V M The Scarred Warden [NPC]

[Masahir N'air]

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<< Follow up to City of Thieves >>
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11:24pm


​

Screeching warning alarms blared loudly, footsteps thundering up and down the hall outside as Kolalu, proud warrior and provider to House Gerudo, esteemed Warden of Karim’s City Jail, gripped her forearm tightly. The limb still stung with the sharp prickling of nerves turned needles by her redirected electrified baton.

Kolalu’s round, pretty face crinkled up in shame and disgust as she knelt on the floor. That smarmy, shadowy man, with his shockingly piercing silver eyes- and his short, silent feline companion. They had embarrassed her, ruined her reputation and smeared her pride across the floors in tonight’s Jailbreak.

She’d had a record for arbiter’s sake!

Now she would never hear the end of this from her sisters. Augh! Beaten and bested by a pair of men! How weak and hot-faced it drove her to feel that it bordered on violation of her psyche. Her mind raced as she attempted to predict the backlash she would face from her elders and supervisors- that she might lose her job over this utter humiliation.

Those pathetic criminals had knocked one of her sisters unconscious, as well. Now the poor young woman was sitting in the infirmary, getting checked over. She’d been so confused and worried, apologizing over and over again to the Warden as she was being walked out.

And yet still most of all, Kolalu’s ego reeled from the shock of having lost. Her strength and boasting had been proven wrong. Her image felt crooked and her self-confidence was shaken to its very core from the events of the night- and she’d just barely been about to go home and relax after a day’s smooth work. Try as hard as she might, but the Warden just couldn't get that rogue's eyes out of her head, or his mocking tone as the two slipped away, or the way that blasted man-rogue had almost seemed to enjoy dancing around her. It was as if he was playing with her- toying with her for his own fun, and it left her deeply unsettled, made her feel... dirty in a way a shower could never manage to wash clean.

The duo of criminals simply had to be brought to justice. The Warden knew that there could be no other way for her to properly regain her face and restore her reputation as a strong and lawful woman. She could not stand by and just allow this slight on House Gerudo and the law of her city go unrectified and unpunished.

The tall Gerudo rose fully to her feet and stormed over to the security console, jamming down the red intercoms button with a frustrated strength. “Karim Jail Guards, you are to report to Sector D: detain all escapees and secure the perimeter! No one, I repeat, no one is going home until this jail is locked down and we have all heads accounted for!”

She let up off the console, eyeing the various CCTV screens adorning the wall- one caught her eye. Sector A; it was a cellblock for non-violent, short term offenders awaiting trial or generally just being detained for the night. Normally, Sector A saw obnoxious drunks or tripping druggies disturbing the peace, teens caught breaking curfew... And Constantia Lachipter, because she was so terrible at picking a lock that they never had to worry much about needing hi-tech to contain her. A simple shed padlock would have sufficed to hold the poor imperial lass.

Cell nine was the only cell in the block with it’s door wide open and it’s inhabitants missing. Cell nine.

The Warden pulled a thin stick from her tool belt and pulled at one edge, revealing a mostly transparent blue touch screen. She pecked at the Jail’s booking records, punching ‘Lachipter’ into the search bar.

A grin began to light up Warden Kolalu’s expression as she skimmed the record. Sector A, Cell Nine. Constantia had been locked up in the only cell in the block that was busted wide open, along with a tabaxian ‘Fish’ and a human male ‘Lucien Lockwood’.

Perhaps the criminal duet had been related to or employed by one of the three convicts? The warden shook her head, it didn’t matter how they were related all too much, what mattered was that they were now running through the city and all of this was going to fall on top of her shoulders. Kolalu knew she was as strong as a mountain, but even mountains could weather apart into rocks and sand with enough time and pressure.

She would show them that she was greater than any mountain, stronger than any desert stone. She was Warden Kolalu, a stalwart soldier of House Gerudo, not some push over, not some powerless little girl-child. She was from a long line of amazing and resilient female warriors, and she was fully intent on proving her heritage and skill beyond any shadow of a doubt.

No man would ever come between her, and her reputation, as long as she still drew breath.​

 

[Masahir N'air]

7:23am​

“What do you mean you can’t find it?!” Rinaldo hissed from his spot across the desk. The dark haired man’s arms were folded across his chest as he anxiously tapped his foot. They were standing in Scar’s office, a place only select individuals were supposed to have access to. Rinaldo was a manager, his associate however, was not. Before him his work partner Keyon fished around in a large, opulent desk, trying his best to locate a little black notebook neither of them had managed any luck finding.

“I mean that it’s not under the false bottom where it usually is. I mean that it’s not in any of the drawers. When I say I can’t fuckin’ find it, I mean that it’s fucking gone Rinaldo, and I don’t know what to tell you-”

“It can’t be gone, keep looking Keyon!”

“What the hell do you want me to do Rinaldo? It’s not in there. What, d’you want me to do, turn the entire desk inside out-?”

“If it means finding the damn thing, then yes, idiot.” Rinaldo snapped as he rounded the desk, shoving the young man out of his way. “I give you responsibility with that fucking book for one god damned night and you fucking screw it- Scar is going to have my nuts in a fucking vice over this kid!”

“I put it back, I swear- I put it back! I would not fuck with you or Scar like that, come on-” Keyon hovered around the older man’s shoulders, staring hard into the drawers as if he could will that notebook into its rightful place.

“Oh piss off.” Rinaldo sent a sharp elbow into the kid’s gut for all the trouble as he took his turn searching. “You get up again, I’ll make sure to knock the lights outta ya. Losing the fuckin’- ugh...” The aging man fumbled through the contents of each drawer, his hands getting shakier with each second that passed.

“Look, Rinaldo, I’m sorry- I’m sorry I didn’t- please I didn’t fuck around with you all like that, I wouldn’t... You’re like a brother to me man, I’d never...” The young man whimpered from his spot against the cold plaster walls.

“Well that don’t really matter now, does it kid? Scar isn’t going to give a singular rat’s mangy ass when he finds out that we’ve lost his ledger, and we’re both going to be in deep, deep shit. Me for trusting you with the fuckin’ thing and you for being the jackanape jackass who fuckin’ lost it!” Rinaldo gave up his search, slamming his hands down on top of the desk in his anxious frustration. “How the hell am I going to explain this...”​

8:45am​

The morning sun had peeked over the far edge of Mesa Roja’s disk, turning night to day in the brief liminal space of the twilight dawn. The bright ball of gas in the sky soon began to lend its warmth across the cold desert sands, and the silver-haired Mister William S. Kharre was still tucked soundly in his comfortable, warm bed. He’d woken up with his alarm a little less than fifteen minutes prior, but found himself still unwilling to roll out of his bed on such a chilly morning.

His stomach grumbled with a grumpy growl, and the retired gentleman found himself craving his daily cup of morning coffee just a little too much to stay contented in bed any longer. With a grunt he heaved himself up and swung his legs over the side of his mattress, tossing his satin sheets from his lap in his efforts. From beside his bed he gathered his dark red sherpa-fleece house robe and pulled it on, hiding away the fact that he was wearing only a ribbed cotton undershirt and a pair of plain dark briefs. Long white socks came half-way up his calf, saving his legs from the cool nip as he slid his feet into a pair of black slippers.

Mister Kharre yawned deeply, stretching his arms out behind him before finally standing. Today was like any other day. He would rise, brush his teeth and his hair, wash his face, and comb his salt and pepper beard perfectly into place before fixing it all with a fine wax. He would take his coffee sweet and light, swirled with a delicate chocolate crème he found a guilty pleasure in indulging in while he read his morning news and waited for his hired servant to finish making his breakfast: eggs over easy with a slice of toast.

All across his newspaper in big bold letters read something quite shocking, an event he found quite unlikely, so improbable in fact that he found himself re-reading the headline for the third time in a row now.​

BREAKING NEWS!
THE SHAME OF HOUSE GERUDO: KARIM CITY JAIL SUFFERS CHAOTIC BREAKOUT IN THE NIGHT!!

It was a cold and quiet night in the beautiful city of Karim when it happened, not a single person would have expected such a terrible misfortune to befall our respected city hall and jailhouse...​

Kharre’s hazel eyes scanned across the page, soaking in the detailed account of a chaotic jailbreak on Warden Kolalu’s watch the night prior. Two people, including the Warden herself, had apparently been injured by a pair of perpetrators, while several other guards had sustained injuries while re-containing all of the escaped convicts and felons from the most egregiously unagreeable area of the jail.

He gave an incredulous scoff, letting it roll into a chuckle as he glanced up at his servant- a middle aged man named Karaindash, whose humble sense of style led him to wear his jet black hair curled in loose coils, and his clothing to be forever plain.

The servant set William’s breakfast down with little more than a gentle clink of fine china meeting the lacquered wood table. “Would you like more coffee with your breakfast, sir?”

“Hm, yes Karain. Can you believe this?” The older man pointed to the sensational headline, rolling his eyes a bit. “Warden Kolalu has gone and made an absolute laughing-stock of herself now, I must say. They said all of this was caused by just two people. Must be a smart duo... or-”

“They are working with more than themselves.”

“Yes, dear Karain, I do concur-” Suddenly Kharre’s stomach rudely butted into the conversation with the worst set of manners since yesterday morning. The gentleman set the paper down, choosing instead to pick up his fork and sate his terribly talkative gut.

He’d managed to partake in about half of his breakfast when-

BRRRRRRIIIIIIIING!!

The high-pitched, shrill metallic cry of an uninvited guest rang loudly from his parlor room. He sighed softly. Who would bother him so early in his morning? He made to take another bite-

BRRRRRRIIIIIIIING!!

It demanded his attention, screamed for it even. This guest would not go without an audience.

Karaindash blessed his aging ears with sweet quiet as the younger man answered in his stead. Kharre attempted to return to his food, scooping up a fork full of yolky bread and egg whites when Karain turned back towards him and said aloud, “you are saying that it is an emergency and you must speak with Master Kharre immediately, Rinaldo?”

With a grimace the older gentleman motioned to the small round end table that the cream colored rotary phone was perched on, which was brought to him post-haste by the loyal Karain.


Mister William S. Kharre was not typically a man who enjoyed being rushed or inconvenienced by the incompetency of his underlings. Typically he was a gentleman who enjoyed a rather hands-off, casual approach to his business and drama if he could help it. Normally, on an average day of the week, he’d be enjoying what basically amounted to the fruits of his retirement: a comfortable home, a beautiful view, and the money to afford whatever casual whim drifted his way.
​

He did not, however, find that he was going to be having a normal day.​

“Good morning, Rinaldo.”
​

“Oh, uh- uhah... Good-uh, good morning there boss. You-uh, you are having a good morning, right boss?”
​

The manager’s nervousness peeked through as he fumbled over his words far more than usual.​

“Yes, yes. I am.”
​

There was a pause as a moment of silence hung on the line.​

“Rinaldo.” Kharre prodded sharply.
​

“Uh- aye boss?” Rinaldo managed to choke out from the other side.​

“I trust you have a good reason for interrupting my aforementioned good morning.”
​

“Yeah... We uhm... have a situation. Here... Uhm. ... I can’t uh- I can’t find your black ledger, boss.”​

“Come again, Rinaldo?”​

William chuckled in disbelief.
​

“I thought I just heard you say that you’ve lost my black book. That’s a very amusingly dangerous way to try to pull my leg.”
​

Again silence pervaded the line.
Then the gentleman started to make out something in the background, some sort of gulping, hiccough- perhaps sobbing, even.​

“Rinaldo, are you crying on the phone with me?”
​

“Ah, no boss. You’re just hearing the smartass who uh, touched your ledger last.
He’s uhm, on the floor, begging for your mercy like you just wouldn’t believe-”​

“I am getting tired of this, why are you really calling?”
​

The dread was palpable across the phone. ​

“I... uhm... Wasn’t.... Lying to you, Boss...”​

”What?!”
​

Suddenly Kharre sounded more like a viper than a man in that moment, his face flushing red as his blood pressure spiked up. ​

“What do you mean you lost my ledger you incompetent-”
​

The older man managed to catch himself, and stopped to take a few audibly deep breaths Rinaldo winced over.​

“I expect to speak with you in person, in my home office. You have fifteen minutes.”​

 

[Masahir N'air]

9:37am​

“So, let me get this straight.” Sat back deep in a blanket of shadow, Mister William S. Kharre took a long and deep drag from his exquisite hand-carved ivory pipe, its bright red cherry glowered in sinister relief from its spot nestled in the dark. The gilded golden inlays of the polished pipe glinted sharply as they caught a mote of light streaming in through a solitary sliver in the wooden blinds. He seemed to hold his breath in forever, as if savoring the sweetly acrid tones of the crushed herb held in the bowl. The refined older gentleman finally exhaled, an opaque cloud of smoke billowing from under the corners of his curled mustache.

Kharre stared across the expanse of his desk at the newest source of stress in his retired life; the middle aged manager of his operations in Karim, Rinaldo Mannello- and the much younger, lanky and awkward gutter-whelp of a man who worked under him, Keyon. Rinaldo had been attempting to explain the situation after arriving several minutes ago, mostly to uncertain effect at best, because S. Kharre had always been a frightening enigma of a man in any emotional sense.

“You,” Kharre pointed the mouthpiece of the pipe at Rinaldo, “let him,” the retiree then gestured towards Keyon, who visibly flinched, “into my office and gave him the book- which is now missing. And neither of you know who left the door or window unlocked? Am I understanding this correctly, Rinaldo? That not a single soul working last night noticed anything was off?”

“Yessir, boss.” Mannello paused to silently choke down a dry gulp. "Nobody on shift noticed a damn thing, but..... Been doing your business for nearly ten years now, Mister Kharre. You know I'd never do you wrong, that I'm too loyal for that, right boss?"

Kharre hummed deeply, tapping the ashes out from his pipe. "Yes." He chuckled, amused by both the men's fumbling under his gaze. "If the question is of trust, then yes, of course I trust you Rinaldo. You are too valuable of an asset to simply toss aside, my friend... However."

William's piercing gaze fell on Keyon, full of disapproval. "You, Keyon. Do you enjoy your job at my warehouse?"

"Ye-yes sir?"

"Do you think that I treat you and my other workers fairly?"

He fidgeted, wondering what this sudden battery of questions was about. Perhaps a trap waiting for him to mess up? Or... Maybe Scar just thought he was a major fucking idiot. "Yessir, I do."

"Then where is my book, Keyon? I don't understand why you would choose to bite the hand feeding you so severely..." William sighed softly, pinching at the bridge of his nose.

Keyon’s heart caught in his chest at the accusation, a spike of panic shooting straight through his torso from the idea, what it meant for Scar’s impression of him. No no no, he had to de-escalate this before it went any further. "Boss, sir, I promise you that I did not steal your book-"

"I didn't say anything about stealing, or is a guilty mind confessing?" The silver haired man quipped sharply, cutting off the youth’s attempt to defend and explain himself. Not that it stopped the man from trying again.

"No, no sir- please, you don’t understand-" His voice cracked in desperation. “We found the window unlocked too and so, uh- it must’ve been a uh, a- a-”

Scar chuckled. Was this whelp suggesting that his warehouse was just the target of a random crime from some uninformed, pissant gutter runner? The Underground knew better than to toy with him. He was connected, happily sitting as untouchable as aristocracy in the midst of the web he’d painstakingly worked to create. His office was on the third floor of the building, with no balconies or fancy ledges adorning the outside. The criminal would have to have had some sort of inside contact to pull everything off so quietly and perfectly. "Certainly Rinaldo made my rules clear when you started working for him in my warehouse, so, dear Keyon, answer old Scar this one thing: what is my biggest rule?"

The young man gulped audibly and licked at his dry, sticky lips. "Don't cross the boss?"

“Aye...” Scar shifted, leaning forward and tilting his head just a bit, studying the rough looking youth.

A metallic glint in the shadows had Rinaldo clutching at his suspenders, hands pressed together in a silent and pleading prayer to his gods. He knew where this was going, and quickly- and he couldn't stomach watching.

Scar leaned on the shaded armrest of his chair, a single black gloved hand extended to beckon the young man forward a few steps.

"In this business we have a saying, kid: Don't," Scar declared, "fuck with me."
​

**BANG!**

**THUNK**​

The snap of the gunshot quieted, dust flying up off a new hole in one of the carved pillars decorating the walls, gravel sized bits of the stone crumbling to the floor. The room was eerily quiet for several seconds as the blood-mist settled and Rinaldo took in what had just occurred.

Keyon was laid out prone on the floor, face down on the carpet with his arms twisted under him all funny-like. The bullet's exit had torn a hole straight through him and cared little for the fact that the young man's spine had been in the way of that escape path. The fresh dark crimson of blood welled freely from the wound, staining Keyon's shirt and the rug under him in its woeful scarlet tide.

Like a deer staring into the mesmerizing doom of advancing headlights, the manager's dark eyes darted up to Scar, still sitting perfectly in the deep shadow of his chair.

Keyon had been his friend, but in that moment he found that he cared far more about the possibility that he would be next than anything else.

"Hm," grumbled the silver fox, startling the anxious Rinaldo. "Ugly bastard ruined my rug."

There was a clack as the silver revolver was firmly placed down on Scar's desk. Rin's eyes snapped up, glancing back and forth between the Boss and his infamous handgun. Truth be told, the disarming did little to soothe his racing heart or static laced nerves. Scar would have to completely pull that gun apart and give him at least fifty feet of space and several seconds head start before he felt like he had a reasonable chance of escaping with his life in such a situation.

Kharre flicked his wrist as he brought it up to his mouth, uncovering a hi-tech House Wakanda styled watch that had been hiding under the cuff of his suit jacket. “Karaindash, I need you to send for the cleaning services. It seems I have simply gone and made quite the mess on the good rug. Yes, dry cleaning and all. Thank you.”

With little more than an extra flick, he closed the call channel and studied his decade-long manager.

"Ah, Rinny.” Kharre’s voice was gruff, before his entire persona softened and calmed. “Come here, I am not going to kill you old sport. In fact, I have work for you."

Rin flinched as he eyed his boss like a pinned rabbit, panicked and wary. He didn’t budge a single inch from his spot. "... Ye-yessir? What do you, uhm, need me to ah, do, Boss?"

The old merc’s hazel eyes glared, "You’ve been in the business all of these years and yet you still lose your spine on days like this.” Scar never let his gaze up off the man, even as he hoisted himself from his tall-backed chair and walked around his desk.

The dark haired man swallowed hard, risking a glance down at Keyon’s cooling corpse. Scar stepped over the deceased with an air so casual it was as if the youth was little more than a crack in the sidewalk. Rin couldn’t stop his forming frown from ceasing the lines of his mouth. “He was my friend, Boss.”

Scar tilted his head, as if momentarily surprised or mildly curious, before clasping Rinaldo on the shoulder and yanking him in so close that the hitman’s lips almost brushed against his ear. The merc’s other hand held the back of the manager’s skull in place, as if daring him to escape the constricting vice of his grasp. “Listen to me closely, Rinaldo, because I am not going to bother repeating myself in this effort: find the people responsible for all of this. Find my book and get back on track. You do whatever it takes to make anyone suspicious in that warehouse squeal."

Kharre’s voice had easily taken on that characteristic hissed edge that just dripped poison from every single syllable. “If you are so concerned over the whelp’s fate then take solace in knowing that he paid for your mistake, the lamb to sacrifice so that you could live to see the night again. So I expect you to get your ass out there and fix this issue, unless you think you’d prefer earning a rug to match Keyon’s. You understand me, Mannello?”

Rinaldo could only muster the ability to nod his head strongly, but Scar understood easily and pulled back, now holding the man’s face in his gloved hands. He looked down on the man like a skeptical, enigmatic father, the type that believed his kids should be seen and not heard. “Good. I don’t think that I ask very much of you. Your loyalty, your respect, and keeping things running smoothly. Your basic responsibilities. That’s it. Keyon...”

The boss began to guide Rin towards the door just as it was swung open by Karain to let the cleaners in: two burly looking men and a smaller impish looking woman all dressed in nondescript, plain uniforms.

“Well,” Kharre continued as they stepped free from the rug. The cleaners were rolling it up, body and all, before going to work on the puddle of blood that had pooled on the marble floor underneath. Mannello stared long at the bottom of his dead friend’s shitty gray chucks as his limp form was turned over and over, and he felt dizzy in the pit of his stomach and between his brows. “I had to make an example since some people have forgotten the cardinal rules.”

In the haze Rinaldo soon found himself passed off onto the butler, Karaindash, and the doors to the office shut behind him.

“The master will contact you at a later time, when he is feeling more agreeable.” The loyal servant remarked, following behind the man as he wandered towards the entrance.

“Yeah, uhuh, fuck off buddy. I know.” Rinaldo huffed, a jagged scowl setting his brows into a deep furrow as he lost himself in thought. “Nobody ordered you to speak anyways, Claine.”

“I think it would be best if you left the property post-haste, Mister Mannello. If you would please.” If Karain was offended by being spoken down to like a common house-slave, or having his name absolutely butchered, he certainly didn’t allow it to slip into his composure. Instead he took to firmly escorting the man out the front door.


A thousand racing thoughts tormented the supervisor as he squinted against the blinding morning sun, and he had no solutions.​

 

[Masahir N'air]

12:06pm​

Briiiiing

Briiii-chk-​

“Warden Kolalu of the House Gerudo, speaking.”​

“Ah, sweet Kolalu. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Silence hung between the line for a brief moment.​

“What do you want, Kharre? Don’t I do you
enough favors already?”​

“Ouch, always so straight-to-the-point,
like the prickle of a rose’s thorns. I always
did enjoy how much you sting me.”

“You only call this line when you need something.
I’m pretty damn busy, in case you didn’t hear-”​

“Oh, about the jailbreak? Well, I read all about it
in this morning’s news. Quite a shameful farce,
really. You must be dealing with a prohibitive
mountain of paperwork from the House Wakanda,
you poor thing.”

“... I really don’t need you to patronize me right now, Will.
I haven’t slept since yesterday morning, and I pulled one
hell of a double shift last night. I’ve had the chief jumping
down my throat demanding answers and an investigation
into our internal structure-”​

“So the people want answers, do they?”

“Mmm.”​

Again, silence hung on the line, as if a third party to the private conversation.​

“... Kolalu I'm going to cut to the chase-”

“Warden Kolalu.”​

“Come on Lala, we’re closer than that.”

“Are we? Really?”​

“What else do I have to do to apologize? I’ve
already sent you all of your favorite gifts.”

“I’m not sure, Will. What can you do?”​

The man sighed deeply.​

“Lala, I’d rather have you on my side than not right now.
You have no idea how much we need each other, today
of all days and especially going forwards.”

“... You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

“Well? Go on. I’m listening.”​

“...”

“I am sorry, Kolalu. I didn’t mean that snide comment I
made towards your chief. She just really gets under my
skin at times like a- ... ahem. I’m sorry. I was rude and highly
inconsiderate to cause a mess you had to clean up. ...
Can it please be water under the bridge now, Lala?”

“...”​

“Lala?”

“...” ​

“... Kolalu?”

“Just say it one more time, so I can really enjoy it,
please. You have no idea how long I’ve
wanted to wring an apology out of your sleazy,
silver hide.”​

“...”

“... I think you would be pleasantly surprised to
know that I actually called to give you some
information.”

“Nothing is free coming from you. What’s the catch?”​

Kharre could be heard softly chuckling.​

“Woman, if you would let me have my fun, you would know
soon enough, I assure you.”

“And what if I said I had no patience for games,
‘today, of all days’.”
​

“Then I’d say that you’d have to let me take you out for a
few rounds of drinks sometime soon, when I can steal you
for a handful of hours and help you unwind. It is direly
clear that you need some time off-duty. They are going to
work you to death, or rather, you are going to work
yourself to death.”

“William...”​

“Fine. Don’t get your leotard in a twist... My warehouse
was robbed last night. The downtown locale.”

“Your warehouse? What was stolen?”​

“It seems that whoever broke in had an eye for ledgers
and caravan schedules.”

“And why is this important to me besides the fact
that you’re probably expecting me to pull some
strings for you and help get your file advanced
and focused on? I really can’t just spare the
resources to help you out on a personal squabble
with someone from the Underground.”​

“The Underground knows to leave well enough
alone. Me and Blaine have a deal, his people do
not harass me, they know better.”

“So, what, internal sabotage? It’s not House Gerudo’s
fault that you fail to handle your employees and
keep them in line properly. I always knew you ran
with mutts and rabid dogs.”​

“No... No. It was too clean. This wasn’t
just some spiteful employees snatching my
documents. They left no prints, they left no
trace on camera. Made no sound. None of my
workers noticed a single damn thing last night,
and quite frankly, not even one of them is
bright enough to pull off something so...
Polished. My manager would have noticed
such a blatant workplace uprising.”

“Unless he was in on it and he’s covering.”​

“Mannello? No, he’s scared too straight.”

William chuckled.​

“You shoulda seen him earlier when I was...
Setting an example. Like an antelope in headlights.”

“... What are you suggesting, Kharre?”​

“I’m suggesting that I trust Mannello, and that
someone is trying to break through in Karim.
Someone new, unaffiliated with any of the
houses or Plaineview, unknown faces to the
City of Karim. “

“Someone is trying to stir the pot and earn some attention...”​

“I think we’re looking for the same people, Lala...
And I think we could be of great assistance to
one another. Tell me, giantess, do you have time
to enjoy dinner with me tonight?”

“A business dinner, only.”​

“Of course, is six o’clock agreeable for the
resplendent madam Kolalu~?”

Finally the woman could be heard attempting to suppress an amused giggle.​

“Yes. I will see you tonight. Until then, Will.”​

“Until then, lovely Lala.”

 

[Masahir N'air]

2:27pm​

“Warden Kolalu, ma’am! I have the files you requested.”

“From that obnoxious party boat?”

Tefuki, the young gerudo woman standing before Kolalu, nodded. She was tall and thin, bookish when compared to her much more physically imposing sisters.

Kolalu extended a hand, taking the manila file of documentation off the woman and thumbing through the various papers. Security footage stills, signed statements, a minor internal investigation...

“I had to pull some strings to get all this to you so quickly, ma’am...” Tefuki reminded the older gerudo, seeking to reiterate the efforts she had put into getting it all done.

The warden was paying little attention to the meek woman’s soft speaking, her red eyes instead intent on reading and re-reading the eye witness reports. A humanoid male dressed in all black with tanned skin and striking silver eyes had somehow infiltrated the space yacht very shortly after take-off. It was unclear if he had snuck aboard prior to launch with cargo or passengers, or if he had somehow been related to an odd instance of depressurization in one of the compartments. He had broken into the restricted access VIP rooms, likely searching for valuables like credit chips and jewelry, before fleeing. His reckless and seemingly fruitless endeavor had seen a handful of guards assaulted and injured.

He spoke smugly and confidently, and had called himself ‘The Shadow’.

He had used his vile magic to terrorize her sisters and try getting what he wanted, what he had felt himself unfairly and unjustly entitled to. Kolalu sneered down at the testimonies in her hands, a bitter taste of shame budding to coat her tongue. What he had done to the image of House Gerudo was disgraceful and unforgivable.

“Did he manage to find what he was looking for?”

“You mean, did he steal anything notable? Yes. There was a report of a missing data chip, but the passenger wanted to remain anonymous, and has dropped pursuing it.”

Now all her seething shame over the humiliation had a name to chase in retribution. The man who tortured her sisters would meet his righteous justice.

“What would a common criminal want with a data chip of a wealthy individual, besides to sell its contents to the highest bidder?”

“Outside of a hired job from a competitor? ... I wouldn’t know, ma’am. There’s a reason you work with keeping these convicts in-line and I work in the archives. I’m just good at organizing.”

Now she had a target.​