all.”
”They’re not affiliated to anyone we know of except for themselves. They just… showed up one day, and started conglomerating near the outer colonies over the past few months, increasing in presence during these last few weeks. So far, we’ve found that they’re a paramilitary nomadic group who’ve taken to calling themselves the ‘Arcandum Union’. Name rings a bell?”
Dahgan bit her lip for a while, thinking it through. She had heard the word a few times, but never in reference to a group. Her face showed a good glint of concern at the mood shift her informant just had. "No. I’ve heard of a metal called Arcandum from a few sources, but never in reference to a group. Have they tried anything, done anything?"
He furrowed his brow in thought, trying to remember what he and his contacts have been able to gather about the union. ”No. They’ve been laying low so far, which is what makes them that much more disconcerting. We don’t know much of anything else about them, but I’ve a hunch they seem to be searching for the same thing as you.”
He glanced sideways towards the door of the bar. Even though security was tight around those parts, thanks to no shortage of eyes on behalf of the mafia, the informant couldn’t help but feel watched. ”I don’t trust them. And you’d best not, either.”
She perked up a bit, but not exactly with excitement. ’What makes you think they’re after Arcadia?"
”It really doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. It’s in the name. Arcandum Union. And where else can you find Arcandum but Arcadia?” The informant crossed his arms, tilting his head and looking to the ceiling in genuine contemplation, trying to think of anywhere else the metal could be found.
Dahgan smirked. "You’d be surprised. I’ve found traces of the stuff in all kinds of pawn shops.”
After a moment, she continued. ”Anyways, thanks for the heads up. I’ll make sure to steer clear of them.” The scholar then paused, looking around the room for a little bit and taking in all the lights. She had been here a few times already, but there was an almost subtle charm to it. If you could get past the smell of drunken sobs. ”So. If you want on my crew, you’re gonna have to tell me your name eventually. I don’t think you can receive payroll on a pseudonym.”
The edges of his mouth curled into a smirk. ”Why not try and see for how long I can keep going as ‘Ausse Avara’?” The informant snickered. ”Well, you already know my upkeep isn’t too expensive. I’m even willing to throw in a limited-time offer for you! You get me out of this place, and I’ll just need the minimum for survival and a couple odds and ends.”
”And, cap’n, you can call me Keith. Keith Argyris Sylva. I’m still a wanted man, so don’t go spreading that around.”
Dahgan smiled with a bit of a laugh, in relief. ”Good, the bare minimum is all we have. Don’t worry, I’m not too heavy on the gossip.” Well, that only took two years. ”Dahlia, by the way. Morgan. So far the only person to refer to me as captain has been, the robot.”
Keith shrugged somewhat in indifference. ”Well, you are the captain of the expedition and my superior from now on, are you not? Used to always have to refer to others by their ranks back in my military days. Old habits die hard, I guess.” He kicked himself off from the seat, crossing his arms behind his head to stretch his back. He began to make his way towards the set of stairs that led to his room, but stopped abruptly after a few steps.
”Oh, that’s right, huh. Where exactly did you park the ship?”
Dahlia set an elbow up on the counter, rubbing the lack of sleep away from her face before returning. ”Chances are, just look for the nearest column of smoke.”
”That certainly doesn’t seem like a very promising way to introduce new arrivals. Hopefully there’s not a fire going on as well.” He rubbed the nape of his neck. ”I’ll grab my things, and meet you there. Be careful on the way back,” was the last thing he said before completely disappearing up the flight of stairs to the second floor.