Breaking the Rules

[OttoVann]

The Mists, the housing districts directly outside of Limsa. It carries the enviable distinction of having waterfront property and perpetually warm weather while also maintaining a safe distance from Ul'Dah and its politics. That matters to a man like me. I am always mired in Syndicate and Monetarist politics, doing my best to keep it at arms length as I go about my life doing what I please when the urges arise.

 

The houses here are a luxury. There are precious few of them and even fewer who can afford. The subsequent amount of money that flows here shows. Streets are routinely maintained with fresh cobblestones and swept clean of trash and debris. It is safe, a haven for anyone of any size or age to walk freely at any hour of the day and to do so with complete confidence.

 

The night air is warm tonight, filled with saltsea aroma. The first whiff of it after arriving by airship is always something that always rejuvenates me. The heels of my shoes click against the cobbled streets as I wind through the houses of The Mists towards the beach. The clear skies allow the moon to stream its reflection across the sea creating a scene worthy of a dinner between Ridley and I. I came ahead of her tonight, flying in early to personally prepare a meal for us to share on the beach here beneath the stars. She does enough for me so the least I can do is prepare dinner for her on occasion. We've grown closer after her adoption being finalized, her being transformed into an heiress for my name and fortune whenever she cares for either.

 

Ridley isn't quite aware of my plans. All she knows is I told her to find me at my beach house by nine bells past noon. Admittedly we will be enjoying our meal late into the evening, but I'm not a very skilled planner, hence her value to me. I have never been one to grocery shop with any real foresight, so I sent Tsubasa to pick out my ingredients for me and have them laid out and ready ahead of time. I'm not a master chef, but I can manage simple things like my signature breakfast meal of eggs and toast well enough and Ridley is worth this effort.

 

Streetlamps fueled by oil line the stonework wall that guards the most storm surge prone houses, making the walk to my house pleasing with its illumination. There are a few couples sitting on the beach, quietly being romantic or more as I continue towards my house. Rounding the final bend near where the street dead-ends I find myself standing In front of my home here. Modest in size, it is by no means a mansion. Those large stone buildings that stand any test of time are so prized and tightly held by their families it's impossible to ever come into ownership of one. I make do with this quaint two-story home though, it being well landscaped and stands tall and pristine in its own right. The lights are off though, no lamps lit, no candles burning. It's unusual for Tsubasa to come ahead of me to clean and prep my home for the evening and leave it dark and unwelcoming. No matter, I've got a key and she must have been in a hurry to leave the house in such a manner, it will just be an annoyance to light a lamp in the dark.

 

I should change into something more casual once I arrive and get situated. I've been in this red suit most of the day. Walking up the small stairs to the door, I jostle the key in the old handle, the insides of the lock worn and loosened in it's years of service to previous owners. The door opens with a crack and I step into my room with eyes unadjusted to the darkness and unable to see anything at first as the moonlight floods into the breezeway of my home. As I walk through the doorway, instantly someone or something moves to stand beside me, gripping tightly onto my shoulder as something obviously metallic and cold touches the back of my neck. I see now, why my lights were put out and I acquiesce at once to the prodding of the hand on my shoulder to stand aside as they slam the door. I can't rightfully see who is stupid enough attack me like this, judging by their grip they aren't a Roegadyn and are most likely a Hyur or a Miqo. Either way I can't react and they have me cornered. I figure the best I can do now is play along and hope I can talk my way out of this before they decide to kill me if that is what they came here for.

 

“Let's get on with this then, whatever it is.” I keep forward and raise my hands in a half surrender, open and palms forward and level with my shoulders.

[OttoVann]

At first, nothing is said. I stand there in the dark, hands raised and my head forward and unmoving as I try to get used to the lack of light. A few beams are coming through windows in the kitchen, living room and elsewhere, but it still takes time to make out the now grey and black world before me. It doesn't take long for me to regain my other senses. The air is filled with the acrid trace of something someone smoked, most likely moko or tobacco. I can hear my attacker, them awkwardly not speaking, only breathing in heavily through their noise to produce a sort of wheeze.

 

Painfully slow and quiet moments continue to go on as I stand here looking forward. I've got so much time standing here frozen wondering what this idiot is doing that I can start to discern my surroundings. I can hear how my wall-mounted clock isn't wound and ticking above my front door, making me wonder what happened to Tsubasa. She is always one to tidy the house upon my arrival, and doing things like winding the clocks I make. Finally, I inhale deeply and exhale heavily to make some noise and hopefully earn a reaction from my assailant here, and it works.

 

They finally speak to me, their voice strained almost as they try and snarl while speaking “You fucked up Mr. Vann”. Great, someone looking to wax poetically about how right they are and how terrible I am.

 

“You fucked up, and you've gone and had me killed.” Their bizarre claim immediately gets me to raise a brow, unsure what to make of this mad man's words. You have to be insane to attack a Monetarist in their home, with their neighbors sharing the same political persuasions. My odds of surviving this night are plummeting with talk like this. I may be a lot of bad things, but I also don't kill people.

 

“Consider this your repayment for being such a /fine/ businessman and upstanding citizen of Ul'Dah.” I wish this man would give me much to work with, but he makes his intentions clear soon enough as I just barely hear the rustle of the incoming blow.

 

The Mists and everything else leaves my mind as darkness takes me.

[OttoVann]

I can't quite say how long I've been out. My attacker here was adamant on my waking up though, slapping me in the face repeatedly until I stirred. My head is throbbing, and I instinctively try to raise a hand to the back of my head where the pain is coming from but soon find my arms unable to move. Apparently I'm bound to one of my dining table's chairs it seems. I give a test of my restraint, trying to pull cautiously at them with my legs and hands and notice they are a bit slack but they otherwise hold tight.

 

 

My deranged attacker stands upright after I start regaining clarity, looming over me with a crazy smile. I look up to meet him with a turn of my head as I am slumped forward in the chair, locking our eyes together. Hes a midlander, standing close to my height though none of my form. His face looks familiar; I can't quite place it yet but he clearly knows me. After a few quiet moments of my heavy breathing through my nose and his just...standing their wavering in his spot I catch the outline of something behind him. It's a few feet away and sprawled on the floor, but my attacker is quick to remind me that he is the one in charge here. I look away from him, but once, and he uses the opportunity to wind up a blow, catching me on a sensitive cheekbone. The pain of his fist, despite his smaller size, lights my senses up at once. He regains my attention with his sucker punch while also eliciting a stoic suppressed groan of pain as my head gets whipped to the side. My cheek being drilled into my teeth and getting cut from the inside is quick to put the coppery taste of blood in my mouth.

 

I look up at him, biting my lip to keep quiet, only the sound of my ragged breaths filling the space between us. I hesitate, unsure of what to say or how to navigate this situation. I am not accustomed to dealing with crazed fools. Or at least not from a position of disadvantage. His face twisted into something I would akin to bliss but also anger. He seems like he is done wasting my time though as he breaks the silence almost immediately to ask me “Do you remember who I am Mr. Vann?” As he asks he takes the metallic pipe he must have knocked me out with and holds it to my now freshly swelling cheek to threaten me, pulling it across the cheek to remind me he is in charge – and he is. I'd hate myself if I could permit it right now. Being taken captive by a lunatic with a pipe, not even a blade on him. Otto Vann the Master Goldsmith, sitting in a chair being beaten to death by a lunatic clearly unafraid of the consequences of doing this to a Monetarist in their home. Doesn't make for a good headline. I've always tried to give off the impression that I can be a hardass, and that I am not one to be fucked with like this.

 

I shake my head stiffly, looking regretful as I look up to him again. In truth, I do know who his colossal piece of shit is. He is your very typical Monetarist for Ul'Dah. All gil inherited from his family and none of the type of person that can maintain that wealth or run a business. Like most of the Monetarists and people who work for Syndicate members, he is trash. They will never be capable of running an honest business, never capable of earning fair or honest gil. His name is Ty, at least that’s what he liked be known as.

 

Ty Doslan. The son of a no-name noble Ul'Dah'n family, wealthy for reasons only the Twelve might understand. He fancied himself someone who could make jewelry people liked, emboldened by the wealth and status of his family, led to believe he was anything above average. His esthetic flare was as poor as his common sense and by virtue of his current actions, did not suggest highly of his artistic abilities. He was, unsurprisingly, the sort of trash that meddles in politics more than they should, and not politics of the noble sense. The kind to turn to smuggling and stealing when honest craftsmanship and enterprise cannot pay their bills, relying on their crooked connections to defend them against reprisal.

 

He kept above water due to his family keeping his businesses flush with cash, and I was content though deeply unimpressed with his position as a competitor in fine jewelry. That was until he made the mistake of using his ties to the Brass Blades to have a stall of mine removed. I was out of town at the time and couldn't handle his advances. It also didn't help that Ridley was also not formally adopted by me the time and could do nothing but argue as a common person on my behalf. Apparently he wanted more of the Markets to himself, which is fine, but I can not forgive a man who abuses his power to nudge me to the side. After that day, I made a concerted effort to eliminate any possibility of him ever receiving gold or any other precious metal. I burned through gil, securing trade agreements, outbidding him every step of the way. I even dabbled in Futures, buying out entire swaths of future shipments regardless of whether I could predict needing the supplies or not.

 

In the end, I suffocated him, burying his business into the red and forcing him to take on debt to stay afloat. He couldn't afford to pay his leases under his power and after a few months of what I deemed quietly annihilating his chance to compete, he closed. He had empty stores and stalls, and even sold a few promises of 'new designs to come' to people, never delivering and instead pocketing the gil. His family grew tired of pumping in gil and having their name embarrassed by being emblazoned on the outside of store fronts with no customers and no product. I gained tremendously from it too. I had so much carefully bought gold that I began stockpiling vast sums of it in a warehouse in The Shroud. Doing this enables me to keep it away from prying eyes and secures my businesses from supply instability, caravan raids, mining strikes, and more. At the time, I thought doing all of this would only cost me large sums of gil, but Ty here has other prices in mind for me to pay. Even so, I don't want him to think I know or remember him so fondly. Not yet, I need to buy time and pray to Nald that Ridley is on her way and that I live long enough to see her again.

 

My mind wandered from my thoughts on squat little men beating me to new levels of pain management, to remembering that I had spotted something on the floor behind him. I chance a glance again, and he tracks my eye movements and pivots as he steps out of the way so I can get a better view in this dimmed dining room of mine, beaming with pride. I can just barely make it out, but I spot the unfortunate sight of Tsubasa, lying on the floor staring with glassed eyes at the ceiling. She's very clearly dead, shadows across her corpse where he, I can only imagine, beat her with this pipe he's caressing my across my cheek. That would explain the lights being out, and more. I look to Tsubasa on the floor, dead in her Tafetta outfit and just shake my head with pursed lips before averting my gaze to the ceiling away from her lamenting her demise for brief moments.

 

Tsubasa was a good woman, despite her tender age. She came to me off the streets, hearing of my penchant for sleeping around with whatever showed interest for the night looking for work and to better herself. She was a typical, run of the mill low-level prostitute, and I elevated her. She worked for me alongside Ridley, learning the ways of managing a busy man such as myself. I slept with her on occasion, nothing too routine but usually at her advance. She was wealthy in her own right, being paid generously by me and cleaned herself up well, maturing in front of me at a rapid pace to keep up with the new life she was adopted into. At one point, she was presumed pregnant for a brief period, missing one of her cycles, and it was in all likelihood mine. That ended abruptly after about a month, nature having better ideas for her.

 

After that she was determined to start a future with The Flames. She wanted to get established and ready to move on, and start a life of her own away from me. Despite the miscarriage, we stayed close, and though we were never romantically inclined our complicated relationship was altogether positive. My thoughts, however, are interrupted with a fat chortle from Ty as he sees my reaction, as best as I can suppress it.

 

“She begged you know. Offered to please me between the sheets if needed to spare her life. Ah yeah, she was tasty.” he says as he grabs towards his cod, to give an indication of what transpired. “Ole Ty here gave her a grand time don't you worry.” He squares his shoulders and drops the humor to regard me.

 

“Do you always keep such nice little whores around Otto, to please you at your whims? I should move in perhaps, take the place over for myself and make 'em all work for me dressed in as little as possible. Seeing as how you made an effort to take away everything from me, I found it fair to take her to your bed before killing her. She told me you'd be showing up for dinner with a 'daughter' of sorts, it's how I knew to wait you out.” Ty raises my chin, placing his pipe under it to pull my gaze back to his “Filth like you should never be allowed to adopt and have a family – you aren't /noble/ enough.”

 

Ty shifts the pipe between his hands, and delivers a scathing backhand across the cheek yet to be angered with his touch while screaming “AND YOU SHOULDN'T BE ALLOWED TO DO BUSINESS IN UL'DAH.”

 

 

It's hard to feel Ty's concerted efforts to rearrange my face when I can only imagine snatching the life from him if Ridley ever shows.

[OttoVann]

I'm not sure if remaining stoic is a good idea with Ty by this point. He's getting tired though, his wind ups are slowing down and obviously labored. The fat piece of shit is so used to living a life of total luxury he's never cared to get in shape and make something of his body. The thought of him on top of Tsubasa is revolting, him killing her afterwords equally enraging.

 

Finally after an eternity of him doing ridiculous wind ups, he makes sure to yell indiscernably like some crazed lunatic as he plows into me, pushing all of his weight behind the hamfisted blow as it catches me in the ear and sending me and the chair I'm tied to to the floor in a thud that raps my head against the floorboards, rattlling my teeth and causing my vision to swim. With my world turned sideways he stands over me and gives me one last kick to my gut, forcing the air from me in a gasp as I struggle to breathe on my side through a broken nose and dry throat.

 

Blood is everywhere and all of it is mine. My suit has been ruined while the floor begins to collect what runs off my face and out of my mouth into a pool for my head to lie in while I am held helpless. Ty looms overhead, hooking his thumbs into his pants and he looks down at me with a cock of his head and a smile. Through his panting to catch his breath he asks “How does it feel ole boy, having the life beaten from you. In your own home no less! Where is your security? Her!?” He jabs a finger to Tsubasa's corpse, sitting their pale and sad against the dark room.

 

I can't really look up to him to see what he may be doing. My neck is stiff, my head screaming in pain and one of my eyes is swollen to near shut. Doing my best to draw in a ragged breathe, I manage to croak out “What do you want Ty?” with irritation apparent to my tone. I'm tired of being this mans stress release, I need to at least speak before I die.

 

Ty starts laughing, waves of humor rippling through his squat frame. “Why Otto ole boy I told you already. I want you to die. You killed me you know! My family cut me off from liquidity. I'm an /important/ man. I have bribes to pay, sludge to move, hands to grease and things to smuggle. I have people that I'm in deep with, wondering when my next payments are in. I'm a dead man you know, if I can't pay them back.”

 

Ty makes an effort of leaning down and grunting as he pulls me up off the floor by a bound arm to set me upright again. He starts to brush off my lapels “Sorry bout putting you on the floor there Mr Vann.” Ty makes a show of looking me over, nodding in approval of his work to clean me up “Anyways ole Ty here can't really afford to pay the loansharks back anymore. You put me out of business. I actually made good gil too! But that wasn't good enough for a self-righteous man like you was it Mr. Vann? Oh no you had to hammer on me until I faded from existence. And over what EXACTLY? Sure I fucked with your stall, but your a rich man and could afford the hit.” Ty pokes his chest with his thumb “But I can't afford that don't you see! Besides you're just an impudent upstart, and interloper in a world that is too complicated for you to understand. You run around us refusing to accept anyone as a business partner. You go on and on about your independence and wanting to maintain control of whats yours. Let me tell you something Otto, you are nothing without The Syndicate and Monetarists. You've made a lot of noise amongst people who are important, admittedly we're impressed but we can't trust you if you won't trust us.”

 

Ty looks away wistfully before anger clouds his face and he returns a fresh stinging backhand. “Well I've got a warrant for my death so not 'us'.” With a shakes of his head Ty sighs, leaning down to pick up that pipe of his he initially caught me off guard with. “Its a shame Otto, you tried to hide it so well but you fuck anything that moves and it was pretty easy to have one of the whores I own slip into your office after you passed out to find the proof. Without warning Ty viciously swings down onto my leg, a hollowed 'ping' ringing out amongst my surprised raspy scream as it contacts my right knee. Snarling he looks to me “And thats why I'm here and that's what I want. I want you to suffer for daring to do all that you did. I'm a guaranteed dead man, and its your fault!” With that a new swing of the pipe lazily lashes across my face, smacking with a thud and jerking hot tears to run down my face.

[OttoVann]

Slumped forward, being held upright by my bound arms has caused my arms to go numb along with my legs. I am a sitting punching bag and have been used thoroughly as such. I can only imagine how ruined my face is. Ty clearly is tired of this but I won't give him the satisfaction of begging, not yet. One eye is totally shut now, and it is taking all of me to not pass out again.

 

Ty is standing over me and places a hand on my shoulder to shake and jostle me to get my attention, roughly slapping me as well out of humor. “Don't look so glum friend. Ole Ty here is just doing what he must. I'm thinking once I'm done here with ya I'll take a look through this nice house of yours and take what gil ye got and head up North maybe. Coerthas or something, relax and let this all die down along with you” He reaches and grabs my chin, pulling my face up to meet his downward gaze. He inspects my face, tilting his head from side to side as he nods at me with his work, satisfied clearly. I can't speak, and I am not much for coherence anymore. I am exhausted beyond any compare, struggling to keep my good eye open as life is ebbing out of me.

 

“Any last words Mr. Vann? Any thoughts on fucking with bad men like Ty here? You should have known the rules. You could have just played along making that gil of yours selling those gaudy clothes.” He drops his hold on my face and I fall forward again, the bindings on my deadend arms holding me as I snap against them in a slouch.

 

Any moment and it will be over. It's all I can think about right now. Either I am a dead man or Ridley shows and at this point, I will likely die anyways. At least when I die here, she will inherit hundreds of millions of gil and businesses that she knows the delicate inner workings of. I can at least say that I've left something behind from this disaster of an existence. Not seeing Ridley marry and move on with her life to start a real family is a thought that is starting to break my heart. The weight of realizing I'm being killed by doing everything right, never taking a bribe, never breaking the law, never abusing my political connections to affect even simple things like Brass Blades or Flame's business; I have lived a life of excellence after my wife's death just to earn this and it infuriates me. An out of shape rapist killing a man like me with a simple pipe and the element of surprise.

 

I do my best to try to speak as I hang forward in the chair. My throat is dry, and my voice is worn. All that comes out is a hoarse whisper and a crack. I try to start swallowing, blood, spit anything to coat my throat but before I can finish a boot from Ty catches me dead center in my chest and slams by body upright from its slouched position. He holds his boot against me, keeping me forced to sit up, and I take the opportunity to swallow again.

 

“Well, get on with it then. Say your peace. Whats Mr. Vann's famous last words going to be? Maybe you'll beg and try to buy me off? Offer up this street-rat of a daughter you 'adopted'? Go on, ole Ty is listening.”

 

Any moment and I am going to expire. I am panting in between drawing in ragged and disgusting breaths, made harder by Ty jamming a boot through my lungs. Holding my head up is exhausting, and my mind starts to slip to thoughts falling asleep and finally accepting what fate put me in for tonight. This is it; Otto Vann taken down by his success.

 

I open my mouth and start trying to speak and in that blessed moment, I hear the rattle of my front door. As it opens Ty drops his foot from my chest and jerks his head to the direction of the third party sound. My heart leaps with a second wind, lighting my senses on fire and giving me the strength to sit upright on my own. Amazed at my luck of having a few more painful minutes left to live I yell, scream, shout Ridley's name at the top of my lungs. Seeing Ty jump and startled is my first victory of the night fills me with all the determination I need as he looks back to me deciding it's my time to die. Summoning the last of my strength I jerk my entire body to the side and send myself and the chair crashing to the floor to get away from him for the briefest of moments and to distract him while I hear Ridley storming through the house and

 

I catch a glimpse of her lithe body screaming through the air towards him as I fall to the floor, seemingly in slow motion. Right before impact I manage to shout “DON'T KILL HIM,” my stunt slamming my head into the hardwood floor and sending me back to darkness.

[OttoVann]

It's hard to say just how long I have been unconscious. When I finally come to, I find myself on my back with my head in Ridley's lap, stripped of my shirt and suit jacket. Waking up was it's own version of death or something akin to it. Trying to move is agonizing, my knees feel like they can audibly creak like a floorboard, my head feels ready to split after Ty's exhaustive efforts to teach me a lesson. Ridley is hovering her hands around my head and is channeling what little conjury she has to channel restorative Aether haphazardly into me. She has a small spark for aetherial manipulation, but she would always uncharacteristically rebel and rarely attend the sessions I had arranged with masters of the art to improve her techniques.

 

The strain splayed across Ridley's face makes me feel concerned for her as I lie here. Tears are streaming out of her closed eyes as she gnashes her teeth and keeps trying to restore me to any capacity. She startles from her concentration and lets out a desperate and exhausted sigh as my hand holds her cheek, assuring her that I'm not dead despite the condition she found me. For a few moments, we both stay on the floor as I look up to her, my house feeling oppressively quiet as I remember Tsubasa's corpse and also note a lack of hearing anything from Ty.

 

With a pained and dry swallow I finally break the silence in the house and can only whisper out “Is he alive?”

 

Ridley nods once to me as she runs her hands across her face to wipe away her tears. Her voice is shaky at first but quickly and evenly smooths itself out to her typically terse demeanor “Here. I'm going to get you water for your voice.” She starts to sit up, taking care to place my head gently on the floor so I can lay flat and wait for her. Before she can start to the kitchen I, gesture with my hand to indicate her to move in close for me to whisper to her “Bring me my sugar”.

 

She starts to look at me in protest but a slight and rigid turn of my head gives her the message. She returns shortly enough, sitting on her legs beside me on the floor with a glass of water and my familiar vial of white powder. I try to sit up under my own power, but the shock of pain that erupts from my entire core makes me flop back onto the floor gasping for air. Ty did nearly kill me, and the thought boils over in me causing me to snatch the vial from Ridley's hand and bite the cork to pull it off with my teeth. This will enable me to be able to sit upright at least is all I can think of. The thought of being laid low by Ty makes me feel truly terrible with rage as I grit through the disgusting flavor of the entire vials contents being dumped in my mouth all at once. Hurriedly I grab the water from Ridley, sloshing a majority of the water from out the glass as I try and wash it all down. The drugs and water make me start coughing sharply as I gag on the flavor and trying to swallow it all while lying on my back. Now I just need to lie in wait for the effects to kick in.

 

My heart takes off into a race to see if it can kill me before Ty's damage can, beating visibly and furiously under my chest and causing no small level of anguish that feels like what I can only equate to a sharp stab. It forces a scream of pain from me as I writhe while my eyes go wild with dilation and refocusing, a slow burn rolling through my body that deadens everything it touches. Soon enough the scorching pain subsides due to all of my nerves being overwhelmed, and I take to trying to sit up again after my mind clears from the barrage of the drug's effects. Ridley helps me up, this time I am not held back by my injuries as I sit upright on the floor and scan the room. I note Ty's form is now slumped forward in a chair, bound as I was to it. He has a gash in his hair somewhere that Ridley must have given him due to the blood that has dried on his face. Seeing him alive brings me a sense of satisfaction and pride. I love Ridley; I love her more than Ul'dah loves gil.

 

With my mind and plan set for Ty I motion with my head and arm held out to have Ridley help me up. Standing is surprisingly easy though my right knee trembles as I finally get up off the floor. I'm excited, my mind racing with permutations of how to exactly deal with Ty. I take the first few steps towards Ty, struggling to maintain balance since I've been tied down so long. As we loom over Ty, his stupid looking expression on makes me grind me teeth for a moment.

 

My voice comes off as shaky at first, making me swallow hard to try and compose myself “Wake him Ridley.”

[OttoVann]

I enjoy watching professionals work, regardless of their trade or craft. Ridley is an angry sight to behold when she shifts into her 'working demeanor' when it involves things like this. She is wearing a dress I made for her. A felt bliaud and matching skirt with heels that are one ilm high – all a deep and muted shade of red that almost appears black in this lighting we have, mostly moonlight that flooded in from the kitchen. Her makeup is ruined and makes her appear sad. She very rarely wears any and came dressed to look the part for our time together tonight. Knowing her, this, if anything, is her biggest motivator for wanting to kill Ty at the moment if I would allow her.

 

Ridley stands over Ty's incapacitated form, holding a wound up backhand. She breathes in sharply before coming down hard on Ty's face with a blistering speed that would startle those unused to seeing her work. The force of the blow is noticeable and concerning as the entire chair rocks off its legs slightly before coming back down onto the floor shakily. She was told not to kill him, but it's obvious she is trying to 'accidentally' do it and forces me to say her name with a hint of chastisement. I don't need to say anything else for her to get the message. I know my daughter well enough at this point, and she also knows me and nods in acquiescence to the command. She makes light of me though and leans over, gently and sarcastically slapping him a few times with a cupped hand on his other cheek before coming across hard with a slap that finally rouses him.

 

Seeing Ty groan to life, and clearly suffering is almost reward enough for feeling like I am one step away from actually dying. My knee is still trembling from the injuries sustained from him, and my thoughts are strained and nearly impossible to sort through. The world is feeling sluggish but I need to put on an air of invincibility, or I am nothing compared to this man or anyone. No one can ever see me at anything less.

 

As Ty looks up at me with terrible anger in his face, I cross my arms and look down at him smugly. It's hard not to, I was dying at his hands and now he knows his fate has been sealed due to his recklessness. It's even harder to take any threat seriously with Ridley near me, regardless of its source.

 

Ridley takes cue from this and also crosses her arms and is content to let me speak my peace as she smiles like the saint that she is and simply looks forward seemingly disinterested in all of this when it's not her turn to 'speak'.

 

“Hello Ty. How has your trip to the Mists been so far?” Surprisingly he spits at my shoes, trembling with an impotent rage and refusing to speak. Ty's downfall was started due to his inability to look past his arrogance. I pity the man, him being too small for the world of Ul'dah'n politics and business. He can not accept that men like me could start from little with nothing more than determination and good fortune and within two years of moving to Ul'dah be more successful than they could ever hope to achieve. I'm not noble enough for him to accept my successes, a sentiment shared by most of those I share a political affiliation with. It's almost a shame to have to kill him, but he just told me in his own way he won't settle for less.

 

I roll my eyes at him spitting as I stand upright with humor on my face. “Well that's okay, you just sit there and think about it while I speak my peace and then let Ridley have hers.” I sigh as I uncross my arms and speak to him “It would seem we have a bit of a problem on our hands here, don't we Ty? You, a fellow Monetarist and someone who works within the political structure, breaking into the home of another who belongs to the same club. What...”

 

Ty erupts with a shout “We are NOT...” is all he can manage to speak. If you aren't used to seeing Ridley work, you'd never see it coming. I barely catch it only because I saw her look down at him with her eyes during his outburst while still stiffly maintaining her posture. A slight twitch of her shoulder is all I can keep up with despite my heightened state, her arm whipping out in a blur to strike him again in the face with a backhand. He doesn't even start to react, he was still looking at me and in the middle of speaking totally unaware until the blow came screaming across his face. If he wasn't tied to the chair he would have crumpled to the floor but luckily for him we have him tied down so he can hang here in his new found stupor. While I give him time to collect himself through his convulsions and uncontrolled stammering with his eyes rolling over, I lean over to kiss Ridley on the top of her head and hug her around her shoulders. I am so proud of her.

 

I lean down to Ty, snapping my fingers in his face as I slap his cheeks to try and pull him from his daze. “Come on, I need you awake for this. Pull through for me okay?” Something finally falls back to place in his mind as his eyes go wide with confusion, unsure whether to believe he really was hit so hard and so fast. I nod to him expressing my pleasure “Impressive isn't she? Now, where were we.”.

[OttoVann]

The initial surge from the high given to me by my drugs is starting to mellow a bit. I can feel all of the bruises and injuries starting to awaken with new signals to make sure I don't forget that I've been having my ass beaten for close to a bell. It's still manageable for now. Everything is manageable.

 

It infuriates me to look at Ty as he sits here slumped over and forward with a dumb look on his face that says 'I'm fucked.' He is everything that I am not. He's fat; his work could barely be considered art, he doesn't understand the concept of self-made; he is everything wrong with Ul'Dah. It's not a surprise that I've made it big in a city like Ul'Dah. Those who do business there do it because they inherit it. They aren't artists, and they don't enjoy their work as much as they enjoy paying people minimally to make garbage to sell with their families name on it. Some even make it a point of intentionally selling garbage for the sake of it, entirely devoid of any real desire to be a success or amount to anything more than your average nobody that filters in and out of the Quicksand daily.

 

An itch forms on my brow, and as I drag a thumb across to remove it I noticed my hand is trembling slightly. I'm on borrowed time; I'm amazed that I am still alive long enough to mete out my petty revenge against “ole Ty” here. As high as I am, it still hurts me to bend down in front of Ty, resting my hands on my thighs while getting level with his face. I'm straining to this point just to maintain a straight face and to appear I'm somehow still in one piece.

 

His eyes tell it all. He is clueless, afraid, and has quickly come to appreciate how dire his situation is when faced with Ridley wanting to kill him. There's something about being hit so hard and so fast you wake up, confused about what happened. The top scholars and minds of Ul'dah likely could never come up with an accurate way to explain just in how much shit he is in, no matter how much time you gave them. Situations like this can lay any man low.

 

Moving to stand beside him is excruciating, kneeling down beside him nearly kills me. It feels like glass is running through my veins, every movement becoming more painful as my initial high keeps fading. I feel tired just looking at him, normally I'm kept alive and perked when I take these drugs. The sad truth is, despite most people having a fear of crossing me, I'm not really someone who enjoys this. I'm almost compelled to kill this man out of some inane sense of duty. I can't let men enter my home, rape and murder my women, try to kill me, and leave. The insulated world of the Syndicate and other moneyed people in Ul'Dah would treat me like a leper if they ever discovered I went soft on him.

 

With my face level with his I gesture over to Tsubasa on the floor. My voice cracks at first, wavering and making me stop to compose myself with a deep breath. “She once told me she loved me you know. I pulled her off the streets and gave her everything to succeed in this world, and you took that from me.” I can't help but to shake my head as I sigh at him. I pull a chair from my dining table, dragging it across the floor languidly, placing it in front of him as I finally fall into it to rest and catch my breath. Looking at him eye to eye like this is refreshing, letting my head have a chance to stop swimming as I slouch low and get as comfortable as you can be after being beaten to death and back. “Why would you do that Ty, take from a fellow Monetarist? Don't you understand the implications of that?”

 

Looking up to Ridley I give the slightest nod of indication to Ty, and she dutifully whips that arm back out, helping ingrain my lesson into him. I thank the Gods daily for sending Ridley to me when I see her work like this. She holds her hand in the air for just a moment before reversing, coming down hard with another one of those backhands, giving out this little squeak of effort that causes Ty's head to jerk violently to the side as he falls limp in his chair again. He's just sitting there, suspended by his bound arms to the back of the chair, jerking slightly while unconscious again as he drools blood. His face is mottled with painful look welts, angry bruises growing larger and attaining deeper shades.

 

Luckily she knocked him out, and I can show signs of weakness in peace as I barely manage to mutter out for her to bring me water and more of my sugar at once. I'm pitifully weak, what little life that was left in me ebbing out and I can't manage to lift my hands really right now. When Ridley brings me the glass of water, glowing faintly with a blue hue to it from an ice shard she crushed into it, I can't lift it. It takes all of what's left in me to hold the glass upright on my knee and not tremble. Ridley takes notice and wordlessly wraps her hands around mine to help lift the glass to my lips for a drink I need. She 'shhhs' me as she holds up the fresh vial to my mouth, cork off and ready to knock some for me to swallow as he uses her other arm to prop my head up. I only need just enough of a hit to get through this before I can finally succumb to my injuries, just a bit longer to handle my business. Like any other day or time, moments after swallowing the bitter sugar I start perking up, though the thousand cuts, bruises, breaks and more that I am suffering still linger in the background forming a thick noise that I have to cut through. It feels good to be alive.

 

Under my own power, I drink the rest of the glass and drop it to the floor when it's empty as an amazing idea crosses my mind. “Ridley...give him the rest of this” as I hand her the vial of sugar. “All of it, I want him awake no matter what you do to him.”