Beyond fate, there is choice
by Ainzfern
8
The sun had not even risen on the day of the trade conference when Riki was pulled from his slumber by an insistent trilling sound coming from Iason's bedside table. Groaning, he burrowed his head further down into his soft pillow, willing whoever the hell was calling his Blondie at this God-awful hour to just fuck the hell off. Almost in the same second as having that thought, however, the correct synapses in Riki's sleep-addled mind actually fired and he awoke fully with a start as Iason quietly answered his personal cell phone.
The very fact that Iason was receiving a call at this hour, and on this particular number, could only mean bad news.
Frowning, Riki flicked his bedside light own, wincing at the sudden illumination, as he watched Iason's face growing serious to the point of grim. "When did this happen, Mace?" he was asking, his voice taut and strained.
"What is it?" Riki whispered.
Iason held up one elegant hand, shaking his head briefly before speaking into his cell once again. "Very well, I shall be there in a few moments." His brow drew down into a deeply worried frown. "Have the medics been called for?" he paused, then nodded tersely. "I see; then please wake Raoul Am as well. Tell him that his medical assistance is required." He cut the call, pushing the bed covers back and rising to his feet.
"Medical assistance?" Now more than just a little anxious, Riki also scooted out of bed, hastily pulling on the worn jeans and old sweatshirt that he had dropped on the floor the night before. "Iason, what the hell just happened?"
"There was an assault perpetrated a short while ago," Iason replied, grabbing an outfit at random from his wardrobe and dressing hastily. "Against an Elite... in the mid-residential levels below us, to be exact. Mace was at Midas security headquarters when the call came in. He's at the scene right now."
Riki felt this face blanch, even as he helped Iason to settle his sash-coat across his shoulders. "Holy shit. What... this happened in Eos Tower?"
"Yes," Iason looked at him for a moment, his pale eyes filled with anger and something very close to dismay.
"Who got attacked?"
Sighing harshly, Iason raked his fingers through his hair, straightening it into some semblance of order. "Blaine Dal," he replied softly.
"Oh no," Riki stared at the Blondie; upset filling him at the thought of one of the very few Elites who actually treated him with genuine courtesy being harmed. "Is he okay?"
"I simply do not know, Riki."
"But... But I thought, after all that crap with United's thugs, that the security systems in the tower were practically unhackable."
Iason's full mouth thinned into a white line. "They are."
Riki nodded somberly as the full import of Iason's reply hit him. "It's related, isn't it?" he asked in a sick voice. "It's related to the break-ins... and whoever assaulted Blaine was let in by another Elite."
"That may very well be the case," Iason moved to the bedroom door striding through into the main apartment area and heading directly to the door.
"Fuck," Riki cursed, soft but fervent as he followed Iason. "Has there been another note?"
Peripherally, Riki noticed Dane, standing robe-wrapped and wide eyed at the doorway of the hall that led to his private rooms, obviously drawn by the sound of their voices. Riki made a discreet gesture with one hand, contriving to communicate to the young Furniture that he'd fill him in later, and Dane nodded, stepping back out of sight.
Turning to face him, Iason lifted his broad shoulders. "Yes," his jaw worked silently for a moment, the fires of real rage beginning to build in his eyes.
"Iason..."
"I will try not to be too long, Riki," Iason spoke with a certain note of authority in his voice. "Please remain here."
Feeling his face harden, Riki stubbornly shook his head. "Oh hell no, Iason," he declared, his voice quiet, but intensely firm. "I'm coming with you."
"There may still be danger—"
"What, with you, Raoul and a squad of Midas security, not to mention Mace, in attendance? I don't think so." He reached out, pressing the palm of one hand to the Elite's rigid chest. "Besides... you and me against it all, right? I've got your back, Iason... okay?"
The Blondie's perfect face softened almost imperceptibly but, to Riki's sharp and loving eyes, it was a signal that broadcast itself louder than a brass band. Smiling slightly, trying to push back his own deep concern, he fell into step with Iason as they made their way out into the penthouse lobby and towards the lifts.
Riki had to admit, he was as much worried about Iason as he was about what they might potentially find in Blaine Dal's apartment. Even though his Blondie might be an expert in emotional defenses, able to mask his true feelings from the rest of the world, Riki knew him well. He could read the subtle signs that betrayed the massive depth of his lover's fury and anxiety. An attack on an Elite... on one of Iason's brethren was a thing almost unheard of, and the very notion that behind such an act was another Elite had very clearly cut Iason Mink to the core of his soul.
This was bad. This was fuckin' bad.
This wasn't just about break-ins and attempting to muddy political waters anymore. This was potentially deadly and, even worse, way too close to home to be even remotely comfortable. All of a sudden, Riki thought, darting a quick glance at Iason's impassive profile as the lift descended, things had gotten very, very serious.
Only a few moments after arriving at Blaine Dal's neat and spacious apartment, two things had become very clear to Iason Mink. Firstly, that the attack was, definitely, linked to the break-in in Midas and secondly, that Blaine Dal was unfortunately not going to be of much help to them.
"I'm sorry, Iason, I just can't recall anything more," Blaine Dal replied to Iason's questioning in his soft deep voice as Raoul carefully inserted the last of a series of stitches into the wound on the back of his head. The Platina Elite winced, ever so slightly, as Raoul finished and neatly tied off his work. His grey eyes, fatigued by his ordeal, flicked to Raoul's face. "Thank you," he murmured.
"You are most welcome," Raoul smiled at him briefly before carefully cleaning the sutured wound with a sterile wipe, even going the extra step to rub off a little of the blood that had matted through the Patina's silver hair around the injury. "Fortunately, we Elites are a hard-headed race. You'll have quite the headache for a while, I'm sure... but I will arrange for the medics to give you something for that very shortly. I would like you to accompany them over to Eos Hospice for X-rays and the standard scans, just to make certain you're alright, but I would anticipate you'll be feeling perfectly fine in another twenty-four hours."
Blaine smiled wearily. "Praises be to genetically enhanced healing, I suppose."
Raoul chuckled, packing his med kit up neatly. "Well said."
Even as Raoul had completed his delicate work, Iason had felt a wave of conflicting emotions washing through him. He was pleased beyond measure, truly relieved, that Blaine was going to be alright. At the same time, there was a sense of consternation and the frightening belief that it could so easily have been a different story. Elites were very resilient, this much was true. Thus, in order to knock Blaine unconscious, his assailant must have used incredible force; the kind of force that would have most likely crushed the head of a non-enhanced human. As it was, Blaine's scalp had indeed been torn by the sheer strength of the strike that had been delivered, and it was only the fact that Elites blood coagulated very rapidly that had limited the amount Blaine had actually lost.
Iason had to admit, the thought of such a brutal and graceless assault on a dignified man like Blaine Dal, deeply and honestly offended him.
"Blaine," Iason moved into place, sitting beside the Platina as Raoul quietly withdrew to conduct a low-voiced conversation with the medics standing by the apartment door. "Try once more... can you repeat everything that you remember? Something more may occur to you with retelling."
Around the apartment, Iason could literally feel the intensity of concentration directed at the silver-haired Elite. Just to one side of the sofa he was seated upon, stood Iason's own personal security chief, Mace. Beside him, his spectacled face pale and angry at the very sight of Blaine's injury, stood Commander Hadren of Midas security. Near the door of the apartment, unobtrusively waiting beside the Eos hospice medics, stood Riki and, strangely unsurprisingly, Katze, their faces deeply concerned as they waited with just as much concentration as the security men to see if Blaine could call to mind anything more.
Blaine nodded, wetting his lips. "I'll try." He looked around the room for a moment, his brow creasing as he strained to recall the series of events that had culminated in his earlier call to Eos Tower security. "I was working quite late last night on the recommended alterations to my department's quarterly project reports." He waved one long-fingered hand at the files that had spilled across the floor beside the sofa, sighing softly at the mixed-up state of them, "and I will admit that I dozed off some time after midnight." He frowned again, shaking his head slowly. "I recall a noise... that was what must have woken me. I opened my eyes to see a masked figure standing over me, already in the act of swinging something at my face."
"There was only one figure? You are certain?" Iason asked again, repeating his questions from the initial interview he had conducted while Raoul had been attending to Blaine's wound.
Blaine smiled and nodded, patient enough for all that he had already answered the question before. "Only one that I actually saw, although... there may have been more. I simply don't know."
Iason nodded, patting his shoulder in a brief gesture of support. "Of course. Please continue."
"Well, as I said before," Blaine went on, "I rolled to one side, trying to avoid the blow, and I was struck from behind." He shrugged almost helplessly, lifting his large eyes to Iason's grim face. "That's all I recall. I am sorry I cannot be of more help to you."
Mace stepped forward, his piercing green eyes looking briefly at Iason. Silently, Iason nodded his acquiescence at his scarred and graying security chief. "Sir Blaine," Mace's rough voice was notably subdued, Iason noticed, with even this pragmatic and unemotional man seeming disturbed by the incident. "Did anyone in particular know that you would be alone in your apartment last night?" he asked.
Blaine nodded, his brow creasing again. "Well, yes. Most of my Elite colleagues in the department... even one or two of my civilian employees." He glanced at Iason with a wry but tired smile. "My Furniture and my Pets were over at my house in Apathia last night, preparing for a function I am planning to host to celebrate the first night of the trade conference." His frown deepened a little as he looked over at Raoul. "I am assuming that I will be fit to host the function?"
Raoul smiled encouragingly at him. "Oh, you'll be fine, Blaine," he assured the Platina warmly. "Just don't over-imbibe on the champagne."
Blaine huffed a soft chuckle. "I never do." He sobered again. "Thank goodness they were not actually here," he murmured, "I really don't like to think upon what might have happened to them had they gotten in the way of my attacker."
"Just returning to the main issue for a moment longer," Mace interjected softly. "You mentioned before... when you awoke, a note had been placed beside you?"
Blaine sobered again, looking back at Iason for a moment with concerned eyes. "Yes," he answered, facing Mace once more. "Right next to me on the floor."
Iason stifled a frustrated sigh. The message that had been left, now sealed in an evidence bag and safely in the custody of Commander Hadren's team, had been the most damning so far.
And the most direct.
...'If you would know why, ask the one who leads from his gilded tower.'...
A few simple words yet, somehow, they effectively contrived to lay the blame for Blaine Dal's misfortune directly at Iason Mink's feet. It rankled Iason deeply, offending and infuriating him. Bad enough that one of his own brethren had taken it upon themselves to conduct a campaign of such callow and craven methods, using rumor and innuendo in the place of honest and forthright confrontation... but to harm another Elite, to use an innocent man as a mere pawn in this twisted crusade was beyond tolerating.
Despite his upset, the hand he laid on Blaine Dal's shoulder was warm and gentle. "I will find out who is behind this, Blaine," he promised the Platina quietly. "I swear this to you."
Blaine nodded at him, acceptance clear in his striking grey eyes. "I know this, Iason." He managed a small grin. "Your word has always been solid."
Inclining his head in acknowledgment, Iason rose to his feet, looking at Mace and Hadren. "Do you have any further questions?" he asked them.
"No, your Excellency," Hadren replied with a little bow. "If it pleases you, Mace and I will return to the central security office and continue to assess what evidence we have amassed so far. I will dispatch two of my men to remain here on guard for the rest of the day."
He nodded tersely at them before leaning down to assist Blaine to his feet. "Go with the medics for the moment, Blaine," he murmured to the Platina. "If I have need, I will contact you later."
"Of course." Walking carefully, but still straight and tall, Blaine allowed the medics to escort him from the apartment.
"Iason." Standing with Katze close beside him, Raoul spoke quietly as the rest of the gathered group also left, leaving the two Blondies behind with Katze and Riki. "I realize that this must be the last thing you want to think about right now, but..."
"Yes, I know." Now that they were ostensibly alone, Iason reached out wearily, drawing Riki in to his side, taking some small measure of comfort from the mongrel's very presence. "We have less than two hours before the opening of the trade conference."
Raoul met his eyes gravely. "You're already prepared, Iason, as well as you can be." He smiled a little, his green eyes filled with empathy.
"This is true." Iason sighed softly, straightening his shoulders as if attempting to push off the worries of the morning. "As are you. Please, do not concern yourself unduly. I am well enough." He returned Raoul's smile wearily. "Enjoy what is left of your morning together."
Raoul nodded. "You also," with that he turned, heading to the door.
"I'll see you both later at the conference hall, Riki," Katze murmured.
Beside him, one arm still firmly around Iason's waist, Riki nodded at the ex-Furniture. "Cool. Thanks for coming down, man."
"As if I wouldn't," Katze grinned as he turned away to follow Raoul.
In the silence left behind, Iason closed his eyes and vented a deep, almost shattered sigh, showing to his mongrel what he so valiantly hid from everyone else. He had to confess, even though at first he had thought to insist that Riki stay behind in the apartment this morning, he was very glad that the young man was here now.
"C'mon," Riki nudged Iason gently. "Dane would already have breakfast laid out by now. We'll eat... I'll help you get beautiful, and you'll be there in plenty of time, okay?"
Chuckling softly, Iason nodded. As he allowed Riki to lead him into the corridor, he paused at the threshold of the apartment and looked back over his shoulder. For a moment, another deep and troubled frown crossed his face. Then, quite deliberately, he turned away, carefully closing the door behind him.