Work Text:
I light a seventh cigarette. Five stacks of documents sit on my desk. A pile of ash and cigarette butts lie in my ashtray. Haaah... paperwork never ends, does it? This P.M.O. I recline in my seat, blowing out a lungful of smoke. There's barely anyone in the office right now - so I don't have to hear any of my coworkers whine about my smoking. And because no one's here, I'm pulling a longer shift to get our work done.
Minutes pass. Fire turns to smoke, then to ash. My pen scribbles and scratches on the creamy paper. It feels nice to write on, at least. Through an open window, a cold dusk wind circles throughout the office. It's getting late. I stub out my cigarette on my ashtray. I get back to my work. This is tiring. My eyes dull, vision blurring. I rest my head on my hand. Reports and spreadsheets and receipts swirl when I close my eyes. When was the last time I properly slept?
Just before I light another cigarette, I hear a pair of hurried footsteps travel throughout the office. It could only be described as a galloping. It's Quixote.
"Lady Ryōshū! Where--" I sit up in my chair, waving my hand in the air. "Aha!"
I see her across the office. She's holding a stack of documents and dossiers as she approaches me, trying not to tip them over. She wears the usual Association uniform, the trims of her jacket adorned with Fixer pins. A pair of small circular, gold-rimmed glasses sit on her nose.
Once we can talk, she lowers her voice. "How does thy work fare, mi amor?"
"...Hey, D.Q., dear." I tiredly meet her gaze. "Paperwork. I'm tired."
"Ah... lookest thou indeed, lady Ryōshū. Dost thou desire a tea...?" Quixote tilts her head to the side.
"No, thanks. Haah... more paperwork?"
"Mm... no. Director Outis hath told me to tell thee that..." Quixote shrugs off a dark-green dossier from the top of her stack onto my desk, a contract is paperclipped on its front. "She hath noticed thy work, and hath decided to assign thee fieldwork..."
"...Heh." A smile forms on my lips. Guess they've finally seen my worth, huh? That's something to look forward to. Can't wait to get out of this office. It's felt like years since I've last been on an outside assignment.
"And, Director Outis hath also stated that, if thee choose to take on this assignment, thou shalt be relieved of thy paperwork duties for some time."
"C.W."
"...I must go file these documents, but I shall return in due time. Fare thee well, lady Ryōshū." Quixote turns away from me, careful not to knock over her tower of documents.
"Uh huh." My attention is completely focused on the dossier now. It sits on my desk, waiting expectantly. Let's see what the Association has for me, then.
I splay open the dossier.
It begins with: 'Post-Contract Management'... excellent. An assignment that I could only dream of right now. I skim through the rest of the documents. The target's... ah, I've heard of them before. A somewhat high-profile Backstreets gang; well, high-profile according to our section. One that's famed for its violent execution of its targets. The resulting bodies are very... subpar. Nothing meaningful in the way they're cut and killed - only mindless violence. That's worst form of art, with no real intent behind it.
I scan the rest of the dossier. 'Occupation in District 11 Backstreets.'... 'Approximately 13 members in Syndicate Headquarters between 17:00-6:00.'... 'Eliminate Syndicate Leader; additional casualties permissible.'... and a floor plan of their hideout. Seems like this job will be a little difficult. I like that. I sign my name at the bottom of the contract.
...Ah, I'd almost forgotten. Doing this all myself would end with quite the exhibit, W.A.D. But, I should bring someone else along with me. Another person will mean I can split the P.C.P., that's the most important part. I'd prefer not to be bogged down by even more paperwork afterwards.
I don't need to deliberate on who, though. I feel the choice is quite obvious: Quixote.
We've been on contracts together before. Her style of fighting is... reminiscent of the Pointillists; enough that I'm familiar with it, at the very least. I don't think it ever gets in the way of me - in fact, I'd consider it complementary to my own artwork. What better duo in the office than the two of us, hm? Besides... I've been looking for an excuse to do fieldwork with her again.
I clack my pen on my desk while I wait for her. Eventually she comes back into the office. As she comes back to my desk, I hear her breathe out a long sigh. We're both exhausted tonight, maybe some time together will
"Mine apologies, lady Ryōshū... I assume thou art done with the contract?"
"Yes, I am. D.M., together. Here's my pen." I click my pen, and offer it to Quixote.
Even though she's tired, I can tell she's excited. There's the glimmer in her eyes, beyond the tiredness of long hours and excessive tea drinking. She takes the pen from my hands and signs her own name on the contract, beside mine.
"Hehe... this shall be a most splendid night indeed." She takes the dossier from my hands, unclipping the contract. "I shall bring the contract to Director Outis. Shall we meet at the café?"
"Sounds good. I'll be waiting, mi estrella." I get up from my desk as she hurries off. Ugh, my back... by the Wings, I need tea and a cigarette.
-----
Our branch's café is quiet at this time of night. It smells vegetal, like tea leaves. Something like a greenhouse, or a garden; a rare smell in the City - but not unexpected here. A handful of people sit at a few tables, a small hubbub of conversation permeates through the teahouse.
"...Hm." Yi Sang tiredly looks up at the both of us from the register. "Green tea, brewed with ginseng and hibiscus. Is that all?"
"Yeah. That's it."
"2,000 Ahn."
"Ah! I shall pay for the both of us..." Quixote shuffles through her pockets, bringing out a handful of Ahn notes. "Here is thy payment."
Yi Sang counts the money; once he's done, he nods at us. "Spare me a few minutes, I will be off to prepare the tea..." As he prepares the kettle and the ingredients, he speaks to us. "It is quite obvious that you two seem tired from your labour--you, miss Ryōshū--especially. It wouldn't be remiss for you two to rest a moment, would it not? I can serve the tea in your seats, if you so wish."
"Indeed. Perhaps we shall follow thy advice..." Quixote looks up at me, pointing out a table beside the café's window. "Shall we sit there?"
"That's fine."
Quixote takes a seat first, facing towards the window. I slump on the chair beside her, folding my arms. I look out the window - crowds pass by, even at this time of night. It's not unusual, though - we are in a Nest, after all; it hasn't passed midnight, either. We probably wouldn't have met here if we were on a time crunch with the contract, anyway.
"It doth seem like a pleasant time for fieldwork, tonight."
"Eh. Looks like normal to me."
A new scent of freshly-brewing tea emanates throughout the café. It smells nice. I should come here more often, with Quixote. We've only really done things like this outside working hours... and those are few between the both of us. I haven't felt this relaxed in a while.
"Ah, well... I meant that it shall be a better night, with thee."
"Yeah... it'll be nice with you along, too." I lightly punch Quixote's shoulder. "Just try not to die, hm?"
"You ought not to worry about mineself! Forsooth, I am quite adept at staying alive; I should be the one worrying - for thee, rather."
"Hmph. I'll be fine, you know that."
Quixote doesn't answer me - instead, she yawns, leaning her head on my shoulder. Is she sleeping? I'll just... leave her.
After a few minutes, footsteps and clinking teacups approach. I shake Quixote a little, but she already seems to be awake. Guess she didn't sleep, then.
"Apologies, I don't mean to intrude..." Yi Sang places down the tea-tray on the table, setting our teacups and the teapot. "Is there anything aught either of you need?"
"No, nothing. Thanks."
"Then I shall be off." Yi Sang leaves us, taking the tray with him.
"Mine gratitude upon thee!" Quixote calls after Yi Sang, though he doesn't respond. She takes a sip of her tea.
"So... what've you been doing today?"
"Ah - just performing errands for our Director - nothing especial. Filing documents, assisting her with paperwork, such as that."
"Right."
I take a sip of our tea. It's sweet, somewhat vegetal. I'm not as interested in tea as most of the other Fixers here, so... I don't really have any deeper opinions. It's fine.
"...I don't wish to talk about our employment. It's tiring."
"What, then?"
"I'm... not sure. Nothing?"
"F.W.M."
Quixote takes my hand and places it on her lap. She leans her head on my shoulder, once again. Guess she likes it? We drink our tea in silence, enjoying the comfort of one another. We don't really get moments like this. Association work is tiring, especially so the menial office work we do at our Branch. I don't really care too much about these moments... but I know how important they are to Quixote, it's not too much to fulfill her wishes.
Outside, the crowds start to thin. Seems like our time is up. Don't want to be caught in a N.I.T.B., anyway. We need to make sure we do this quickly and cleanly, with time to spare for the return trip. I nudge Quixote a little.
"Alright, amor, are you done?" I stand up from the table, nodding to the door. "Let's go."
Quixote grumbles. "Mmh... Forsooth - let us set forth."
-----
"...Almost there." I let go of Quixote's hand, taking a look at her. "Ready?"
"Hm. Indeed..." Quixote stares ahead at the building, confused. "Art thou... doubly sure we are at the right place?"
"Yeah. Should be."
We approach the building as detailed in the dossier. It's an unassuming, grey warehouse in the Backstreets. We take a few minutes to case around the building. A map was provided in the dossier - but practical knowledge always outweighs written knowledge.
Quixote tries the back door. It's locked. She shuffles in her pockets quickly, but she does not find what she's looking for.
"Uh... dost thee carry a lockpicking set? It seems I hath forgotten mine."
"Hmph. N.A.P. Watch and learn, D.Q."
I eye a window nearby - one big enough to go through. I bring the hilt of my broadsword down onto the window's centre, and it shatters. I quickly glance at Quixote, and nod at the window.
I leap through the window first, Quixote following. At a quick glance, we've landed in some kind of break room. There's a handful of people in here, seems as though they're the main body, right now; they all seem to be members of this Syndicate... and among them is their leader - our target. Lucky. I see that he totes a handful of bionic weapons, as we expected... this'll be fun.
By the time I realise, Quixote and I have already left a few bodies in our wake - the rest have taken up their weapons at this point. I hear footsteps rush down the hallway, I nudge Quixote out a little to fend off the rest while I deal with these.
The goons barely put up a fight. I strike to kill, and one strike is all it takes for each.
The leader's left - seems like his thugs sacrificed themselves to buy their leader time. I cut him off before they can escape - and I stare him down, shifting into an unorthodox combat posture. Not many are accustomed to fighting against someone who uses the Palermitan style - especially not Backstreets scum like this. My attention is solely focused on him. He levies his scythes - like they'll be of use against me.
I've been taught not to "play with my food", but what's the harm in doing a little? His sweeps are clumsy and filled with power--too much power. He keeps this up; he'll be tired out, soon enough. Won't even have to lift a finger to kill him. Placing my blade in the correct spot, or performing a sidestep are practically all I need to do.
I block, and lean in and strike. But - at the last moment, I stop my blade, nicking only the thinnest and tiniest of wounds. If I had fully cut, the battle would have ended - and yet the fighting resumes. I've had dozens of chances to reduce this brute into a piece of real art, but nothing would satisfy me more than watching their leader be reduced to a snivelling mess before I kill him.
You bring all this trouble to our Branch, and can barely even hold your own against a single Fixer? Pathetic.
I can see him wear out, specks of sweat beading across his forehead. He's been getting cocky - getting a scratch or two on me, but it's nothing. Nothing vital, at least. A sweep, and I sever two of his weapons. The scythes drop to the floor, twitching. My foe redoubles his efforts - though it'll be in vain. I'm getting bored now.
Another few minutes as I look for an adequate opening... and I cut his ankles, dropping him to the ground. No weapons, and barely any energy to fight back. I stare into his eyes, and they stare into mine. Is that... fear? anger? resignment? I don't know, I don't care about that.
I swing my sword - and behead him. That's that, job done. I let out a sharp exhale.
The Syndicate headquarters is deathly silent, save for our footsteps. Seems they're all dead... or fled. Doesn't matter which: the job's done either way. I stand still for a minute or two. Nothing. Looks like Quixote pulled her own weight. I pull out a handkerchief from my jacket's breast pocket, wiping my broadsword clean and and sheathing it. Can't let it stay wet for too long, else it'll rust.
Quixote barges into the room, quickly scanning it. Probably just making sure if I had done my job, if I had to guess. Once she notices that I'm done, she flicks the blood off her rapier and sheathes it cleanly, despite her shaky breaths. She looks like she's exerted herself, clearing out the rest of the Syndicate. Her suit is slightly stained with blood, and so are her gloves. Despite her bloodied appearance... I think she looks beautiful.
She leans on the doorframe, catching her breath while she cleans spattered blood off her glasses.
"Looks like we're done, huh?"
"Haah... verily, 'tis done. How do thee fare?"
"Heh- I'm fine. H.A.Y.?"
"Perhaps a bit sore... but I shan't die."
"That's good. Hmh... I need a smoke break." I point outside. "Wanna come with? Saw a fire escape outside."
"I shall, ah... join you in a moment. Prithee, you can go on."
-----
I look down from the second storey of the fire escape. The streets are grimy, sure... but the distant Nest's lights look pretty at this time of night. The sky above us is a dark blue, devoid of any stars or clouds... boring. A night breeze drifts pass me on the rooftop, my tie sways in the wind. I light a cigarette. I should have enough time for one.
After a few puffs, I hear the stairwell creak. Eventually, Quixote arrives beside me - getting comfortable, leaning on the railing.
"Oh... it seems the stars hath absconded into the skies tonight." I look aside to her. She looks up at the sky, her eyes glimmering with the City's lights.
"At least my star's beside me, hm?" I ruffle Quixote's hair, letting her bat away my hand after she's had enough. "Heh. Idiot."
Quixote playfully pushes her shoulder into me. It's not enough to make me lose my balance, but my cigarette falls into the street below. I mumble a "fuck" as it leaves my mouth. I've got more... O.S.T., I don't need another right now.
I pull her closer, keeping my arms around her. Quixote leans into my hug, wrapping her arms around me; though she can only comfortably reach a little above my waist. To make up for that, she squeezes me tight. Haah... I'm gonna be sore when I get home. But for now, we're here - I couldn't ask to be anywhere else.
I glance down at Quixote, she's looking down at the streets below us. I gently place my hand under her chin, and lift her head up. She stares at me with those hazel-brown eyes. Quixote looks like she's... expecting me, I can feel her heartbeat quicken in anticipation. It's hard to resist - but I don't want to resist.
I bend down, and kiss her.
"I.L.Y." A smirk plays on my lips as I watch her cheeks turn a rosy-red; a splotch of red on a pure-white canvas.
"M-mine gratitude upon thee, mi cariña..." Quixote giggles. It's such a... lovely sound, her laugh. Dare I say, it might be even better than the sound of a blade cleanly cutting through flesh. A flood of euphoria fills my heart. "I lovest thou, too, Ryōshū mine."
"...'Ryōshū mine'?"
"O-oh, I--"
"Heh. I'm kidding, love." I straighten up, still holding her in my arms. "Wanna come to my apartment after we C.O.?"
"I think that would be... splendid, indeed. Haaah..." Quixote buries her face into my jacket. "By the Colours, I ought to sleep... badly."
"Don't start sleepwalking when we go back, hm?"