Finding a Life, Unintentionally. (Duke of Clubs)

[Kiriyama]

“This is fairly simple,” Deceit said, waving a lock of his orange hair out of his face. “I’m not sure why Master took the job though. You know how he feels about helping people for cash only. I’m not complaining though. It’s about damn time he stopped being so selfish.”

“Mm-hmm,” Lament replied, wiping her scalpel off on a red rag. She dropped the rag on her latest “pet’s” face, which resembled a smashed cherry pie by now, and followed her fellow homunculus up the basement stairs.

The two passed Mockery on their way to Master’s study. She was writing another one of her stories about people that she didn’t really know. Probably another Gorin-Sin yaoi, or some kind of romance story in which she inserted herself into a relationship with either of the dark gods. To put it bluntly, she was their biggest, and probably only fan.

Deceit walked on the far side of the hallway. It was no secret that Mockery frightened him, despite the fact that he was several hundred years her senior. Lament couldn’t help but admit that she was a little frightened of the psychotic little girl as well, though not enough to avoid her like the plague. (Which Deceit always managed to do.)

She ruffled her big sister’s hair whilst walking past. It was something that, despite the fact that Mockery loved it, Deceit was afraid to do. He had nightmares of attempting to do so, and having his sister’s head split open and consume his hand.

The two continued on their way, leaving the pink-haired homunculus behind. Their next stop would be the large oak doors at the end of the hallway. Pushing past them, as they’d done so many times before, they entered Master’s study.

Inside was a familiar sight. Master was sitting at his desk in the middle of the room, his silver hair covering his eyes, and drumming his fingers on his desk. Despair was at his usual place by Master’s side, two slips of paper clasped in his sausage sized fingers.

“Ah,” Master said, nodding to Despair. “I found you a job, it seems. It’s a classic case of, ‘Evil king who needs to be killed in order for a good king to succeed the throne’, etc. However, it appears that there are homunculi involved. Homunculi that I have nothing to do with.”

Despair strode around Master’s desk and handed the papers to Lament. Both were pictures, apparently. One was that of a greasy bald man with a crown wedged on his potato of a head. The other was of a man that seemed somehow familiar to the homunculus, even though she’d never met him in her life.

“The bald man is the guy who’s got the homunculi security,” Master said, “and the other guy is a regicide that your employer already hired for the job. Your employer wanted the best of both worlds: Somebody who knew how to kill kings, and somebody who knew how to kill homunculi.”

“Okay,” Lament replied, stuffing the pictures into her robe. “Where am I supposed to go?”

“The regicide should be waiting for you in the Archfound bar, in Tybalt. Your employer is there as well.”

[Duke of Clubs]

"Just shut up," Kellson growled, "and get me the regular, cheap-ass beer before I glass you in the face and let you marinate in your own blood. Savvy?"

The bartender, deciding his health took priority over a monologue elaborating on the joys of more expensive alcohol, scurried off. Kellson hated these types of bars. He was perfectly content drinking the normal beer (there were two kinds: urine flavored, and watered-down urine flavored)...he didn't need or want anything else, especially in a business talk.

His employer, in contrast, had ordered a glass of vintage champagne. The man, hooded and cloaked--wow, Kellson had thought sarcastically, I've never seen that before--had barely said a word, except that he was waiting for a second hired gun to come. The regicide hated working on a contract with help, especially a woman's, but the pay was good enough that he had just shrugged.

His beer arrived, and, as expected, it was watered-down urine flavored. Kellson put his hells up on the table, ignoring the sniff of distaste from the employer, and pulled out a cigarette.

Same old story: bad king out, good king in. Kellson was starting to think that he needed a new job, something with more excitement. Assassinations grew old after a while. If you've seen one castle, you've seen them all. Plus, he wasn't getting stronger with all these easy contracts. Nothing ever changed with this job...

The tavern's doors creaked open, and a beautiful woman walked in. Kellson took a drag from the cigarette, looking her up and down. He knew that posture, that stance. She would be the other, the one the employer spoke of.

Very niiiiice. This might be interesting after all...or at least, the lady would be.

[Kiriyama]

“That’s probably him,” Lament thought, looking at their employer. She walked over to the table and sat next to their employer, across the table from her temporary associate. She didn’t bother to look at him for now, and missed the sight of him staring at her.

“You must be Lament,” the cloaked man said, extending his hand to the homunculus. When she didn’t take it, he decided to continue. “I’m sure your master told you about the regicide that I hired in conjunction with your services. I’m confidant that your combined expertise will allow you to accomplish the job quickly.”

“Mm-hmm,” Lament replied, drumming her fingers on the table. “Is there anything I should know?”

“I can’t believe that I have to work with this guy,” she thought, making a point of looking at everything but Kellson. Instead, she decided to take in the bar.

It was the usual bar, though somewhat more distasteful. Over at the counter was yet another bartender endlessly cleaning an ever dirty glass with an even dirtier cloth. Lament found herself wondering how the bartenders always seemed to be the same guy. Maybe they were from the same family.

Her gaze then drifted to a table across the room, where a group of drunkards were staring at her and talking amongst themselves. She quickly turned away and tried to look at something else, anything else. People disgusted her when they did that…

That was when she saw Kellson. The feeling she’d gotten when she saw his picture, the feeling that she’d seen him somewhere before, was much stronger now. He looked familiar, yet she knew that she’d never seen him before. Maybe Eiro had known him?

She realized that he was looking at her as well, and turned away. How had Eiro known him? Enemies, allies? Lovers?

“No,” she thought. “No, no, no. It’s not that. Kric was Eiro’s lover, and the reason for my existence. Eiro probably knew this Kellson man, but they weren’t lovers. Maybe they worked together on something? Eiro was a bounty hunter, after all.”

He might have said something, but she was too deep in her thoughts to notice. She’d be thinking about him all night…

“And that is why you two are perfectly suited for the-”

“Jeesh,” Lament thought. “Still going on and on and on. This guy’s really starting to annoy me.”

“Alright,” their employer was now saying, “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted while I find a good inn for the two of you to stay in. I’ll brief you both on the exact details tomorrow morning.”

The cloaked man rose and left, leaving Lament alone with Kellson. This definitely wasn’t something that she was going to enjoy.