First Impressions Last Forever

The guard jerked the case back a short distance, enough to give Kira concern that he was anticipating commands from the Don to slam it down on her fingers, and she pulled her hand back. With one question that room had changed. Nostrils flared, smelling guilt, the Don held up one hand, calling for quiet.

“Is there a problem, Lieutenant?”

“Yeah, a great big one staring me in the face which has been, apparently, laughing at all of us up until this moment: this isn’t the artifact.” Her fingers rapped on the pipe collection she wore. “Not the one you shelled out for. If I didn’t know better, I’d say these punks tried to scam you.” Her voice shook. She seemed almost excited at the prospect the two had attempted to deceive a criminal enterprise. That was the impression Kira got, watching the woman fingers dance on the pipe collection she wore, as though she were in terse discussion with herself over which possessed the perfect shape and size to cave their skulls in.

The Don looked none too pleased either. “Is it not simply inside that container?”

“Nah, dimensions are all off. What’s more is the material – it’s blackstone.” A serious look passed over her face. “I’d recognize it anywhere. No one in this city has the tools or money to work this class of stone outside your circle, Boss, not in this quantity, and certainly no way in hell was this amount forged between pulling it out of Hokkaido and now. It’s a play.” Venom dripped from her lips as she regarded the pair of thieves. “And I say we make ‘em pay.”

The Don appeared to consider that, his palms wavering closer as though he intended to clap his palms together to make his problems vanish. There would be no wielder art involved. Just the business end of a knife. Bagged up bodies for a jaunt into the country. Farmland spanning fields of gold, small pocket reserved for an abundance of fat glassy-eyed pigs. No trace left for investigation.

Fidgeting, Kira remembered the door behind her, and the guards beyond that, and the obstacles between her and the frigid world ten minutes ago where she hadn’t had to consider such actions. The guards in the room, cases heavy with bills. She’d never touch the handle.

Arata was less content with that possibility. He swallowed down a gulp of air, puffing out his chest. It slumped again when he started yelling. “That came from the exact van we were instructed to ambush. Same model, same license plate, same make, and on the same street we were told to wait on.” He counted each argument off on his fingers.

“Those vans are a dime a dozen.” The Lieutenant held up one scarred finger of her own. “License plates can be switched.” Two. “Or – Or! – you didn’t bother to read the instructions we laid out, and brought us the wrong target that way.” Three. “Scam or stupid, kids. Choose one.”

“Come say that to my spotless record, bitch!”

“Enough, Mr. Ogata. That will be all.” The Don pinned the argument to the walls with knives in the form of words. Arata shook like a scared dog, clearly wanting to get another word in. “My men have yet to return from the ambush site, so there are no voices to support the tale you two have brought, but that does not mean we cannot dissect what has happened here. We have time to reach a conclusion, one that will shed sufficient light.”

“I wouldn’t do it here. Not until we know what exactly sits inside your hideout.”

“Open it, then.”

The Lieutenant was silent for a moment. “Can’t, boss.”

“And why is that, Lieutenant?”

She ran a hand through her tangle of hair, clearing her throat before speaking. “Didn’t bring the tools for blackstone. Honestly didn’t think any’d be needed.” All eyes fell on the case wider than she, and marginally taller. Her head dropped low, concerned with some speck of importance on the ground, weight shifting to the other foot. Kira recognized the behavior immediately, and nearly allowed herself pity for the woman.

“How soon will you have these tools available?”

“…There’s a rub there, Boss.”

“Explain.”

Now it was Arata’s turn to be smug. His anger had been replaced by a keen smirk slicing his face. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying himself.

“No tools of sigildry can shape blackstone, Boss. Stuff eats magic, and any product of it. Makes a good shield for keeping vehicles from frying, but impossible to work with unless you got rudimentary equipment and the hands to use them. I’d need thralls. Couple jackhammers.” She placed a hand on box’s edge. Her muscles flexed as she rocked it back and forth slightly, producing the music of a jar half-filled with coins. “Something’s rattling around inside, for sure. Several somethings, but I couldn’t tell you for certain –” Suddenly she brought her head down centimeters from the box in a flash of hair, lips parting slightly. The Lieutenant’s eyes widened to white orbs, and she leapt back like her hand had been electrocuted. <“JESUS!”>

Had Kira’s hand not already been withdrawn, it would have certainly been severed when the guards slammed shut their cases and kept with the money as ghoulish collateral. She hadn’t even been allowed a moment to blow the money a kiss goodbye. The guards withdrew them to place hands on their weapons before the Don’s came up. “What have you found?”

“Sigildry.” The woman swallowed hard. “Sigildry out the ass in the most dire words imaginable.”

“What’s the problem? I thought this crap eats magic.” Arata’s smile held even under the Don glowered at his indignance.

“There’s script for ‘blood’ here, Boss. I can’t be certain they haven’t brought a bomb to boil every drop we’ve got, blackstone or not.”

“Calls us traitors but can’t keep her story straight.” He shook his head, chuckling all the while. He was still chuckling as a guard buried a fist just under his ribcage at a snap of the Don’s fingers. It was punctuated with heaving gasps, but his mockery of the Lieutenant bled through up until the guard’s boot caught his jaw.

A small yelp escaped Kira’s lips. Trying for escape had jumped up several ranks in available options in the wake of violence. “My sincerest apologies, Ms. Ishikawa,” the Don said, “for the fright.” He reached out a hand. “Mr. Ogata brought this on himself, but no harm will come to you so long as –”

She twisted her body back to avoid the hand on its way to her shoulder, the moment of her rejection staining the air. The Don’s eyes hardened, a dangerous glint in his pupils. “…so long as you remain decent.” Kira shivered at the slow malice with which he said the last word, despite the heat.

The talons on his fingers clicked together; a trio of knives that could plunge into her belly at any moment, or slash her throat if he so chose. Groans drooled from Arata’s chin to join the pool of crimson and spit at his command. He was a known. He’d had some understanding of what they respected, whereas she did not. Surrounded by so many threats, further silence and decency would kill her. She had to act, and fast. Arata's bravado seemed good a place as any to start. She drew on the memory and donned the face of a constipated male.

“I can vouch for Arata,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “That sigildry couldn’t be of his making, as we’ve been together all day and night. Not even a bathroom break has separated us.”

The Lieutenant snorted. “You know what an accomplice is, don’t you? It’s a rat like the next.”

“And your story is impossible to verify.” The Don added. “The words of two allies over a day weigh little in this matter.”

“What about your men? They’ll support us, too.”

“Were they present at the time of retrieval?”

She froze. Her lips moved but no words came out.

“Were they present at the time of retrieval?” pressed the Don, more forcefully. “Because as I see it there are two options: this box, this tomb – potentially for me and mine – is an elaborate trap brought here willingly and with full knowledge of its capabilities by its bringers.” With surprising swiftness he stabbed forward, bringing his face to Kira’s. Close enough to see every pore. Smell the mint on his breath. Kira gasped, backing away as he pressed closer. “Or you have brought an object of concern into my home, heedless of its capabilities, proving you are not only a threat but a fool. Would you like a chair, Miss Ishikawa?”

Something hard struck Kira behind her knees. She fell, realizing that it had not struck her, but her it. A chair had appeared behind her, brought by a guard. Fear suffused her heart, and when a pair of hands clamped down on her collar, so did the emotion overwhelm the guard who’d grabbed her. She whipped around in time to see his expression twist from contempt into horror, his mouth stretched wide until he resembled a snake unhinging its jaw, his scream ripped from lungs filling with molten lead on a torturer’s rack. He fled. Stench of urine stench followed. The Don’s eyes swam, between the golden trail left by the man leading to where he shook cowering behind a brazier, and her.

“Don’t touch me again," she growled.

Cold fury burned in the Don's gaze. She hoped she saw a flicker of fear as well. “Perhaps, our business has reached an impasse,” he said.

“You can say that again,” the Lieutenant called out. “And take your trash with when you leave. This, though,” she added, pointing at the box, a sizable gap made between her and its supposed threat, “Consider it your end of this deal; the one where you get to leave in the first place. Blackstone’s got prime market value once we scoop out any traps ground in.”

“Why wait?” All eyes fell on Arata rising from the floor on a clenched fist. Blood trickled from a swollen lip. “Find me a pickaxe and I’ll crack it like my morning egg now. I’ll do it for free. Maybe even stroll on down to the hardware store and buy one myself. Get it all legal-like and prove our innocence.” He began to stalk towards the table. “You’ve got a perfectly dense skull for the task. I’ll crack two eggs in one go.”

The last remaining guard put a hand on his weapon, but the Lieutenant shook her head. Her scarred hand drifted to her lower back, past the pipes. Arata strode around the table to meet her. One hand held his stomach, the other kept a grip on the box for support.

“I did my job tonight. I carried this heavy thing across town.” He swung a clenched fist upward. “But all I see is a big talker taking every opportunity to not carry out their – DAMNIT!”

Kira watched an arc of red fly from his hand, continuing to dribble down Arata’s wrist and arm as he swore loudly, splattering the box. True to his words in the alley, the box had been made with multiple spikes in its legs, but he’d failed to notice the few concealed in its body by the deepness of blackstone’s shade, and his swing for emphasis impaled his hand upon one.

Grinning, the Lieutenant quickly shoved him onto the floor. “Careful, it’s sharp,” she said, schadenfreude clear as a master key’s light. “See, if you really carried this box, I think you would have known not to slap it like a dumbass.” Seizing him by the ankles, she dragged Arata’s mewling bulk back to the Don, delivering to his ribs a kick of her own for good measure. “He’s all yours, Boss,” she said.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” His eyes lowered to meet Kira’s. “You will handle this, yes? Or do you,” he paused, voice trailing off, “require assistance?” His guard still sniffled behind his shelter, arms tucked so tightly around the massive frame that his knuckles were white.

“Any help would – would be appreciated.” A snap summoned the other guard to Arata’s side. He moaned lightly, clutching his still bubbling hand with the other. Both glistened red. He’s been part of this organization all this time? Serving a place that would break him without a thought?

Then again – the money she’d almost received was a hefty sum. She eyed the cases simply left on the floor, not too far away from where she sat. A few taps. But even as the notion occurred she felt her fear ebb away, determination taking its place, and the idea was ruined. The guard shifted Arata onto his back, and a soft clunk reached her ears: from his pocket, the tip of the master key was visible. She thought of the painful light and its blade sharp enough to cut through steel, licking her lips with the relative ease of it. His backpack – her backpack – held a few tools of use, thief stones and wands, and the seed of a plan took root.

Arata just needed a shot of concentrated determination first. Something to embolden that male essence rising in her. She stretched out her hand for his, the milliseconds of her journey adding up to decades of virtual stagnancy in what should have been a single moment. Her mind began to drone with the numbness of it all.

“Boss?”

The tone of the Lieutenant halted her. At the same time she realized the droning in her head was not unique to her alone, but rather came paired with a glaring light tickling the corner of her eye from the room’s center. Only once it had dimmed and the noise subsided did she see its source: the box. Another sound, the cry of a hinge unoiled, broke the silence that followed.

The Don and the Lieutenant rushed to the box, their guards motionless without orders. Something had changed, but Kira was unable to see what exactly had.

“Do my eyes deceive me, Lieutenant?”

“Only if mine are seeing shit also.”

The Don reached up a shaking hand, hesitation taking hold for only a moment before he shoved it down, and came back up grasping a narrow, faceted length of clear, glass-like material in hand. Metal stakes extended from each end, like the umbilicus of an ancient scroll. Face drawn, the Don clenched his hand with force until his limb quivered. He slowly exhaled, and his expression became serious.

“Cold. No life at all.”

The Lieutenant brought her face close to inspect the stakes. “Sigildry on this too. ‘Blood’ again.”

“A trap, perhaps? A trigger like the box itself utilizing the boy’s blood?”

“Can’t be too sure. Blood trigger inside a blood trigger seems too paranoid for this kid.” She paused. “Wait.” Reaching into the machine she pulled out a handful of glittering slivers, each ranging from the length of a fingernail to that of a thumb. The light of the flames clad them in red veils, but their hearts were deep, opalescent blue. She laid them down on the table before reaching into the box for more, arranging them on the table, fishing out further slivers, added them to the puzzle. One hand came back with a chunk of clear glass, another with a slice of white, porous stone, and she tossed those aside. “Correct color, but maybe about half the mass’s worth. Boss, I think this is your artifact.” Her words were honeyed in bewilderment. “Was your artifact. Bring that crystal back, let me take a look.”

But he hadn’t heard. Kira looked up at the Don, having crossed the room with expedience back to them. His face was stone. Kira swore the pounding she heard was his heart, and not her own.

“To trigger a sigil so willingly,” he whispered, staring down at the boy’s bloody hand. Hesitation gripped him again. He gritted his teeth, the emotion caught between jagged molars, and tore free from its hold with a jerk of his head.

“Who dares wins.”

Falling to his knees, he submerged the crystal into Arata’s palm, the unconscious boy’s flesh glistening with its wielder's blood.

And the world fell away.