[FRAG] Grieve in Blood

"And click- and boom!"

Pretty fired the gun, which stabbed into the mannequin with a sickening crunch. Plastic buckled as silver-tipped steel sunk into it, and the gun let out an indignant beep. Bubble gave an appreciative clap, eyes wide and locked onto the puncture wound. It was more than enough to incapacitate any Frag and harvest enough Magninium for whatever one's uses might be.

The gun was pried free of its victim and Pretty blew the top of it off, although no smoke had formed. "These babies were reverse engineered from some Shard tech we confiscated a while back. The blueprints got passed 'round and fell into our hands and well - ya know how it goes!"

Bubble nodded, a smile cracking over their face, "Oh, yes I do, sir!"

"How many times do I gotta tell you that Pretty's fine?" he rolled his eyes, but there was no real malice behind the gesture. "Anyways, these things only go out to the highest-tier of our customers. Can't trust the lower guys... y'know? What if they leave it somewhere and it gets caught? Overseers are gonna assume it's Shards business."

"Of course!"

Pretty paused to regard the other with a confident, pleased look. "You're already doin' so much better than the last one."

"Last one?" the smile on Bubble's face, while not completely lost, shrank slightly.

"Oh, yeah." Pretty's manic grin stretched too far. "Had to kill 'em. Too nosy, too snitch-y."

Every drop of color drained from Bubble's face and their mouth fell slightly open. At the sight, Pretty doubled over, wheezing in laughter and hitting the wall with a hand. 

"I'm joking!" he barely choked out, "joking-joking-joking! My last assistant's still in the business!"

Bubble still looked somewhat traumatized, opening and closing their mouth in a mixture of indignation and horror. Pretty wiped the tears that had built up and strode across the sizable room, still letting a chuckle or two escape as he placed the gun in a holster on a table. The weaponry room hosted a plethora of different materials, gadgets, and poisons, each more corrosive and explosive than the last. Some were one-of-a-kind, stolen from uppity Gladar who had a taste of Fragment magic and learned how to abuse it.

Others, though, were the concoctions of the man idly petting a holstered gun. 

Bubble glanced to his right, at a line of swords hanging on the wall. They were almost innocuous in their innocent appearance, but he'd learned from last week's lesson that they were anything but. Each was made from pure silver, and could cut through Magninium like butter. In essence, they were an entirely different class than the guns - one that commanded all respect.

"Eyein' the pokies again?" Pretty called, glancing up.

Bubble snapped back to attention, "Only slightly, sir!"

"Pretty! It's Pretty, I got a name, use it," he scoffed, but merely rolled his eyes. The gun was clipped to his belt. "Anyways, get the polishing liquid. We're going to have some visitors today; got my 'office hours' all set up and ready."

"Who will it be, do you think?" Bubble's question was muffled by them turning away and scurrying to a large series of drawers, from which they opened and pulled a few large bottles from. They passed them off to him with a bowed head.

Pretty held up a bottle to the liquid, admiring the way the liquid sloshing within caught the artificial light. "Could be anyone, y'know. All sorts. Now grab a brush and start cleaning, will ya?"

Their movements were robotic in precision: grab a hard-bristled cleaning brush, sit down with a pile of weapons that weren't dangerous to touch, and polish each and every one. It was unusual manual work, but not all of the materials were necessarily receptive to magic. And, well, foreign magic could disrupt the ancient, woven enchantments in some of the metals and plastics - so strange and unnatural that only their original creator could even hope of remaking them.

So Bubble scrubbed at them with the brush, dripping liquid onto the bristles whenever it ran dry. It was a well-taught task, the first they'd ever learned, familiar in its monotony. Pretty had always said that it taught his apprentices to respect their wares. Maybe it did, maybe it didn't, Bubble never cared enough to choose one or the other. 

By the time they had made it halfway through the pile, there was a familiar knock pattern at the far door. Unsure of how much time had passed, Bubble glanced up, blinking anew. Pretty glanced over from the other side of the room, having wandered over to dust a few small daggers. A call of "come in!" was all that was needed, and the handle was turned.

In entered two Fragments. One stood tall, with jet-black hair and multicolored eyes. The other followed a step behind, a curled horn protruding from the top of their head. Bubble's heart jumped to their throat instantly. These were not two normal Fragments.

They were right-hand men of the Overseers. Police. Prosecutors.

Executioners.

Bubble sprang to their feet before anyone could get a word in edgewise, brandishing the weapon they'd just finished polishing at the duo. Magnotris instantly whipped an arm out to push Morning Star behind himself, magicking in some sort of scimitar that Bubble had never seen previously. Before either could swipe, Pretty shoved his way between, an easy but nervous smile plastered on his face.

"Fucking - calm down," he hissed to Bubble, who was trembling in adrenaline and fear. "What do you think you're doing?"

The other's eyes were wide as they motioned towards Magnotris. "They- he's-!"

"He's a paying customer, that's what he is!"

Bubble froze, arm still stretched out. Their mouth opened, but no sound escaped. Magnotris cast them a suspicious glare, but magicked away his blade and slowly stood upright again. He didn't bother letting Morning Star slip out from behind him, keeping an arm around the other Frag to keep him in place. 

"Newbie?" he asked, voice somewhat sympathetic.

"But-" Bubble tried.

Pretty rolled his eyes, but had a good-natured smile on his face. "Yeah, but a good one. Sorry 'bout the rude welcome."

"It's fine," Magnotris barked, slightly too quickly, drawing Morning Star closer. Bubble stared at his arm around the latter's waist. 

"You're-" Bubble glanced up pleadingly at Magnotris.

The other regarded them with something akin to contempt. "Yeah. I know. Obviously. Get over it."

Bubble shut their trap, head lowering.

Pretty gestured to Morning Star, face a mask of empathy, one hand on his hips. "I heard about what happened! Glad t'see you're fine, though."

"Ah, yes," Morning Star stammered, hands coming up to tap fingers together, "I'm alright."

"Looking for a weapon for self defense?" Pretty plucked a dagger from his table, spinning it between his fingers. "Got some new blades in with some wicked enchantments. This one makes unhealable gashes!"

Magnotris brushed past, lording over Pretty with a superior height and intimidating glower. "No, we're not interested in your weapon smuggling today."

Pretty tutted and tossed the dagger back onto the table. "What'll it be, then?"

"A favor."

"A favor?"

Magnotris paused, glancing over his shoulder at Bubble, who was still watching with wide eyes. He made a vague gesture at them and narrowed his eyes at Pretty. Neither noticed Morning Star staring at the table of daggers.

The smuggler cocked a confident grin. "Oi, them? They ain't gonna tell anybody, Maggy. Anythin' you say to me, you can say in fronta them."

"Well." the dubious expression on Magnotris' face certainly displayed his true distrust of the situation. "Fine. I need you to plant this."

He pressed something into Pretty's hand. The other glanced down at a small handful of Magninium vials, all different colors, some half-empty. He glanced back up to Magnotris and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"You know where Opalescent lives, right? Surely you do."

"I guess I could find out if I needed to. Why's that?"

Magnotris paused, glancing at Bubble again. "A few Fragments from my division are doing a search warrant on Opalescent's house - I arrested them for illegal Magninium smuggling. I want - I need a conviction. No better way to do that than finding plenty of evidence in their private home."

Pretty turned the vials around in his fingers and tutted. "An' you can't do it because...?"

"I'm busy," was the blank, monotone response. 

"Hm, well, can't argue with that. Guess you owe me one, huh?" Pretty pocketed the vials. "Maybe I'll keep a-"

"No." Magnotris crossed his arms. "I'm calling in a favor. Specifically when I made sure the paperwork for that cannon you wanted went missing right around the time you stole it."

"You drive a hard bargain, Maggy." but Pretty was grinning, eyes glinting in amusement. 

"I am aware."

"A'ight, I'll do it. I always did wanna be a crime-scene ruiner." Pretty blew his bangs out of his face. "When are they checkin' the house?"

"In a week's time. You have ample warning to find their house and scatter those vials." his voice remained monotone and stitled, even as his shoulders slightly untensed. 

Pretty whistled thoughtfully. "Sounds doable. If that's all y'all need, then-"

"-Actually," Morning Star cut in.

The group turned towards him, curiosity obvious on each expression. Even Bubble craned their head to see.

Morning Star seemed to wilt under the attention, averting his eyes. "I'd like a weapon for self defense," he muttered softly.

"Ah, we got plenty of those!" Pretty gestured to the entire room, a massive hoard of sharp and dangerous objects.

Magnotris pulled Morning Star closer, whispering something softly. The latter nodded, somewhat uncertainly. Bubble's ears whipped forwards, but they couldn't quite catch what the two discussed. Magnotris directed a polite nod towards Pretty, whose grin grew several inches.

The leader motioned for the couple to follow, waving at various blades and contraptions as they passed each immaculate display. They were too far, now, for Bubble to hear anything but the rise-fall crescendo of Pretty's voice, but they knew what he was doing anyways. A tour, selling up everything they'd collected, showing off each item. 

What was Pretty going to ask Morning Star to pay with? Certainly, if they were customers - Bubble still shuddered at the thought - Morning Star knew the favor-based system they had. He didn't seem like the type to have done favors for Pretty before, small and cowering behind his friend. Magnotris... was still unbelievable, but his demeanor made a bit more sense with added context. Of course the bitter, closed-off one dabbled in the underground Fragment market. 

Bubble pulled another weapon from the pile into their hands, applied more liquid to the brush, and returned to scrubbing. It didn't take long for the group to circle back around, close enough for them to hear, but they didn't move from their position on the floor.

"I still don't understand how the Overseers let you folk get away with this," Magnotris muttered, although his tone suggested that this was mere small talk, not a genuine question.

Pretty laughed, an echoing noise, hollow. "Eh, you know they don't give a shit 'bout our division. Reckless and wild, too many o' us to keep track. So long as you don't have Profound for an Overseer, o'course."

Bubble glanced up in time to see Magnotris roll his eyes, an amused smile on his face. Morning Star was busy staring at a display table of knives, each with varying blades. Neither of the other two noticed him picking up a small, soft green one, complete with a sheepsfoot blade - it lacked a proper sharpened tip. He turned it over in his hands several times, rubbing a thumb over the metal.

After a few seconds, Pretty caught sight of the other. "Oh, you thinkin' bout that one? It ain't gonna do you much good for self defense. You'd want something like this." he reached over to pluck a significantly sharper blade from the table.

"That's okay," Morning Star said, voice quiet. "I like this one."

"Mm, can't argue when a blade picks ya." 

Magnotris stepped closer to Morning Star, an arm snaking around the other's waist. He stared at Pretty, a level of distrust in his frown and narrowed eyes. "What do you want for it?"

Pretty motioned to see it, and Morning Star handed it over. Humming, he turned it over and over in his hands, lifting the knife up to the light, pricking his finger on the serrated edge. After another, shorter hum, he passed it back to Morning Star. 

"Ain't nothin' special 'bout that knife," he remarked, decisively. "No enchantments, no special alloy in the metal, no nothin'. Seems like a regular ol' blade we confiscated from some criminal. So you can have it on the house."

"You never give things away for free," Magnotris cut in.

"I ain't chargin' for a knife anybody could magic up, Maggy. That ain't good business." Pretty gestured to the blade. "So yer lil armwarmer can just have it. He coulda magicked it up on his own anyways."

Magnotris glanced at the knife himself, although it was clear from his expression that he had yet to fully trust Pretty. Morning Star closed the blade into the handle and pocketed it with a small "thank you."

"Can I do anythin' else for you two handsome boys?"

"No, thank you, that will be all." Magnotris pulled Morning Star towards the doors, drawing the other in close. 

Pretty waved them off, smiling as the doors closed shut behind the duo. "See you around!"

The sound of the fan whirring echoed in the massive room, bouncing off the high ceiling. Pretty found himself a chair and leaned back in it, even though the plastic casing creaked. Bubble returned to studiously polishing the sword in their hands. 

"You can stop," Pretty offered, the cheer having melted out of his voice.

Bubble paused, tilting their head up.

"We got a house to find. Get yer boots."