Lucille liked James. In fact, she liked James so much, that Ambrose often found himself becoming slightly jealous of her affection towards him. It wasn't fair. He fed her, he housed her, he loved her - and for what?
For her to love a random, blinded, medical school dropout more than himself, apparently.
"So soft," James mumbled. "So, so soft."
"There's claws and teeth in there too," Ambrose warned, wiping the straggling bits of flour off his counter with a damp cloth. He'd been baking cookies.
"I know, I know," James said, but that did not dissuade him from continuing to love on Lucille the cat.
Ambrose sighed with no small amount of despondency before taking it upon himself to tidy up before heading out for work. It was a rough night last night; once James had gotten to Ambrose's apartment, he began to hallucinate, and whe he was done hallucinating he instead just got very, very distressed. But now he was fine. Ish.
Ambrose nearly jumped when his phone began to ring. He grabbed it out of his pocket, not taking the time to read who it was before mindlessly answering.
"Asylum, I need you to come in right now."
Ambrose blinked. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard the boss sound so upset, even when he was giving Ambrose a lecture the other day.
"What? Why? I'm looking over Jackalope -"
"I need you to pull a hit on Blindsight. They kidnapped Vix, were gonna kidnap him back, got it?"
"No, I don't got it," Ambrose contested, faintly aware of the fact that James was clearly eavesdropping, "why would we want Vix? And why do we care that blindsight has him?"
"You do as you're told, Asylum. If you want to get paid, you'll come in."
He didn't have a chance to protest before the boss hung up on him.
"Why would we want Vix?" James echoed Ambrose's sentiment, his hands offering a loose bed for Lucille, "he's nothing but trouble."
"I don't know," Ambrose groaned, "but I should probably get going. I want to get this over with."
"You expect to pull a Blindsight hit in one day?" James scoffed, and Ambrose nearly asked how he knew that Ambrose would do a Blindsight hit. He of course remembered that James had a superior sense of hearing before doing so.
"No," Ambrose said, and he meant it, "but the Boss expects me to. Don't hurt yourself. You know where the food is."
"That I do," James hummed, still petting Ambrose's cat.
Ambrose wasted no time in preparing himself. He packed himself a plastic baggie full of cookies, put them - and his costume - in an inoffensive black messenger bag, and made his his way to his building's parking garage. There he found his car, got in it, and proceeded to pull out of the parking garage.
Rush hour had died down a boy from earlier in the morning, but it was still going strong at 7:36 A.M.. Ambrose didn't know if that was a good thing, because it would make his peculiar driving route less suspicious, or if it was a bad thing, because more people would have the opportunity to spot him entering Demeaux's headquarters. He didn't look very far into it.
It took him about twenty two minutes to reach his destination, which, considering traffic, was not bad at all. Ambrose grabbed his unassuming messenger bag and slung it over himself as he exited his car, entering the dimly lit parking garage to their admittedly sad hideout.
"Hello?" Ambrose called. It felt deserted in the compound, especially since no one really began to show up until noon. Demeaux pulled most of their hits in the afternoon. He made his way gingerly to the Boss' office, keeping his head up. He didn't want to go in there, especially after how stern of a talking to he'd gotten only a day ago, but he persevered.
The Boss was not an intimidating man. He had a physical dispar in which his skin hardened, almost like a rocky alligator. He had two large horns and neat white hair that was always pinned into a bun, and glasses that sat pleasantly on his nose. No, he didn't look intimidating at all; but his dispar made him almost impervious to physical damage, and Ambrose knew his fists packed a punch.
"What's the plan here, Chief?" Ambrose asked as he sidled into the office. The Boss had his head in his hands. His glasses were placed primly on the desk that he was propped up on.
"Asylum," the Boss mumbled, his voice far calmer than it had been on the phone. "Close the door and have a seat."
Ambrose did as he was told, closing the door softly and lowering himself into a chair. The Bods composed himself and pulled his glasses on.
"Do you remember Alice Potenza?"
Ambrose quirked his head. "The name rings a bell, but I'm not sure," he shrugged.
"She went missing five years ago." The Boss cleared his throat. "Blindsight took her. Killed her. It would've been her birthday in three weeks."
Ambrose was quiet. He couldn't imagine why the Boss would bring that up. It was no secret that Ambrose had a soft spot for kids, but he needed no extra reasons to hate Blindsight. Them being a rival organization was enough for him.
"I think I remember her now," Ambrose mumbled, and it was the truth. He faintly remembered her picture on the news.
"That girl was my little sister." The Boss said, so quiet that Ambrose was almost sure it hadn't been said at all. Then he got louder, "that was my sister."
Ambrose stared. He didn't know what to say.
The Boss stood suddenly, and Ambrose watched in awe as his grey skin melted away to reveal a more natural tan skin tone. He looked even less intimidating without his unusual dispar. Ambrose always assumed his was one of those dispars that couldn't be controlled.
"My name is Victor. I have one sibling left, Asylum. I have Nicolas." The Boss - or, rather, Victor - closed his eyes tightly. "I don't want to lose him to Blindsight too."
Ambrose continued to stare.
"You're saying — Vix is your brother?"
Victor nodded. "He is. He's stupid and young, and he never would join Demeaux. I thought - I didn't want to say it over the phone, but I thought you might empathize with my situation here."
Ambrose didn't know what to say. Something told him his boss was telling the truth. After all, now that he knew his boss could retract his dispar, it was clear that he and Vix had very similar powers. There was that, and, the Boss had never been big on lying.
"I'll get your brother for you," Ambrose said carefully, grabbing the strap of his messenger bag, "I promise."
"I don't want you to promise," Victor snapped, "I want you to do it."
And with that, his Boss' moment of tender vulnerability was gone.
"Alright." Ambrose stood, watching his boss' grey scales return to the top of his skin, "Where am I going?"
"I believe they took him to the usual spot. Take your earpiece. I want an open correspondence with you."
Ambrose nodded, excused himself to change into costume, and wasted no time in beginning his job.
Blindsight's warehouse headquarters was terrifying, in a way. Ambrose had been there before. It always stunk of death and gunpowder. He was not excited to get there, but Victor's small sob story had certainly roused him to action. He made his way quietly through shadowed alleys, his earpiece occasionally crackling with static or one of Victor's nervous noises.
Ambrose came upon the Warehouse eventually. Blindsight did not try especially hard to hide that they were in there; there was no distinctive sign of Blindsight, but the bloodstained outer walls and crates full of lord knows what didn't speak for innocence.
