This is Maintenance | FOSB

[Isobel Nakano]

Isobel pushed her plate away from her, content that she had eaten all she could stomach for the moment, then, cradling her wine with one hand as she leaned back in her seat. "The business has kept me busy," she said. "You know I launch a full fashion line a few times a year, right? That's not just a cover." She smirked and gestured to her own high-necked jacket and slacks. "I designed these. 852's winter collection. For the modern working woman, right?" She spread her arms as if to put herself on show for a moment before folding one arm around herself and lifting her drink to her lips for a healthy swig.

"But -- no, I've been in the field rather a lot. My Atrisian connections have been quite the thing for the last few years, and the business has helped with that. There's always some dumbass criminal wanting to smuggle something into the First Order, and a spoiled, grasping socialite willing to trade on her good name for a few thousand extra creds is apparently a timeless trap." She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm never quite in the same place long enough to run whatever game you're pulling here."

She raised her eyebrows. "The team back at the headquarters is one thing, but for you to just walk in here -- no reservation, no advance notice, nothing -- and get a prime table without a moment to wait. You know these people -- or they know you." Isobel smirked over the rim of her glass then finished it, then picked up the glass and topped herself up before doing the same for Val. "You thought I didn't notice? Ah well. It's for the best, I think," she went on, looking to one side, the down. "I've become so shockingly comfortable lying that I don't know if I can be in the same place for long. Hard to keep it all straight, you know?" She looked deflated for a moment. "Anyway -- would it be disingenuous to ask you the same, knowing that I've read your dossier and know what you've been doing since the Academy?"

[member="Val Pellian"]​

 

[Thaddeus Wyse]

[member="Isobel Nakano"]

"Color me impressed, miss Nakano, I was just about to comment you on your wardrobe choice." Leaning in just an inch, "But it seems I should compliment you on your design instead."

It did actually surprise him.

In their line of work it wasn't usual that people managed to have other hobbies. Sure, this worked in tandem with her duties, but it still clearly meant something to her. It was a clear contrast with Val. A workaholic if they ever found one. No matter what he was doing, it was always for the job. Didn't matter if he was frequenting some lurid bar, a trendy nightclub or dined out at this restaurant or that. There was always an additional angle to be had there. The time that he had brought his bike in for repairs, then ended up with a cutting-edge sweat shop that modified their vehicles for free was still talked about sometimes. It was one of the reasons why the other things were often overlooked.

The heavy-handed approach, the distinct lack of Imperial doctrine follow-through. You never saw Val trying to convert the masses of the First Order's good, but the results he got done didn't lie. That was why he kept working for the FOSB.

They understood better than anyone that results mattered more than dogma.

"They know a version of me," He corrected without taking offense. "That's where the duration comes into play, yeah, 'cus you can't do this while moving around. You need to stick around. Print a particular face into their minds that they get used to. Then keep them comfortable by not switching it out to something else." What version was he here? She'd notice he was now wearing a ring. It had a crest, obsidian stone set, but the lines faded enough it could be anything. "They believe I am Tapani," Val clarified with a smirk. "Exiled, waiting for my legacy to be returned to me. I have fixed a few problems they had, debts to local protection, they reward me with this seat and fresh gossip that might interest a bored nobleman looking for opportunities."

He leaned back and smirk shifted to smile.

"You only know the official stuff, luv, the chit they do put in the records." A lazy stretch, playing with his ring, like it was a constant companion of his, instead of a vague addition after the fact. "I was at Thyferra," The lean in again, as if he was imparting a secret.

Which Val was, of course, because it hadn't been in the records.

"The Order has their own bacta and kolto supply, of course," Their control over a handful of worlds made sure of that. "My team and me made sure that we'd have kolcta as well, because our allies the Sith weren't about to share that with us, y'know." Nothing personal. It never was. Just nation-states being nation-states. The Order would never acknowledge they had stolen schematics right from under the Sith's nose. The Sith would never acknowledge they had been planning on keeping all of it to themselves.

Everyone happy.

"Any relationships you keep?" A sudden switch in tack. It was to be expected- a man who could lie as easily as he did, he was working multiple angles at the same time. "A boyfriend perhaps." Smirk.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

Isobel smirked and drank her wine as the man opposite regaled her with tales of his exploits at Thyferra. She was clearly expected to be impressed with it all, and she might have been except for his follow up question. The swagger of it all was really rather galling. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she asked as she again topped off her wine. "I don't know why I shouldn't put you out of your misery." Isobel again reclined comfortably in the seat, sighing softly.

"I am called Mrs. Grey, after all," Isobel said, brandishing her left hand and fluttering her fingers to show a simple golden band. "My husband is a simple soul, but he provides. My boyfriend, on the other hand -- oh, he's for flash and fun." She looked enigmatically over the rim of her glass, smiling in such a way that dimples very nearly poked through her cheeks, and for a few moments, she was silent before she went on. "You'd like that explanation because the alternative is less desirable. That I am a professional woman more interested in pursuing a career than getting personally involved."

She finished her wine again, and this time set the empty glass on the table and sighed. "Or worse, that you are not attractive." The smile faltered there and her attention was drawn over Val's shoulder. She raised a hand and made a signal as if to sign her name, looking to have the check delivered. "I'm just busy, Pellian, and I'm not in one place long enough to nail a man down. Not that I'd care to do that at this moment. Clearly, you don't have a significant other. If you did, you wouldn't have tried me last night -- not without any degree of sincerity. And if you did, then how significant could they really be?" This commentary happened as Isobel shelled out credit chits from her handbag into the leather envelope provided by the waiter, carefully examining it as she was slightly drunk and didn't want to be accused of undertipping.

Closing the wallet, she looked over at Pellian. "Would you be a peach and drop me at my hotel?"

[member="Val Pellian"]

 

[Thaddeus Wyse]

[member="Isobel Nakano"]

The smile grew brighter the longer she talked.

"I like a lot of things, Isobel, many and much." He bounced back, before finishing his own glass and putting it back down. It was not a secret that he found her attractive. That much Val had made clear on the very first night they had met again after all these years. Some people might have played around a bit. Dancing, skirting, trying to play coy with what they wanted. This wasn't Val. Couldn't be Val. Not with the kind of occupation and life he lived. How can someone put their life on the line every single day, then still hold back, when presented with things of desire?

No.

"Oh, if the timing is the issue, I could drag this out for us." Val joked, pulling out a credit chit for his own side. He didn't even respond to the possibility of not being attractive. That was a thought so silly, it didn't deserve a retort of any kind. "Find a grand conspiracy that leads all the way to the top. Stretch it, until you can't help but fall for my charms."

Today could be the day of his death, or tomorrow, next week or the month after that.

Delaying things weren't in his nature.

Val rose up, chuckling at the request, but giving a nod. "Of course, I would be a bad host, if I didn't." He rounded the table. Then, with a smirk, offered his elbow for her to take. "I will be your escort tonight. I need to make sure you get home safely... for your husband and lively boyfriend, no?" That last bit murmured softly, leaning in. Unless Isobel declined he'd escort her out. Modulating his strides and shortening them just a little bit for her, so it would be a more comfortable walk.

"Did you enjoy the restaurant though? I'd hate it, if it didn't reach your high expectations."

 

[Isobel Nakano]

Isobel flipped his credit chits back towards Val. "No, none of that, thank you," she drawled. "No, no, thank you, but no." She pushed away from the table and stood up. Her legs felt a bit like jelly and it wasn't until she was fully stood up that she realized that she was more than perhaps a little tipsy. She pressed her lips together for a moment and collected herself, then followed after her host. She nearly recoiled when he offered her his elbow, but since that very nearly resulted in her falling in the opposite direction, Isobel did grasp his arm, but then almost immediately let go. "Bloody -- my handbag."

She turned and went the few steps back to the table before returning to Val's side. "I think perhaps that bottle of wine was overdoing it," she said confidentially. "But if you won't tell Graham then I won't tell her about your little failed shockball pass." Isobel giggled impishly. "You know it was good, rather," she confessed. "Pellian, at the very least it was miles better than that travesty I went to last night. It was awful." Isobel stood to one side to allow Val to open her door, then she awkwardly poured herself into the passenger seat and buckled her crash harness around herself.

"One doesn't expect a lot in the backwaters like this," she continued. "Atrisia's food is really quite the best." This point she left unremarked upon and retreated into a thoughtful silence as they went into traffic, although en route to the hotel she occasionally expounded with other places she'd had good food: Avalonia, Cloud CIty, Coruscant, Theed, and New Heliopolis. As they pulled into the queue in front of the hotel, Isobel dangled her handbag.

"Nightcap?" she asked, a slight smile passing her lips.

[member="Val Pellian"]​

 

[Thaddeus Wyse]

[member="Isobel Nakano"]

She amused him now.

Oh, Val felt a bit lightheaded as well. That nice buzz that dances through your skin. It was pleasant. It was also nowhere near what she was going through seemingly. Part of him wondered how much of it was Isobel feigning it, to make him assume, and how much of it was real. Now that would have been an interesting experiment. "Oh, you should tell Graham about it." He replied back with a snerk. "I strive to shock her at least once or twice a month, it keeps her lively and all that, you know."

He stretched lazily, before they set off together.

"It must be awfully boring for her. Being all packed up in that little office." Oh, Graham acted like it was all that. Personally Val didn't see it. How anyone could pick that over being in the field? Experiencing life and feeling the adrenaline course through your veins?

Fuggit if he knew.

"Mmhm, honestly, let me know where you went, because I am kinda morbidly curious at this point." Patiently Val made sure that she got in and was strapped tight, before he circled around and flopped onto the other side himself. The strapping went easier for him. "Backwater? Laaaady," He drawled. Okay, so maybe it was a bit more than buzzing. "Yag'dhul is da gorram center of the region. Two hyperlanes go through it! That's metric tons of traffic and chit, y'know."

Was that a little bit of planetary pride? Maybe. Maaaybe.

Glancing towards her at that invitation. Eyebrow raising just a fraction, before smoothing it out.

"Won't ever say no to that, Isobel." Val murmured softly. He'd step out, circle around again, before offering a hand to the lady. She might need it.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

Isobel used Pellian's hand to pull herself up and out of the car. She teetered on her heels for a moment before continuing up the few steps to the walkway to the hotel. She went to the desk and asked for any messages; there were none. She remained silent as the elevator climbed inexorably towards her floor. She felt a little sick as the doors opened and went down the hallway towards her corner suite. Once there, she dug in her handbag for her hotel key. She rummaged through -- wallet, breath mints, chewing gum, rental key, datapad, communicator, whatever that thing is, a vial of acetaminophen. Ah, there. She pulled her keycard out and tried it in the lock.

Nothing.

She tried again.

Nothing.

The third time was the charm, and the light flashed green, allowing her to push the handle down and push the door open. Isobel didn't go in yet; she turned to meet Pellian in the threshold. The door swung towards her, hitting her backside and bumping her forward, though her body prevented it from closing entirely. Isobel had to look up to see Pellian, looking up at him from beneath heavy eyelids. "I think we should reconsider the nightcap," she told him. "Our work isn't done here. Wouldn't do to muddy the waters. You agree?" She swallowed audibly before looking up at him fully.

[member="Val Pellian"]​

 

[Thaddeus Wyse]

[member="Isobel Nakano"]

He had been about to follow her in- she had already invited him, after all.

This caused them to be very close to one another. Especially after that mild bump, bringing her even closer, steadying her casually by her hip so she wouldn't fall against him.

Val looked down at her. The gaze slowly stroking the side of her jaw, lips, back to her eyes as he leaned in a bit more. There was nothing more but a single heartbeat and breath of air between them. Close enough that it an inch more would turn into kissing. There was nothing more that Val wanted to do right now. A man in the moment, this moment beckoned for it. "Mmm, if that is what you think is best." Val murmured softly. His hand stroking once before taking it back again.

"I could remain objective, of course." Val murmured, before shrugging. "But I will leave it in your capable hands, miss Nakano."

There he waited.

Giving her one opportunity to invite him in again.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

After a moment, Isobel shrunk back into the room, putting space between them. The alcohol seemed to burn away as she flushed hot with embarrassment, leaving her more or less clear-headed and ashamed. "I can't," said Isobel apologetically. "I -- " Her voice fell short. She what? She wanted to go forward, but she wanted to maintain her professional credentials. She wanted to be with him, and she wanted to respect herself in the morning. The circle couldn't be squared. "I'll see you in the morning. Uh... zero seven thirty. Maybe zero eight hundred."

She closed the door softly and leaned against it to catch the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

After a moment, after pushing away from the door, Isobel set her handbag and lit the candle on the console table, then shucked out of her jacket. She placed it in the laundry bag, then proceeded to undress, placing her camisole and slacks in the bag as well. She pulled on a nightgown and a navy blue kimono-style robe with white and pink cherry blossom patterns on the edging. She brushed her teeth and washed her minimal makeup off her face, then took the laundry bag and went to the door to hang it on the knob. When she closed the door and threw the bolt, her world went dark as a black bag was thrown over her head. She struggled, she kicked, knocking the console table, causing the orchid vase to shatter. The candle spilled, singeing the carpet and causing smoke to billow. Isobel was dragged toward the balcony, kicking and screaming all the way until -- with one firm grasp of an arm around her throat -- she was choked into unconsciousness, hurled into a waiting chest, and carried out onto the balcony, where she was loaded into a waiting airspeeder and flown off.

[member="Val Pellian"] | [member="Delilah Graham"]​

 

[Delilah Graham]

The communicator trilled on Delilah's desk. She was about to break for her mid-day meal break, and was standing at the door with one arm in her jacket. She narrowed her eyes at the communicator, the sighed and pulled her arm out of her coat and went to her desk and picked up the communicator. "Graham," she said into the handset. She listened for a moment, then shook her arm out of her jacket, letting it crumple on the floor in front of her desk as she rounded it to sit down. "Give me everything you have. Send it to my email. I'm going to call our man on the ground there. Yes, thanks. Speak soon." She disonnected but did not replace the handset, instead punching in a series of numbers to reach [member="Val Pellian"].

"Good evening Crane," she said. "Or should I say good morning? I'm sorry to bother you at this hour, but I've just heard from a contact at the Willis Square Hotel, where Agent Nakano is booked. There was a fire in her suite and she has not been accounted for. There were signs of a struggle, so we suspect foul play. I need you to find out what happened and find Nakano -- or what's left of her. Ensure that no actionable intelligence has fallen into the wrong hands. If you need any backup that isn't on hand, call me."

Delilah glanced at her email as things came in. "Forwarding you security footage from the hotel. We have images of the corridors and lobbies... the least said about that, for now, the better, Crane," Delilah said dryly as she glossed over the footage of Val and Isobel's encounter in the threshold of her hotel room doorway. "Somehow I doubt this event is coincidental and unrelated to the nature of Nakano's investigation, but I'll leave that to you to prove. I'll be forwarding you more information as it comes in."

 

[Thaddeus Wyse]

[member="Isobel Nakano"]

Val stood there for a moment.

Blink.

Just the edge of the door separating both of them. It would be a few moments and then Isobel would hear the retreating sounds of his boots. In truth he wasn't tired at all. In this business Val had grown used to spending the nights awake, catching sleep here and there wherever possible. Using stims when necessary for an extra pick-me-up. That latter solution was always something he regretted after the fact. Spend three days awake and on your feet, only powered by neuro-stimulants and once you came down from it... well, you would wish you were dead.

Delilah's call got him right after he left the local food stall.

"It all washes together at a certain point, Delly." A lazy stretch as he leaned back into the alcove. Delly. She hated that one, but Val had cover. This was a public area. Couldn't go around calling her Command, or Madame Graham, right? Delilah would almost be able to feel the smirk radiating through the shared comm-link.

'There was wh-" What. "Yes, of course. I will look into it and will do."

For once her dry tone didn't get another mischievous expression from him. Serious mode. That was why Delilah ignored his snarky nonsense most of the time. When it mattered he changed. Val quickly scanned through the footage they did have. Paused briefly at their encounter, before fast-forwarding. In all honesty, he wasn't bothered overly by Isobel's fate. Was it a shame if she was dead? Sure, yeah. But that wasn't something Val could worry about now.

The mission came first.

How much actionable intel did she have in her suite... or in her head?

"Sounds good, I will be in touch."

The comm went dead and Val got a move on it. It didn't take long for him to get back upstairs. No police yet. The agent at the desk had managed to put a delay on it, but it wouldn't be for long. Maybe half an hour, less most likely. He got to work. Starting with scanning for biometric data, then working out if there was anything still there that the police shouldn't see.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

Acrid bitterness. Overwhelming.

Isobel jerked awake as the smelling salts were waved in front of her nose, but she awoke in total darkness. No, she thought when she had had a moment to gather herself. She had something over her head.

"She's awake," said a disembodied voice. A moment later, the hood was removed and Isobel found herself looking into the craggy face of her captor. "Good evening Mrs. Grey." Isobel didn't answer; she stared at him stonily, her lips twitching as she stayed silent. "Apologies for the abrupt way in which I've made your acquaintance. I wasn't sure you would come when called. Like most obstinant dog breeds, First Order operatives don't always."

There was a pause. "You needn't be so passive-aggressive, dear, I'm not here to get any information out of you." He perched on the edge of a table and pulled a cigarette from a crumpled package, then lit up. "No, there's nothing you can tell me that I'd need to know. So there's no need to -- oh, what's the word? Something about a thin blue line, you coppers -- "

"I'm not a policeman," Isobel spat. She was rewarded with a severe backhand. She felt her lip split and her head jerk back against the wooden chair to which she was bound, ankles and wrists.

"Didn't I tell you there's nothing you can tell me?" the man sneered. "You are a complication, that's all, and you'll be taken care of in due time. You very nearly put the kibosh on my little plan to get rid of the Bureau station chief here. What is it with you Imperial types, anyway? What's it to you if I make a bit of dosh putting a little joy into the world? Well, I say joy, you'd probably call it something idiotic like an insidious, addictive chemical substance designed to hook its users and make me buckets of money while killing them off but not before draining their bank accounts or something." He waved a hand dismissively; silvery smoke followed it. "If you could have just let well enough alone... I could have made him rich, you know. Not as rich as me but rich enough."

"Who are you?" Isobel demanded. Another backhanded strike and Isobel winced as she felt her skin bruise.

To her surprise, the man opposite grinned. "D'you know, this could be a fun game. You ask me questions, I have my fun. We'll drop your body off somewhere public. He'll get the blame, you know. You were going to expose him, after all. You're the type, aren't you?" He frowned and moved around behind her, resting a hand on the back of her neck. Isobel went stiff. "Mmm... no, you're right. This is a better idea. We'll work up a report and you'll sign it. He'll go away, and the man who replaces him... well. He'll see reason or he'll find a new occupation at the bottom of the ocean. Sorry, Mrs. Grey, I do get a bit wrapped up in myself, you asked me a question. My name is Cierrol Harlow. I'm a legitimate businessman... more or less."

"Do you make the drugs or just distribute them?" She didn't know what else to ask, but she wanted to keep him talking. The longer he talked, the more time she would spend alive. She cast her eyes around the room; it appeared to be some sort of bottling facility; the room was small and cold, lined with shelves. A freezer or cooler, perhaps.

"Does it matter?" Harlow asked. A cloud of smoke billowed out from behind her; she recognized the scent. They were the same brand that Val had shared with her the night before on the roof of the concert hall. A moment later, she let out a strangled cry as she felt him put the cigarette out against the back of her neck, slowly so that the lit end burned her. "I'm a wine distributor by trade, of course. I supply the Willis Square Hotel and every fine dining restaurant in this city. Probably every one in the region. Did you like the Chardonnay, by the way? It's one of my favorites."

Isobel answered through clenched teeth. "It was a bit oaky. Don't feel bad, maybe it was a bad bott-- ahhh!" Her shout echoed off the walls of the small room she was in as Harlow dug his thumb into her collarbone, fracturing it with some effort.

"So spirited," said Harlow with an indulgent chuckle. He leaned over and muttered into her ear: "D'you know the last Bureau agent I tortured lasted three hours before succumbing? I got bored. He wasn't as pithy as you are. We are on a timetable, but I think we can do better, don't you, Mrs. Grey?" His thumb pressed harder. "Don't you?"

"Go fuck yourself," Isobel panted, her eyes squeezing shut. The pain was overwhelming and she felt herself teetering on the edge of consciousness once more. When the blackness again enveloped her, it was because she had slumped forward lifelessly.

* * * * *​

Isobel was nothing if not a tidy professional. Isobel's secured datapad and papers were locked safely in the room safe. [member="Val Pellian"] could entertain himself rifling through her closet and suitcase but would find nothing more interesting or revealing than a collection of costume jewelry, high-end women's work-wear, and an obscenely expensive bottle of scent. In the refresher, a boutique brand of toothpaste, hand-milled soap, and salon shampoo and conditioner lined the shelves -- again, nothing particularly interesting or revealing.

The foyer was where the most interesting and relevant information could be found. Her handbag had been up-ended and its contents were strewn across the half-burned rug and the floor of the foyer. Lipstick and mascara, a small mirrored compact, a tiny vial of the same brand of perfume from the bathroom, her keys, and a small black square that looked like plastic. This square was not unlike the merchandise trackers often placed in crates of things that might be stolen en route, to allow tracking. It had been deposited there by the fumbling waiter from the restaurant -- the same fumbling waiter who had reported to Cierrol Harlow that Pellian had come in with a woman, and a woman who spoke about an investigation. The waiter who had spiked her glass to keep her on the back foot. The waiter who had been tasked to complete the frame-up job.

The plan had been blown, but the thing about criminal cockroaches like Cierrol Harlow is that they always had a Plan Besh.

 

[Delilah Graham]

Delilah's fingers raced across the keyboard of her computer, effortlessly sorting data hither and thither as it came in.

Finally, a break. She punched [member="Val Pellian"]'s frequency into her communicator, waited for him to answer. "Crane, I've got something. Check your e-mail, I've just sent it." The 'it' was a still photo taken from a security camera from a financial center across the street from the hotel. It had been worked on by FOSB techs to within an inch of its life -- much more than two nerds standing in a room with one of them saying 'enhance' until the image became clear. The file was distressed and badly damaged, but it had revealed something possibly useful.

"A partial identity plate for a delivery speeder that was in the vicinity of the hotel on the north-east side, where Lotus' room is. My contact at the hotel indicated that no such delivery was on the schedule, nor were they made aware of any guests expecting one. We've traced the partial plate number, and though this is in no way confirmed, the nature of the vehicle suggests that it may belong to a local wine delivery service. I'm sending you the list of matches to the partial number, with the delivery speeder highlighted. As ever, if you need anything from me, please let me know. If there's nothing else, I'll say goodbye. Good luck, Crane."

 

[Thaddeus Wyse]

[member="Delilah Graham"]

The commlink was turned off.

"What I need is a gorram army, two Order strategic TIE wings and maybe some Rennites. No? Okay, fair enough." Val muttered to himself as he got into the speeder and followed the only lead they had right now. He already had an idea what this was about. Local wine. There was only one man brazen enough. One man who had the sheer balls to actually kidnap an FOSB agent, thinking he'd be able to get away with it.

One man that Crane hadn't crossed lightly.

The proposal had been alluring. Very tempting. That was why Val had known to decline it. Never accept a gift that made your hands shake. Harlow would have made him a rich man. More than rich. Filthy rich. It would have been easy. The only price would have been his pride, and just how much was that really worth to him anyway? Well, here they were, about to find out.

"Gorram Isabel."

He growled under his breath as he parked a few streets away from the place he was almost sure they would be.

This was where Harlow had proposed to him in the first place. It would have appealed to his sentimental side. To break the agent that had the ability to destroy Crane right where Crane had dashed his future plans. He began surveying the place. Trying to figure out what the best place of entry would be this time.

Harlow would have locked it down tight.

That much Val knew for sure.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

It was the third time Isobel was revived with smelling salts; she wasn't sure she would ever get the acrid scent out of her sinuses again. Each time she jerked awake and slammed her back against the chair, a painful jolt went through her fractured collarbone. She yelped in pain and struggled to steady herself against the chair. "Bloody!" she grunted through gritted teeth. Harlow smiled menacingly at her from his perch on the table. He sat cross-legged, watching her intently. "Welcome back," he said. Isobel wanted to smash his stupid face with a hammer. "While you were napping I got myself some toys. D'you know what this is?" He held up what looked like a bundle of wires.

Isobel shook her head.

Harlow began unwinding the wires. "It's -- well, it doesn't really have a name," he said casually. "But it's a high-powered battery and some wires. Basically what I'll do with it is pour some volts through you. Do you know those cartoons where a -- whatever -- cat or something gets electrocuted?" Harlow chuckled as he came forward and clipped one of the crocodile clamps to Isobel's left index finger. "And they light up like a Life Day tree and you can see their skeleton?" He clipped the other clamp on Isobel's opposite finger.

"I didn't watch cartoons," Isobel said anxiously, trying anything to keep him talking. "My parents weren't working-class."

At this, Harlow let out a belly laugh. "Oh, Mrs. Grey, if I had known what a delight you were, things might have been different. But we're in too deep now, aren't we? You know too much, and besides, I can't imagine you agreeing to work with me after all we've been through together." He sighed and shook his head. "Lessons learned -- for me, that is. You're going to be dead soon."

"But -- why?" Isobel asked. "Why this masochist nonsense?"

Harlow lifted a finger. "Ah! Well, I confess that I've always liked playing with my food, my mother never quite got me to give up the habit. Something about you Bureau types, coming into places you've got no business in, trying to spread your perverted form of civilization. Someone needs to send them a message. You -- well, your body -- may well accomplish that. Not by itself; you're not special, Mrs. Grey, except to me -- I have enjoyed our time together -- and perhaps to the chief. But no, as part of a larger pile of corpses. Eventually, they're bound to get tired of it sending people to painful deaths." He sighed and fingered the switch on the battery unit. "Right? Now, listen, just because I like you -- be careful when I switch this on. Keep your jaw locked if you can, I'd hate for you to bite your tongue off."

He flipped the switch; Isobel's muted screams were a cacophony, echoing endlessly off the walls of the cooler.

* * * * *​

​

Outside, a guard patrolling the perimeter stopped at the driveway. "Boss is acting weird tonight, huh?"

"What d'ya mean?"

"Well. He's got somebody in the freezer, which always puts him in a good mood." The patrol guard pulled a cigarette from a packet and offered one to his friend. They both lit up. "But, bad luck, some kind of fault in the line fried the circuits on the security system. The motion sensors, the floodlights, the cameras all knocked out. It's making him nervous."

"Bad timing," the driveway guard grunted. "He's usually more careful."

"Mmm," replied the patrol guard. "But Black got away clean, right? So what's the worst that could happen?"

[member="Val Pellian"] | [member="Delilah Graham"]​

 

[Thaddeus Wyse]

[member="Isobel Nakano"]

A bunch of things actually.

Neither of them could be faulted for it though.

A figure slinksed down behind them. There was a brief pause, momentary consideration- on one hand, if he managed to slip in and extract Isobel without raising any alarms? That would be great. Here was the deal though. Harlow was apparently here. Now. That made a silent approach almost impossible. Especially if he was playing with his food, like they seemed to be saying.

That meant the more people he took down before breaching?

The less people would be shooting at them, while they were trying to get away.

The rest was really semantics after that. His blackjack lashed out, swinging firm and solid against the back of thug one. The half-choked out sound invited the other one. He turned around, trying to ask something. Immediately got hit with the blackjack too. It didn't knock him out. Harder head maybe. Wrong angle. Who the chit knew? It broke his nose, split his teeth into a gargled cut-off noise, before the thug jumped at him.

There was a struggle there, as the bigger man tried to choke the living chit out of Val.

Only a well-placed knee got him down. A heel into their head took them out, possibly for good. Not much more than half a minute passed. Val pulled them into the shade, took an earpiece from one of them and slipped into the warehouse proper.

Time to say hi.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

When Isobel came to this time, things looked... different. And they felt different. She was moving. No, that was wrong. She was being moved. She was upside down, could see the back of someone's legs and the floor. "Mmm?" she groaned. A bloodsoaked rag filled her mouth, muffling her question. By the gods, she ached. Her muscles felt cramped, sending excruciating sensations through her body. She felt a hand tangle in her hair; it yanked her up. Isobel found herself looking into Harlow's face as she was carried over the shoulder of one of his stooges. "I'm afraid it's just about time to part ways, Mrs. Grey," he said, giving an exaggerated frown. "It'll be daylight soon enough. We need to get you someplace you'll be found." He sighed and shook his head. "What a waste. We could do great things together. Timing is a funny old thing, isn't it, my dear?"

"Mmm-mhn-hnnn," Isobel retorted. Harlow rested a warm hand against her cheek. His thumb ran across her swollen bottom lip. Isobel tried to wrench herself away from him and ended up wriggling off her perch and falling hard on the floor.

Harlow stopped the goon from scooping her up. He crouched next to her and brushed her hair from her face, then pulled the gag from between her teeth. "What was that, Mrs. Grey?"

"You don't have to do this," Isobel croaked. Her throat was dry and cracked, hoarse from screaming. "I can have him pulled out. I can. But not if I'm dead."

Harlow cupped his chin, then stuffed the gag back in Isobel's mouth and stood up. "Take her to my office. Keep her cuffed to something. The radiator perhaps. We'll see, Mrs. Grey, if I can rely upon your assurances. I have ways, you know. This could be the beginning of a beautiful partnership." He gently lifted Isobel and placed her in his goon's grasp, then fixed his gaze on him. "Don't break her. I'll be along presently."

Harlow had a suite of rooms on the top floor of the warehouse building, overlooking the processing floor. A nice office space, private dining room, and a small bedroom where he caught up on his sleep and occasionally entertained women. His lieutenant would take her to the office to wait. Harlow, for his part, went back into the main processing floor and then out to the driveway. "Davies," he called towards the parking garage. "Take the truck to our usual place. We'll need new plates and new livery, just in case we were spotted." He paused as he lit a cigarette, waiting for a reply. When none came, he called out again: "Davies?"

No answer.

He sighed and went over towards the garage door. "Davies!"

[member="Val Pellian"]​

 

[Thaddeus Wyse]

[member="Isobel Nakano"]

Val had miscalculated.

Somewhat.

It would have been better, if he had come across Harlow. That one was relaxed now. Mostly. It would have been relatively easy to get the drop of him now. Take him out and solve the issue. It might have caused Isobel's death. Small price to pay, Graham would presumably say. It was not to be. Val assumed they or at least Harlow would be at his office. The logical place. Instead... instead as he peered through the window, he saw it was only Isobel. Her being tethered to a radiator, the goon taking one look at her and then stepping out.

Presumably waiting and guarding from the other side.

A murmured curse escaped him. He was locked in now- there was no way he'd be fast enough to find Harlow now. It didn't take much effort to get the windows open, slipping inside. Closing them immediately behind him. A finger on his lips to silence any words she might have for him.

For a moment their eyes met. His moved across her face, seeing the bruises and more, brows furrowing in dark thoughts.

Beat of the heart and Val moved on. Disappearing out of her view for a moment. There was a brief sound of scuffle. Muffled cries. Then it was cut off. Replaced by a thunk of a large body dropping to the ground. Val dragged the body into the office, closing the door behind him. "Quite a mess we have here, Lotus." Val muttered as he went to pull the gag out of her mouth.

"You able to walk?"

 

[Isobel Nakano]

As Isobel was deposited on the ground and cuffed to the radiator, she looked around the room. Plush office. Soundproofed, by the looks of the thickness of the walls. She could see a small bedroom through an open door. It didn't take a brain surgeon to see what happened here. It didn't even take a trashy romance novelist. Isobel shivered and immediately regretted it; her strained body ached violently in response. She half-heartedly tested the strength of her binding and the bond of the radiator to the wall, but she didn't believe it would give.

It didn't.

With a sigh, Isobel settled against the wall, her arms awkwardly pointing off to one side, and thought. She had a pretty good idea about what was going to happen next in the grand scheme of things, but what was going to happen after that? Was she going to be able to get away from this? If so, how? Harlow wasn't going to just let her go. She suspected this was some kind of head-game he was playing now, and that once whatever was next was over, he would simply kill her. But if he tried to turn her... she shivered again, winced, and bit back a curse. He had tortured her for hours and hadn't asked her a single question. Could she hope to endure his torture if he had an aim to it aside from wanton destruction?

There was a muted noise close by, but Isobel didn't look up. If she pretended to be asleep, maybe she could delay the inevitable. She didn't look up when the door opened and shut. But then the intruder spoke, and Isobel's head jerked up. Pellian! He approached and pulled the gag from her teeth, letting her relax her jaw finally. She sighed in relief and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. "I've never been happier to see you, Pellian," she muttered after a moment. "I think so. God, I hope so," she whispered.

"Can you get me loose?" she asked, rattling her handcuffs softly.

[member="Val Pellian"]​

 

[Thaddeus Wyse]

[member="Isobel Nakano"]

Somehow Val didn't think this was the time to make morbid jokes.

She was holding it together now, but he saw it in her eyes.

Harlow had gone far this time. Too far? No, she'd be able to claw herself back again, but Isobel would need time. Away from this. Just one rescue, while still being in the thrall of Harlow's office, wasn't going to cut it. "You and me both, lady." He muttered, before leaning down to inspect the handcuffs. Experienced fingers explored the mechanics. Crude, not even magnetically sealed. Sturdy though. The only way Isobel would have been able to get out of them by herself?

Was probably ripped it out and leaving skin, muscle and blood behind.

Her captor had always been a barbarian. Behind that veneer of gentleman pride. "Yeah, look away for a second." Val brought out a pen. A quick press of the button and it began emitting a short-range laser. With some precision Val started cutting the shackle that attached it to the radiator.

"We can get the rest off of ya when we gone, yeah?"

No time in minuscule calculation.

"Let's go, won't be long, before they notice." Val moved to help her up, support her if necessary.