Just a GPSL NPCs (birthrightnpc) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2021-10-15 21:49:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | npc, rhiannon lee |
The Obvious Choice For Halloween
Who: Rhiannon/NPC Ivan (Written By Jess)
What: Two Ships
Where: Las Vegas, Noah's Apartment Building
When: Present
Content Warnings: Violent Thoughts
Apartment buildings that listed secured, gated entry as a rental perk made Ivan laugh with derision. In this age of Doordash and Uber Eats, he need only to ring a random unit number and explain that he was lost to be buzzed in, which is exactly what he did at Noah’s building. He was dressed down for the occasion, and with a long-sleeved navy henley and dark sunglasses, he might even be able to sub in as his brother, especially at first glance from a neighbor who only knew him in passing. Ivan was counting on the natural self-centered tendencies of people living in large cities.
He slipped into the elevator which stood open and waiting, riding up to Noah’s floor in the brightly lit box. If it had a camera, Ivan couldn’t spot it, but he was sure the pyrokinetic would have chosen a building without strict security as a matter of course. Murderers usually didn’t like their comings and goings carefully tracked. He tucked himself into a corner, a bored and placid expression on his face as each floor was announced with a chirpy ding that quickly turned tiresome. Perhaps he could have taken the stairs, but that seemed even more tedious. Finally, the silver metal doors swept open and his feet met carpet that was worn down in the most traffic-heavy spots.
Noah’s residence was down the hall, a coveted corner unit. A handy map on the complex’s website laid out the floor plans with cute, Vegas-related names that distracted from a lack of square-footage. The whole thing was so cookie cutter and bland, it made Ivan feel slightly nauseated.
Rhiannon had stopped by the apartment to drop off a whimsical item she picked up at an Art-o-Mat, one of the city’s retired cigarette vending machines that was repurposed to sell tiny, original art pieces. This one was a photo viewer keychain; the photographer had placed an image from the international car forest at the end of the scope. Alongside that, Rhiannon left a torn-out page of an Oriental Trading catalog. It was an ad of a blond woman in a sexy firefighter costume. She held a toy fire extinguisher that blew out a tagline: “You don’t need a hose to battle the blaze! Only $14.99!”
In sharpie, Rhiannon wrote, ‘The obvious choice for Halloween,’ and let herself out. Noah’s door shut with a metallic click in the hallway. It had nice flooring, recessed doors with molding, and inoffensive paint. It wasn’t a place one associated with danger.
She locked up and walked towards the elevator, her jeans and boot laces tight around a sore ankle. Wearing her hair down with a full face of make-up covered most of the bruising on her nose and jaw, but there was a gash over her eyebrow. She felt another presence and looked up. The glasses, shirt, and dark hair might fool a neighbor but they sent a hot slice of alarm through her.
Rhiannon’s keys bit into her palm.
He spotted the dark-haired woman exiting Noah’s apartment, noted the keys she used to lock the door. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes lit up with curiosity. Ivan kept his stride, and when he passed her, he cut a concealed glance toward her to study her face, pausing at the laceration above her eye. He was equidistant from Noah’s door and the elevator, but it was no longer viable to break in if this person could come back anytime with her key. Plus, he was curious how much she knew. “Excuse me,” Ivan spoke, halting in his tracks and turning fully toward her. His tone was polite but clipped, an amalgamation of Eastern European and British accents.
“I was trying to deliver something to the person who lives there,” Ivan explained, gesturing down the hall. “But maybe I can just leave it with you.” He removed his sunglasses with one hand, and produced a small envelope from his pocket with the other and held it up to eye level. It was rectangular, cream-colored paper. There was a small object inside that shifted from one side to the other. “Do you know Noah?”
‘Do not punch…’
It became a mantra. With her face under careful control, Rhiannon shuffled the keys between her hands and considered her play. She obviously knew Noah, as she had just come from his apartment and locked the door. She didn’t look like building management and hadn’t the credentials to prove it, if pressed. It wasn’t as if he had a pet that required exercise. One-night stands didn’t have this kind of access. Housekeepers didn’t emerge from bleaching toilets in vintage Swans t-shirts from the Love Will Save You era.
“Yeah,” she said. “Not personally. I mean, I work for him. He’s not around but I can call him if you want.” Rhiannon took the slim phone from her hip pocket and offered.
His eyes dropped to the cell phone in her hand, resisting the initial urge to reach out and take it. “No, that won’t be necessary,” Ivan answered, trying to keep his voice light and casual. She worked for Noah. That was interesting and brought to mind a whole host of questions that he might ask his brother later. He smiled openly at the thought. “I sort of work for him, too,” he told the brunette, thinking of all the money that had come his way over the years. It was sort of like being on the payroll. He glanced at the elevator doors and back at her, wondering if she was worth following. If she had a key, then maybe; he knew what privacy meant to people like Noah.
“Is that how you got that?” Ivan asked, touching the spot above his own eyebrow that mirrored hers. “It’s rough out here. I had heard stories, but…” He trailed off and tilted his head back toward Noah’s door. “And even he’s not immune.”
“This?” She brought two fingers to the puffy skin near the cut. Rhiannon smiled, looking a bit chagrined. “No. I got this at the gym. I was doing strength exercises. The trainer said I could add chains to my barbell when I’m doing squats, you know, to vary the resistance. It’s… long story short, I got hit in the face.” She nodded. “Um.” Rhiannon opened her palm briefly. “Hey, you said you work for him, too. Is that for work?”
Her eyes strayed to the envelope and its mystery contents. “I don’t want to just leave it, if it’s time sensitive.”
‘This fucker was going to break in…’ Whatever the envelope held, Rhiannon doubted he was going to slip it through a crack under the door. She stayed loose in limb, even if her stomach had coiled into a knot. She studied Ivan’s features. His nose was a longer, thinner version of Noah’s, and his jaw was more square. While they undoubtedly shared features, there wasn’t a single compelling thing in his face. No humor, no sentimentality. He just looked like an asshole.
“I guess you got lucky, then,” Ivan replied, flipping the envelope and letting the object fall to the other side with a light scratch against the thick paper. Someone came into the hall then, sparing them nothing but a quick glance as they brought a black plastic bag to the garbage chute. He angled his face away from the oblivious intruder until the metal door was shut and the person was once again safely ensconced in their own apartment. “Four vampires against one person, those odds are pretty bad.” He studied her face closely, and made no effort to hide it. “Did he tell you about that?”
Rhiannon stared back, then gasped, the sound soft in her throat. “Are you the one who saved him? You must admire him, to risk your life like that.” The key to Noah’s apartment dangled from the hook of her index finger. She glanced at his shoulders and upper arms, his torso, getting an idea of his frame and how Ivan used it. Did he need to?
Imagine thinking this son was the keeper.
She had become adept at not telegraphing moves or intentions with her eyes. This was how Rhiannon brought her focus back to his face while her mind ran a film reel of stabbing him in the liver.
He watched the key dangle from her finger, the metal glinting as it swayed slightly. Ivan could reach out and grab it, but the fact that she worked for Noah — if that was really the case — told him that might be an unwise move at this juncture. Instead, he held out the envelope on his palm, an offering. “Yes, well, I kind of owed him. He saved my life once, a long time ago.” He smiled again, a mechanical movement that held no warmth of mirth. “It was all very fortuitous,” Ivan added, and there was an air of smugness to these words. And then the smile turned shark-like, blue-gray eyes flashing as he leaned in almost gleefully.
“We were all in the right place at the right time, it almost felt pre-ordained. He was there to help a woman, and I was there to help him.”
“Pre-ordained.” That was a delicious choice of words. Rhiannon tilted her head. “Or maybe it was pre-arranged.” The hunter took a little breath, searching his shirt as if the answer could be found there. “Somehow I doubt luck or God had anything to do with it. I mean, what purpose would that serve? I just hope no one’s trying to hurt him. I hear he’s... well-resourced.” Her mouth quirked, but it was short-lived. She took a step closer to Ivan, the movement seeming unconscious, a function of her curiosity. “Hey, do you know what happened to the woman? She must’ve been terrified, not to mention all the blood loss. Do you think someone used her as bait?” Rhiannon’s eyes flickered back to his.
As she stepped closer, Ivan stayed put and as she continued to speak, his amusement only grew. Well-resourced. He wondered if she was referring to Noah’s propensity toward fire, her loyalty, or both. Or more. “Would it be so surprising?” he asked her. “An unfortunate side effect of success is attracting enemies. Who’s to say someone didn’t set him up? Luckily, he now has someone here to watch out for him.”
Ivan paused, eyes flicking upward, visibly thinking. “I think she went to the hospital or something. You know, maybe the whole thing was a test. To see what he would do.” His gaze returned to hers. “I wonder if he passed or failed.”
Rhiannon weighed that, giving a light nod while she looked at Ivan’s shoes. The hunter crossed her arms in a casual stance. “You’re right. The part about him being successful? He’s infamous around here. I doubt many of his enemies survived!” she admitted with a laugh. “So it makes me wonder. Are they competitors in a tight market? Are they envious?” She wrinkled her nose. “Which is just sad and pointless. He’s one of a kind. You know?” Rhiannon’s mouth twisted, as with the uncovering of an unfortunate conclusion. “But I guess it could be information gathering, like looking under the hood of a car you want to buy. I do think it’s a little weird, the timing of your arrival, and that accent.” She swirled a finger at her ear. “I’m trying to place it.
“Will you do me a favor?” Sharp, white teeth bit her lower lip as Rhiannon leaned closer. “Say, ‘my parents are dead.’”
Ivan tilted his head, and it was only the surprise that accompanied this strange request that finally brought his features to life. So, she knew. This was no employee. Unexpected, but that also meant that the real fun could begin. In a very close approximation of Noah’s accent, he complied. “My parents are dead.” And then he laughed. “Is that what he told you? Did you feel sorry for him?” He was trying to figure out the angle.
“No,” she said. “Just you. Between us, that’s unlikely to change.”
His laugh reminded her of a cruel child, one who liked to pull the legs off insects and watch their feeble attempts to crawl, certain of his dominion. People like him were lower than vampires; if a vampire was a twisted version of mankind, then what the hell was he, and what excuse was there for it?
Rhiannon’s fingers tapped her upper arm. “You look like you have a question. Was there something you were wondering, Ivan?”
“Yes, actually,” Ivan answered readily, and he stood straighter, more attentive now than before. He had deemed her someone worth paying attention to and things he had ignored before now came into focus. “A couple of things. One, what’s in it for you?” His gaze dropped to her painted fingernails as they tapped against her bicep. The comment before about the gym came back to him and he raised an eyebrow the barest amount. “Money, proximity, power…or something emotional?” His eyes swept over her face.
“And second, what would you do to try to stop me from getting in there?” Ivan gestured with a nod down the hall. He gave that question a moment to process before pivoting on his heel and walking toward Noah’s door.
It was true — Rhiannon didn’t want him in the apartment, but it would be lovely to see how he planned to accomplish it. She turned to watch Ivan walk into that corner, with no other way out of it. She traded her keys for the phone, slipping it free to send a casual photo of the back of Ivan’s head to Noah. Guess who’s coming to dinner?
“I do love money…” she mused, following at a slower pace. “I bet you’re more of a power guy. Slipping people drugs to get them to do what you want? My favorite.”
Ivan stopped short of the door, looking at her over his shoulder. “Why does it have to be drugs? Can’t either of you think outside the box?” His back to the brunette once more, he reached his hand inside his pocket and closed his fingers around a small, nylon zippered pouch. “You obviously know who I am, and you obviously believe Noah’s version.” He turned around to face her fully. “So you might not believe this, but I’m not trying to hurt him. Because if I wanted to, I already could have. Numerous times, beginning with when he murdered our parents.”
He kept the pouch inside his pocket and touched the apartment door. “He knows far worse people than me, you know. Ones who would get somewhat nervous if they found out about him, running around saving people from vampire attacks. I’m just trying to make sure he’s strong enough to handle that.”
“Yeah, he seems like a blade that needs sharpening,” Rhiannon remarked, her physical stance unchanging during his characterization of himself as the loyal brother who never turned his sibling in, only wanting him to be the strongest possible version of himself. It was hard to ride the financial coattails when one’s brother was imprisoned or dead. She tracked the movement of Ivan’s shoulder, the bend of his elbow. “Wouldn’t it be more efficient to tell him who he needs to worry about? This seems like work.”
Her muscles twitched. She fantasized about the pop of a few strategic bones, the visual of her hands shoving his skinny ass down the trash chute. A show of strength gave away valuable information and she preferred to make Ivan work for that, but she wouldn’t allow him to breach that door. Call it a matter of principle. Rhiannon’s wrist tingled with the echo of Elfleda’s fingers. ‘This is what I see for you, if you can take it.’
Rhiannon blinked.
She carried a hunting knife on her person. Surely Ivan counted… Why did he have to be Noah’s only relative? The wall sconce was made of glass. The door frame was hard enough to stun him. A sleeper hold wasn’t out of the question and he’d be easy to drag inside.
Ivan’s gaze ticked down from the gash above her brow, her eyes which he could now tell didn’t miss much, all the way down to how she planted her feet. It wasn’t worth trying to get inside just yet. Besides, he knew his brother didn’t hide all of his secrets in one place. “I can name one, but I already took care of him for Noah.” Once again, he held out the envelope, gesturing for her to take it. “That’s what this is about. Sneaky magic user named Jonas. He skimmed off the top of people who came to see him for help, especially if they’re…talented.”
He took a step toward her. She was blocking his path to the elevator. “So I just gave him back what was taken from him, plus…some fun extras. You know, for a kick.” Ivan shrugged.
Rhiannon’s face tipped. “Whose kick, his or yours?”
The envelope slid into her fingers. With Ivan’s retreat from the door, she knew the expiration date had passed on their conversation. The sooner, the better. He could save his rationale for someone who might buy it. Rhiannon stepped aside and gave him room to pass. Inside her t-shirt, a miniature tremble of abdominal muscles signaled an excess of adrenaline that had not been spent. It was this activation of the autonomic nervous system that led people to punch walls.
“Ivan,” she added, turning back with her hand on the door knob. “If all you want is to even the playing field, it’s done. You saved his life, you gave him back more than he lost. Anything else makes your motives questionable. Just a thought.”
He sidestepped her, some kind of odd pre-planned dance move, and slipped his hands back into his pockets. Ivan shot her a smile as he passed, the corners of his lips two knife points. “Thanks for the advice,” he said as he made his way leisurely to the elevators. A hand reached out and stabbed the down button. It lit up orange. “You know, it’s sweet how much you care,” Ivan told her, watching her fingers brush over the silver door knob. “I’ll let him know that you deserve a big raise.” The doors of the elevator on his right opened up to welcome him, and he slid inside and out of view before pulling out his phone. He typed out a text informing someone to wait outside Jonas’s place and let him know if Noah or a dark-haired woman showed up there, then watched the numbers light their path to the ground floor.