every single one's got a story to tell

[eusford]

Who: Crowley Eusford ( eusford ) & Giovanni Rammsteiner ( ofobedience )
What: Two members of the Royal Guard doing task work.
When: Sometime after this, so mid-August!
Where: Deep in the heart of the Red Light District.
Warning(s): Mentions of sex work and trafficking.


[ Crowley has done a number of jobs under Ferid's faction, but admittedly none were like the task provided by Ashti. He made no comment about his position in the guard, especially in terms of where he would be patrolling, and he utters not a word when he's handed the arrest warrants of those conducting a trafficking ring somewhere hidden within the district. His features never falter despite the disgust that piles in the back of his throat, smile a tad bit more forced when facing his Commander before heading out.

The order isn't done within a day. It takes time to plan out the approach, and with some encouragement he agrees that taking another person of the Royal Guard wouldn't be a terrible idea. Though his kind had adjusted to being alone that didn't mean Crowley was against the idea of working beside someone else, and honestly having someone there would help make sure he doesn't behead those warranted to be arrested. ]

So there it is.

[ It's not some abandoned shack, in fact the facility appears proper, as if to blend with the rest of the Red Light District. Though it remains further from the busier streets and perhaps that's what made it difficult to find initially, or easier to overlook. Considering what is happening behind closed doors the sight of it would make Crowley sick to his stomach if he were human; disgust would be more evident, rage clear, but instead his expression remains neutral and those emotions and held under lock and key. ]

Based off of the report everyone we're gonna need before reporting back should be there~ Convenient, right? So this should be a walk in the park... unless they're armed, I guess, but I doubt they'd do anything dumb. [ Not even because they're here to bring them in, but in case a disturbance ends up damaging their "goods". ] And I'm only going to remind you once that I expect you to go in cautiously. We're not here to kill.

[ Unfortunately. ]

Comments

[ofobedience]

[This mission-- it's a far cry from the kind of 'work' Giovanni is accustomed to. Oh, there are aspects that would have fallen into his previous remit-- the skulking about, hunting down information, observing the comings and goings of the place until they could say with certainty that this unassuming structure is the place that they've been looking for - but hunting down human traffickers is hardly his forte, let alone the expectation that he'll allow them to live.

And yet. There's a familiarity here too-- the Underground, that stinking sprawling den of iniquity that had lain above the facility in which he'd been created, this kind of thing was common there. Trafficking and vice, women and men and children forced into sexual servitude by those who had more power than they, those who had greater numbers and morals turned blister-black from being steeped in that wretched place for so long. Something he wouldn't bat an eyelid at, something he can't say he has any personal feelings about, only his usual infinite indifference. It's just something that happens-- it has little to do with him.

Regardless, as his current partner talks, there's still the rattling urge in him to go in all guns blazing, to kill rather than capture. It's what he does, what he knows, and somewhere at the back of his head and throughout the length of his Spine Kerberos scrabbles and pants and pushes, urging him on to violence. Crowley's words, the command in his voice-- it has Giovanni barking out a laugh. It's like the other Guard can read him, see the volatility in the set of his shoulders, the quick hard beating of his heart. Maybe he can.]

Talking like that, anyone would think you outrank me.

[He flashes a grin, all teeth.]

But look, I can play by the rules. I'll behave myself.

[He doesn't manage to make it sound very believable, however.]

[eusford]

[ If he's able to indicate anything it's definitely the change of pace of the heart in his chest. That was loud and clear in Crowley's ears, much to his delight, and while his expression doesn't sour there's nothing about him that proves that he's amused by the fact. Restricting that information to himself he only breathes out something close to a sigh. ]

Or that I'm the one who's responsible.

[ And admittedly he's accustomed to that position: taking responsibility of the people around him, making sure they don't stray too far from the line, and he suspects he'll be doing the same here. ]

So can I trust you to do that much?

[ofobedience]

[Well. Giovanni is the kind of dog best kept on a short leash, unless of course one wants to unleash carnage upon their general surroundings. Because it's there in him, as Crowley has subtly discerned, his hard-beating heart a clear indicator of his rising adrenaline, of his eagerness for a fight.

And yet, he lets out a theatrical, put-upon sigh.]

Spoil sport. But I did say I would behave, didn't I? Even dogs know how to follow simple instructions.

[And he flashes his pointed-toothed smile.]

I'll be good.

[eusford]

[ Crowley scoffs at that. ]

If you don't I'll have to put a collar on you. [ Is he only teasing or is he being honest? Anyone familiar with him would know not to take his words with a grain of salt, everything that leaves his mouth is as good as any other promise. ] And that'll really mess up your style.

[ After that, however, he'll save whatever jokes are left for later. ]

I'll take the front, you got the back.

[ofobedience]

[In the face of that comment Giovanni just barks out a laugh, though he does - of course - assume that his fellow Guard is joking. Regardless, he pulls back the collar of his rather fine suit to reveal the other, more permanent collar underneath, the cold metal coruscating dully in the evening's fading light.]

Alas, you're too late. Someone beat you to it.

[Just a glimpse, and then he's straightening his clothes once more, turning his attention to the building in front of them instead. Quite abruptly all business.]

Understood.

[And already, he's poised to depart.]

[eusford]

[ Crowley offers a glance to collar he presumes is permanently curled against his throat. While it matters not to him where it came from or why it's there in the first place, it does pique his interest of whether or not this man was still human at this point. But it's a question best served for later, or perhaps not at all, instead he says this: ] I don't see a name on it, so I'll just have someone carve 'if lost return to Crowley Eusford' on it.

[ He'll... actually do that. Sad. ]

If the children come by... just make sure none of the men follow. [ Because honestly if the victims here want to take their chances and run he won't stop them. Their targets were the men who clearly knew of their wrong doing, and the reminder only makes him second guess whether or not he'll actually want to bring them back alive.

But that, too, can be saved for later. In an approaching future as Crowley positions himself in the front of the establishment and waits a few moments to ensure that Giovanni had made his way around. Considerate, considering he's ready to move in immediately, but he remains composed and waits before opening the door. Or attempting to, it's obviously locked and possibly barricaded by a piece of wood, but it hardly matters as Crowley lifts up a leg and promptly kicks down the door with little effort. Knocking it off its hinges and walking in with an apparent smile. ]

Ah~ Sorry, but by order of the Royal Guard I'm gonna need all the adults here to come with me.

[ Of course said people are armed, and those not cowardly enough to start darting to the back door and peel off the restrictions were brave enough to pull a sword out in front of him.

Looks like Giovanni will have the easy part. ]

[ofobedience]

[Again, he labours under the assumption that Crowley is merely teasing him, that it isn't something he'd actually attempt to do, and so he just flashes his teeth at him in an approximation of a smile, expression sly-edged.]

Oh, I don't think you'd want to be held responsible for me. They won't want to.

[But they have work to do, don't they? Something more urgent than exchanging what he considers to be no more than idle banter, rather than legitimate suggestions.]

And don't worry about that. They won't get past me.

[Don't kill, he'd said. Not don't injure, not don't maim.

And with those words left hanging in the air between them, he moves to do as directed, slinks silently around the building until he locates the rear exit. That, too, is locked-- bolted shut and barricaded with a blank of wood from the inside, but such things pose little problem for a creature like himself, something specifically designed for speed and strength and endurance. He slams into it shoulder first and the wood gives around him, splinters and breaks away from the frame to leave him standing beyond the threshold.

And it's only a moment before they come, those attempting to flee in the wake of Crowley's entrance, and it's more than a little disappointing to find he only has the cowards to deal with, those unwilling to fight. Still, whilst the group of deserting pimps momentarily pause in their flight at the sight of him, that stillness swiftly breaks as two of them decide to keep moving, to try and shoulder past him and out toward freedom.

Giovanni moves then, too fluid and fast to rightly be called human, a whirling kick that sends one man scudding across the floor even as he moves to catch the next by the wrist, whips around, brings the captured arm along with him. There's the bright crack of bone as the fleeing man's arm snaps up behind his back, a quick shout of sickened pain, and Giovanni pulls the man closer, pushes the broken appendage higher against his back. The whimpered sound he makes, it's a pathetic thing.

He turns his razorblade smile on the remainder of the men, tilts his chin.]

We can play like this all evening if you want to. I'm up for a spot of fun. But for your sakes, I suggest you cease and desist.

[eusford]

[ Honestly if Giovanni tore a man's arm off and he was still breathing, Crowley would pat him on the back with a job well done. Those are details he purposely leaves up in the air, if only because in his perspective it still counts.

And it's not like there's no way they'd get out of the situation without one or two getting scratched up. There's a glint in his eyes that reflects off the dagger one of the attacking pimps extends out and attempts to slash across Crowley's throat, bringing up a hand and allowing the blade to sink into his palm. Wringing it out of the man's grasp as the initial pain vanishes within a few seconds (though in reality it lingers for a little while longer and he notes that, ignoring the hot jot of nerves that scramble to correct themselves within his hand). The display manages to freeze the man and Crowley promptly kicks the human's knee. Hard. Sending him to the ground, choking up in pain.

It's to be expected that they'd fight back. But honestly their lack of tactics and formation during situations where everything goes haywire has Crowley growing bored within the very heat of their mission. That isn't to say that he'll stop, but he's not particularly fond of having to finish something he knows will require little effort from him.

Though it's a voice of a child that snaps him out of his shallow thoughts. Turning his head to see a young girl scrambling in the arms of a man who now held a blade to her throat; scared, pathetic, each pair of eyes locked on the vampire scream the same emotion but with different circumstances, and one of them happens to make his stomach twist with absolute disgust. ]

Giovanni. [ Loud enough to be heard over the chaos, he pulls the dagger from the palm of his hand. ] Change of plans. [ He twirls the handle in his hand, bringing the sharpest point of the blade between his thumb and pointer finger. The empty threat that leaves the thugs lips goes interrupted the moment Crowley throws it, a solid thud echoing briefly as it connects to the man's forehead and falls backwards to the floor. Cold and dead. ]

Tear them apart.

[ He's sure somewhere in his mission statement the finest of print says that killing remains just. ]

[ofobedience]

[Giovanni's head jerks up quickfast at the sound of that command, and Crowley isn't meant to be his superior here, isn't the one to give an order like that, but it's an order that he wants to hear and as such his face splits open on a terrible razorblade grin.]

I thought you'd never ask.

[And Giovanni-- well.

It's carnage.

He descends on them them with swift predatory movements, holds nothing back this time, treats them instead to the full extent of his brutality and he clears the last stretch of distance between them in one graceful leap--

--slamming down into the first trafficker and driving him to the ground. It's in him now, the rattle and shake and the fast ascending animal joy as every nerve in him screams fight and he pulls his hand back, smashes it down, tearing in through flesh and muscle and bone until his fingers curl around the man's still beating heart, yanks it free with a sick sucking wrench and he's laughing, high and sharp and piercing.

Shots are fired from somewhere, three bullets thudding into his shoulder and chest but he barely takes any notice as the smoke begins to rise from him, as the wounds heal over with a sizzle and fizz of fierce kinetic energy and he's on his feet again then, whirling, tearing through them with inimical glee. There's the crunch and twist of breaking bones, shouts of panic, the screaming begins and he rips the throat right out of a man who tries to rush him, teeth sinking in deep and wrenching free, the wound bloody and open and raw and the copperhot taste of it fills his mouth, makes him spark with something euphoric, something good.]

[eusford]

[ Crowley almost doesn't pay any mind to how Giovanni decides to finally indulge himself. It's easy to see that he was restraining himself, much like he himself was, though there was never an ounce of desire to wrench the life out of a person's hands stained with blood. Though the reason behind that is simply because it's not anything Crowley desires at all—a vampire desires blood, but the blood of these traffickers were dirtied and surely slide his down thickly and with difficulty. Like mud. It's only off of perspective, of course, but these humans had successfully made themselves unappealing.

The wound in his palm slowly begins to heal. Skin and nerves reconnecting, he shakes it as a hand relaxes itself against the handle of his sword.

His performance is much less grotesque in comparison to Giovanni's work. Crowley does what he pleases but each and every thrust or swing of his sword isn't made with enthusiasm. He fronts his disgust, expressions soured, and when the last man falls he's quick to wipe his blade off from blood. ] Gross, I wasn't expecting them to fight back so hard. [ Then again, the only reason it happened to begin with is because he struck back first. ] But that seems like all of them.

[ He can hear just one heartbeat of an adult within the room, and he suspects that to be his partner. ]

Ha, how am I going to explain this? Do you think they'll believe me if I said they attacked first?

[ofobedience]

[And Giovanni's heartbeat, it's a fast-thudding thing, though not from the exertion, no, only from his own animalistic euphoria, the excitement that still pulses thick and heady in him as the last of them dies beneath his hands and slowly he gets to his feet. His face and arms up to the elbows are coated red-black with blood, and he turns to face Crowley when he speaks, only to twist to one side again a moment later, coughs once. Spits out bullets with a soft clinking sound.

The wounds he'd received-- they've already healed over, still vaguely smoking.]

Who knows, but that's probably what you ought to say.

[And he moves, then, to stand closer to his partner. Surveys the mess they've created.]

I expect they were hoping for something a little neater than this.

[eusford]

[ As Giovanni comes closer Crowley lifts a hand, fanning out the air in front of his face in jest. ] Here's a better question: why is your body doing that?

[ Considering he was spitting out bullets from earlier, it's a clear indication that his body was healing and quickly regenerating itself; convenient, they'd probably be better off as partners in future missions if both are capable of withstanding fatal blows. ]

You had me worried over here thinking that you were on fire!

[ A lie, ultimately. Crowley wasn't worried!! (He most definitely thought he was on fire though rip) ]

[ofobedience]

Your concern is truly touching.

[His voice is a sardonic drawl, mouth curled up at the edges in an expression that clearly indicates he's under no illusions as to Crowley's true lack of concern. He stops though, just beside him, pays no attention himself to the last wisps of blue-grey smoke still rising from his newly-healed flesh.]

And it's a side-effect of my regeneration, I suppose. A consequence of the kinetic energy required for wounds to close over at an accelerated rate. Although really, who knows? Perhaps my creator just added it in for dramatic effect. Hahah.

[eusford]

... I was never really good at science, y'know? Thirteenth century and all. [ He's lying. Holy fuck he's lying. ] But a creator, huh? You were created?

[ofobedience]

I can't say I'm much of an expert. I'm the science project, not the scientist.

[And again, he laughs, as he flicks his hands in an effort to rid them of some of the blood.]

Which probably answers your question.