Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-25389303-20160708180726/@comment-25389303-20160711192927

By the time Hector had finished incapacitating Tragoedia, the sounds of fighting had already faded into nothing. Thankfully, none of Smiler’s men had noticed him escape, giving him enough time to bury the crippled mechanical monster beneath a mountain of fallen logs and small boulders. As he dropped the last rock into position with a grunt, he heard a distinct rustling in the trees behind him, and without a moment’s hesitation he spun and threw his combat knife at the onlooker’s head. It was a perfect throw, but the knife was snatched out of the air before it landed, stopping just centimetres away from his target’s eye.

“Wow, a little twitchy, aren’t we?” Decadere Diaboli smiled, as his robotic whip-arm unravelled from around the blade edge. “You wouldn’t believe how hard I had to run to get here so quickly...”

Hector straightened up and glared at his old employer, warm black paint running down his face behind his mask from the exertion. The young gang leader, though, looked terrible – his skin was pale and sickly-looking, and the skin around his sewn-up eye, which was a raw-red colour at the best of times, had seemingly festered and turned black as trickles of blood seeped through the threads. Hector had seen his fair share of old wounds, but from the looks of things that was well on its way to becoming fatal.

“Watching your friends cut down around you will do that to you,” he replied in a voice that seemed to say otherwise, holding out his hand.

Diaboli examined the blade for a moment, before tossing it back to Hector, who deftly caught and sheathed it.

“Nice knife,” Diaboli said, taking a cautious step forward, only to have the barrel of a rifle pushed against his chest.

“Enough chatter,” Hector said coldly, but keeping his voice at its usual brooding level. “How did you find me?”

The crime boss pointed at the pile of rubble next to him. “I fitted Trago with a recovery beacon a long time ago. Can’t let expensive technology like him fall into the wrong hands, right?” Calmly, he put his human hand on the top of the rifle and pushed it the side. Hector made no move to stop him.

“You came to talk, I gather,” he said after a moment of silence, shouldering the rifle.

“Not quite,” Diaboli replied. He reached into one of the many pockets on his patchwork cloak and pulled out a rectangular device. He glanced at it momentarily, before handing it over, to which Hector cautiously accepted.

“A scroll?” he rumbled, turning it over in hand. It didn’t look to be anything special – certainly not a bomb, at least. “Why are you giving me this?”

“You’re not a murderer, Hector,” Diaboli said, ignoring the question entirely. “You’re not a monster. You’re not like Smiler. You don’t like killing.”

The old mercenary didn’t know where he was going with this, but what he said was true, in his mind, and so didn’t interrupt. After a moment of silence, Diaboli pulled a second Scroll from his cloak and held it up.

“These are Linking Scrolls,” he explained, “they are identical, and can only be used to contact the other. Give this to the Dragon, whoever it is. We can talk this over with cooler heads. ”

Hector paused and cocked his head to the side. “You’re letting me go? What makes you think I’m trustworthy?”

“Because...” he sighed, the sickness causing him to take a moment to compose himself, “...because I don’t want a war. Not yet, at least. And neither do you. But considering we’re dealing with a Dragon here, I doubt they’re going to just leave me be, are they?” He smiled. “Tell them everything, if you want. I don’t care anymore. I’ve done what I set out to do, finally.”

It took a moment for Hector to process what he had just heard. “Hold on...you’re –“

“Leaving? Yes. The Patched has served its purpose.”

Hector knew something was suspicious about this sudden turn of events. It was too...convenient. He was definitely up to something.

“Tell me,” he said, sticking out his arm as his former employer began moving towards Tragoedia, “who will take over, once you’re gone?”

Diaboli’s lips parted into a sly smile as he slipped past the massive man. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Hector’s eyes narrowed in cold disapproval. “You can’t be serious...him?”

“Why not?” Diaboli laughed, not bothering to turn to face him as he began pulling boulders away from the pile of rubble. “He was my friend after all, all those years ago. Although, admittedly he is a little...unhinged...these days, but that’s fine. More fun for you right?”

Hector shook his head wearily and turned his back on the young boss, heading off into the darkness of the forest in the general direction of the convoy was hopefully waiting for his return. A part of him wanted to turn around and finish the up-jumped thief off, but he knew that having a crazed serial killer like Smiler leading the peace talks was less than ideal compared to the more reasonable and remarkably more sane leader in Diaboli.

“You know...!” Diaboli shouted behind him, the unmistakable edge of laughter in his fading voice as Hector strode away, “...hundreds of lives rest on your shoulders now! No pressure!”

(I propose a time skip now to when Hector returns to wherever Zanipher has regrouped in Vale, unless you have something you want to do first)