Chapter Text
Lady Jeanne Geist drew her fur collar just a tad more snug around her neck. Warm. Cozy. Not some cheap imitation astrakhan, but real white mink. It staved off the chill of the night as she stood outside the rendezvous spot--the dirty concrete just outside a late-night automat. She sighed as she watched the last diners open those little 5 cent boxes, taking a sandwich or meatloaf to gobble up and then quickly depart.
Oh, how she wished this evening could be spent by the fireside, sipping on a vintage merlot (French, of course) and satiating herself with hors d'oeuvres.
But, as always, Oathkeeper throbbed painfully.
A shadow emerged from the darkness of an alley that stank of offal and refuse; she had come face to face with the hitman. Or...woman? It was… a reptilian creature? A snake…woman? It was hard to tell…
“Heyyy, you the lady who needed some people, uhhh…disappeared?”
Lady Geist blinked twice. The lizard had a smooth tongue, a confident tone, and an intriguing accent. Was it Canadian or Midwestern? She pocketed the thought.
“Ah, so you must be Vyper. What a descriptive moniker you have.”
Vyper grinned, her green jowls stretching across her face. The color quite reminded Geist of Paris green, a delightful arsenic dye. She still remembered her disappointment when science revealed the dangers of such substances. Poison, they had said.
“Actually, I’m a gorgon, buuut it’s all a technicality, eh? Just means I can do a little poisoning and turn a schmuck into stone. Not too bad with a blade, either!”
As if to demonstrate her prowess, the gorgon flicked a switchblade out of her pocket and spun it around in her palm. The silver glinted for a few turns, then promptly launched into the gutter below them with a fading clink, clink.
“Ope, uhh… yeah, I’ll be right back…shit, that was expensive…” Vyper grumbled as dived into the sewer and slithered away.
Geist took this breath respite to adjust her green silk gloves and think. Could she trust this Vyper? Well, she had no choice. She was running out of time.
And, she thought, she somewhat took pity on the poor thing. As Vyper scrambled back out, cursing, Geist’s eyes flicked to her raggedy excuse for garments: overalls and nothing else. Was she some kind of farmer? Silvery scars dotted the ample exposed skin, even on her thick tail.
Johann had always chastised her for scorning the destitute. While she had long thought the poor to be born of corrupted morals and poor choices. He had said, in his idiotic broken French, non, mon cherie, they do not choose such a life, and it is our duty as the rich to help them. Well, perhaps it was not too late to try redeeming herself with a bit of charity…
Vyper was just dusting off her bare, well-muscled shoulders and scaly back.
“Uhh, Lady?”
Geist composed herself and slipped a hand into her satchel, removing a folded piece of paper.
“If you can poison and destroy the people on this note, you will have my confidence. I will accompany you. Do not disappoint me, Vyper.” She handed the note over.
Vyper took a clawed finger and broke the green wax seal.
“Holy cannoli, I guess we’re getting Italian tonight. Where to first, lady?”
“Please. Call me Geist.” Geist flickered her lashes at the gorgon. Was she mistaken, or were Vyper’s hands shaking?
“Yeah. OK. Geist. Just lemme grab my gun back there and I’ll help you shoot the shit outta these people.”
She started to scuttle back into the alley, and Geist followed. Vyper made quick work of digging around a dumpster and soon retrieved some type of automatic weapon. Didn’t matter what it was, Geist mused. It looked deadly enough.