Chapter Nine: Test Your Might in the Streets of Rage!
The corruption that led the group of 'policemen' to try to murder Dan and the rest of the Hammer Wolves did have one upside: due to their not wanting the public to be aware of their crooked actions, the Dome's staff were not alerted—and thus, after finding another vacant bathroom stall, Richard and Greymont were able to separate and make their way back to Voltaire in his family's VIP booth.
Although Richard had contacted Voltaire once on the Codec as he'd set out to find out what was going on, the red-haired man was mostly kept in the dark by the brevity of the transmission, so the third prince had a lot of explaining to do upon his return. However, once Richard did return, he found that his old friend was more curious about, rather than annoyed with, his delayed return.
Without wasting time, Richard told Voltaire everything. The prodigy of the Joachim family calmly stood up and took out a wine glass, chuckled, and muttered, "…So let me get this straight: the reason you were gone for half of the second quarter was because you overheard some gang member ratting out some folks to some guy who sounded like he was with the Don, and decided to handle the matter personally by slapping together a costume and making like a vigilante —and in the process racked up, oh, only a couple hundred thousand Auros worth of damage, to say nothing of loss of life and limb— before charging back upstairs as fast as you could to tell me all this."
"In all fairness, I only severed a few limbs, and I didn't actually kill anyone…um…unless someone was hit by that plasma shot. —But it was self-defense!"
"Uh-huh. I think we can rule out 'keeping a low profile'…. Sure sounded like fun, though."
"No one saw us." Richard sighed. "You think they'd be dumb enough to try and pull that on camera?"
"Oh, no—I'm not worried about that; I'm worried about how you obligated yourself to these guys," Voltaire retorted as he walked over to one of the side tables for a drink. "I'm also, oh…a bit concerned that you decided to pick a meeting place so close to my family's property."
"Cut me some slack, Voltaire; it's the only spot I could think of that would work. Would you have preferred me telling them to meet at the manor?"
"Hmm. Touché." The red-haired man got an already-open bottle and began to pour himself a drink. "Still, Richard, how much have you thought this through? Do you even have an end goal in mind?"
"Well, I'm kind of hamstrung at the moment; I'll take what I can get. Besides, you didn't happen to find any better leads, did you?"
Voltaire took a sip of wine as he looked out to the window and the game still raging below and grimaced. "You got me there; not really. The best I could come up with is that a few people know the Diamond Don is planning some sort of big operation—definitely not something they were willing to spread around, just 'something big'. And at the bare minimum, these gang members look like they'll owe us a debt they can pay off with a few jobs. Still…"
He looked to Richard. "They're gangsters. And not well-funded ones, either; even if they're somehow efficient enough to help, they may end up doing some things for 'kicks' on the side that could cause more trouble than they're worth."
Richard paused —that was a valid point, and one he didn't like thinking too much about himself— but finally inhaled and leaned back a bit more in his chair, where he had been catching his breath since stumbling back into the VIP box. "Honestly, I don't think these Hammer Wolves are as bad as some other gangs. I can't speak for all of them, but their leader seems trustworthy, at least.
"He seems to at least have a sense of honor and care about his comrades. Obviously, after everything that's happened recently, I'm not about to let him in on my true identity or anything, but who knows? Maybe it wasn't coincidence that I ran into him on my first day in Los Midas." He looked up a bit more. "Weren't you the one saying we'll have to take some risks to pull this off?"
Voltaire took another sip. "I was thinking more in the sense of 'investing in junk bonds', but I suppose if I put my foot in my mouth, I have no choice but to eat a little 'filet of sole'; can't get much riskier than trying to take out a king's advisor anyways, eh, good sport? I guess I just never pictured our first venture being raiding a mental institution…especially Rycroft."
Greymont, who had taken up his position near the food table to eat whatever was left, looked up a bit in curiosity. "What's so bad about a mental institution in the first place? For that matter, what is a 'mental institution'?"
"I'll admit, I was a bit puzzled, hearing Dan rant about it," Richard added as he propped his head on one arm. "How could they even take them there? You can't just 'commit' people on a whim, right? You've got to have them declared legally insane, or something. Besides, what's wrong with the local jail?"
Voltaire look turned grim as he took another sip. "…Yet another thing you've got pick up about how things 'work' in Los Midas, it seems….
"Rycroft has been run by a doctor named 'Abe Salinger' for decades. To sum it up, he is crazy at best, and sadistically immoral at worst. His testimony gets a lot of people declared insane—and always seemingly by the same sets of cops and judges. Some of them are people the Mob had it out for…and once they get committed to Rycroft, they end up sort of 'vanishing off the radar', while Salinger pulls in a surprising amount of money for an administrator of an asylum—if you get my drift.
"Essentially, the whole thing reeks of corruption. There've been a couple of incidents where men and women who were rumored to have been tapped for witnesses in upcoming trials are suddenly 'lose their marbles' and end up in there. —And once they're in there, they always seem to conveniently be diagnosed as 'dangerously violent', so that the public never interacts with them again."
By this point, Richard had grown rather alarmed, and was again sitting up in his chair. "…Are you serious? Why hasn't he been investigated!?"
"The Doc's an old friend of Professor Kath Fraction; that gets him a long way on reputation alone, and I'm guessing whatever he's given in bribes has taken care of the rest." Voltaire frowned as he took another sip. "Besides, if it's like all the rumors say, and he's acting as a black-market human experimenter or torturer on the side? Then he's got more backing that's not so public. After a couple weeks in Rycroft, my guess is it doesn't matter if his patients are freed or not; they aren't talking to anyone, ever again."
Before, he was just upset, but on hearing this, Richard was horrified again; this had gone from upsetting him to literally making him sick. He had been unhappy enough to know that corruption was tainting the highest levels of power in the Aurino Kingdom…but to think that stuff like this was able to go on, practically being flaunted right in everyone's face; that it was something everyone knew about, and just took as a fact of life…. His metal fist clenched. "Sounds like this Dr. Salinger might have been a good place to start regardless of what happened tonight…."
"Don't get too gung-ho," Voltaire replied a bit cynically. "I'd almost say it'd be nicer if you were busting into a real prison; the only place I know that'd probably be harder would be Czar Dmitri Grizdosky's private estate, or maybe the monster-breeding grounds in the Jiodisan Union. The place is practically a castle, and it's on an island to boot—that means they watch all ways in and out, and there's plenty of higher-end security."
"Well, if I'm going to get psyched-out by a corrupt psych ward, I don't think I have much chance of getting to the bottom of what's happening to my family," he retorted.
Voltaire set his glass down and grinned. "I suppose you're right about that; if we're exposing someone who has the confidence of the king, then exposing a corrupt medical official while busting out a few inmates ought to be a walk in the park. Besides, getting in and out of there is merely a tough situation, not an impossible one.
"It just so happens that my family owns a subsidiary company which ships cargo to most of the city—including Rycroft Asylum. I'd only need to pull a few strings to have an extra, large-crate shipment big enough to fit a few people inside sent out there." He shrugged. "Of course, it'd be easier if I knew how many people we were trying to smuggle…."
"I guess we'll find out," Richard answered as he began to stand up. "I can tell you right off the bat that their leader is going to be coming; even if he fully trusted me, I don't think he's the type to leave things to strangers."
The red-haired man glanced over to his side, at the mask Richard had brought in. "By the way: cute—an interesting way to hide yourself…."
"Well, it has the virtue of keeping me from being found out, just like you and Uncle Nathan wanted." The young man smiled. "Worked pretty well, too; merged with Greymont, I don't even look close to normal."
"Hey!" the dragon shouted, sounding insulted.
Richard chuckled. "I didn't mean it like that—I meant I really don't look like myself." He turned and looked to the mask as well, his look growing pensive. "As a matter of fact, combined with a bit of 'showmanship', it worked a better than I thought it would, out there—over half those guys gave up without much of a fight. I think the only real problem was that I didn't go far enough…." He looked to Voltaire. "Do you have any spare armor suits that aren't on display, back at the Museum?"
An eyebrow rose. "Why?"
Richard just looked excited as he quickly answered, "I have an idea on how to…finalize this new persona of mine, if you're willing to help."
Voltaire laughed at this and leaned back. "I see you're still as energetic as ever when you get into your ideas. Well, it's true that, if you're playing a role, you should be doing it in as stylish a manner as possible…. Very well—I suppose I could lend you one of the display armors. Well, with all of this to do, I guess we'd better get going, so that everything can be ready."
Richard nodded, and as he heard the crowd go into an uproar, he turned to the right and saw a Magma Liger Bouncer smash into the area of the arena near him, just as the Midas Falcons scored another goal. Seeing this made him grimace. "Thanks for agreeing to help, Voltaire; sorry we have to leave the game early because of this."
The smooth-talking man merely finished the rest of his drink. "Hey, I said I would back you, right? No point doing something if you're only going to do it halfheartedly! This game looks like it's going to move at a snail's pace at any rate; I can make an excuse that the game got held up if anyone asks.
"It'll be easy enough to say I'm arriving to do a surprise inspection of the night patrol. I hope your hopeful ally shows up on time; otherwise we are going to look quite foolish…."
Richard looked around, then retorted, "Well, I guess a day from now we will all see who is foolish, eh? Better to be foolish than paralyzed with fear!"
Voltaire shrugged as he quipped back dryly, "True. I'd rather just be a winner, though."
Richard grimaced before lashing back, "Well, I think that's what everyone would like to be, Voltaire…whatever. Right now, I'll just focus on not being a fool."
Although the young man wished in retrospect he had asked for a little more time, they still managed to keep to the schedule. Having an office in the Los Midas Shrine of History Museum, it didn't take much persuasion on the part of Voltaire to get them inside, "wanting to check in on how the place was doing"; soon they were inside and getting ready.
Richard was glad that Voltaire had taken the liberty of giving himself access to the security cameras; it occurred to him that he hadn't told Dan exactly where "at the museum" they were meeting, and it would do no good if he got harassed or driven off by the security staff for loitering before they had a chance to talk.
By the time Richard was ready, it was practically time. Needing to get out in a hurry, he went ahead and let Voltaire watch the monitors while he got ready to move to the proper location. He was set at five to eleven, but Dan still hadn't showed. A minute passed, then another; the deadline for eleven came without any showing on the part of the gang leader. Another minute passed, and still no show; the same again after that.
Richard had begun to think, at that point, he might have been a bit too hopeful. He tried to think about what it would be like if a similar situation happened to him. He doubted he would have been terribly eager to meet with someone like him himself; he supposed it would boil down to how much Dan honestly cared about his friends….
It seemed that Dan had backed out on the plan until finally, at five minutes past, and with Richard beginning to think this was a lost cause, Voltaire gave him the call that someone was coming up to the back quad of the museum grounds. Richard immediately took off to beat him there.
Dan was clearly on-edge about recent events: his cap was pulled lower, seeming to want to obscure his features from any cameras, or maybe just to make himself look less conspicuous. He was only slightly cleaned up from how Richard had left him, and shifted often, no longer looking as smooth as he had when they first met—but Richard would bet he had little to do with that.
He waited until the man came to a stop and started to look around a little. Dan eyed a homeless man, apparently checking to see if that was him, then looked around in the shadows. There were more open and public places than this one, but this would work for an ambush in the right situation, and Dan seemed to realize it. At that point, Richard decided to manifest himself.
"I'm glad to see you took my offer seriously."
Dan crouched, instinctively getting into a fighting position while snapping to the sound.
He spotted his rescuer standing on top of one of the marble dragon statues attached to the top of the Museum's back entrance; a moment later, the young man leapt off the top and landed to one side. While the whole area was dark, some parts were less-so than others. Richard purposely landed in the shadows, however, leaving him almost totally obscured; invisible save for a silhouette.
The gang leader didn't change his stance, although he did give a small smile. It wasn't a genuinely happy one, however—more of a whistle in the dark.
"You really love your dramatic entrances, eh?" He gave a light snort. "Well, I like guys coming up front to meet me without sneaking up where I don't see them."
"It was a good vantage point to see someone coming; nothing more," Richard flatly replied, not moving from the shadows.
Dan eased just a bit at that, but only to stand and cross his arms. "I guess I'll buy that. Let's skip the small talk—the only reason I didn't head after my buds right after our little 'chat' is because you said you had a better way. Let's get one thing straight: you were pretty hot stuff back there, but if you try to screw me over, it'll take more than a metal suit to keep me from kicking your ass."
"And why would I rescue you, just to lure you into a trap?"
Dan paused momentarily, seeming to think this over, then chuckled. "No reason I can think of, but I like covering my bases just the same. Let's say I take you seriously: then what?"
"I have a plan to sneak into Rycroft Asylum…but, since your comrades don't even know me, it would be easier if you came along. It would be wise to have backup anyways."
"Speak for yourself," Dan snarkily replied. "I'm not the one who needs backup."
"Indeed; you clearly didn't, back in the garage."
"You aren't going to get far with me by being a smartass, buddy," the gang leader retorted. "But I'll give you that. This would be easier to pull off with less heat on any one man—and, as much as I love a good fight, I'd love saving my buddies more. Do you have a ship that can get us in?"
"An ally of mine can provide a transport that should get us right into the Asylum, past the perimeter security. If you're onboard with this, it should be ready by late tomorrow. Aside from you and me, considering how many were taken, we can afford bringing four or five others at maximum."
The gang leader was silent for a while. His eyes pierced into the shadows, staring at Richard hard. "I'll give you that it sounds solid, but answer me this: what do you get out of this? Why are you helping a guy like me?"
Richard himself was quiet for a few moments before answering, "I already told you: I'm a phantom of vengeance. I seek justice and I punish the guilty."
Dan rolled his eyes at this answer, and retorted, while cracking his neck, "Starting to think you came from Rycroft yourself, and want to break some of your crazier pals out! Seriously—do I look like I was born yesterday? Nobody does anything for anyone unless they want something back; if you want me to take you seriously, don't insult me."
"Very well," Richard answered, staying calm. "After I help you rescue your friends, I want you and your gang to help me find someone."
The gang leader frowned. "Do I look like a detective to you?"
"No, but you do know how to fight—and the man I'm looking for has a lot of power."
His eyes narrowed. "And why should I help you? Even if you do rescue my bros, me and my gang aren't mercenaries or hired goons, at least not full-time. And I don't know anything about you, or who you're after. What does any of that have to do with me?"
Inwardly, Richard was growing a bit irritated at the man's stubbornness, but he reminded himself he shouldn't have expected Dan to be all-over this at the get-go, and to stay calm.
"More than you think…. Correct me if I'm wrong, but is one of your gang members a man with oily, black, curly hair and a beard?"
Dan definitely reacted to that. He managed to rein it in a moment later, but not before he had shown Richard that the prince's suspicions were correct. "Maybe. How the hell would you know about him, though? He wasn't around when we got attacked."
"He sold you out," Richard answered gravely. "I overhead him and a blonde named 'Cathy' talking to a man, 'Mister Simpson'. He set you and your boys up to prove himself to the Diamond Don and get a position in the Mob. That's the whole reason I went after you."
The reaction was as Richard expected, seeing as he knew what betrayal felt like firsthand: at first Dan's face looked mortified, like he had just been shot in the back, and was only now realizing it. He actually dropped his position for a moment. Then denial set in.
His face turned to rage. Not holding back anymore, he quickly advanced on Richard without fear, going right into the shadows, until they were face-to-face, and then nearly shoved him in the chest as he jabbed a finger at him.
"You got some nerve, accusing one of my boys of turning on me! How do you even know who Dick is?"
"I never said his name," Richard calmly answered. To be honest, he had sweated a bit inwardly on seeing a man with Dan's kind of power walk right up to him looking ready to kill…but he'd kept up the persona, and it was working. "You're the one who just recognized him from my description.
"Calm down and think rationally: why would I lie about this? —Besides, I also managed to record a bit of their talk…do you think this is a lie?"
The young man reached to his ear and pressed with two fingers, not only activating the hidden Codec, but putting it on speaker mode as well: he had anticipated this, and so he had gotten the recording he had made earlier ready. After a moment, it started to audibly play the portions of the conversation that Richard had overheard. Even if it didn't get everything he had picked up, he bet that Dan would immediately recognize the voice of this 'Dick'.
It didn't take long for the man's anger at Richard to subside, and for the surprise to return and give way to a look of shock. In spite of the tough face the man kept up, there was moment during which Richard saw nothing but hurt in his expression: the kind of look only a man who was crossed by someone he'd thought was a friend would have. That, in turn, faded too, and was replaced with a new fury—this one colder and much slower-burning. When the recording ended, Richard heard Dan's fist audibly tighten.
"I knew for years that Raszkowski didn't like how I do things." He spoke quietly. "I thought he'd just pair up with a different gang, if worse came to worst…. I never figured he had the guts to pull something like this." His face tightened more. "I thought I could trust him when it counted…."
Richard remained silent. He watched Dan stand motionless for a few moments. Before he could break the silence, the gang leader suddenly snapped out, letting out an enraged curse and punching the museum wall hard enough to leave a crack in the marble.
"You son-of-a-bitch sellout!" he screamed. "You and your damned tramp!"
The young man, wisely, said nothing. He let Dan continue to swear and punch the wall again, not once, but several times, pounding more cracks into the expensive stone. Fuming in rage, he stomped about, not seeming to care who heard him, which made Richard more than a bit nervous. He was beginning to wonder if someone would call the cops when Dan finally wheeled around to him.
"So, you think Dick's working for the Don, and he's working with the guy you're after?"
"Based on what we heard, I think it's possible they could be working together in the near future," Richard answered. "That's why, after your friends have been rescued, it's in both of our interests to find him. We can help each other out; it's natural that we work together."
Dan snickered. "'Natural'? A guy who runs around behind a mask ain't very natural around these parts."
On hearing that, Richard finally took a step forward. While Dan had been in his face a moment ago, he was still in the shadows, and the gangster's eyes couldn't make out much. Now, however, the young man emerged enough into the dim ambient lighting to let Dan see him more clearly.
There had indeed been a spare suit of armor that was Richard's size and lightweight enough to be viable—and, in an interesting coincidence, it was one originally made for a Tengu Warrior. It had been a bit fragmented with age, but nothing that couldn't be patched up in a hurry.
It was interconnected black-and-silver plating, for the most part. The shoulders were spiked, as was the helmet; the latter had them arranged, more like horns, rather than simply to look 'dangerous'.
His sword sheath had been moved over his back, as opposed to the side, to keep from colliding with the hip guards. The faceguard, however, was what had attracted Richard to it most: similar to the other mask, this one was crafted in such a way to look vaguely bird-like—although demon-like would have been a more appropriate descriptor.
As a rapid addition, Voltaire had provided him with some novelty lenses to place behind the visor; the effect of these, which Richard activated as he stepped out, was a fiery glow from the eyeholes, giving him the likeness of some sort of raven from Hell.
Considering the monstrousness of the changes, even Dan was a bit taken aback.
"Let's just say I have my reasons to keep my identity a secret, and that I'm more useful to you anonymous."
Dan glanced him over, eyes going from top to bottom, then whistled. "You're really serious with putting on something out of a story, aren't you?" He scratched a bit behind one ear. "It'll probably be a bit harder to keep yourself hidden in all that stuff, though, won't it? You won't be able to scout me out as easily as you did the first two times."
Underneath the mask, Richard's pupils shrank a bit. "What do you mean?"
Dan smiled a bit more. "That's the second time you insulted my intelligence. Don't go for number three. You're too flashy; I've never seen silver look that shiny and flawless before…except on that dragon-thing you had running around with you."
He looked straight at the lenses and grinned.
"Looking pretty good now, Mystery Man. I'd almost say you're coming off as some exotic fish out of water…."
Beneath Richard's helmet, all thought of being a dark and formidable visage of revenge shattered; suddenly he was practically shaking in his suit. In a flash, one of his armored hands reached up, seized the hilt of Auro Solais, and began to draw it.
"Chill, man," Dan said, putting his hands in his pockets. "You know, to be honest, I didn't know; just had a gut feeling, so I threw it out—and you just did the rest." He shook his head. "I'd love to play you in cards; you'd be easy…."
Richard paused. He realized he had walked right into that, and that he may have blown it, big-time, if he meant to keep his identity a secret. He didn't trust this man not to tell his whole gang about this, either. Hence, even while trying to futilely recover from that slip, he stayed in position, ready to snap out his sword and cut Dan down in a heartbeat.
"You've been giving me a lot of hell about the truth of my intentions, and now you flaunt this in my face; perhaps I should be asking about yours."
"Now I see why you wear a helmet—you need to line it with aluminum foil, apparently," the gang leader murmured. The young man paused; seeing his hesitation, Dan sighed. "Look, I don't need any more drama; I have enough problems at the moment.
"The only thing I care about is if you can do what you say—then, as far as I'm concerned, you can wear pajamas while calling yourself 'Greg the Amazing Catman'. Besides, you're talking about breaking into Rycroft and taking me along with you—harassing a woman might be a local thing, but, last time I checked, that's a crown offense; my head's in a noose more than yours if we can't pull it off."
Richard had calmed himself down quite a bit by this point, and eased off his paranoia enough to reason that Dan couldn't have somehow set this all up. He wasn't sure if Dan knew who he was exactly, but he also realized that, if Dan did know the truth, he only had three choices: one, he could trust him; two, he could pull out his sword and strike him now, which, in addition to not being very productive, was also straight-out murder, and not something Richard was keen on; or three, he could stick to him, to make sure he didn't say anything until he was in a position where they would be proverbial strange bedfellows, and unable to exploit each other without being exploited in turn.
He reluctantly went with 'option three'.
His hand removed itself from the hilt as he nodded. "Very well. Do you know who you want to bring?"
"Now, wait just a damn minute," Dan answered, cracking his knuckles, "I never agreed to anything."
Richard resisted the urge to groan. "This is getting tiresome. What, exactly, do I have to do to get you to declare you're with me or not?"
"No gang in this town follows anyone unless they can put their money where their mouth is. I'm not sure you're more than talk."
The young man's eyes narrowed. "Really. And what happened back in the garage wasn't proof enough. Or at the courtyard."
"Apples and oranges—I wouldn't have needed you if they hadn't used that gas," the man retorted. "And even if I said you were, that wouldn't mean jack; you have to prove you're legit to everyone in the Hammer Wolves."
"What do you mean?"
"You can hear me in that tin can, can't you? If you want my crew onboard, you have to tell them your plan and let them decide for themselves."
"You're their leader, aren't you?"
"True, but I like to think of myself as a softy for democracy. They all have to trust you; if one guy says 'no', that's a deal-breaker."
Richard frowned beneath the helmet. "You don't think a unanimous decision is a bit excessive?"
"You're the one who wants my help, and you're complaining about my conditions?"
If his hair wasn't out of easy reach, the prince would have been tempted to yank it in frustration: he had no idea this would be so much work. But Dan looked serious enough, in spite of his more 'casual' manner. Richard supposed he should have expected some difficulty; his father always said things that came easily usually weren't worth having in the first place….
"You have a point. Fine—how long will it take them to get here?"
"Oh, no," Dan answered with a snicker, beginning to smile again. "I came here on a whim; a good-faith gesture. Now it's your turn: I set the place for the next meeting!"
Now Richard was definitely nervous. Dealing with the gang as a whole was one thing—but to go to a place of their choosing? He had mostly gone this far on instinct; now he realized he could be setting himself up.
It didn't matter if this wasn't some major conspiracy; Voltaire had said how valuable Greymont was, and how it made him worth a lot, even if there were no political strings attached…but, he supposed, fair was fair. And, if he was going to trust these guys at some point, he supposed he should get this out of the way now.
"Agreed."
Seeing the hesitation, Dan smiled a bit more. "Relax, dude. We're just heading to where we're hiding; not like I'm going to take a moment to set up anything or whatnot."
"Is it far?"
"Not at all; I wanted my boys close-by, in case I needed them to come running—no offense, of course." He turned slightly and gestured away from the park. "—An old chapel, a couple blocks that way, just close enough to hear something if I whipped out the 'big guns', so to speak."
Richard looked up a bit. "…A church seems rather public."
"Not as much as you think—the pastor there owes us."
The young man was a bit surprised to hear that. Before he could react, though, Dan let out a chuckle. "What's the matter? Y'think, just because I run a gang, that every priest in town is out to throw holy water in my face and watch it burn?
"As I said, he owes me a favor: two years ago we flattened the Hydra Wyverns when they were threatening to burn down the block for not paying protection money. Now we use it as a hangout when we're down on our luck."
Richard was honestly surprised. He had thought that Dan was a bit different from his normal viewpoint on gangs, but if what he said was true, it sounded almost like an act of altruism…but he pushed the thought away quickly. They had just had a common cause in that situation; nothing more.
"Very well, lead the way; I'll follow you from the shadows."
Dan laughed. "Aw, come on—y'think you're the first joker in Los Midas who threw on a…."
He then trailed off, for at that moment Richard had dropped into a crouch and, using the added strength that Greymont gave him, leapt up into the air in a huge bound…one about forty feet up, and at an angle towards the museum wall.
Once he landed there, however, he merely touched it for a moment before leaping again —even higher this time— and sailing up onto the top of the largest dragon statue in the quad. From there, he leapt again, sailing even further along his way towards the nearest rooftop of the block abutting the museum complex.
It wasn't until Richard had arrived and sunk into the shadows again that he turned around and looked back down below. Dan had paused, looking a bit amazed at what had just been pulled off, but he didn't stay long; appearing to laugh a bit to himself, he took off in a jog, back the way he had come.
Richard took a moment to reach for the Codec and switch to transmission mode. After clearing his throat, he spoke in his more normal voice. "Voltaire, can you read me?"
It actually took a while to get a response; Richard waited ten full seconds. It didn't seem like much to most people, but, waiting for a response, it felt like an eternity to Richard. Finally, an answer came through. "Sorry for the delay—had to get somewhere private. How did it go?"
"Not exactly sure yet…" he muttered as he looked down to the ground. Dan was still going, but looking up in his direction; it seemed he expected to at least catch a glimpse of him as he went. As a result, the young man rose and began to run along the roof, making his shadow visible at least. "…looks like I'm in for a detour."
"What kind of detour?"
"He wants some proof or a test before he trusts me, at least to show off to the rest of his gang. I'll be at a church not far from here. I'll have to go silent, though; he doesn't know about you…I hope…." He grimaced, partly at how part of his identity had been so easily deduced, but mostly from his overreacting: he had to keep cool in the future. "I'll keep you updated as I can."
The long pause was all the armored man needed to know Voltaire didn't care much for this.
"All right. Every good business deal has side-item meetings, after all. Just make sure we get a contract out of it. Talk to you soon."
The line went off, and Richard devoted his full attention to tracking Dan and staying out of sight.
There were only about ten buildings in between the museum and the chapel that Dan mentioned, and, fortunately for Richard, they were all rather low to the ground. He was also glad that, at this time of night, and this high up, he'd escaped any further notice—it seemed even Dan wouldn't be able to track him if he didn't already know he was there.
When the church came into view, it was a far cry from the chapel that the prince was more used to within Primus Sanctus, but it did have an older architectural style that tried to emulate the larger cathedrals of the Mavados was clearly old and run-down, it seemed to be totally made of brick, mortar, wood, and concrete, without any steel; Richard wasn't sure when the last time had seen a building in a big city like that was.
Dan didn't knock: he took up a can and tossed it at the front doors while he was still at a distance—a bit unconventional, but Richard supposed it prevented the need for a secret knock. He looked again in the young man's direction before it opened up, revealing the big man from earlier. Like before, he had a gruff scowl on his face, and he glanced about before looking to Dan.
"All right, so what's the deal? Is the masked weirdo legit?"
"Well, decide for yourself, Troy." He grinned.
The big man looked confused as a few more Hammer Wolves advanced and looked out, but Richard took that as his cue. He immediately leapt off of his rooftop, a metallic thud ringing out as he slammed down onto the pavement next to Dan.
While the gang leader seemed unmiffed, the shock on the faces of the rest of the gang was unmistakable as they snapped back in alarm. In addition, Richard had only just managed to avoid denting the concrete as he rose up to his feet, once again in-persona. Troy was an exception to the snapping-back reflex, actually tensing up as if he would make a move.
Dan stopped it all by holding up a hand. "Easy, boys—it's the same guy from before; just changed his clothes."
"Well, what the hell is he doing here, seeing where we hang out?" The big man nearly snapped.
"We can discuss that inside; I don't like hanging out on front stoops," Dan answered, gesturing forward. "Shall we?"
Troy seemed reluctant to move, almost as if he was a living gate. However, letting out a snort, he retreated and backed into the chapel again. The other members did so far more readily.
Dan shifted to one side and gestured, as if to say, "After you." Richard stepped across the threshold and inside; the gang leader soon followed him, and the thick wooden doors closed behind them.
They didn't go too far once the inside—only into the vestibule. It seemed none of the Hammer Wolves were too eager to go too far with Richard, and every last one of their eyes was on him. It didn't help their suspicions that the inside of the church was mostly darkened, and as a result his burning red eyes stood out rather sharply.
"All right, let's get right to it," Dan started, speaking readily. "Mystery Man, here, says he's got a plan to sneak us into Rycroft Asylum, past security; claims he's got a supply shuttle he can secure."
"Oh, yeah?" Troy retorted, actually advancing a bit on Richard. The young man didn't move, although it would be a lie to say he didn't feel just a bit uncomfortable after what he'd seen back in the garage…not to mention that the man reminded him of a certain other large, loud, and aggressive individual. He didn't budge when a finger got shoved against his chest. "And why should we trust anything he says? Because he's got a fancy costume?"
"You'll see it for yourself soon enough," Richard bluntly answered. "As far as a guarantee of success, I can't provide anything there—only a way to get in without having to fight through security and a promise of my assistance once there.
"I don't think it would be boasting to say I'm the best shot you have of rescuing your companions with minimal damage…either to them or to you."
"We may only have his word and a way in, but that's more than what we had," Dan threw in, almost to Richard's surprise: until now, he had had the impression that he was only going with him with extreme reluctance, but now he actually seemed to be backing him up. "Cody and Jim are already dead; I don't want to lose anyone else. Besides, you saw him stand up to that thing smashing into him without him even getting a scratch; he's got to be good for a shield, if nothing else."
To say there was lingering unease was an understatement. While it was true everyone who was present had been bailed out by Richard, the fact that he had suddenly showed up like this and was pairing up with the group was enough to make them all hesitant, if for no other reason than the novel situation. Glances went about, and a few mutters became audible. Finally, one gang member with gelled spiked hair spoke up.
"Are you serious about bringing him along, man? Even if he did bail us out, just look at him—this dude's got a screw loose! What if it's a trap?"
"I don't know any pigs who like a man enough to let him chop their arm off just for a set-up, Hector," Dan pointed out. He looked to the others. "I don't blame any of you for thinking this whole deal is weak at best—but I don't think I need to remind you that we didn't get where we are without knowing when it's better to hold and when it's better to take a gamble. However…" —his look turned a bit firmer— "…it's funny, that you should mention set-ups…. I don't suppose any of you have heard from Dick or Cathy since we got here, have you?"
"Nothing," one of the members answered. "None of us can get them on the phone, so I don't think they ran for it. Maybe they got busted, just like Zach and Jessica. Why?"
Dan grimaced, then looked to Richard and gestured again, this time to say, "Your turn." The young man sighed; he would have preferred it if the gang's leader was the one to break the news. He didn't think his fellow group would take it that well, and began to raise his hand to his head at once.
"Because I happened to spot the both of them, moments before the officers taking you away decided to turn violent, talking to a 'Mister Simpson' working for the Diamond Don about how glad they both were to sell you out to get into the Mob."
Suddenly, Richard was shoved back a little as a force pushed against his chest, the end result of Troy's suddenly advancing on him, red-faced and rather furious, much as he had back with the officers; he looked ready to pound his face in, metal armor or no. Several other gang members also looked rather stunned, but also angry at what they had just heard. "You got a lot of nerve, coming in here accusing one of us of being a sellout, you son-of-a—"
"It's true."
Troy froze in mid-step just as Richard began to wonder if he'd have to defend himself. He and the others looked at Dan, including those that had been angry. Dan let out a tired sigh. "He has a recording of those dirtbags in the act—let 'em hear it."
Richard didn't waste any more time before doing so—it got Troy and the others off of him. He hit 'PLAY', and once again the conversation clip rang out. The looks of fury soon faded, much as they had with Dan, turning into to shock and horror. Some of the gang members, ones who Richard assumed were closer to the ones who had been shot or captured, looked especially horrified.
Yet, as with Dan, that soon began to fade, and curses began to ring out. Troy stepped back, looking even more enraged. As the recording ended, the other gang members backed off from the giant gangster; he only seemed to quiver more and more, as if heat was almost coming off of him.
Finally, he threw a punch of his own, although rather than the wall he hit the ground…and also unlike Dan, he actually pounded into it, fracturing the stone and bursting into the earth underneath. He nearly bellowed in his pure rage, letting out a stream of profanity before finally calming down enough to speak intelligibly.
"I knew we never should've trusted that goddamn immigrant mutt! Dickberry is a dead man walking! I'm going to rip out his skull and use it for a shot glass!"
Richard was glad he wore a mask, because right now he was frowning at the hulking man: the fact of the matter was, a moment ago he'd looked ready to pound the prince's face in when he suggested treachery, and now he was venting what could only be hatred for the man accumulated over a long time.
Troy was the type of person, it seemed, who would look for any and all reasons to vent his physical strength on beating someone to a pulp—a guy who wanted to be angry and wrathful for the sake of being angry and wrathful.
By now, his similarity to Steiner was unmistakable; it was only because he felt Dan and the others were far more civil and reasonable that he didn't entertain thoughts of walking out right now….
Finally, Troy's rage faded enough for him to look up to Richard and make a grudging admission: "All right…I guess this guy is onto something."
"Sure is asking a lot for a guy we just met, though," one of the other members threw in.
"So Dickberry is crooked—doesn't necessarily mean he's entirely straight," another added. "What's in it for him?"
"For right now, I only want to see injustice corrected," Richard answered. "Once that's done, I might ask a favor, but this has to succeed and return your friends to you first. I have no way of proving my trust to you other than my word and giving you the freedom to say 'no'."
The rest of the gang was hesitant, but they didn't appear quite as standoffish as they were a moment ago; even Troy seemed to hesitate ever so slightly…but none of them said anything or threw in any support, either.
At last, it was Dan who smiled. Richard saw that look, and realized it was the same look Voltaire had given before he'd "tested" a shot or two on him/Greymont. Dan rubbed his chin as he turned to Richard.
"Well…since you're at least being honest about that, you can always prove you're legit through the traditional way that we use in the Hammer Wolves…."
On hearing that, all of the gang members looked up. Some of them seemed a bit uneasy, but most of them were getting a wily and somewhat mischievous look in their eyes. Those ones were also beginning to look rather excited, much as they would be for an Electro Ball game…or, more appropriately, how they'd looked at the courtyard fight. Richard didn't like the look of this: he may have been a bit sheltered when it came to urban affairs, but he had seen enough literature and movies to know some pretty creepy facts about some gangs' initiations.
"What did you have in mind?"
Dan removed his cap. "Simple: prove yourself the same way we all did, show you can pull your weight and let the pack know you're going to be able to keep up with us."
Richard felt just a little sick to hear this, and worried at seeing Troy was starting to look enthused—anything that made him happy couldn't be good.
"And just how does that work?"
Troy answered for Dan as he punched his fists together. "How else? Fight the alpha Wolf!"
A chorus of hollering and hooting went out from the group, clearly growing more excited; even the hesitant ones were starting to get into it. Dan himself simply smiled and gave an innocent shrug, as if he was saying to Richard that was 'the way things went'. The young man himself was less than enthusiastic; he had to resist the urge to grab the bridge of his nose.
"Let me get this straight," he stated flatly. "After seeing what I could do firsthand, you still want to fight me? Regardless of who wins, what purpose would it serve to beat one another to a pulp before we go after your friends?"
"It's not a fight to the death, dude," Dan answered as he began to hop in place, starting to loosen himself up. He was starting to look as excited as the others about this. "It's like wrestling—just a spar to see who knocks who out of the initiation circle. No magic; no weapons; just skin-on-skin—that way, neither of us can get too messed up, right?"
Richard's mask was expressionless. Beneath it, he was rolling his eyes.
"You said you wanted to earn our trust, right? This is how: show us what you're made of. That's how we do things around here."
The other gang members immediately voiced their approval, getting more whipped up all the time.
He sighed. "If I do this, and win, does that mean you agree to our alliance?"
"Sure," Dan answered. He looked to the others. "You all cool with that?"
There was lingering hesitation, but some of them immediately jumped in and voiced approval, and the others soon came along; Richard hoped this wasn't because they were expecting him to fall easily and were agreeing to a rigged bet. He supposed there was nothing for it.
"Fine. If that's your custom, then so be it. Just remember: you asked for it."
Dan only grinned wider. "Why…you make it sound like this will be so easy, even without magic…."
The young man moistened his lips and drew up. "All right, so where is this 'initiation circle'?"
"Hey! Hey!" the one called Hector shouted. "Dude, take your armor off! He said no weapons! That ain't fair!"
"Nah, let him keep it…" Dan casually waved. "…if it makes him feel better. Normally, we make people strip completely to prove they're legit and having nothing to hide, but I'll give you a pass on that." Dan just smirked as he threw off his shirt and added in an aside to his friends, "It's not like it'll help him much. I would like to see his face when I hit him, if he thinks it's going to protect him from me —even bare-handed— but if he's a little shy, I'll humor him."
The members that had begun to side with Hector immediately eased up and chuckled at that, seemingly eager to see Dan back up that claim. While it seemed to take the form of a taunt, Richard was taken aback: was what had come off as an insult actually Dan helping him protect his identity?
"This way—it'll go down in the parking lot out back." Dan went on as he finished taking everything off, gesturing not only to Richard but to everyone as he turned and moved back further into the chapel. The other gang members readily followed, although a few waited, seemingly to see if he'd back out.
So, Boss, what do you think? Greymont asked.
I've come this far; might as well go all the way, Richard thought back. Dan has a point; I've got to do something to earn their trust. I'm just worried because I'm best with weapons and magic, and Dan seems like he's good enough to slam people around without either. Don't talk to me for a bit, Greymont; I'm trying to remember my martial arts lessons….
The chapel was small, so it didn't take long to get to the back entrance and the small parking lot beyond. The choice of this area was clear on arrival: the area was completely enclosed except for a driveway, and there was a street lamp overhead, almost giving it the look of an old underground boxing ring.
The Hammer Wolves were already fanning out and beginning to psych themselves up like this was just another sporting event, while two of them went out together with green chalk to draw a circle on the pavement—fairly large, Richard saw, but after having done a test in a limited space, he knew it wouldn't be nearly big enough in a short while.
By the time they were done marking it out, it already looked like things were raring to go. All of the gang members were surrounding the two as they stepped out into the circle, and Dan was loosening up his arms and continuing to move lightly on his feet.
Richard was far less enthused as he merely stood to his own side, taking a moment to remove his sword and very reluctantly put it to one side—if he tried to keep it on himself, after all, they would know it was valuable to him in an instant. He left his wand on, however, letting them trust that he wouldn't use it any more than Dan would his.
"Like I said: the first one hit out of the circle loses!" Dropping out of his loosening-up exercises, he advanced to the middle and put out his hand. "Shake hands and come out swinging, just like in the arenas!"
Richard didn't really care for this: this was to show his stuff, not an actual, official match. Being a good sport, he advanced to the middle as well nevertheless and put out an armored hand. The two grasped and shook a moment, and then Dan parted and turned, beginning to move to one side of the hastily-made arena.
Richard turned as well, and began to move to his own side. He figured he should ask for more clarity on the rules, though, like if someone would ring a bell or something to signal the start. That wasn't necessary a moment later, when he felt a rather powerful blow in the back of the head. The prince actually cried out, not only in alarm, but in pain, and staggered forward, nearly stumbling clean out of the ring right at the get-go.
To his shock, even though he was armored, the blow was terribly painful and rattled his head. If it wasn't for his armor, it might have cracked his skull….
Snapping around angrily, the armored man saw Dan simply grin and shift around on his feet, hands up. The rest of the gang was already cheering him on and jeering at the newcomer.
Richard, rather sore and angry beneath his own helmet, put his own fists up as well as he inched away from the perimeter. Dan allowed him to, for now, but that didn't make him any less irritable.
"I thought you said this was supposed to be a fair fight?"
"I never said a word about this being fair—just no weapons and no magic!" the gang leader responded.
Swinging his head to try and shake out the soreness, Richard's face stiffened underneath the faceplate. "My mistake."
He didn't try to charge Dan—he had seen exactly what the gang leader did when people tried that: he used their own momentum to bring them crashing down.
Instead, he was more deliberate. He inched closer only slowly, relying on his additional weight to keep him balanced. He watched each movement the leader made, but focused in particular on the chest. Nathan had once told him, when it came to a straight physical fight, that that would give everything away—although it was a bit hard to see it, given how Dan's fists were front of him. As for Dan, he took it a lot easier, sizing up his opponent rather than diving right in. As everyone around them cheered and raved, the two simply circled each other momentarily.
Finally, Dan broke it: his right fist snapped up and lashed out in a right hook. Quickly, Richard snapped his other arm up, opening his hand and seizing it in an intercept, instead of trying to deflect it. With his armored body, he figured he'd only need one good solid hit to leave Dan stunned or knocked out.
Unfortunately, Dan had expected this. As soon as his fist was grabbed, he immediately advanced and drove his left hand forward in a hard blow to the gut. Once again, in spite of the armor and reinforcement, the pain was sharp and potent enough in a tender spot to stun Richard.
For a moment, dread flooded Richard's mind, as he had learned by now Dan was great at using combinations at times like this. Sure enough, the gangster used the momentary stunning to twist his hand out of Richard's grip, advance again, and smash his elbow into the disguised prince's face. Again, it was a good thing Richard was armored, especially with the thicker faceplate, or he might have had his nose broken.
As it was, he snapped up and back in pain, leaving him perfectly set up as Dan snapped back with a roundhouse kick, catching him again in the face and making him stagger back even more. Richard's face and head were flooded with pain, and his senses dazed, but, as he struggled to right himself and regain his balance, he realized he couldn't have been knocked out of the ring yet: the gang members around him were roaring more than ever, but not enough to signify a win. Unfortunately, even taking a few regular punches from Dan left him so dazzled that he wasn't able to get his footing, and ended up falling to one knee simply to try and pause for recovery.
That caused a chorus of laughter, including from Dan himself. Richard grimaced in a mixture of pain and embarrassment.
I'd hate to fight him using magic…
"That's the Dragon Fist technique', right?
"Not as easy as it looks like in the movies, eh?" Dan taunted. "Ain't calling 'uncle' already, are you?"
Richard shook his head once, and then grit his teeth and pushed back up. "No, not at all. That was just the warm-up."
"Glad to hear it…" Dan answered, his tone somewhat mocking, and clearly disbelieving, "…because I went easy back there. As slow as you react, I could have smacked you around with twice as many hits."
Uh…Richard? Greymont's voice said, Those hits actually hurt a bit. Is this guy 'normal'? Because those boulders didn't hurt as much as his punching us….
The young man eyed Dan a bit harder. He doesn't seem to have any modifications, but you've got a point: even without magic, he hits way harder than a man his size should be able to. And those hits aren't exactly wild or from just a straight brawler, either; he knows what he's doing. Somewhere, he learned a bit more than just how to get into a real fight….
Dan shifted his posture as Richard readied himself. Rather than using straight fists this time, however, he saw Dan shift to curl his hands and extend the fingers, making more of a claw-like shape. Yet before he could move, the armored man put up a hand.
"One moment…that style you're using," he interjected. "—Is that Yu Han Go?"
Dan raised his eyebrows, hesitating just from hearing that, then smirked. "Well, now: you got some brains as well as balls. Been a while since I met a guy who could call it. Learned it back in the day—it just came naturally."
Richard's head turned a bit, his voice turning more probing. "I thought I'd heard there's only one person known who still knew that style—and last I checked, Grandmaster Togashi Yuen publicly announced years ago he wasn't going to take any more students. Then again, no one's seen the man in years; he could have gone any—"
"Would you like me to start talking about what I know about your background in front of my boys?"
There was nothing good humored or happy about that comment; Dan's face had turned cold. He was glaring at Richard now, and not in a friendly way. It silenced the young man.
"No."
"Then shut up and fight."
Richard was motionless in response, but only for a second. Abruptly, seemingly throwing caution to the wind, he took off straight at Dan in a charge. The cold look vanished, and was replaced by a smirk, Dan clearly thinking this would be easy to deal with.
The prince was soon upon him and unleashing a chop at his neck. Dan seemed to exert barely any effort to quickly snap one arm out and deflect it to one side, immediately launching his own counter-punch. Yet this time, Richard didn't react nearly so off-guard; he had seen Dan block and counter before—so, rather than trying to find a way to evade it, he had telegraphed himself so easily he knew what Dan would do in response. The chop he'd made had been a feint, and he used the deflection to snap around as he pivoted to one side, letting Dan's punch sail right by his armored head.
The gang leader's grin vanished, and Richard quickly shifted his footing, stepped in, and drove the deflected hand around and into a metal-covered palm. It was easy to aim for Dan's exposed gut and make contact with an elbow.
The gang leader actually gave an ugh of pain and convulsed, the power of the blow snapping him back slightly and stunning him…yet that was only the start. Taking advantage of his stunned opponent, Richard continued to advance, snapped back his metal hand, and swung it around into Dan's throat.
The cheers died down as Dan's eyes bulged, his face reddened, and he gagged as he staggered back. More shock resulted a moment later, when he hacked, and a little blood splattered across his lips. He looked up a bit in surprise to Richard, having clearly not expected that sudden counter and display of resolve, though he soon tightened up again and wiped the blood from his face. "'Double Dragon Fang'. Sorry I mistook you for a rookie…. Of course…" He cracked his neck and got back into position. "…now, I'm mad."
A moment later, Richard's own eyes widened as he moved as fast as humanly possible in his armor, trying to fend off Dan's assault as the gang leader charged at him and unloaded as fast and furiously as he could.
In an eyeblink, he was at a complete disadvantage. In spite of the speed and fury of his blows, each one was focused and powerful, and they were flying for him so rapidly that he knew if he let so much as one hit him, he'd be slammed around by a combination move while stunned. The only reprieve he got was that it was a tad slower than before, as Dan was now putting some real power into each strike.
Richard could hear the wind cut by each fist that he managed to stop or deflect; it was all he could do to keep up. The only way he could withstand it was by starting to step backward to avoid Dan's advance; he couldn't counter fast enough to halt it. And if that was the case, he was bound to get thrown out anyways…but that didn't seem to matter after a few moments, when his muscles started to burn and fatigue started to set in. While his mind was scrambling to read and respond, Dan was only getting faster….
Finally, his focus broke; one of the blows came out and slammed him in the face. In spite of his trying to brace himself as much as he could, the attack was powerful enough that it snapped his head back, stunning him long enough for Dan to quickly follow up with one fist after the other to the same location.
Each blow snapped his head around further, and he could hear Greymont crying in pain in his head along with his own agony as he was hit again and again, staggering back with each strike.
Suddenly, the moves broke, and Dan lashed forward not with a hand or foot but with his skull, smashing it hard into Richard's head. In spite of his helmet and Greymont's protection, the young man was the one who had his head rattled. He flailed back, his balance failing, his senses too dazed to think…
…yet, somehow, he had enough sense to snap his foot back and plant it like an anchor, holding firm, and he gritted his teeth and shoved his head forward. He told himself to focus like he had in Zaylor; to fight to survive as he had there; to see this as life-or-death…and, on doing so, he got his senses back, enough to see Dan going for a finishing move: rearing back a roundhouse kick to try and knock him out altogether from both the circle and consciousness.
Yet as the blow came, Richard came to life, and dug his other foot in, before crossing his arms before his face. A sharp metallic clang resulted a second later when the kick struck his limbs, and he dug into the ground about an inch—but held his ground. Dan had put more power into that blow, and, as a result of having it stopped, he needed a second to reorient himself; Richard used that moment to quickly pivot around and slide away from the edge of the ring.
…Can't take him head-on; even if I wasn't still getting used to this armor, he's got me beat in speed and reaction time. Need to use something around here….
As soon as he'd recovered, Dan advanced on Richard again, this time aiming a push kick at his opponent. In response, the prince quickly slammed his feet down and blocked again with both arms, crossing them to take the incoming hit.
He didn't merely intercept it this time, though; he grunted and shoved back against the blow, overcoming Dan's own momentum and putting an opposing force into his opponent. The gang leader again looked surprised as he staggered back a bit.
As Dan quickly got his footing back beneath him, Richard pressed an offensive of his own. The young man crouched and leapt at Dan with the same force displayed at the Museum, cocking back a fist in the process.
That was too much power even for Dan to block head-on, especially without solid footing, and the gang leader quickly sidestepped it instead, letting Richard sail right by and hit only parking lot. The armored man slammed down with so much power that his fist pounded straight into the concrete, fracturing the area around his impact.
A ghost of a chuckle came from Dan, seeing his opponent momentarily pinned, and his leg snapped up to ready an ax-kick to strike while Richard was immobile…yet, as he reared his leg up, Richard suddenly leapt up once again, just as easily as before, ripping himself and his body off of the ground and his fist out of the hole, his hand clenched around ground concrete and dust. The gang leader never had time to realize the trick, much less react, before the prince snapped around and back, throwing the fine powder right in Dan's eyes.
Dan's momentary amusement vanished as he realized what had happened, crying out in pain from the dust burning in his eyes and blocking his vision. Slamming his eyes shut, he reflexively covered his face and retreated.
In another moment, he might have been able to solidify himself enough to mount at least a counter-defense, but Richard didn't give him that chance: he came down from his leap a few feet away from the flailing gang leader, letting out a large crack as his armored fist tightened, shot forward like a small armored vehicle, and smashed Dan as hard as he could in the other man's face.
The gang leader went as limp as a ragdoll as he was snapped back by the tremendous force, sailing clear out of the ring and almost hitting his own gang members before slamming into the ground. He slid until he struck the courtyard wall, and then went still, save for light moaning.
Richard, panting a bit now and sweating plenty under his armor, slowly exhaled, his body still extended in that last punch, before straightening up again. The rest of the gang had gone totally silent, staring blankly at what had just happened.
Clearly, none of them had ever seen Dan actually lose before. A few of them couldn't even close their mouths; about the only one who seemed to be computing this turn of events was Troy, who crossed his arms and shook his head at the whole thing.
After a few moments, Dan coughed and began to get his arms beneath him. Reaching for a nearby rag, he wiped his face. The rest of the Hammer Wolves were so silent that it was the only audible sound as he very slowly regained his bearings.
"Couldn't outpace my moves…" he said at last, "…so you threw a wrench into my works to mess me up?"
"You were the one who said this fight didn't have to be fair," Richard answered as he crossed his arms. "You reap what you sow."
"Way to screw up, Nicholson!" Troy snickered. "Should've let me handle it!"
Dan ignored Troy, laughing bitterly at Richard's comment. He got his feet underneath him at last —they were still rather wobbly— and wiped a bit more blood away from his mouth before pushing himself upright. "You got me there, man.
"You may not have speed, but heaven help the son of a bitch who gives you long enough to focus, at least, while you're wearing that tin can—but I had my chance to say 'take it off', and I blew it, so can't call you a cheater on that, either…."
Standing up a bit more, he cracked his neck a bit, and managed a weak smile.
"I guess that settles it—consider yourself an amateur member of the Hammer Wolves from this point on. I guess it also means we're game for your 'master plan'…."
Richard took a moment to look around. Some of the gang members were frowning, or even sulking; Troy sneered and spat again. However, in spite of all of this, there were no objections: they had all thrown in behind this, so, in a sense, all of them had made their bed, and now they had to sleep in it…and they all seemed to follow their leader's lead, even Troy. He supposed that was as good as he could get; hopefully, after this was done, they'd all trust him more.
He nodded and looked back to Dan.
"My other collaborator is studying the layout for Rycroft Asylum. By tomorrow night we can hopefully have something far more solid and complete than simply a way in and out around outer security. I assume you'd like to leave right now if possible, but considering everything all of us have been through tonight, it would make more sense to go when we're rested."
"Hey!"
The young man turned, and found Troy glaring at him again.
"What the hell's your name, anyways? I ain't trusting nobody who can't even tell me what to call him."
A few of the other members looked up at that, seeming to have the same sentiment. Richard hesitated. He supposed that made sense—they'd need to call him something, after all, if he was going to be working with them, if for no other reason than to avoid confusion.
Of course, he wasn't going to give out his real name—and he didn't want it to be an approximation of another name, lest someone figure it out somehow.
He figured, so long as he was using this persona, it should have its own title to go with it. He looked skyward momentarily. It was hard to make out much beneath the streetlamp's light, but he could still see the moon poking behind some clouds. In the city, it appeared red.
Something that brings justice…and peace…through death….
"My real name isn't important." His voice was quieter now. "But...I guess we'll need code names anyway. Fine…I am the darkness of the night; I am the rage of the forsaken innocent; I am the blade of vengeance; the avenging demon that's purpose is to bring the damned the justice they deserve. With this sword, I am the nightmare of sinners throughout the world, for I am the warrior that is the bane of the corrupt. Call me 'Requiem'."
The level of solemnity with which he said that was similar to how he had spoken to those officers; not as a man, but as something more supernatural and powerful…something not of this world or merely mortal.
No one was sure how to react to that; they all stared speechlessly for a moment. Hector's face began to grin, and he got out half a chuckle before he was stopped by another gang member punching him in the shoulder.
Finally, Dan smiled. "Eh—I've heard weirder from other gangs. Of course, they were on drugs at the time…but whatever. Tomorrow afternoon, then, 'Requiem'?"
The armored man nodded. "Meet me at the edge of South Midas Port, in the last cargo hold on the west; it'll be unlocked. See you then."
With a flourish, the prince turned around and dashed to one side of the ring, taking up his sword once again and putting it back behind him. Again dropping into a squat, Richard —now 'Requiem'— leapt and sailed to the nearest wall.
These ones were closer, and more even, and after launching off of this for a wall on the other side of the court, one final jump landed him on top of the roof of the chapel. Snapping around, he took off and instantly vanished into the shadows.
The group was silent in response. Many of the gang members were dumbfounded, having never seen any sort of technique like that by anyone other than Dan or Troy—and even then, not quite like that. The gang leader himself put his hands on his hips and grinned a bit.
To be honest, he wasn't sure whether or not he'd 'wanted' to lose that fight; as he had told his boys about it, he'd found himself, surprisingly enough, inclining a bit favorably toward this mystery man.
He still didn't know for certain what his deal was, and he wasn't sure if, even talented as he was, he amounted to just a nutcase. —But, he supposed, whether he wanted to or not, he had given him a berth. Now he'd see how it worked out.
He took in a deep breath, then let it out, looking back at the gang and getting their attention. "All right…I guess that's it, until we hit the South Midas dock tomorrow. He told me we can only take some of us, though; the rest will be holding down the fort."
Troy grinned. "Actually breakin' into a prison? Heh—don't get much more hardcore than that. You know what kind of message smashing up Rycroft is gonna do for the Hammer Wolves?"
Dan didn't answer immediately; he stared at Troy for a few moments first.
"Keep in mind that we aren't there to send a message—we're there to bust out our boys; it'll be less smashing, and more sneaking. I'm headed in, so we've got to pick four more before we break."
"Dan, even if we pull this off, then what?" Hector interjected. He looked rather worried. "You heard that recording—Dick sold us out to the mob. They aren't going to let us off just like that; they'll keep at it until we're all deep-fried."
"Bring it on!" Troy barked. "They're going to learn sooner or later they don't screw with us any more than anyone else in this town—and if they think we're just going to roll over because they say so, they need to get their heads out of their ass." His teeth grit as his own hand clenched into a fist, popping the knuckles. "And if I ever see Dick again, whatever's left of him is going to send such a strong message that no stupid son-of-a-bitch is going to try crossing us ever again…."
"Cool it, Troy," their leader interjected, his voice getting a bit tired: it had been a long night.
He didn't really have any plans of coming back from a jailbreak attempt alive before running into Requiem, and that hadn't changed too much…but one in his position didn't exactly subsist without living in the moment, and so he ignored that and pressed on. "One step at a time, man: first we do whatever we can to get Zach and Jessica back before they become brain-dead lab rats."
Troy quieted at that, but he also looked back down to the circle they had drawn. He stared at it for a moment before looking back up. "About that, Nicholson…. You serious about trusting this 'Requiem' nut? The dude's nuts, even if he's not selling us out—and if he ain't nuts, he's got to want something back; you don't pull a stunt like this just to be nice."
"Well, who says he doesn't expect something back?" Dan shrugged, deciding to keep the what-exactly a secret for the moment. "But, so long as he's charging cash-on-delivery, I'll stick with it.
"Anyways," He winced a bit as he felt the part of his face that had been punched—even rolling with that hit as he had been trained hadn't kept it from nearly getting busted open. The dude sure could punch, he'd give him that…. "let's decide who's nuts enough to break into a maximum-security penitentiary and then try to bust out again…."
Richard didn't relax a bit until he was a safe distance from the church and on the roofs. To be honest, keeping up this persona was rather mentally taxing—for most of that meeting, he had been as nervous as any other young man would be when surrounded by a possibly homicidal gang. He had gotten by only by looking at himself "externally"—trying to imagine how he looked on the outside, and adjusting that image. At any rate, there was little chance of him being mistaken for the prince…at least, he hoped so. He knew no one had ever suspected him to be the type to take on the role of a masked vigilante, certainly.
I guess things are going according to plan, more-or-less; now I just need to pull this off well enough to get them to trust me fully.
I'm sure it'll work out, Boss! Greymont's voice answered, almost giving Richard a start. So, is it all right if I get off you yet? And then can we go get something to eat? I'm getting hungry….
Richard couldn't help but chuckle: after that huge spread at the VIP booth, he was still hungry? The dragon's belly was bottomless…although he expected that it might have to do with how durable he was. "Just hang on a bit longer, until we get inside, just to be safe; then you can come right off, and eat and sleep or whatever. I'm kind of hungry and tired myself—burned right through that cotton candy…."
Oh! One other thing: is your name 'Requiem' now? What was wrong with 'Richard'? This one sounds…weird.
The young man grimaced. "A requiem is the final phase of a song, normally linked to death; it can also mean a ritual of death. The idea is that when my enemies see my arrival, it's the arrival of their doom." He had to admit, when he had to explain it, it kind of lost some of its impact…although he still thought it was a good choice, given the amount of time he had to think up something.
A pause from the dragon, then: So, that means you're going to sing you're enemies to death? Can singing do that?
Richard winced. "No—I mean, yes—that's how some mages do it, but not me…. Look, it's not important; I'm just using it as a metaphor."
What's a 'meta phone'? Is that like a super-phone? Can you talk to a lot of guys at once with it?
The prince sighed. "I'm too tired to think right now, Greymont. I'll tell you after a few hours of sleep." He turned to start moving again.
Oh! Oh! Just one more thing before we go, Boss! the dragon interrupted, I don't know if I wasn't paying attention, or if I missed this part, but isn't this asylum like a prison—and a prison where bad people get punished? Because, if it is, won't breaking people out mean we're breaking the law?
Richard paused; that was a bit more of a valid question. He stood and looked out over the city skyline for a few moments, taking the time to think carefully before he gave an answer.
"First of all, we're there to break out Dan's pals, and that's it. The whole reason they're in there in the first place is corruption, Greymont—people were given a duty to protect people and uphold the law, and instead are twisting it and perverting it to help themselves while they let others suffer, and they're turning the whole idea of justice into a big joke, so that when things like Zaylor or people like Bolton Steiner come along and they see something wrong, they don't even give it a second thought; it's just business as usual to them. I'm not going there to burn down Rycroft, or bust it up—though if any of those corrupt scum get in my face, I won't hesitate to give them the justice they lack; the justice they deserve."
But…what about everything else you said? Greymont asked. I thought we were going after that Alec Steel guy—but now you sound like you don't just want to help Dan so he'll help you; you sound like you want to go around beating up corrupt people here in Los Midas. Will that help us get that Steel guy?
Richard actually gave a start there: Greymont was right—he hadn't even thought about that. This whole thing was supposed to be about purging the corruption back home, and saving his family and the Republic.
What exactly did Los Midas, or anyone in it who wasn't connected to Steel, have to do with all that? Yet here he was, not only making this elaborate costume and persona to hide himself, but, he realized, getting more and more into it. In fact, he had been ever since he'd first heard about the gang being double-crossed. It was true, they didn't concern him—and yet, thinking about them, he couldn't help but remember Zaylor, and everything that happened there; he couldn't help but see a parallel here…and he couldn't help but derive some pleasure by rooting it out.
"It's flimsy, but it's the best lead we have at the moment. I guess I've got to start somewhere. Good grief, what a week…."
With one last glance at his surroundings, Richard resumed heading back to Voltaire, to ensure the debut of Requiem was one that made large waves, not meager ripples.
