Vampire cult nonsense (PSL for Natasha)

[worthallthis]

It had taken her a while to get far enough into the ranks of this... organization. They have half a dozen names for themselves, depending on where one gains entrance, and most people don't ever go beyond those half-dozen entrance groups. Natasha is good, but these people are paranoid, and death cults are not a thing that you get access to immediately.

But because she is good, here she is finally, fresh from the ritual bath and dressed in undyed cotton, barefoot, ready for her first ritual. She's the only new one today, but there are other junior members walking in their two lines from the baths to the ritual room and its five sealed coffins. Natasha has yet to be told what's in them, only that they are very powerful.

"Which one is it today?" the young man who'd introduced himself as Stolen Moon (junior members tend to pick very pretentious ritual names) asks, quietly, of the senior member walking in front of him, who was known by the (slightly less pretentious) name Fox.

"You'll see when we get there," Fox says.

"Don't ask questions in front of the initiate," adds the senior at the head of the second column, an older woman called Hawk.

There are already three senior members waiting inside: Raven, Star, and Shimmer. Fox and Hawk motion for everyone to take their places, in an outward-facing ring inside the circle of coffins, and then join them, each standing between two of the coffins.

Comments

[worthallthis]

"At least the four I was housed with. Maybe a couple more than that, but not many. They shipped us out more often than they let local branches have their own." He makes a frustrated little noise. "I only even saw two of those four, a black guy a little younger-looking than me, and a kind of round guy with a mustache. And I only saw them in passing. We didn't exactly work together." One fang worries at his lip, and he adds, "Round guy isn't bound the same way as me. Black guy is." He might have wanted out more than he wanted to go back and free the others, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel-- bad-- for leaving them there. The ones he knows weren't there by choice, anyway.

[ofmarble]

"Different kind of binding?" Natasha asks. "Or is he there of his own volition?"

Not outside the realm of possibility, she thinks. Some of the cult had seemed to be true believers - she can easily imagine the sort of fanatic who might be willing to be turned for their cause.

Ugh.

[worthallthis]

"Might be his own volition. We're still predators. Working with a bunch of people who keep hunters off our backs and give us a steady stream of meals might appeal to some of us. And some of the kids who aren't scared witless of us probably think we're some kinda god-touched monster or something."

Even some of the ones scared witless, for that matter. He sounds sour as he says it. He's seen the looks on some of their faces.

[ofmarble]

"Idiot children," she says with a sigh, all mingled regret and disgust.

"We'll keep that in mind next time we go visiting."

[worthallthis]

"Let me know if you do plan on raiding the home temple," he finds himself saying. "I did kinda leave some of my shit there."

It's a flimsy reason and he knows it. And he's terrified that she'll either tell him she'd want him there, or tell him she wouldn't want him there, both. He breezes past it, though, and hopes she will, too.

"Speaking of dumb kids. Do the ones from our first little adventure continue to breathe?"

[ofmarble]

She leaves it be. Going with the change in topic allows her to avoid answering his request one way or the other. She's not certain whether it would be wise to bring him or not, not certain if he'd be an asset or a liability. There's more ways than magic to suborn someone's will, and the cult has had a long, long time to work on this man.

"They do," she says. "They've been behaving, for the most part. No attempts at prison break so far."

[worthallthis]

Surprise surprise, that winds up not being any less conflicting than the idea of the home temple. "I'm not sure if I'm glad or disappointed. Not really surprised, though. Star's a wimp and the kid's not really that smart. They give you anything useful?"

[ofmarble]

"Potentially. They handed us a few leads we're looking into before committing resources."

She's fairly certain neither of them are lying outright - not when they're both afraid there's an angry vampire lurking around every corner - but that doesn't mean they're being entirely honest. Or that they even have the full truth themselves.

"Star's information on their magic will be useful, if it checks out."

[worthallthis]

"Good. Glad it was worth it, then." He paces around the basement he's holed up in. "I can offer you some intel, too, probably. I know where more of their temples are. I know faces. Not names, but faces. Voices."

He remembers, too, how they'd freaked out at something in that basement. He isn't sure what it was that set them off, but it was something.

[ofmarble]

"I was hoping you could," she admits. "It'll help."

Even if all he can give them is information they've already had from the two cultists they have in custody, it's verification. That's not nothing.

"Don't suppose you have a knack for portrait artistry?"

[worthallthis]

"No," he says, and something makes him want to add that the artist was somebody else, but he can't remember who. He shakes his head a little, frustrated. "Get me a photo set and I can pick out features, I guess."

There's a brief pause. "Why did you and your partner react like that, in the basement? Was it one of the bodies?"

[ofmarble]

"We'll have to meet for that," she says, though it's neutral - a statement of fact, not demand. She can't send him a useful photo set by email.

She's silent for a long moment, weighing what - and how much - to say, before finally admitting, "Yeah. Someone he knew."

Not someone she knew by face, and clearly, given the lack of warning to the other cultists, not someone who knew her.

[worthallthis]

"Not a friend," he guesses, not aware that whoever it was, was a coworker of sorts. He has no idea who all Clint Barton knows. "Anything I should be worried about?"

[ofmarble]

"Anyone who might want to avenge them is already on your shitlist," Natasha replies.

She's quiet for a moment, reticence warring with practicality. "If anyone but Barton or I comes knocking and we haven't given you a heads up first, get out."

[worthallthis]

He's silent for a long moment, putting that together with their reaction, their comments at the site-- he doesn't like the picture it makes. "You got moles," he says flatly. "You got people from this cult in your house."

[ofmarble]

"Maybe," she says. "Strong enough possibility to make cutting you loose the right call. There's no such thing as an incorruptible organization. But we do have protocols in place to find leaks."

[worthallthis]

He growls a little under his breath. There is nowhere he can go to escape these people, is there? Even the people who supposedly rescued him might have been doing it under the orders of someone who knew exactly what was going on.

Maybe he never could run. Maybe taking them down at the root was always the only option.

"Where are you now?" he demands. "You want to meet in person, we can meet in person. If you bring me pictures of people in your organization."

[ofmarble]

"That's a hell of an ask," she says, keeping her voice even, though the demand sets off every alarm bell she has.

She's made a career of allowing herself to take a weaker position, gambling her safety to get the information she needs. But this wouldn't just be gambling with her life.

[worthallthis]

He knows it is. But he's verging on panicking, here, and trying very hard to keep it under wraps. "Look. If these people are in your group, they could be fucking everywhere. I'm never gonna be free if they're everywhere." Okay, that sounded panicked. He swallows hard and tries again, "So I want them gone probably a lot more than you do. I can help you find the moles. They passed us around, I told you. I saw a lot of initiates."

[ofmarble]

There's a long silence, long enough that but for the bare whisper of her breathing, it might be easy enough to assume that the call's been dropped, or she's hung up.

"I can bring you a gallery of the people involved in running our previous attempts at infiltration," she finally says. "If that pans out, we can look at broadening the list."

It's far short of what he wants. It's far more than she should be giving a questionable asset who has no personal or professional loyalty to her or to the organization, and is at risk of being compromised.

[worthallthis]

It's better than nothing, and he'll take it. "Sure. Okay. Where do you want to meet? I'm assuming you know where I am already." There's trackers on the phone. He didn't bother ditching it to get a new one, so he tacitly agreed to being tracked, at least thus far.

[ofmarble]

"I do," she says, and after a moment, gives an address. It's several blocks away from where he's holed up, a hole-in-the-wall bar that caters to the heavily blue collar.

"Tomorrow, an hour after sunset. We won't stay there, but it's a good starting point."

And a safe place to ensure neither of them has picked up a tail - unlikely, given their relative skills, but not impossible.

[worthallthis]

"Okay." He pauses, like he would be taking a deep breath if he breathed, then adds, "If you're really worried about it, bring your backup. You know he hates me, he'd keep you safe."

[ofmarble]

"At the risk of insulting you," she says, "you're not the one I'm worried about."

Not for her own physical safety, at least. If this is an op, she's more useful alive and where she is. If it isn't, he's shown no inclination to harm her of his own volition.

[worthallthis]

He barks a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah, okay. I guess if I was more worried about my own safety, I'd have ditched this phone. Probably should have, but you're the only person who can get me answers. So here we are."