Focused eyes remain locked on the road, peering through a window under the constant bombardment from the rain, Jir's eyes dim, a telltale sign of his sleepiness. The window wipers provide staccato moments of clarity, but the water continues to bead up onto the glass surface. Dahlia, in the seat next to him, figures conversation to be the best remedy to the driver's tiredness
"So, where are we supposed to find this man?" Her inquiry was about the mission assigned to the Phenomena Department by Gideon himself. They were searching for a man named Dekelaus who seemed to have committed quite a few crimes in Maridia and the nearby nation of Eté. They weren't looking to apprehend the man so oddly named "The Mistake"; rather, find out how he survived three rounds to the cranium from a high-powered assault rifle and managed to escape such (under normal conditions) fatal wounds.
The second before Jir Raskeon begins to answer, a black motorcycle roars out before their own vehicle and causes Jir to swerve on the wet road. The blare of the headlights peppered continually by rain show the black leather long coat worn tightly around the mysterious rider, who glances over his shoulder at the silver automobile. His face the perfect match with photographs seen in the dossier on The Immortal Pirate, Dekelaus. A smile graces his face as he reveals a pistol from the folds of his coat and squeezes the trigger. Bullets rain upon the hood of the car and at least one nails a tire as he fires off nine-millimeter bullets in rapid succession at the car, causing it to fishtail off the road and into a tree, the shriek of metal and wood sounding off resoundedly at the meeting of the trunk to the base and only the fading roar of the motor bike dying off the distance. "Oh, right around here," Jir says sarcastically.
A foggy horizon awaits Dekelaus in Leviat as he speeds into the city on his shade black machine. He pulls up to his office building, the smile returning to his lips as he remembers seeing the looks of the Maridian Intelligence Syndicate (MIS) agents' faces. He cruises into the underground garage and parks, dismounts then heads for the stairwell. Tugging off his wet coat while he runs his hand through his long, damp hair he thinks, It's been a while since I've been here... He continues up the stairs with the duster thrown over his shoulder.
He looks around thinking the offices of the mercenary hadn't changed at all as his most trusted friend Celea greets him. He comes onto the floor where his office was.
"Welcome back," she says nonchalantly walking past him. For a brief instant the two stop and turned to face each other. Dekelaus had changed, but to him, Celea held the same gorgeous look he had dreamt about for many nights while away.
"It's good to finally see you again, Celea."
"Likewise," she said and smirks. As she turns away, her head stays balefully stagnant to to look at him over her shoulder for a moment then follows with the rest of the turn. As she walks away, Dekelaus watches as the hypnotical sway sway of her hips in her tight leather pants. God, I missed that woman, he thinks as it's quickly replaced by his other thoughts of more sexual, physical scenarios. Finally, he clears his mind of such things and finally turns to continue to his office. Wonder if I still have a job.
As he strolls in he notices that his office is immaculate. It surprises him and he chuckls as he noting the addition of a picture of Celea on his desk, a lipstick stain upon the photo in the familiar shape of Celea's lips. He sits in his big leather chair and peruses the photo of his counterpart wearing a fine lacy gown and appering to be in one of Ociria's greater dance halls.
"Well, at least she's kept busy," he says to himself and laughs at the thought of her working alone. She's so much more organized than I...
After a long night filled with studying the new schematics of his age-old ship, Excelsior, and making love to his dear friend, Celea, Dekelaus awakes in his bed, wrapped in white satin alongside his slumbering lover. He slips out from beneath the sheets and and arises to look out the window of the bedroom, staring at the dark morning sky and magnificent seaside city beneath it. He showers, dresses in fine black satin formals, and goes down to his shooting range a floor beneath the garage.
His hands clasp the black and gold semi-automatic pistol as he clenches the trigger; letting shots ring out at the paper target. The nine-millimeter MAG 95 operates smoothly and is soon emptied of all its bullets. Dekelaus watches the barrel smoke and considers the target swaying in the concrete hall thirty yards or so out. During the lull someone has entered and gently wraps delicate hands around his waist. Celea's chin perches his shoulder. Her voice falls upon his ears in a whisper; "It'll all be as it was..."
The pearl white craft glistens in the afternoon sun. Her captain stares from his spot on the roof, standing a distance away from the floating vessel secured to the roof by a number of chains and wires.
"She never ceases to amaze the eye, does she?" Celea says from her position behind Dekelaus. His head turns to acknowledge her comment with a nod and a smile.
"Aye. I'm sure you've taken good care of her while I was out?" he says as he slips his hands into the pockets of his leather duster's. The two empty casings in his pocket remind him of why he had left. He could remember it so clearly...
Two months ago she had walked into the building and looked around with her hollow black eyes. Her shoes softly clicking across the marble floor. Like her eyes, her long trench coat is a deep black, though the coat twinkles like it were the night sky. Not far behind her, Dekelaus had shrugged his duster coat off his body as he moved up the cement sidewalk to the familiar doors. His stride slows as he folds the coat over his left arm and slipps his right hand into his pocket. He watches the woman enter the building before him and follows just behind her. A wry smile turns up on his lips; bemused that he actually has a customer. After following her closely into the main room, he speaks, so if she didn't notice him, she'd notice him for his attempt for dialogue; "Can I help you?" The lady in black quickly turns her head as she hears the voice, her black eyes looking him over quickly.
"I am looking for someone." Dekelaus smirks and moves his right hand from his pocket to readjust his belt and the golden firearm holstered on his right hip. He stares at her for a couple of seconds, wondering if she could be an assassin or government lackey.
"Well, you've found someone, haven't you?" Chuckling lightly and then continuing his mild interrogation of the girl;
"Who are you looking for?" She mimes the smirk and obviously stands as if she was not used to being on two feet. A woman apparently in her mid-late thirties though she seems to have aged gracefully.
"Of course... of course I've found someone. I am looking for a man who is called Dekelaus." His right hand moves over his mouth to stifle laughter.
"Got really lucky, didn't you?" Stepping forward he offers his right hand to shake, his left hand beneath the coat slides to a well-concealed pistol hidden in the folds of the jacket.
"I'm the fabled Dekelaus."
"If you are who you say you are, then you could possibly do something for me. Though now... I am wondering if this trip has been worth my time."
"Do you doubt me already?"
"Yes."
"I'm going to my office. If you wish to continue this discussion, you're welcome to follow,"
"Sure," she says nonchalantly, figuring Dekelaus was just an over-exaggerated tale. He points his hand in the direction of the stairs. "It's this way." Moving to the staircase on the right he walks slowly up it. The lady follows him, letting her eyes wander as she climbs up the stairs.
"Are there any ears within your office?"
Dekelaus keeps his gaze lowered. As they continue to mount the stairs, he responds to the question, "No. We're the only people here."
"There are other ways to listen. We all have our different...magics, or, as you may call it, technology."
He comes to a door down a hall to the right of the stairsthe speaks to her "I can assure you, my office is literally a safe." He opens the door to find his computer broken up on the floor and his desk turned over, papers thrown about the entire chamber. His eyes widenen in shock as he takes in the sight of it. The lady in black own gaze follows as well before looking towards the victim of what appears to be a robbery; "Even a safe can be broken into it seems..."
"Fuck."
