Chapter Text
Everything regarding the underworld fight club had become a nightmare.
Brief after brief, report after report… No member of the Landau family ever mentioned all the meetings that went with carrying on the family legacy in the Silvermane guards. When he signed up to serve, he never expected so much pencil pushing to be involved!
The day was only half over and it already felt like a week had passed. After physical training around sunrise, Gepard had gone to morning debrief for the night before. Two grueling hours later (if one more person mentioned "piggybacking off what you just said," one more time-!), he'd returned to his office to finally finish the report he'd offered to take off Pela’s hands two weeks ago.
The aforementioned intelligence officer handed his last report back riddled with red marks, which she clarified were correcting all the spelling and grammatical errors he’d made. Despite knowing that his sister’s best friend meant well, it was still humiliating. With a promise to do better next time - "please don't," she whispered to herself - he ducked out the door and made for the railcar station.
Traveling to the underworld had become a reprieve, as of late. It was strange to think of working with Koski as a reprieve of any sort, but here he was.
Here, being walking through the underworld to their pre planned meeting spot, that is. After how poorly his morning had gone, Gepard had hope that the afternoon would be productive. Considering that plan was reliant on Sampo Koski, well…
Despite getting pulled into an impromptu game of hopscotch with the moles (and their stupidly convincing puppy dog eyes), Gepard finally made his way to their appointed meeting spot on time. While not exactly as out-of-the-way as he might prefer, Sampo had assured that the alley across from the clinic was perfect. "No one apart from Oleg ever hangs around there," he'd assured, "and I have good intel that the old captain will be aboveground for the day!"
Happy to see there was indeed no one around, Gepard walked over to one of the many empty tables. Not wanting to get too comfortable, he stood next to said table and mentally ran through the brief from earlier that morning. 'Motive, players, desired outcome…'
Suddenly, he was no longer alone.
While he was well accustomed to the sensation of eyes on him, this was completely different. “Koski, I know you’re there.”
“No I’m not~!” a disembodied voice answered in an exaggerated falsetto.
Gepard’s jaw ached from clenching his teeth, trying desperately to bite back irritation. Even though he’d begun to expect this sort of tomfoolery from his dealings with Sampo Koski, it did not make it any more palatable. Remembering to breathe the way his sister taught - in 2, 3, 4 hold 2, 3, 4, out 2, 3, 4- he tried to calm his heart rate before he risked chasing his best lead off. “How can you answer me if you’re not there?”
“That didn’t sound like the secret signal~!” the same voice as before lilted back, making no effort to hide its amusement.
At the mention of a “secret signal,” Gepard scowled. ‘Screw breathing.’ “I’m not doing it, Sampo.”
“Who’s Sampo?”
Glad there was no one around to see him arguing with seemingly no one, Gepard swiveled around to stare down the “empty” area. “Cut it out, you’re not funny.”
“Au contraire,” the voice teased over Gepard’s shoulder, “I’m hilarious!”
“Gah!” Gepard exclaimed, quickly pivoting to see nothing behind him. Somewhere, someone laughed at him and his blood pressure spiked. How did anyone put up with this clown? How did he put up with this clown?!
Beginning to suspect this whole meet-up was a waste of time, Gepard’s tormentor chimed in again. “If you won’t give the signal, how about a performance instead? I heard big sis came out with a new single recently?”
There it was: the final straw. “I’m leaving.”
Before he could even completely turn, there was something clinging like a limpet to Gepard’s arm. Said limpet beamed, before dodging the gauntlet aimed at its face. “Wow, rude!”
“And wasting my time wasn’t?!”
Sampo, to his credit, looked contrite enough. He smiled placatingly and bowed, offering several apologies and pleas not to leave.
(Gepard thought he’d look a lot more sincere with a fist to the face.)
“C’mon, blondie, you know I’m just teasing~!” Gepard cringed as the other man snuggled his arm. While it may not look like it, time had mellowed him to Sampo’s antics - the Gepard of a few years ago would have long ago stormed off in a huff. Present day Gepard was back to practicing his deep breathing and questioning his life choices.
Once assured that his face was safe from further assault, Sampo hopped away with flourish and a grin. “See, I knew you loved me!”
“‘Love’ is such a strong word…”
“That’s why I used it!” Sampo beamed at the other’s exasperation. “For what it’s worth, love you too, Geppie~!”
Gepard's face instantly reddened. “Don’t call me that!”
“But why not? It’s so cute!”
Already knowing the answer, Gepard crossed his arms. “Did you find any new information?”
“Nope!” Sampo emphasized the ‘p’ with a pop, backpedaling immediately when his audience made to leave. “No, no, no I’m kidding! Geez, do you not know how to take a joke?”
"No."
Not expecting that answer, Sampo cracked a grin. "No wonder your girlfriend broke up with you!"
Not wanting to draw this out any more, Gepard brought his palm to his forehead. It was impossible, but he swore he could feel a headache forming through his skull. "So you did find something, then?"
Sensing the change in atmosphere, Sampo adopted a more serious demeanor. "You know that old guy by the door?"
That got Gepard's attention. "Scott?"
“The guy in charge of the whole operation? Yeah, he’s not the biggest fan of the Silvermane guards. And I say that in not just an overworld-versus-underworld-us-versus-them sort of way.” Sampo crossed his arms, mirroring Gepard’s own stance. “The guy’s family was killed. I don’t know all the details, but I do know there’s no love lost for law enforcement.”
At that, Sampo pulled a torn piece of paper from somewhere on his outfit. After a quick game of keep away, he handed it over with a teasing smile and a pinch to Gepard’s cheeks. “Would it kill you to smile sometime?”
Gepard swatted the other man away once he’d managed to swipe the paper away. According to what was written, the owner’s wife and daughter had died in an overworld accident. While he had been far too young to serve at the time of the accident, Gepard was still disappointed at the lack of attention the deaths received. “Where did you even get this?”
“Caelus, believe it or not,” Sampo answered before pouting. “You complain about me, but I’m not the one dumpster diving and lock picking. I’d like a little credit where credit is due, sometimes.”
"Caelus didn't drug and kidnap the supreme guardian!"
"That was practically forever ago!"
"It's been barely a year!"
"Have you ever read a book where the main character at the start is the same as at the end? It's called 'character development,' Geppie!"
Rather than continue to play into the conman's game to rile him up, Gepard closed his eyes and counted to ten. Upon reopening them, Sampo's face - while still punchable - was less rage inducing. Serval, while the origin of Sampo's new favorite nickname, had been right about stress management; nothing would get accomplished if he lost his temper everytime the other man took a crack at him.
After another series of deep breaths - and a mental note to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth - Gepard squared his shoulders up. "If there's nothing else, we should be off. "
Instead of immediately leaping to action, Sampo took a step back. He thoughtfully shot Gepard elevator eyes and frowned. “I think Nat’s got some spare clothing back at the clinic we can borrow.”
'Clothing?' “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
Sampo rocked back on his heels and smiled, but looked to be in pain. “Nothing! Nothing’s wrong…per se.”
Gepard glanced down at his own outfit. He failed to see what was so egregious; the Silvermane physical fitness uniform was a tiny bit wrinkled from spending a week wadded up in the closet, but he figured the sport coat on top would cover that up nicely. “You said not to wear my armor this time…”
“Well, yes, but I also assumed you knew not to dress like a toddler who raided their father’s dresser,” Sampo responded with a sigh. “Did you even brush your hair this morning?”
“...”
Judging from the silence and the pink now dusting his friend’s cheeks, Sampo figured he had his answer. Before Gepard could object, he looped an arm over the Silvermane captain’s shoulders and pointed into the distance. “To Natasha’s we go!”
—
Once Gepard has been suitably disguised - "See, and you doubted my fashion sense!" - the two made their way to where the fights took place. Sampo sauntered forward first, schmoozing the man at the door up while Gepard did his best not to gawk. Even with the windows boarded up, shouts and screams poured out into the streets.
After only a minute or two, Sampo gestured to follow him inside. Despite the bouncer giving them the stink eye, it seemed as though they were in the clear. 'Sometimes it pays to know someone as shady as him…'
(Gepard was dismayed to learn that even children had better luck gaining access than he did alone. Thankfully, if Sampo took notice of his pouting, he was merciful enough not to comment.)
The smell of sweat and grease slammed into the pair with physical force as they entered the building. Writhing, shouting masses of people filled the room, jostling Gepard to and fro with their movements. In the center of the chaos was a shoddy ring, being held together with tig welds and a dream. Clouds of dust and other detritus hung suspended in the air, visible in the low lights.
Gepard looked toward the ring in morbid curiosity, where an automaton had what looked to be a miner suspended in the air. Oil was spraying from the joints of the automaton, but his opponent was clearly the one losing their bout. The crowd exploded with cheers as the man was tossed into the fence with an "oof" before promptly passing out. No one bothered checking to see if the miner was even still alive until after his body had been dragged out.
"You okay?" Sampo's voice was jarring in how calm it was in the sea of voices.
A hand was raised by the apparent medic attending to the miner and Gepard found himself releasing a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I'm fine."
"You sure?"
"We train against machines all the time," Gepard responded without taking his eyes off the ring. "But not without armor. Or training."
"Welcome to the underworld, where desperation runs rampant and cash is king."
It was then Gepard noticed a familiar face in the crowd. The man was tucked away in a corner where the light didn't shine, most likely intentionally. Even without his armor, he had the bearing of a proud Silvermane guard. Suddenly, they had found their lead.
“That’s Simms…”
Sampo propped his chin on Gepard’s shoulder, squinting to see a wizened brunette man leaning against the opposite wall. Everything about him was unremarkable; thinning hair, crows feet, relatively bland clothing… "You know him?"
"Mmm," Gepard murmured, not even bothering to try to dislodge the other man. "He's the commander of the 12th, a reconnaissance squadron."
"Doubt he's doing reconnaissance here," Sampo muttered as one of the brokers handed the supposed-commander a stack of tickets. "Doesn't strike me as the upstanding, law enforcement type."
"Desperately seeking recognition, constantly calling himself the 'tip of the spear,'" Gepard actually scoffed, earning a fond smile from his companion. "That man is constantly kissing up to command in hopes of promotion."
"Ahh, the good 'ole golden knee pads."
Gepard paused his observations of Simms to give Sampo a look of confusion. "'Golden knee pads?'"
Rather than respond like a normal person, Sampo poked the other man's cheek with a coo. Gepard squawked in indignation, only further fueling the other's delight. "Pure as the driven snow, aren't you, blondie?"
The two drew some attention when Gepard grabbed the finger prodding his now-red face and growled in frustration. Upon noticing the eyes on them, he quickly released Sampo and plastered himself to the back wall.
Not wanting to draw any more notice, Sampo held his hands up and sighed. "Kids, amirite?" This seemed to placate the few curious onlookers, who grumbled a bit before turning back to the cage.
Simms himself remained oblivious to the commotion on the other side of the room, too busy tallying the slips in his hands and mentally calculating profits. He muttered something to himself before stuffing meaty hands into his pockets. Gepard clenched his hands into fists, barely restraining himself from storming over. Confronting the man here would do no good, but it was still tempting. He’d love to punch the smug look off his face.
Obviously, this needed to be reported ASAP. Any time spent dragging their feet would give Simms the chance to bury any evidence. They'd need to launch an investigation with internal affairs soon, which likely meant another date with Pela and her red pen…
Almost as though having read his mind, Sampo nudged Gepard in the ribs with his elbow. "Seen enough?"
Pulling the borrowed hat lower to cover his eyes, Gepard nodded. Before the next match could start - this time between a gangly looking teenager and what looked like an oversized stop light- the two ducked their way toward the exit. Gepard took one last look at Simms's smarmy face before they ducked back out into the fresh(-ish) air of the underworld.
Sampo shot a jaunty wave to the old man on the steps before catching back up. "Where do we go from here?"
"I report this to the supreme guardian. You go back to masquerading as a salesman and stay out of my hair."
Unsurprisingly, Sampo squawked in protest about being "a legitimate businessman, thank you!" which went completely unheard. Gepard's mind was already miles away, thinking about Scott, Simms and what this meant for his mission
No matter what it took, he would get to the bottom of this.