"I've arrived, peasants!" Amelia kicked the door open, slamming it back on its hinges, and walked inside with a haughty smile, hands on her hips, head tilted back in laughter.
"What's up?" Sam nodded absent-mindedly in her direction, his eyes glued on his book and pen resting between his lips. His expression was botj bored and focused at the same time, like someone who despises his work but has no alternative, dark circles were visible beneath his eyes from sleep deprivation.
"Welcome back." Trissy offered a reserved smile from the other side of the room, dragging a brush through her hair in front of the mirror. Her expression could best be described as disheartened. She set the brush down, picked up her lipstick, and said nothing further.
"Huh? What's wrong with you two?" Amelia blinked, noticing the low mood and the way they were pointedly avoiding each other. But She didn't dwell on it, it was none of her business, and by the looks of it, this was the problem that would be resolved on its own if given enough time, so she shrugged and moved on.
"Anyway, there's a gathering tonight. Are you two ready?" She spoke, reminding them of their goal.
Sam stood without a word, he cracked his neck, sore from sitting for hours, and walked into the bathroom.
He stood before the mirror, cupped water in his palms, and splashed it on his face. When he looked up, his expression was blank, water dripping from his hair.
Is this actually a devil, or just some human criminal... Well, we'll find out. Though the trap being the possibility remains. It may not be necessarily from the Church but from devils. It's not out of the question that someone is using this criminal as bait as well in order to draw me out...
He shook his head, discarded the thought along with his clothes, and walked back out.
"Sam, throw me my boots." Amelia called from behind him, hopping on one foot while sliding her leg into dark trousers.
"Fine." He grabbed them and tossed them in her direction, then picked up his own trousers and began dressing.
Trissy, for her part, found herself staring.
She felt quite awkward since a young man and woman were undressing in the same room without a trace of self-consciousness, no flicker of desire passing between them but what actually occupied her attention was something else entirely.
Amelia's figure was fair-skinned and athletic, clearly the product of rigorous training. She wasn't especially curvy but more slender and tomboyish. Her muscles were well-defined, subtle and precise while her chest was slightly above average in size, her build lean and more agile.
Sam was another matter entirely. His shoulders were broad, filled with dense, layered muscle, his back a study and tenacious, each muscle distinct, contracting visibly with every movement.
He looked sculpted rather than born, which, given how often Trissy had watched him train, made a certain kind of sense.
His front was no less striking with his chiseled chest and compressed yet solid abs. His arms were long and packed with stalwart muscles, saturated with potent might.
An eight-pointed star was tattooed over his chest, and a cross-shaped necklace at his throat.
What struck her most, however, were the scars.
Amelia had her share, relatively few, though recent by appearance.
Sam's body on the other hand was vastly different. There were burn marks on his abdomen, scars left behind by numerous slash wounds, and wounds inflicted by bullets as well. There was also something disturbing across his stomach, as if feral beast attempted to tear him apart and rip out his intestines. In overall, every single one of them told her that his life was quite distressing.
Hmm... He's better looking than I expected. Trissy thought, her head inclined with a faint smile touching her scarlet lips. while wounds were horrifying, she felt they suited him a lot, making him even more attractive.
So he's not just a pretty face...
She began undressing as well, her dress slipping from her shoulders, leaving her in her undergarments, and stepped out, her posture casual and unhurried.
Sam glanced up, regarded her for a moment, then tossed her a pair of trousers, a shirt, and a coat with hood matching the style he and Amelia wore.
Trissy caught them, looked down, and her brow furrowed immediately. "I won't be wearing these."
Sam exhaled with a tired look and asked. "What's wrong with them?"
"They're too loose." She let them drop to the floor and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "Don't you have anything fitted?"
"Isn't that uncomfortable? Why would anyone choose that?" He looked down at his own trousers which was loose and comfortable, as well not disturbing his movements. Then, he looked up at her again in puzzlement, wondering what was the problem.
"That's nonsense." She huffed, stamping her foot with an exasperated roll of her eyes. "Listen, Lil Devil. I am a lady. Not just any lady, but a demoness. Which means I should always wear something that enhances my already considerable appearance. Do you understand?"
Sam glanced at Amelia.
She drew slow circles near her temple with her middle finger, grinning.
His mouth twitched. He looked down briefly to compose himself, then nodded. "Fine. Do whatever you want."
He turned away with a shrug while Trissy smiled in satisfaction and selected something considerably more fitted. It was tight, dark leather trousers that left little of her figure to the imagination.
Once they were ready, Amelia grabbed a bag resembling a guitar case and packed it with bullets, knives, and the rifle she'd been tinkering with.
Sam sheathed his daggers, swept the bullets from the table, loaded them into the cylinder, gave it a spin, snapped it shut, and slid the revolver into his holster.
Trissy had a ritualistic silver dagger sheathed at her waist, concealed beneath her long blouse, while she packed the ingredients for her ritualistic magic into a handbag.
They exchanged brief nods and walked out, locking the room behind them and leaving the bar entirely.
Night had already fallen. The iron gate street was silent, drained of the liveliness it carried during the day.
Sam looked up, watching the barely visible stars through the haze of pollution and dust. If he was being honest, he had never understood the hype about Backlund, not really liking it.
He was accustomed to environments a hundred times worse but that didn't mean he had to enjoy this one. Even in the Abyss, corrosive bloody rain only fell occasionally but in Backlund, rain was more common than sunlight.
Sam liked being under the sun. Even if he knew, somewhere beneath the surface, that sooner or later he would become a creature of the night.
"Are we heading to a gathering organized by the Eye of Wisdom?" Trissy asked Amelia as they left Backlund Bridge behind since that was the location where a gathering was held.
Amelia glanced at her, then shook her head with undisguised distaste. "Not exactly. I made contact with a man called Darkholme, leader of a triad in the East Borough. He has a network of thieves and beggars under him, which makes information gathering easy."
She paused, reached over, and flicked Sam on the neck, startling him out of his thoughts. He coughed, wiping his mouth and turned his attention back to her.
"I hired him to track our target. From what he's found, it's a man, and he doesn't stay in one place. He rotates gatherings deliberately, never repeating the same one." She rubbed her eyes and took out a folded sheet of paper from her pocket, scanning the dates, physical descriptions, and street names where he'd been spotted. "Which is why we're heading here."
Sam looked up at the building ahead. It was prestigious and beautiful yet strangely unremarkable at a glance. It was the place where mysticism enthusiasts gathered to discuss shared interests and feel sophisticated about it. In other words, there was nothing obviously wrong with it.
Sam smiled faintly as Amelia gestured for them to follow, approached the door, and knocked twice. She paused for one second, knocked three times ans then paused for three seconds, only to knocked once for the one last time, rhythm being odd and pleasant.
After a few moments the door opened, revealing a figure in a dark robe that covered both body and face.
Sam and the others wore similar clothes, heads down to keep their faces obscured.
The man eyed them fkr a few seconds, then nodded and led them inside. There was nothing but deep darkness as they walked.
"I hope the dark won't trouble you." His voice was rough and hoarse, though he made an effort toward gentility.
"Keep going. We're fine." Sam replied flatly, trailing behind while Amelia and Trissy followed.
After several minutes they arrived at what appeared to be the club, though it was clearly not a circle of Beyonders, just enthusiasts, consisting of mundane people.
Their guide moved without pausing, crossed the room, and knocked on an interior door. The pattern was nothing like the one Amelia had used, there was no rhythm, nor elegance. Besides , it was unpleasant to the ear.
Someone opened it from the other side and invited them inside while the guide that led them here remained behind in the club.
Sam's hand drifted instinctively to his sheathed dagger, exchanging a glance with others and walked ahead.
"Please, bear with us a moment." The man inside smiled, the only visible thing beneath his robe was exactly that as he took a set of blindfolds from the table.
Sam stilled, remaining motionless while observing him with a intrigued look.
So this isn't the actual gathering site... And I doubt this is the only entrance. He'll lead us to the real location, but we won't know where it is. There are different layers of protection, multiple entrances, and an undisclosed destination that none of the guests will be able to identify. Well, nothing so aggressive as artifacts, since it would make people feel trapped and uneasy so they decided to just use cloth over the eyes.
Sam sighed, his eyes covered with blindfold and walked for roughly ten minutes. He tracked what he could along the way though. Like how air grew damp and cold, not to mention, smell was unpleasant, making him grimace slightly because of getting used to the clean air.
Are we in the abandoned sewer system? Hmm... This is interesting, I wonder who's in charge here.
"You may remove them now." Their guide spoke, his tone was polite as he interrupted Sam's thought process, pulling his blindfold down and handing it to him like others.
In front of him were dozens of masks, hanging on the wall, wach of them had different shapes and were quite stylish as well.
However, their purpose were to conceal their identities.
"Take your time." The guide stepped back and left them to it, obviously. No one would remove their hoods under his watchful eyes, after all. That will throw whole idea of hiding their Identities into the trash.
Amelia grabbed a mask immediately, it was shaped like a mechanical face, angular and vaguely robotic. Trissy selected one fashioned after an amethyst fox, it was elegant with it's tongue stuck out slyly. Sam considered his options for a moment, then picked up a horse mask.
He needed to make up for the dishonor he had brought upon the C.O.S.B.
Sam clapped once as they finished, giving signal to his guide who came back and pointed at the final door, opening it with botj arms spread widely, appearing grand and imposing.
"Welcome to our gathering. I hope your time with us proves worthwhile."
So do I... Sam thought, smile hidden behind the horse mask.