Who: Drake and Lilith What: A midnight meeting. Where: Saturday at midnight. When: Grand Army of the Republic Cemetery. Warnings: None.
Drake hadn’t forgotten his midnight meeting with the elusive L. Mellori, not even in the aftermath of the disastrous EIT meeting. His only consolation was that, at least to his knowledge, Julian hadn’t gone out and shot anyone after leaving the grounds. He was still looking into both him and Warren in terms of connections and how the hell Julian knew to handle a gun like that, but so far he hadn’t come up with anything concrete. In lieu of that mess, the fact that EIT probably wasn’t expanding anytime soon and the frustration of dealing with a hefty caseload meant for more than two people, showing up in a cemetery to meet a woman who’d tried to kill him in the past was almost a relief.
He arrived early, of course. His ability gave him an advantage that most didn’t have in addition to the cover of darkness, and he considered remaining unseen until Mellori showed herself first. Once midnight came, however, he stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight without a trace of hesitation. Beneath his leather jacket were two handguns, ones he felt most comfortable with, and he ensured that the spot he was standing it was strategically placed in terms of objects he could seek cover behind should it come to that.
For now he simply waited, casual by all outward appearances even though every one of his senses was on high alert and ready to react.
Lilith had considered going as herself. Herself being the persona she had taken on to do work since she’d crossed over. Mystique, as [Destiny] called her, with her ability to blend into anything and become anyone. She considered it - considered taking the shape of something harmless (a tree, a bird, a puddle) and shooting Drake before he even saw her coming. She considered it, but she decided against it.
Drake’s story was one she knew only from Musings. How he’d wanted to kill Carsen, how his family had wanted to kill Carsen - Carsen, an innocent man who only wanted to find a safer place for Creations. Carsen, who [Destiny] admired so, who Lilith (only a teeanger then) remembered as a man who talked too loudly and always asked her opinion, even when [Destiny] dismissed her from the room. That was the story she knew, and like so many of the stories in Musings, she questioned it now.
So, she went to the cemetery as herself. Red hair tucked, pale skin and a pair of jeans and a blue top, and she crouched atop an old, stone mausoleum, and she waited. Her guns were strapped to her thighs, and she had knives strapped to her ankles, but she didn’t reach for either of them when she saw Drake. She had drawn him out in Musings, left breadcrumbs for him to follow, and he should be dead. But he wasn’t.
She decided, as she walked his cautious wandering with absolute stillness, that she would tell him he’d reformed. He wouldn’t believe it, but she didn’t want him looking for what she was really doing, either.
“Why did you want to kill him?” she finally called out into the darkness, knowing her voice would carry and lead him to where she was. This one was a tracker, and she was willing to be tracked - for now, at least.
There was no outward reaction to the voice, nor was there any doubt as to who the ‘he’ was referring to. During the time he’d spent in Musings Drake had collected a fair amount of enemies on his own aside from the ones he ‘inherited’ from his father, but they all traced back to one man: Walter Carsen. He was the epitome of every single person he’d ever killed, the very worst of humanity rolled into one single being. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Carsen had likely been the one who’d hired L. Mellori in the first place, and she was either too stupid to see through his lies or knew the truth and was nothing more than a monster just like the rest.
He leaned more towards the latter.
Drake fell back into the familiarity of his ability, weaving in and out of the shadows towards the sound of her voice. “He didn’t tell you, sweetheart? I’m sure he spun a nice little sob story about what a bad man I was.”
She listened for movement, turning with it, keeping herself facing the direction he was coming from, until she lost the trail altogether. “I know you wanted to kill him. That your family wanted to kill him,” she said. “That you did kill him.” She said, the last sounding like an accusation. She still couldn’t hear him, and she smiled in the darkness. “You’re not playing fair, baby,” she said, morphing into something tiny and winged and black and flying out over the cemetery, swooping low and close, catching him in her inky line of vision before flying back to where she was and turning her attention in the direction he’d been. She still had her guns away, and she didn’t pull her knife. “What did he do? Convince me.”
“Yeah, I killed him. Best damn day of my life.” That was an exaggeration, of course, since there were memories of life before his mother was killed that were much better and his father had died the same night Carsen took his last breath. She didn’t need to know that, though. Drake wasn’t worried about his voice giving him away since he could move quickly enough to be in a different spot entirely before she could pinpoint the location, but he wasn’t any closer to finding her either. He realized that he had no idea what her ability was, and he didn’t like it.
He paused, trying to locate where her voice was coming from. “I don’t have to justify myself to you. Even if I cared enough to try, you could just end up claiming I was lying. Why waste my breath?”
“Because I’m looking for clarity,” she said, inky wings again, and this time it took her longer to get him in her sights where she could actually see him. She had to grin to herself as she materialized behind him. Cocky bastard had a good ability. She’d give him that. “Want to give me some?” she asked, just over his shoulder and close enough to grab. She was getting the feeling that he was one of those noble types, the kind that never drew first, and she wandered past him without a bit of worry (feigned, but still). “I’ve turned over a new leaf. Isn’t that why you came here, to humanity? To leave the past in the past?” She turned as she asked it, catching a good look at him in the moonlight for the first time all evening. “Handsome as ever, I see.”
He didn’t respond right away, attempting to use the silence to his advantage in order to finally get a decent fix on her location. This little cat and mouse game was entertaining, sure, but he didn’t come out to a cemetery in the middle of the night to talk to the air. She knew what he looked like, and it was about time the odds evened themselves out a little.
Drake barely reacted to the voice over his shoulder save for a hint of tension in his shoulders, which was more acknowledgement than a defensive gesture. He could have grabbed her or even had a gun pressed to her temple in a matter of seconds, but she was right in her assessment that he wouldn’t draw first. If she gave him reason to then all bets were off, though, and he wouldn’t hesitate. “Sure. That’s why most people bother coming here, isn’t it? They want a fresh start. Or a brand new playground.” He turned to get a better look at her, his first real look at just one of the people who’d tried to kill him over the years, but whatever impression he had of her it wasn’t visible in his expression. “Flattery. Nice touch.” She didn’t look like a killer, but a lot of them never did. That was the whole point. “Why decide to turn over a new leaf now? What changed?”
She looked for some sort of reaction, but she found none. And, admittedly, she wasn’t really expecting to sway him with her looks, though there was a sharp tang of disappoint, however brief. She walked up to him, slow and swaying steps, and then past him again, elbow brushing his, hip just an illusion of movement against his outer thigh. “I came looking for my sister,” she said, since she figured keeping the lie consistent would be good. “And I wanted to find out the truth,” she added, her sultry voice hiding the truth in that statement. “Don’t you believe in second chances?” she asked. “You’re a murderer, too. Don’t deny it.” He was. She knew he killed things - the reason didn’t matter. Taking a life was still taking a life. “You must feel you do it for important reasons, for reasons that matter. I felt the same way in Musings. Was I wrong?” she asked, walking around behind him as she asked the question.
Drake was by no means an easy man to sway, but not even the knowledge that Lilith had tried to kill him was enough to render him immune to her looks. In any other situation his demeanor towards her would have been entirely different but the trick here was to have enough self-restraint to keep in mind that she was still a killer, however attractive she might be. “Your sister. G. Dailey?” He was only mildly curious, and it was more of a rhetorical question since he already knew what the answer would be. Though the word ‘murderer’ elicited a distinct jaw clench he had no intention of denying it. He’d accepted what he was a while ago. “I wasn’t going to deny it. I know what I am.” He folded his arms across his chest, turning his head to keep her in his line of vision as much as possible. “Second chances are tricky things. There’s always a risk of relapse.” His voice took on a hard edge. “I never killed innocents. The ones I targeted did.”
“I don’t kill innocents, either,” she said, walking around in front of him, stopping so close that her breath fanned his cheek and the guns strapped to her thighs pressed against him, all hard and cold and metal. “I believed what I was told. Who’s to say you weren’t in the same boat? Who’s to say Carsen wasn’t? We all work on intel, handsome, and we’re only innocent if our intel is real. If you think everyone is trustworthy, you’re deluding yourself more than I was seven years ago.” She moved back slightly, still within reach, still not pulling the guns. “Gwen and I have never met. We weren’t raised together, and she doesn’t trust me. I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not.” She smiled, a strangely warm smile. “Neither do you.”
Instinct and experience kept him skeptical. Beyond being hired to kill him Drake only had a general idea of what else she’d done based on the fact that she’d worked for Carsen. No one who worked for that man, even briefly, could be trusted. Her word meant nothing to him. “I know what kind of man Carsen was,” he said tightly, though the edge came from the topic of conversation rather than the invasion of personal space. It didn’t bother him like it might have had he been a different kind of man, and he watched her hands for even the slightest hint that she might reach for the guns. “If you didn’t, that’s your problem. But I knew where my intel came from, sweetheart. I never thought everyone was trustworthy back then and I sure as hell don’t now. You should know better than that.” He didn’t know this Gwen Dailey, but she seemed like she had a good head on her shoulders from their brief forum conversation. Family was family, sure, but he understood that it wouldn’t be easy to trust someone right away even if there was a blood connection.
“No,” he agreed, “we don’t.” His smile wasn’t half as warm as hers, but there was a hint of sincerity to it. “You said you were deluding yourself seven years ago. What was your wake up call?”
“I don’t like finding out people are keeping secrets from me,” she said, cryptic and blunt at the same time. She moved further back, further back still, watching him as she moved, the gaze something that called to mind hunter and prey. “It makes me wonder what else they lied to me about.” She stood there, night air blowing her hair around but otherwise unmoving. “Clean slates, they can always be dirtied,” she reminded him, a warning. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, handsome. I expect you to return the favor.”
He almost laughed at that and just managed to keep it a smile instead, one that was both smug and knowing at the same time. Smart girl, finally realized she was being lied to once she was already involved - it didn’t surprise him. Didn’t make him trust her any more than he did when he arrived, but there might have been minimal progress beneath the surface. “I expect nothing less from you, sweetheart. You know I’ll do the same.” Drake met her gaze steadily even as she backed away, torn between staying where he was and moving forward. He wasn’t going to kill her, at least not tonight, and there was admittedly a certain thrill to the game they were playing. “One last thing. What’s the ‘L’ stand for?”
She stopped when he asked the question, the smile that touched her lips in that moment entirely female and nothing to do with being an assassin. She moved forward again, quick this time, less sway and more purpose. She leaned close to him, lips near his ear, her voice a whisper of air and nothing near his cheek. “Lilith,” she said, lips moving to brush stubble after she said her name, then over just the corner of his mouth. “Have fun at the carnival, handsome,” she added, stepping back again a second later and turning, walking away from him at a leisurely pace that was all softness and hips and no concern he’d shoot her in the back. And she was smiling - oh was she ever.
Drake expected her to toss him a name before disappearing into the night, a miscalculation on his part that meant some of the tension had already begun to leave his posture by the time she started moving towards him. There was strangely no suspicion that she might shoot him, not by this point, and his gaze slid down to her shoulder rather than wherever her hands were. Lilith. The name suited her. “You too,” he said, turning his head at the last moment, just as she stepped back. He stood and watched until she disappeared from sight, letting out a heavy exhale of breath once she was gone and turning back towards the way he came. This Lilith definitely was a piece of work, but he did hope she didn’t give him reason to kill her. He had a feeling things would be more interesting with her around.