For the fst of the brainbreak x 1000
I bring you, something for mierin_lanfear. Because I love killing her brain cells~♥
This post is still being edited. D:Currently off to work, fic progress 5/9 finished
Rob D - Clubbed to Death
Jackal rarely pays attention to smaller heists. He cares only for the interesting ones, the complicated and dangerous ones, the ones which might bring him in contact with those interesting recovery agents. So he goes out to drink, and runs straight into a mob of angry yakuza, intent in pursuit of a motorcyle. The only reason Jackal does not gut them in place is he has contacts within the family, and killing off their men out of annoyance will never do.
It is a hunt to catch the thief who stole the boss's new painting. Jackal isn't part of the hunt, but he decides - out of boredom, maybe? The Get backers were out of town after all - he follows them. He had seen it; the young Oyabun is proud and showed off all his newest acquisitions to anyone who was interested. That the said painting - a brilliant sketch of a naked Venus wading in the water by Tintoretto - is a totally undocumented piece did not make the picture less valuable. Anyone with eyes can see it is - was - an original.
Now if only the thief isn't burning it right before his very eyes. He narrows his eyes, trying to see what is behind the callous treatment of such artistry.
This certainly fell within the interesting category.
"Clayman, isn't it?"
Breaking Benjamin - So Cold
Jackal acts, leaping to the platform where the last bits of the painting fall in ashes. He had his hand and knives on the hooded thief for a second, before he is shaken away. His mind registers everything about Clayman in that second: his height, the slight frame, the ubiquitous smell of clay that left chalky traces on his blades instead of blood before Clayman runs away by jumping off to the river. Jackal takes meticulous care to give chase, but all he finds are the the crumbled remains of his mask with the wet hooded outfit he wore. With nothing left to see Jackal stalks off, more than a little irritated at letting such a prey leave with nary a cut, and this time he meets with something a bit more pleasant.
A young woman, clad too lightly for the cold night in jeans, boots and a sleeveless shirt, is hailing a cab. She looks at him, He stands right behind her, and she stiffens. She turns and in the light of the distant streetlamp he could see the profile of piquant proportions.
"It's rare to see a woman walk the streets with no fear," he says by way of introduction.
"It's rare for me to walk as a woman." The soft voice holds a faint touch of self-mockery Jackal can appreciate. And appreciate he did, savoring the young woman's faint citrus cologne but what was that earthen touch?
Jackal tilts his head closer, just a little bit, but she steps away. "Aren't you being too familiar?" she asks. Jackal smiles, and she looks away. "Please go away."
"It's rather comfortable here. I'd rather stay."
She glares at him. As she walks away he recognizes the scent as that of wet clay. Coincidence. Maybe. But Jackal has lived in this world to believe in coincidences.
Apocalyptica - Heat
Jackal doesn't care for the art scene, but he does what he can to find out more about the mysterious art thief. What he finds intrigues him, and when a presumed Monet is deemed a 'fake' he goes to see the gallery, and find his target in the crowd with difficulty. His only guide was height, the smell of clay, and the likelihood 'he' has a fake face on.
Gotcha, he thinks, spotting his target from twelve feet away. The teenager looks ordinary, with straight hair and the downcast crescent-shaped eyes, but he has been loitering around the display for far too long. Jackal decides to chance it - if it isn't the real deal, it is someone sent to scout in her place.
He tilts the brim of his hat, and follows the young man. The young man walks up to the balcony, where they are alone.
"Huh? What'cha doin'?" the teenager in the hood speaks gruffly, but Jackal knows it. At this distance he can smell the earthy clay that makes up the disguise. "Go away. I've got first dibs here to smoke."
"I would rather chase after you, Clayman." The black shadow looms, and the hooded figure takes a step away.
"I don't know what you're talking about - "
"The smell. I recognize it." In a flash Jackal is behind him, and the blade is pressed ever so gently to his cheek. "And you don't bleed."
The clay peels off like fast falling petals, and then he sees her, stiff and still so calm even with a knife to her cheek.
"Checkmate?" he breathes.
"This isn't a game of chess, Akabane Kuroudo. Or should I just call you Jackal?" Clayman looks up at him with fearless eyes, and in her loose jacket she reminds him of a little Red Riding Hood, unaware she is walking straight into the Bad Wolf's trap.
"You are entertaining, I grant you that."
"And is that all I am? Entertaining?"
"I've only been entertained so far. If you have other talents, this may be the time to show them to me."
Clayman hesitates, and then she says, "I have a proposition for you."
Fiona Apple - Fast as you can
They face off before the tea things, and Jackal gets the opportunity to admire how gracefully those pale hands move as she pours a cup of tea. She has changed into a white suit with grey facings, and she sits back with her cup, ready for battle. Negotiation is what they call it, but with Jackal everything seems to be an uphill fight she doesn't want to lose. Clayman hadn't counted on Jackal in her Tintoretto, but she seizes this opportunity to get him to do a job for her.
"I would like to hire you as a Transporter of paintings."
"You mean the paintings you go out of the way to steal?"
"I don't so much as steal them as to return them to where they belonged." She signals with her teacup, and he notices the walls are covered with dozens of paintings, all of them reminiscent of the most famous artists of the age.
"If you wish me to do this service for you, you have to make it interesting."
"Interesting in what way? The last time's mob of angry yakuza will not happen again, sadly. All their current owners are respectable businessmen."
"Interesting can be in the way of payment." He leans back, staring fixedly at her. His meaning cannot be misinterpreted.
Clayman puts down the cup. "It was nice talking to you, Akabane-san, but payment is going to be monetary only. It's much easier to calculate taxes that way."
"You interest me, Clayman. My payment method is simple, I agree, and you can definitely charge it in your expense account. I want to see you twice after every transport."
"See me twice? Akabane-san, I made it clear, that sort of payment will not do."
Jackal is laughing at her, she can tell by his all-knowing smirk. She grips the corner of the table, thinking of how easy it would be to affix some C4 to his scalpels the next time they meet. "You misunderstand, Clayman. I merely wish to have tea with you, like this. Twice after every deal, and nothing more. I offer this discount for you and you alone."
"Fine. Tea, twice after every transport."
"Do you feel like you've just made a deal with the devil, Clayman?" Jackal sits up to take his cooling tea off the table. "The devil is much easier to deal with I hear."
Clayman refuses to answer, but she thinks Jackal knew already what she was going to say.
Supreme Beings of Leisure - Strangelove addiction
So begins their tea-drinking sessions. Eight paintings, which translates to sixteen very uncomfortable meetings over tea with a man who lived to bait her about everything. She ticks each finished session off her calendar with a sigh of relief. She hates to admit it, but Jackal can be a consummate conversationalist when he wasn't causing her trouble. He is also professional, but when he returns
On their fifth meeting Jackal asks for her real name, saying that calling her Clayman is ugly and depressing. She sidesteps the question by pulling out the details of the next meeting. Soon after that Jackal takes to calling her 'Red Riding Hood' and she grits her teeth, and from then on Jackal would call her a different fairytale character. Today she is Snow White, and in annoyance she calls him 'His majesty'.
"Will His Majesty take his coffee with cream and sugar?"
"If you think it would sweeten my temper."
She fills his cup to the brim with the cream but he covered it with his hand when she brought out a heaping tablespoon of sugar. "Enough. I'd rather have a different sort of sweetness."
Clayman knows if she replies he isn't going to stop, so she switched the topics. They dance around Jackal's innuendoes, but it will be a boring day without them. And secretly Clayman is flattered by the attention. An hour passes quickly in his company.
"I will see you next week at the same time then?" Jackal - Akabane-san, sometimes she even thinks of him as Kuroudo - tilts his hat in acknowledgement. She nods.
And this is often how their meetings ended. With two empty cups - one of tea with the remains of tea leaves foretelling grim portents in the future, another of coffee, a bit of foam drying on the rim. An incompatible pair, a grim end - maybe she reads too much into this.
Michiru Oshima - Lonely Satie
Olivia - Denial
Sakurai Atsushi - Sacrifice
Radiohead feat. PJ Harvey - This mess we're in
This post is still being edited. D:Currently off to work, fic progress 5/9 finished
Rob D - Clubbed to Death
Jackal rarely pays attention to smaller heists. He cares only for the interesting ones, the complicated and dangerous ones, the ones which might bring him in contact with those interesting recovery agents. So he goes out to drink, and runs straight into a mob of angry yakuza, intent in pursuit of a motorcyle. The only reason Jackal does not gut them in place is he has contacts within the family, and killing off their men out of annoyance will never do.
It is a hunt to catch the thief who stole the boss's new painting. Jackal isn't part of the hunt, but he decides - out of boredom, maybe? The Get backers were out of town after all - he follows them. He had seen it; the young Oyabun is proud and showed off all his newest acquisitions to anyone who was interested. That the said painting - a brilliant sketch of a naked Venus wading in the water by Tintoretto - is a totally undocumented piece did not make the picture less valuable. Anyone with eyes can see it is - was - an original.
Now if only the thief isn't burning it right before his very eyes. He narrows his eyes, trying to see what is behind the callous treatment of such artistry.
This certainly fell within the interesting category.
"Clayman, isn't it?"
Breaking Benjamin - So Cold
Jackal acts, leaping to the platform where the last bits of the painting fall in ashes. He had his hand and knives on the hooded thief for a second, before he is shaken away. His mind registers everything about Clayman in that second: his height, the slight frame, the ubiquitous smell of clay that left chalky traces on his blades instead of blood before Clayman runs away by jumping off to the river. Jackal takes meticulous care to give chase, but all he finds are the the crumbled remains of his mask with the wet hooded outfit he wore. With nothing left to see Jackal stalks off, more than a little irritated at letting such a prey leave with nary a cut, and this time he meets with something a bit more pleasant.
A young woman, clad too lightly for the cold night in jeans, boots and a sleeveless shirt, is hailing a cab. She looks at him, He stands right behind her, and she stiffens. She turns and in the light of the distant streetlamp he could see the profile of piquant proportions.
"It's rare to see a woman walk the streets with no fear," he says by way of introduction.
"It's rare for me to walk as a woman." The soft voice holds a faint touch of self-mockery Jackal can appreciate. And appreciate he did, savoring the young woman's faint citrus cologne but what was that earthen touch?
Jackal tilts his head closer, just a little bit, but she steps away. "Aren't you being too familiar?" she asks. Jackal smiles, and she looks away. "Please go away."
"It's rather comfortable here. I'd rather stay."
She glares at him. As she walks away he recognizes the scent as that of wet clay. Coincidence. Maybe. But Jackal has lived in this world to believe in coincidences.
Apocalyptica - Heat
Jackal doesn't care for the art scene, but he does what he can to find out more about the mysterious art thief. What he finds intrigues him, and when a presumed Monet is deemed a 'fake' he goes to see the gallery, and find his target in the crowd with difficulty. His only guide was height, the smell of clay, and the likelihood 'he' has a fake face on.
Gotcha, he thinks, spotting his target from twelve feet away. The teenager looks ordinary, with straight hair and the downcast crescent-shaped eyes, but he has been loitering around the display for far too long. Jackal decides to chance it - if it isn't the real deal, it is someone sent to scout in her place.
He tilts the brim of his hat, and follows the young man. The young man walks up to the balcony, where they are alone.
"Huh? What'cha doin'?" the teenager in the hood speaks gruffly, but Jackal knows it. At this distance he can smell the earthy clay that makes up the disguise. "Go away. I've got first dibs here to smoke."
"I would rather chase after you, Clayman." The black shadow looms, and the hooded figure takes a step away.
"I don't know what you're talking about - "
"The smell. I recognize it." In a flash Jackal is behind him, and the blade is pressed ever so gently to his cheek. "And you don't bleed."
The clay peels off like fast falling petals, and then he sees her, stiff and still so calm even with a knife to her cheek.
"Checkmate?" he breathes.
"This isn't a game of chess, Akabane Kuroudo. Or should I just call you Jackal?" Clayman looks up at him with fearless eyes, and in her loose jacket she reminds him of a little Red Riding Hood, unaware she is walking straight into the Bad Wolf's trap.
"You are entertaining, I grant you that."
"And is that all I am? Entertaining?"
"I've only been entertained so far. If you have other talents, this may be the time to show them to me."
Clayman hesitates, and then she says, "I have a proposition for you."
Fiona Apple - Fast as you can
They face off before the tea things, and Jackal gets the opportunity to admire how gracefully those pale hands move as she pours a cup of tea. She has changed into a white suit with grey facings, and she sits back with her cup, ready for battle. Negotiation is what they call it, but with Jackal everything seems to be an uphill fight she doesn't want to lose. Clayman hadn't counted on Jackal in her Tintoretto, but she seizes this opportunity to get him to do a job for her.
"I would like to hire you as a Transporter of paintings."
"You mean the paintings you go out of the way to steal?"
"I don't so much as steal them as to return them to where they belonged." She signals with her teacup, and he notices the walls are covered with dozens of paintings, all of them reminiscent of the most famous artists of the age.
"If you wish me to do this service for you, you have to make it interesting."
"Interesting in what way? The last time's mob of angry yakuza will not happen again, sadly. All their current owners are respectable businessmen."
"Interesting can be in the way of payment." He leans back, staring fixedly at her. His meaning cannot be misinterpreted.
Clayman puts down the cup. "It was nice talking to you, Akabane-san, but payment is going to be monetary only. It's much easier to calculate taxes that way."
"You interest me, Clayman. My payment method is simple, I agree, and you can definitely charge it in your expense account. I want to see you twice after every transport."
"See me twice? Akabane-san, I made it clear, that sort of payment will not do."
Jackal is laughing at her, she can tell by his all-knowing smirk. She grips the corner of the table, thinking of how easy it would be to affix some C4 to his scalpels the next time they meet. "You misunderstand, Clayman. I merely wish to have tea with you, like this. Twice after every deal, and nothing more. I offer this discount for you and you alone."
"Fine. Tea, twice after every transport."
"Do you feel like you've just made a deal with the devil, Clayman?" Jackal sits up to take his cooling tea off the table. "The devil is much easier to deal with I hear."
Clayman refuses to answer, but she thinks Jackal knew already what she was going to say.
Supreme Beings of Leisure - Strangelove addiction
So begins their tea-drinking sessions. Eight paintings, which translates to sixteen very uncomfortable meetings over tea with a man who lived to bait her about everything. She ticks each finished session off her calendar with a sigh of relief. She hates to admit it, but Jackal can be a consummate conversationalist when he wasn't causing her trouble. He is also professional, but when he returns
On their fifth meeting Jackal asks for her real name, saying that calling her Clayman is ugly and depressing. She sidesteps the question by pulling out the details of the next meeting. Soon after that Jackal takes to calling her 'Red Riding Hood' and she grits her teeth, and from then on Jackal would call her a different fairytale character. Today she is Snow White, and in annoyance she calls him 'His majesty'.
"Will His Majesty take his coffee with cream and sugar?"
"If you think it would sweeten my temper."
She fills his cup to the brim with the cream but he covered it with his hand when she brought out a heaping tablespoon of sugar. "Enough. I'd rather have a different sort of sweetness."
Clayman knows if she replies he isn't going to stop, so she switched the topics. They dance around Jackal's innuendoes, but it will be a boring day without them. And secretly Clayman is flattered by the attention. An hour passes quickly in his company.
"I will see you next week at the same time then?" Jackal - Akabane-san, sometimes she even thinks of him as Kuroudo - tilts his hat in acknowledgement. She nods.
And this is often how their meetings ended. With two empty cups - one of tea with the remains of tea leaves foretelling grim portents in the future, another of coffee, a bit of foam drying on the rim. An incompatible pair, a grim end - maybe she reads too much into this.
Michiru Oshima - Lonely Satie
Olivia - Denial
Sakurai Atsushi - Sacrifice
Radiohead feat. PJ Harvey - This mess we're in