Chapter Text
“Is it still murder if I give them a heads up?”
“That’s called a threat, Corvus.”
“Damn.”
Diablo stood at the edge of the balcony, peering through a pair of spy-glasses with narrowed eyes. Besides him stood Lilia, hands in his pockets and looking as unbothered as ever.
“See them yet?”
“Sort of,” says Diablo, adjusting his grip. “Is it the man with the hat?”
“There’s lots of men with hats.”
Diablo huffs. “The one who looks like he eats, sleeps in, and shits out money, then. That one?”
Lilia grins. “Yes, that one. With the glasses.”
Diablo gives him a bewildered stare. “You can see him without these? I thought your old man eyes couldn’t make anything out, other than other people’s wallets.”
Lilia grins again, but this time it’s a little tighter. “I am not that old.”
“Whatever you say, gramps,” mumbles Diablo before going back to peering at the strange silver-haired man wearing glasses. He sighs as the target steps into a car and drives off, putting the spy-glasses away. “What did Malleus say we had to do to him? Kill him, right?”
“As much as I wish we could, that’s not what we’re here to do. We just have to tail him—shouldn’t be difficult with the sort of traffic we live in—and wait for Malleus to get back to us with whatever he’s pulled out of the informant. If Ashengrotto’s this far in, it doesn’t seem like he’s going to pull out anytime soon; he either wants a deal or he wants to wipe us out.”
Diablo laughs, sharp and high-pitched. “Sure, cause the capitalist is strong enough to take Malleus on and come out of it in one piece.”
“Have you seen the size of the twins he’s always dragging around, though?”
“My bets are still on Malleus. I have to agree, though; it might be an even match if all three go against each other.”
Lilia shrugs. “Anyways, you should head out. I’m staying to make sure nothing else goes on from up here.”
“You’re staying because your old man bones can’t handle being anywhere near the cold,” grumbles Diablo, though it soon changes into a glare as Lilia slaps the back of his head.
“I heard that,” says his senior, sending an equally poisonous look his way.
“Glad to know that your hearing is still intact after all this time,” says Diablo, picking up the pace before Lilia has any time to react.
He makes his way out of the rented room and hops down the stairwell, slipping a dark heavy coat on and shivering as a gust of wind catches him as he steps back outside.
The worst part about tailing someone is that Diablo, as much as he may mope and whine about it, cannot let himself dress in his usual flashy manner. The last thing any of them needed was someone catching sight of him in the middle of a job. He had been forced to give up the copious amounts of jewelry he wore and the eye-catching clothing that he usually made himself. Not only was it dangerous for him, but he could easily be tied back to the person who paid him for the favor which, astoundingly, wasn’t Malleus this time.
Instead, it was some poor sod who had found themselves caught up in the middle of a war they had no place in because of poor friend choices and even poorer luck. Malleus’ informant, who Diablo had never had the fortune of meeting, was much better at keeping themself hidden than he liked. Malleus refused to disclose any information on him, and digging didn’t do Diablo any good either, so he was completely in the dark as far as he was concerned. Whoever this person is, for someone who didn’t want any part in this line of business, they were awfully good at acting the part.
Then again, Diablo wasn’t oblivious to the fact that informants often put their own lives on the line for better things that would come if they managed to survive. Perhaps this was one of those instances.
He pulled his gloves over his hands, shoving them into his coat pockets as he marched against the wind. You owe me one for having to freeze my ass off while you get to stay warm, Lilia, thinks Diablo bitterly as he pushes forward.
There wasn’t much Diablo could say about Azul Ashengrotto—nothing good, anyways. He’d done his fair share of investigation into the activities of the other man, and needless to say he was impressed with how much work it took to dig up his network.
Not that he’d ever admit it.
Azul usually ran his business within the multiple restaurants he owned, keeping a smooth facade while committing atrocities in the kitchen, only a single wall away from the general public. On top of that, he was infamous for making deals that were too good to be true—and oftentimes they were, because most of the time the recipient was unable to hold up their part of the contract and was subjected to what probably counted as slavery.
Diablo sighs. Everyone knows better than to make a deal with Azul Ashengrotto, which is why the man decides to prey on those who don’t have any other options. It’s yet another reason why he despises the man; unlike him, Malleus is grateful enough to let people know what they’re getting into before forcing them into a life of servitude with no way of paying it off.
Even worse is the fact that Azul has somehow wandered deep into Malleus’ territory and doesn’t seem to want to leave anytime soon. Diablo hasn’t been told of any meetings taking place with his boss, otherwise he’d be by Malleus’ side instead of trailing a car that’s going at a snail’s pace because a person he likely will never know somehow got deep enough into Malleus’ good graces for him to send Diablo out on a massive pain in the add masquerading as a mission.
Diablo’s mind went back to the informant. Surely they’d have to leave some sort of breadcrumb behind for him to pick up on, right?
He’d been on Azul’s tail for the better part of five months with the help of this mystery man. All of the hints had come directly from them and had relayed through Malleus, which didn’t exactly worry Diablo but he was concerned about the level of trust Malleus was placing in this person. Barely anyone dared to talk to one of his men, let alone him directly, so for Malleus to have allowed them to meet up regularly with him without anyone else knowing about it (He had, without Malleus’ knowledge, tracked his spending throughout the week and had found out that his boss had met up with this person four days out of seven for the past month) meant that he was either completely sure that they could help him or he was in over his head.
Diablo tried not to think about what would happen if the informant was playing for a different side.
Still, it stung just slightly for Malleus, the man he has grown up with, to not trust him with the identity of the informant.
Diablo tried not to think about that, either.
He almost fumbled as his phone rang, yanking it out of his pocket and answering; he had been lost in his thoughts. Lilia’s voice could be heard through the other end.
“We’ve got another tip. Ashengrotto’s got a customer with him. Don’t talk to him until I get there.”
The line beeps as Lilia ends the call.
Diablo settles for following the car for a few more blocks before finally watching as Azul walked into a small cafe. He sent a quick message to Lilia and then to Malleus, just to be safe—it’s not like Malleus ever showed up to these sorts of things, but he still likes to know what was going on—and then ran a hand through his hair, silently cursing himself for having forgotten to take out his signature braids.
Oh well. He’d have to hope it didn’t stand out too much.
Diablo crossed the street and walked to the back of the cafe, slipping through the unlocked door and whistled slightly at the carelessness as he walked into the kitchen.
“Someone should really be keeping an eye on that lock. Anyone could walk in, you know,” he says loudly enough for the people working to turn and stare.
A flurry of hello’s and you’re back!’s rose up at the greeting. Diablo was swarmed by people he recognized, grinning as they let him pass through.
It wasn’t rare for him to drop in like this—in fact, it was somewhat expected. Everyone knew what he did and who he worked for, but the careful crafting of the persona he put up was enough to slip past everyone’s worries. It helped that he was the one who convinced their boss to raise their pay, too, so they had less reason to be wary of him.
He liked to play a little game with them called Tell Me The Name Of The Piece Of Shit That Came Through Here And You Get A Bonus that was surprisingly effective. He had these people convinced that they were doing something good for their society by ratting out every rival member that passed through, which worked in Diablo’s favor tremendously.
After throwing a few winks every which-way and ensuring himself that they were perfectly sated, Diablo turned towards a few people who hadn’t jumped at the opportunity to greet him.
“I see we’ve got a few new faces here,” he declares, striding towards the three women huddled together. He offers them each his hand, smiling warmly as they begin to relax slightly. “I’m glad to see that my favorite place has hired more capable hands. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He was laying it on thick. He had to, if he wanted them to trust him—they’d surely heard about him from the others. Flattery wasn’t something he could skip out on.
Women like flattery, right? he thinks to himself as he listens to them introduce themselves. That and swords, for some reason. But he didn’t have any swords to give out, so flattery would have to do.
“Unfortunately I’m not here to chat, though I’m sure I could make some time for you,” he tells the rest of them, earning himself a few whines. He holds his hands up in mock defense. “Ladies, please—and you, the gentleman in the back corner—I sincerely apologize, but I’m sure you’d still be able to help me out.”
The small crowd quieted somewhat, though still disappointed. Diablo waited until all eyes were on him before continuing.
(Lilia had always pointed out his flair for the dramatic, which he had nothing for which to counter. He did, in fact, like being dramatic; where was the fun in being boring? Aside from being charming to the point where it was almost sickening, he simply had an eye for being able to get under someone’s skin and pull or push them away as he pleased, because of there was one thing he learned it was that if you stick around for long enough yet never offered any form of real comfort, people would take praise just as well as they would take money.)
“Would any of you, by any chance, have seen someone who didn’t belong here? Someone I may have spoken about from time to time, or someone who you think may be stirring things up a little?”
The question is left vague, but everyone gets the message. A tap on his shoulder draws his attention behind him to one of the women he had introduced himself to.
“Yes?”
“Um, I may have seen someone,” starts the woman softly, meeting his eyes for only a moment before turning red.
“Go on,” he encourages gently, growing the slightest bit irate over the way she stumbled over her words. He’s noticed that people tend to do that around him. He also chooses to ignore the scathing looks the girls behind are giving the poor new one; it’s a competitive workplace for all the wrong reasons.
“W-well, there’s been a man that came in a little while ago. He’s, um, he’s wearing a weird hat and was talking to someone in one of the booths. I couldn’t see who it was, though,” she says, wringing her hands nervously.
Definitely Azul, if the hat was anything to go by. And a new person—perhaps Diablo would get the honor of killing two birds with one stone today.
“He was talking to someone the first time I saw him, but I didn’t see who it was that time either,” finishes the young woman.
Diablo’s eyes widen just a fraction. “He was here before?”
“Yes, a few days ago.”
That whore.
Diablo forces himself to smile. “Thank you. You’ve been wonderful help.” Internally, he’s seething.
Not only is Azul trying to conduct a deal on someone else’s territory, he’s done it once before. The levels of disrespect were enough for Diablo to start considering confronting him without waiting for the others, even though he wasn’t the most respectful man himself.
This is a different setting, he says to himself, making fun of coworkers isn’t the same as sneaking over several territories to make deals in someone else’s own backyard.
Territories were a…touchy subject. It wasn’t looked down upon to roam around, just as long as you stuck to the edges, but trying to conduct your own line of business inside of someone else’s was a fast track to getting stuffed into the trunk of an unmarked van.
And Azul had done it twice.
Diablo sent another message to Lilia. He’s performed a deal here twice, it reads, I’m going in now.
A hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks. He almost jerks away but stops himself from delivering a nasty elbow to the nose as he sees who it is.
It’s one of the employees; another young woman he’s come to recognize over the months. He forces a smile. They’re getting bold, he thinks. “Can I help you?” he asks through gritted teeth.
The lady who grabbed him smiles. “I was just wondering, when would you be back? ‘Cause I’ve got Friday off, and there’s this place I’ve been dying to check out—“
He cuts her off with a short wave of his hand. “I’m afraid I don’t have that sort of off time, but I’m sure one of your friends would be delighted to—“
It’s Diablo’s turn to be cut off as another woman butts in. “That takes up too much time! There’s a bakery just around the corner that I’m sure you’d love—“
By this point, Diablo knows what’s going on. An unfortunate side effect of being the only fuckable man in this city, he thinks. A few other employees have stopped what they’re doing to get a look at the squabbling argument going down between the two women.
No bonuses for you, Diablo thinks to himself. No bonuses for you at all.
He can tell that the fight might devolve into something physical if he doesn’t step in and shut them both up, so he starts walking forward to—
“Are you Diablo?”
He freezes.
He’s not in the habit of memorizing voices—though he should be, with the amount of listening in his job requires—but this one sounds completely new. He turns around, letting his coat do a dramatic swish and plants his hands on his hips.
“That’s a sensitive question. Who’s asking?” he says, narrowing his eyes at the taller man before him. He’s not at all what Diablo expected; he’s a man who looks maybe a few years older than him and nervous beyond doubt. He’s done a poor job at tying his chin-length blue hair back and is wearing a jacket that’s got little swirling patterns lining the sides. On top of that, there’s a guitar case that’s been slung across his chest and over his back, which doesn’t help him blend in at all. When he speaks, he sounds out of breath, like he ran all the way to the cafe.
“I’m one of—ah, actually, I’m the guy that called in with the tip,” he says, gripping the strap of his case nervously.
Diablo raises an eyebrow. “You’re the man that called in with the tip?” The man nods, looking more unsettled by the second. Diablo sighs. So much for continuing his invigoring investigation on the informant’s identity.
“Is he in there?” asks Diablo, gesturing towards the doors that the employees frequently use to walk to and from the customers with their orders. The man nods.
“I’m Carmine, by the way. Carmine Amadeus.”
“I didn’t ask,” mumbles Diablo as he peeks through the small window at the doors. He can see Azul sitting at one of the booths, just like the young woman said, but the unlucky fool who’s about to be caught in one of his deals is concealed by the other side of the seat. Diablo can’t see them at all.
“How’d you know he would be here, by the way?” he asks Carmine.
“Well, um, he’s my boss. Used to be my boss, actually,” says Carmine. Diablo scoffs.
“A deserter? That’s rare, we don’t see many of you nowadays.”
Carmine huffs at that. “It’s not like working for him is any better.”
“Yeah, you’ve got that part right,” says Diablo, almost to himself. He straights up, facing Carmine once more. “Well, what do you want?”
Carmine looks at him dumbly. “Huh?”
Diablo is really, really getting tired of this. He snaps sharply, looking up at Carmine with a glare. “I said what do you want? You wouldn’t be stupid enough to betray your own boss if you’re not getting anything out of it, would you? Hurry up, I don’t have all day,” he growls, hoping that Carmine wouldn’t waste any more of his time.
“Actually, I’ve already talked to Lilia Vanrouge about that, so you don’t need to worry,” says Carmine, grinning, though from where Diablo stands he can tell it’s a bit forced. “Can you just promise that you’ll get him? Like, get him in the way where he won’t bother you or me anymore? I've already made copies of his records with clients where he promised them your stuff—and he actually got his hands on quite a bit of it—so I don’t see—“
“Lilia, huh? And how exactly would you know him?” Diablo completely ignores Carmine’s question. He knows he’s being a little hard on Carmine, but he couldn’t be blamed for taking the extra precautions. He had been under Azul’s employment until just recently, after all, so it didn’t hurt to make sure he wasn’t one of those who turned back at the last second.
“Just music-related stuff, y’know,” says Carmine unconvincingly. Diablo’s eyes narrow, but before he can bite back his phone chimes.
We’re here, reads the text that Lilia sent. He’ll just have to deal with Carmine later, it seems.
He pushes the doors open and strides over to where Azul is innocently sitting, his coat billowing out behind him not unlike a cloak would.
Azul was studying a few documents on the table as Diablo slams a gloved hand down, making the cups rattle and the rest of the customers turn to stare. Azul jumps in his seat, wincing as his knees hit the underside of the table; he’s about to yell at Diablo for the interruption but the blood drains out of his face before he can.
Diablo knows exactly what he’s gaping at. His looks have always been something he prides himself in, especially when they make other people look like they’re about to piss themselves.
“Hello, Azul,” he snarls, relishing in the way the others eyes widening behind his glasses. “Mind explaining what the fuck you think you’re doing here?”
“I—I was just—“ stutters Azul, looking more like an idiot with each second that passes without an excuse.
“I heard that you’ve been trying to conduct some business in our parts,” says Diablo, smiling in a way that makes Azul shrink back. “What’s this here?” He reaches out for the papers strewn all over the table, then viciously shoves Azul back as he tries to grab them first.
“Stay in your seat,” he roars, feeling something wicked curl in his gut at the look of helplessness Azul gives him. He keeps his gloved hand fisted in the collar of Azul’s ridiculously expensive dress shirt, tight enough to the point where it almost tore. “Now, sweetheart, you’ve already fucked yourself over by testing your luck outside of your waters. Keep pushing and you’ll only make it worse.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Diablo can see a few people approaching him from the side. He doesn’t need to turn to see who it is.
“Hello, Diablo.”
The voice, low and smooth, belongs to his boss, Malleus Draconia.
“Mind if I take over?” he asks, coming up to Diablo’s right and essentially caging Azul in at the booth. The seat across from them is, regrettably, empty. Diablo silently wished that he could’ve seen which idiot had been about to get dragged into a deal to chew them out as well—though, maybe not as physically as they would with Azul.
“Go ahead, boss,” Diablo steps back, handing Malleus the papers that Azul had brought with him. Besides Malleus stood Lilia, hands behind his back. The only thing that gave away how pissed off he was was the look he was sending Azul. Next to Diablo stood Sebek and Silver, waiting for orders but looking just as enraged.
“When my informant told me you would be here tonight I didn’t want to believe them at first. After all, you’re quite distinguished for your abundance in honest contracts, though I’m beginning to see that perhaps they weren’t so honest after all,” says Malleus, his voice dripping with false disappointment.
Azul is fumbling for an excuse to work with. He decides to go with the sympathetic familiarizing route, which Diablo instantly notes is a bad idea. “Come on now, it’s not like we’re not both in similar lines of work! You know how this goes. In fact, I think that the both of us are closer in character than you realize, so this would be something that you might find yourself—“
“You thought wrong, Mister Ashengrotto,” says Malleus, raising his voice. “I am not so dishonorable that I would consider Machiavellian tactics to win a game I had no purpose in being in. Now, I think we both have a lot to talk about.” He ignores Azul’s protests, looking over at the others instead.
“Silver. Sebek. I want you to clear this place out. Lilia, take Diablo and make sure that Mister Amadeus makes it to his car in one piece. I want to deal with him on my own.”
“Shouldn’t Diablo be in charge of this? Since it’s his harem crowding the place, anyways,” grumbles Sebek, looking at the employees who left the kitchen to watch, but does as he’s told after a warning glance from Lilia.
Malleus looks over Azul’s papers, brows deepening into a frown as his eyes scan over the lines. Azul gulps.
“Not only were you conducting business outside of your jurisdiction, you were promising to give away stuff that doesn’t belong to you,” he says, casting Azul a dark glare. “None of this is yours to give, Mister Ashengrotto. What exactly were you planning on telling them?”
Azul, who’s clearly realized his predicament, says nothing.
Diablo can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He feels the schoolboy urge to rub Azul’s self-brought misfortune in his face but squashes it back down for the sake of his professionalism. “Have fun, boss,” he calls out behind him, heading back to the kitchen to where Carmine stood. He spares one last look at Azul and snickers at the look of absolute terror that’s spread over the other’s face.
Carmine approaches Diablo and Lilia, looking just as nervous as before. “Is he—“
“He’s being taken care of, so stop acting like he’s going to jump out of the pantry and shoot you.” says Diablo, watching Lilia give Carmine a nod of acknowledgement.
“Good to see you again, Carmine,” says Lilia, though Diablo can’t tell if he actually means it. “I was wondering when you’d leave that coward.”
Carmine shrugs nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t just shaking a minute ago. “It’s all about the timing, I guess. I’m just glad you guys were able to catch him in the act.” He casts a look at the doors before heading out through the back of the cafe.
So he really wasn’t lying about knowing Lilia. Diablo follows the duo as they walk across the street, then head a block over to where Carmine had parked.
“Not to sound like I really care about his well-being, but shouldn’t we do more than make sure he gets into his car?” asks Diablo, wrapping his arms around himself to keep the cold from getting into his coat.
“You mean the twins?” Carmine looks over from where he’s opening the car door. “They don’t do anything unless they want to. Loyalty can’t be bought sometimes, it seems,” he says, getting in.
Lilia grins. “That’s the case with you, isn’t it?” Carmine flushes, but doesn’t deny it.
“It’s not like you figured it out on your own. I’d already told you what I was planning on doing after this.”
“Is that where you’re headed now?”
Diablo looks at the two of them incredulously. Whatever was going on had been discussed in-depth before Diablo had found out about any of what Azul had been doing, and his personality refused to be left out of it.
“What’s all this you’re yammering on about?” he asks, leaning against Carmine’s car door. Carmine looks at Lilia, as if asking for permission, which Lilia nods to.
“Well, I may or may not be in a relationship with someone from a different—ahem—organization, and this was the final push until I could go and join him.”
Diablo nods. It’s not unheard of for members to run away with someone from a different “professional group”, but he feels that no one needs an excuse to run away from Azul other than it being Azul they’re running away from.
“What he means to say is that he’s got the younger Kingscholar brother all wound up and has been making plans to finally move in with him. Isn’t that right, Carmine?”
Diablo suppresses the urge to drag Carmine back out of the car. “You’re with a Kingscholar?”
Carmine nods, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “I hope that won’t be a problem, considering what information I've left for you.”
“Now, now, you two,” says Lilia, “Carmine’s given us a lot already, and we’re not here to judge his poor taste in men, are we?”
“We certainly aren’t in the habit of helping out people in league with the Kingscholar’s either, in case you’ve forgotten,” snaps Diablo.
Carmine starts his car up. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I promise not to get into any other messes. Can’t say the same for Leona, though, but I’ll see if I can put in a good word for you, yeah?” Diablo doesn’t get to answer as Carmine hurriedly drives away; his soured mood doesn’t lift, but at least he knows Azul won’t be a problem for them again.
“That was nice, wasn’t it?” Lilia says with his signature smile, though it does little to make Diablo feel better. He rolls his eyes.
“At least I know who that damn informant Malleus hasn’t left alone is now. I can’t believe it was someone as lame as that guy, though—a Kingscholar? Really?”
Lilia doesn’t respond, and when Diablo looks over he can see the strange look he’s being given.
“What? What’s with that face?”
“Diablo, that’s not Malleus’ informant. They left before you got the chance to meet them.” They stand in silence for a moment before Lilia walks off, apparently not being up to offer any more explanation.
Diablo stares at the reflection of the streetlights on the wet asphalt. After a few seconds he lets out a humorless laugh.
Not them, huh? He smiles bitterly to himself, feeling the weights in his chest return. He can’t believe he missed them by just a few seconds—that must have been who Azul had been meeting with. You’re an awfully smart one, he thinks, to have evaded me while I was only a few feet away.
He’ll get them one day, he knows. His curiosity won’t be sated until he does. He can already imagine their identity in his hands, spread out for him like an obscene book to read in all its entirety. He knows it’s a dangerous path to go down, but when has anything in his life been simple?
He shakes his head and heads down the street, watching the lights flicker around him as he sinks deeper and deeper into his thoughts. This time, he can’t make the thought of the secretive informant leave.