Description: Millia Rage tracks down Zach Glenn in Southtown. A contract killer seeks out the psychic knight errant. What is her purpose? Is Zach Glenn safe anywhere from those that want to kill him?
It's been a pretty rough couple of weeks for Zach Glenn. Between the monsters and the gangsters and the no-escape room scenarios, Zach would like nothing more than to go home and beat some steel into useful shapes. That does not even begin to cover the creepy Hungarian almost-psychic ladies. At moment though Zach is out, once again, gathering supplies for the safe house. He has already knocked enough heads for the troublemakers to realize that he and the couple of bags of food or first-aid gear he is caring is not worth the trouble to take from him.
The psion has his mental senses ranging out and about to keep himself aware of any potential trouble. There is always a chance some un-knocked head might get idea that he has to knock out of them, after all, and Zach would much rather be ready for that.
There are eggs in one of the bags after all, and that'd be a mess .
Southtown has been an interesting hotbed of activities. A surge of violence with curious beginnings and a myriad more curious endings. But it is not the only activity in the world at the moment. There exist an endless number of plots and plans, of schemes and dreams, to fill a world of novels. Criminals in the dark of night. The ambitious seeing a brighter future. Organizations move and mingle, live and die, and some wriggle and shape in the womb of ideas as they bide the time for their rebirth.
Long blonde hair ripples in the wind. A pale tourist among the glitz and shine of Southtown's Chinatown neighborhood. She observes the windows of shops and stalls. She wears an older outfit, partially out of amusement, partially out of the practicality of the growing summer warmth. But the white dress she wears shines in the sun. She smiles, but her eyes don't show it. She is distant and sad, and entirely not present in Chinatown for shopping and sun.
There are those who attract attention from all sorts. Those who have come across radars of rumor and fact. One of them is a man who should, by all words, be done with the life he leads. A man who should be dead to certain worlds.
A man that Millia Rage finds empathy toward.
Her tempered sorrow is palpable to a psychic. It hangs in bittersweet tones and exhausted expectations. And it's been around him for some time today. Because she has been there, the golden haired girl in the white dress. Never far away. Never leaving. But not coming forward in a coy, teasing way.
Zach twigs to a tail fairly quickly, the sorrow getting his attention fairly quickly. He spies the woman in reflections, never so much as glancing in her direction directly. She is definitely tailing some one, and well, it doesn't take a psychic to figure out who she is tailing when he's the constant in every place he's in.
The (apparently semi-) retired hunter makes his way through the streets. He is not making his way back to the safe house, not until he is sure about who (or what) he is dealing with. Once he has locked her presence in his mind, takes a sharp turn into an alleyway.
Should the mysterious blonde follow, she very quickly finds noone. Just two full bags of groceries. Depending on her timing, she might spy a few fading motes of yellow-gold light near the parcels.
The woman's heels sound off as the trail follows along toward a quiet alleyway where no one is to be the wiser. No people watching, no collateral. It's almost obvious. Almost. But it's enough of a trick to draw a distant smile on the long stare of the blonde assassin.
She crosses her arms, elbow in hand and fingertips at her chin as she stands over the two bags of groceries and the fading motes of light. A small laugh comes from her as she looks at the two bags.
The woman's long hair stirs, not in wind, but under its own power. Lengthening, stretching and splitting into two long tendrils that descend and split around either side of the woman. Each of these tendrils curls through and around the grocery bags. They push and inspect the contents, touching and opening the bags before lifting them up for closer inspection.
"Food and medical supplies," she says aloud, hard pressed to avoid a coy smile as she looks over the insides. "My, my, in these trying times it would be sad if someone were to just leave these laying around and lost." Her attention shifts, looking around, watching as she displays the strangeness of her abilities and a willingness to linger with the bags.
Zach had, in that moment, teleported himself to the rooftop so he could get a better look at who was following him. The hair is, in fact, kinda of weird to him. Not completely unheard of; Ayame's book had made mention of a futakuchi-onna, which would use hair to feed a second mouth in the back of her head. But all the pictured showed women who were downright anorexic, and are burnettes besides. Definitely not the case here. Maybe this woman is here for conversation.
What *was* it with women approaching him in suspicious ways? He'd probably feel (somewhat) more comfortable if they just asked him for an autograph. He *is* kind of famous after all. Zach hops from his perch, landing in front of the woman in an impossibly light-footed manner.
"I can get more supplies," Zach admits, "No telling how a straight-up fight would go. Would rather not, if I didn't have to." Zach frowns a bit, stifling the urge to bring up his power as he asks the next question. "So why *have* you been following me?"
Zach lands and the woman tilts her head, resting her chin in her hand. She smiles as her hair twists and extends the bags outward toward Zach. "It would be unnecessary for you to get more. Please, take them to those who need them."
The woman bows her head slightly, her hair remains steady in the air, adjusting to her motion. "I was following you because you are a person of interest, Mr. Glenn. You're well known, and your sudden retirement was curious. The talk of your returns curiouser."
She inclines her head, fingertips sliding to the point of her fine chin. A single tap as judging, concerning eyes look over Zach. Her mind is distant, sorrowful and pitying, despite the coldness of her exterior. "I wanted to see if you have found your place in this world."
"Retirement didn't really stick," he admits, glancing away. She might recognize that Zach's not let his attention stray from her, though. His body language is still wary. "Defintely needed some time away though. I suspect that that's done too." The sorrow he senses from Millia is what he's come to expect from her.
The pity though? That's new, and it all but demands his attention. He looks at Millia with a troubled expression.
"I don't know that anyone really does," he says honestly, "But that never really stops us from being who we are, either."
"I know the feeling all too well," Millia admits. The word of Zach's retirement brings a flood of that emotion; the pity and the sympathetic pangs that suggest her speaking the truth. When the bags are passed back to Zach, the woman's hair retreats back to its waist length and settles again to a normal appearance.
"I've attempted the same thing. To leave. I thought I wanted to be away from a life of violence." Millia says, before stopping and laughing at herself. "Forgive me. I know who you are, but it's only polite to tell you, my name is Millia."
She adds, after a moment, "But people like us are different. We do not fully fit into their world, do we?" A pointed look is given to the exit of the alley, with its people and life.
Zach takes the bags willingly, knowing that he doesn't really *need* them to lay out some hurt if need be. He also doesn't think he needs to at the moment. Millia's not here to fight, and he's not picking up any troubling vibes from her either. She's had chances to attack him already, she probably won't now.
"We're just as human as they are," he says, in a manner that suggests that it has been drilled into him, but also that he *believes* it, "And even if we don't fit completely, that's the world we live in." He's not sure what Millia's after, though.
"So why *have* you been following me, Milla?" he finally asks. "Why have you approached me now?"
Millia steps aside, she leaves the alley open for Zach to go either direction he wants while she speaks. She takes pains to not box him in, or give him the moment to feel threatened. And she watches the world outside the alley, looking far even if not visually focused. And she titters at the 'human' statement. 'just as', is a funny thing. "The same," she says, holding up a hand as a tendril of hair glides up into her palm to reshape itself uncannily into the form of a rose.
Her cold eyes turn to Zach. "Selfishly, because you are a dangerous man and your skill is desired," she answers honest. "But also, as I desire to reform the Assassin's Guild, I desire to offer it as a home; as a refuge for those who cannot truly fit in with others. To be somewhere they can find comfort and care."
Zach's eyes go a little wide as Milia's hair utterly reshapes itself. It's... really impressive, actually, and Zach has never seen someone *do* anything like that. He is impressed, and it shows. "Okay, that's impressive," he says honestly.
His eyes shift over to Millia's quickly. "If I might make a suggestion," he says carefully, "Maybe consider some rebranding?" He says this in a light tone. Millia doesn't come off like, well, any of the cold-blooded killers he's come across in his admittedly short time. But that could also mean she's better at hiding it as well. She freely admits something he's known about himself since before he could really express it, thanks to some extra-worldly meddling, but it's actually rare for him to *hear* it from someone else.
He's not sure how to handle that.
Millia's hair rose sits in her hand. "Thank you," she responds in a soft, distant way before her hair unravels again and the woman crosses her arms over her stomach. "Being impressive is not something everyone see's as good."
But she continues. "The name is important. There are many people like us, born to violence, capable and deadly. You were a soldier, you have killed. As I have. I cannot even remember most of their faces, can you?"
She looks back to the man, and her eyes close. "And the world will also exploit us. Our abilities are useful to their aims. And so we're both needed, and loathed. For some of us, they may thrive in that, but not all."
Blue eyes snap back open. "I believe that the Assassin's Guild can be the home for those that are like us. We need family as much as any person. And that's why I've come to find you. I want to offer you a place to be. If there is a need for me to show my earnestness, name it, and it will be done."
"I remember every single one of them," he says quietly. He regards Millia. She seems like she is being honest with him, which is incredibly refreshing after everything. But he's also not a contract killer. He knows that about himself, at least.
"Let me think about it," Zach says finally. "That's what you can do," he says as he resettles the bags in his arms. "Joining a group, any group... it's not something you just leap into."
She is honest. She has no reason not to be. She has been in the game too long to care anymore about deception and dancing. She just cannot find it within herself. And as such, she nods to the man's request. "Acceptable."
She looks down to the bags held by Zach. "But I do want to know what you're planning on doing with those supplies."
"I've got a safe house where I am sheltering people. Mouths to feed, wounds to bind. It's a way I can help that doesn't involve fighting. Most of the local miscreants know me well enough to not pick a fight at this point." He chuckles, "Though it helps that I tend to show up on King of Fighters posters a lot."
Millia considers the man. Her hair extends, sliding out to curl at one of the bags, to gently pull it from Zach and bring it over to her waiting hands. "Allow me to help you, then. It's the least that I may do."
Her hair settles back again once she's holding the bag, and she gives a pleasant little smile to the soldier. "I would also like to know what you can tell me about the situation here. I believe that there may be more people like us dragged into this conflict."
Zach nods towards the entrance of the alleyway, and starts walking anyway. She'll follow or she won't. "I think it all started with a mercenary named Kira Volkov..." Zach begins he starts walking back to the safe house.
Log created on 14:43:33 06/08/2020 by Millia Rage, and last modified on 14:17:49 06/09/2020.