Look Me in the Eyes (and tell me that it's me) [Zhongchili]

Chapter 29 - Complication

A couple of days later, Pierro summons Ajax back to his office.

"A remarkable job." Pierro peers over the stack of reports he had been inspecting. "Very efficient. All three in one spot. Cleanup say that their job has never been easier."

"He is quite remarkable, no?" For some unfortunate reason, Pulcinella is here too. He hasn't let Ajax get a word in edgeways, upways, or downways since the meeting started, taking every opportunity he can to jump on Ajax's glory.

Ajax is grateful to him, of course—Pulcinella is the one who provided him the opportunity to come here in the first place—but just for once, Ajax wishes he would shut the fuck up.

"Quite. It is good to see the clean efficiency of Tartaglia's kills once more. Much better for the budget. You remember how that other one was butchered by the last agent you suggested we send out?"

"Yes, yes. What a bit of trouble that was. I still don't see why he had to open his target quite so."

"Messy. A waste of resources. They cut him rib to rib, neck to guts. The reports said you could all but peel him open like a bulle fruit." Pierro tuts. "But you, Tartaglia? Clean slashes across the neck. Quick. Easy. We like that."

"Glad to serve, sir," Ajax replies, the words sticking between his teeth, his mouth feeling as though it's coated with toffee.

Butchered. Rib to rib. Neck to guts.

The phrase reminds him of an evening a few weeks ago, of accusations levied against him, of flames thrown and of a family torn apart.

Lev. That's who they said he killed. Butchered. Sure, Ajax beat up a lot of people, but he still doesn't remember any Lev. Even if he did fight a Lev, it would have been with his fists and a kitchen knife. He couldn't have done that kind of damage.

He didn't do it.

Another's kill has been mistaken for his own.

Had those men known he wasn't the one responsible for their friend's death, would they still have pounced upon him so violently? Would they have terrorised his family in the same way?

Pulcinella chortles. "Ah, Tartaglia, it is good to have you back. It's only a pity we had to work so hard to get you here."

The realisation settles over him like a fog rolling across the downs—smothering, suffocating—until only his immediate surroundings are visible. Pulcinella. Pierro. The tiny, dingy office inside the cold, grey military base.

Pulcinella barely did anything, save from speaking to him a few times as a fake recruiter, let alone "work so hard".

Someone else did work hard, though. The agent they sent in the night who killed in his name. Their strikes were hard, fast and deep, the damage deliberate—damage that riled up the entire of Snezhnaya's underbelly, set the spark to the pile of kindling that roared into merciless wildfire.

The question is: how much of this was deliberate?

Was he set up?

Pulcinella and Pierro are talking among themselves. Something about cleanup logistics and relative costs. Neither of them spare him a glance. He's an ornament, a trophy, like a mouse plucked from the bushes by a cat, dumped at its owner's feet as some macabre gift.

Ajax shivers.

But they're all Harbingers together here. They wouldn't do that to one of their own. It's perfectly natural to have more than one person tackling a task, and the crime world in Snezhnaya is a problem of far greater magnitude than one person could hope to solve alone. In all likelihood, The Fatui simply had additional agents working a similar job. This was a mistake. A mix up, not a set up.