ALWAYS - vincent de gramont

02. high tide

Fluorescent lights shone down like heaven's gates, gleaming through the glass bottle and casting a kaleidoscopic shadow across the table.

The strong smell of a fiery liquor rolled from her breath. Her number of drinks would soon reach its limit. She already struggled to read the posters on the wall nearby. The drink remained untouched for a good five minutes while Onyx sat and glared at it, as if her own reflection might start retching up some answers on what to do about this mess. What utter bullshit it was that this choice had been strapped onto her like a gun, sending her off to battle as another conscript, another casualty to add to the losses of her life.

I never asked to be a mutant, she snarled to herself. Resentment had a bitter taste. She drank to wash it from her tongue. I never asked to be a monster in the eyes of humanity. I was just a child. I had no say in what I was born as. Thunderlash took her freedom away. Took her childhood away. It was biased and cruel. All her life she'd been spat on and abused by the high city, and now she was expected to just run back and play puppet at its every command.

At Rone's every command.

Even if this whole thing had been orchestrated by the Marquis, Rone's name had been on the paper. He'd stamped it. Signed it. Saw it. Read it. Approved it. He was an ally of the devil's, if not one himself.

This kind of business- business with devils, it could only ever end in a handful of ways. One of which would be semi pleasant and the others a less fortunate fate. Mobsters were the most vulgar clients to deal with, she knew that from first hand experience. She didn't like working for mobsters. They could be demanding and sleazy, taking what they said they wanted and doubling it before they'd even consider relenting you of work. Refusing to pay for it. Demanding more than what they were willing to cough up in price. It was hard to shake out of their grip once they had you in their palm. Often times the only thing that could set you free was murder.

You had to fight hard and dirty if you wanted to survive the underbelly, and that's just the way it worked. Onyx didn't see a way of escaping this predicament without a fight. She honestly didn't see a way of making it out alive at all. This was a costly scam but she needed to investigate it.

"Woah. Someone's really in the dumps," Akira frowned, returning to the table with another two bottles, one for herself and another for Onyx, who was nearing the cut off point. She sat, her hair let down and her makeup scrubbed off, her leather outfit traded for comfort. Onyx hadn't changed since she'd arrived back at the Castle. Blood still stained her jacket, caked onto her skin. The empty pistol still sat in her pocket. Her jaw still ached. The graze on her cheek from where the bullet sliced her still burned. Her muscles groaned for sleep.

"Dad told me about the letter. I can imagine how bad this sucks for you, being back at square one," she sniffed, downing a generous swig of her drink, reeling back with a grimace. "But at least you won't be doing this alone".