Editing Bound Fate (Warhammer High) (section)

===Anywhere===
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"So how long has your mom been trying to quit?" Miranda finished talking, then lifted another piece of tender poultry from her gallus, nervously eyeing the legs of the small bird.

''It's good, but do they really have to leave the feet on?''

"Well, she's tried a few times over the past couple years now. This is the fourth time, cold turkey, and it's been three weeks." Arthur tore into his fowl with a little more verve, uncaring of the feet.

''Damn, this is better than I thought it'd be.''

"Well, from what I saw," Miranda flicked out her fingers, as if illustrating a mirage, "she looks good. You guys are really supporting her." She smiled.

''This is going perfectly, Miranda, just keep it up.''

Arthur smiled back, swallowed a mouthful of chicken and mushrooms. "That's awesome. I mean," He looked up, tongue working feverishly at a speck of cheese stuck in his front teeth. Miranda giggled. "-we're really hoping she makes it this time. It's cool that you can, you know, see it working, though. That's awesome."

Miranda beamed, and Arthur smiled back reflexively, revealing the clod of gooey cheese.

''Perfectly.''



Furia was smoking again. "Wasn't that... too much? The teeth and accent?" She was still unsure where Doug pulled the second pack of lhos from, but didn't care as long as she had them.

''Eh, doesn't matter. Fucker.'' Furia thought about the fake buck teeth again and snickered around the smoke.

"The simplest ''effective'' disguises, Furia," Doug said, partially covering up the tender reddening, a back-hand shaped swell on his face, "give the observer a single, distinctive feature to focus on."

He patted a random spot on the blue jacket. None of the lines or bulge of a pocket were visible, but this was apparently where he kept his cosmetic occlusions. “I think it's about time we paid a visit to this Garlan fellow. I believe I where we can find him, but getting into his apartment will be another matter.”

“Whatever it takes. But I get first shot at the bastard who killed that kid.”

Doug smiled and finished dabbing at the mark, changing the color of his face entirely and leaving a distinctive crescent-shaped red mark going down his left cheek. He then turned to Furia, eyes gleaming. "Good, now for you."



Some fifteen minutes later Garlan opened the door, revealing a sickly soon-to-be prostitute. She was tall, as tall as he was, and slim. Her eyes were a strikingly pale but listless blue. She had full, dry lips and scars, scars everywhere. She wavered unsteadily in place, knitted green skullcap bobbing gently, her pleated skirt swaying likewise over long, almost stilt-like legs. She opened her mouth, as if to talk, and a pair of empty fingers pressed themselves to her lips. She stopped, looked down and air hissed out of her open mouth as she realized there was no lho-stick there. Still, the act revealed a full set of almost perfect teeth and Garlan smiled lewdly.

''Still got 'er teeth. A fresh skater.'' He pulled her inside and pushed her to the couch. She followed along with his demands limply, and he wondered if she would even try to stop him without the slide. ''Nah, be easier to get her a hit, then get my fill.''

Garlan moved through the apartment, expanded by simply removing walls and infrastructure to open up neighboring flats. A crudely fastened door was opened after four rooms, revealing a view from the second story to the street below as well as a half-dozen men in dirty clothes.

"She followed?" The man nearest the window shook his head, while another grinned, looking behind Garlan.

He leered at Furia, stumbling into the room, and whistled loudly. "What've we got here? She don' wanna wait." 
Garlan sneered at the man, then turned to the drawn, but not too drawn looking young woman and smiled again. "You wait your turn, Beras." She looked up, just a hint of realization dawning tearily in her eyes, and his lurid grin only widened. ''Yeah, I'll make her earn the Slide, no freebies.''

A light knock rang out from the window, and Garlan turned to see nothing. A scuff sounded from the floor behind him, and the dealer turned back just in time to see a long leg plow into his chest under fierce eyes.



Doug waited outside, counting to five minutes as they'd agreed. ''I have to say, this has turned out to be an excellent night.'' He'd panicked at first, seeing Furia alone, cold and scratching her arm in Slide territory. Despite his usual preparedness Doug was completely taken aback by her sudden appearance. He'd drawn Furia's attention as subtly as possible, but didn't have any idea what to do after getting it. ''But I couldn't just leave her alone out here.'' Bringing her along had turned out surprisingly well for a spur of the moment idea, taking much of the boredom out of the night's dreary reconnaissance work. ''Yes, this was a good idea.'' Doug decided to make his way into the alley at four and a half minutes instead of the agreed upon five. ''I don't believe Furia's the patient sort.'' He looked up at the lowest cornice, set just under the second story of the old gothic structure.

The blue jacket opened briefly and a soft white ball, looking like a sock wrapped in plastic, emerged, followed by a pair of black rubber rolls. The rolls were unfurled and stretched over the outer soles and sides of his shoes. Then the sock was taken out of the plas, slapped and rolled between Doug's hands in a small cloud of white powder and replaced in the sleeve to disappear again. He stepped up to the wall and reached high. The chalked fingers of his left hand grabbed onto a sloping protrusion, an unevenness in the ancient stone facade, and he lifted, his other hand pushing down, the chalky palm easily gripping the rough surface.

Doug cranked a leg up, then cocked his foot, pushing the now sticky, rubber-soled outer edge into a bare depression a meter up. His right hand found a vertical edge, and he pressed his palm flat against it, thumb up, fingers curling powerfully around the lip. Doug levered himself away from the side pull, leaning left to bear down on the sticky heel and toe box, pulling into the edge to counterbalance the force of his foot. He reached up high again, easily finding the edge of the cornice from his new height. The fingers of his left hand crimped onto it, then the other hand followed suit. The feet came next, adhesive rand making grip easy to find, and soon Doug was creeping carefully around the building on the decrepit cornice.

He waited near the window for a few seconds, then heard murmurs and a door opening. A salacious whistle rang out, and Doug allowed himself a small smile before he rapped on the cracked plas window.



Garlan nearly flew out the window after the kick, the plas giving way gladly to his momentous bulk. The other men, Beras included, pulled knives or rods and stood, glowering at Furia menacingly. She smiled as Doug stepped gingerly over the unconscious Garlan. The crack of broken plas under his foot alerted Beras to the presence, but only in enough time to take the hit. Thumbed tucked up to his pinkie, Doug slammed the ridge of his hand into the man's temple, the base forefinger joint sinking almost perfectly into tender flesh. Beras dropped instantly, knife clattering to the floor. The others paused momentarily before Furia's palm slammed into the back of one's head and the sole of her boot into another's chest. He sprawled into a couch, gasping for breath as it tumbled over

Doug decided to simply distract the remaining men while Furia wound up for a pair of kidney strikes on the first. The second brandished his knife at her, the larger threat. In response, Doug grabbed his wrist and thumb joint, and turned the appendage sharply. He only had moment to cry out in pain before Furia's fist collided with his temporomandibular joint, his dislocated jaw wobbling loosely as he collapsed. The remaining man decided to run, but didn't make it far before he found a sticky foot in the crook of his knee and a hand wrapped in the upper part of his shirt. A terrible weight rode him into the ground, elbow pressing his head down, and the world flashed into painful blackness.

"That was fuckin' sweet." Furia walked over to the third man she'd dropped, still gasping on the overturned couch, and dropped a single solid punch into his forehead, knocking him out fully. Her hands passed over her eyes. "Those fuckin' contacts itch like hell, though."

"Yes, I'd like to report a domestic disturbance." Doug was talking very comfortably into the vox as he took the contacts and pocketed them in their case. "Yes, violence. It sounds like a dreadful fight occurred." He stopped, looked at his chrono and tapped his foot impatiently.

''When did he get a watch?'' Doug pulled out the cloth and bottle from earlier and passed them to Furia, gesturing widely at the fallen, bruised and battered bodies. She got to work reluctantly, spraying protam onto the cloth and wiping down points where flesh made contact. She began to go faster as she realized what she was doing, removing evidence. Furia paused, then got the window too and turned to see Doug nodding approvingly.

"Of course, I'll wait Detective... Thar, was it? Thank you." The vox disappeared into his blue jacket, followed by the bottle. "Come, Furia, we have no more business here."

"Where are we going?" Furia's hand played idly at the lho pack in the jacket's left pocket, but instead she savored the rush from the fight a little longer.

"Anywhere." Doug opened the door and bowed slightly, then followed Furia out, only pausing to wipe down the Arbites badge he'd taken from Patrolman Agissa. He tossed it into the apartment, then wiped the door's knobs and left.