Apartment Complex :: Winterheart

     Just one of the many apartment complexes near the front of Winterheart's 
residential sector, this particular apartment building is six stories, 
nondescript, and nothing impressive; but the rats and roaches haven't 
infiltrated quite yet and the building is relatively well-kept: so no one 
complains. The average apartment here is four rooms on the third or fourth 
floor-- bedroom, living room, bathroom, and kitchen-- and only the most basic 
amenities actually come with the apartment. The poorer tenants inhabit three-
room affairs on the bottom two floors, and are given no amenities at all. Better 
lodgings are on the highest two floors, for a significantly higher cost; however, 
the quality of living can only get so good in a buliding like this. If you are 
truly one of the moneyed citizens of Winterheart, you won't come here; you'll 
have an estate in the back of the sector.

Contents:
Tony
Yurimaru
Obvious exits:
Out to the Residential Sector <O>

     It's a fair distance from the Governmental Bloc to the slums where the 
Knights had rented their apartment--after all, the heart of government doesn't 
want to be cheek-by-jowl by the lowest elements of the society they govern. It 
makes sense, but it's still enough to have Setsuri panting and silently cursing 
the urban arrangement by the time she reaches the street before the apartment 
complex's door. Pausing for a moment until a pair of passersby recede down the 
street, she waits until it seems no one is around to see, then walks inside as 
quickly and confidently as possible, dragging Yurimaru's unconscious body along 
with one arm draped over her neck and an arm around his waist. It's burdensome, 
but also the easiest way to not shout, 'Hey, I'm taking home a body!' given as 
it looks more like she's helping a friend who happened to pass out.
     Taking the stairs up is even more of a burden, but she foregoes the arm-
draping once inside and just hitches the demon over a shoulder once again. With 
her arms otherwise occupied, she has no hands to turn the doorknob, though, so 
knocks lightly on the door in a prearranged pattern with the toe of a boot.

Of course, if people looked closer at said 'unconscious friend', it'd be pretty 
obvious that this isn't just a casual drag-home-the-drunk. His clothing has seen 
better days. For that matter, so has his skin, particularly along the arms and 
chest. His face took a couple good swats, but he did what he could to defend it. 
Vanity, thy name is Yurimaru. Wasn't enough to keep him from being put under, 
but at least it was one small effort. He shows no sign of waking up any time 
soon, either. Not without some help.

     The solitude of the apartment has provided Tony with something he rarely 
had while he was serving as not only the Air Guard's leader and administrator, 
but the chief engineer. Time to play with his armor, to see what he can do to 
work around his lack of sophisticated manufacturing tools. He still doesn't have 
lots of time, since the Knights have been at work, but it's been something.
     So that's why the apartment looks like a junk shop. Wires, batteries, 
magnets-- whatever. It's not disorganized, far from it, but it is extensive. 
It's not Tony Stark that answers the door, of course; it's Goliath, the black-
armored figure that competed in Roc's tournament. You never know who's really at 
the door, after all. "I would have figured you for better taste in dates," the 
hollow voice observes, holding out an arm to take Setsuri's burden from her. "I 
recognize him."

     "Funny." Typically, Setsuri doesn't sound amused in the least as she 
unloads the unconscious Peacock-chosen on Tony's arm. Straightening with a touch 
of a sigh, she rolls her shoulders back, then forward, before cricking her head 
sharply to the side with a hollow cracking side. Ahh, much better. Yurimaru 
isn't exactly heavy for his size, but 140+ pounds is not really something she 
wants to carry over half the city's width. Closing the door behind her and 
locking it, she threads her way through the assorted mishmash of technical 
things with practiced ease, reaching one of the chairs and dragging it forward. 
"Put him here. And search him for wires--he appears to have some kind of ability 
with them." Meanwhile, she pulls out a few lengths of cord from a pocket. 
Sorting through them, she selects two and hands them to Tony. "Use these 
somewhere on him--they should seal his powers and prevent him from moving while 
they remain in contact with him."

A search will turn up some of the thread in one hand. He'd been aiming to throw 
it at Setsuri when she'd pulled out the holy energy blasts. But it'll be pretty 
obvious that it's not the same as what he'd used before. Or rather, if it is the 
same, it's not energized; there's no glow to it in Setsuri's eyes.

     140 pounds is nothing to the Goliath armor, the strength of which is 
measured in tons, and Tony treats the unconscious body quite gently when he 
places it in the chair. He sweeps Yurimaru with sensors first, then begins to 
rifle him the old-fashioned way. After, he uses Setsuri's bindings as he speaks. 
"I fought this man once. He can put out an enormous amount of electricity with 
those wires. I've upgraded myself since, so I should be safe enough. Ed... My 
former assistant also spoke of him. He might know something."

     "So I've seen," Setsuri agrees, moving to stand next to the chair and 
folding her arms. "It was by a stroke of luck that I managed to come across him 
and take him by surprise, I think. His name is Yurimaru--I have heard, and he 
told me, that he is the right hand of the priest of Roc, and speaks for him in 
his absence. If anyone might know something other than the priest of Roc or the 
heads of the military, it might be he." Reaching out, she takes his chin in one 
hand, then raises the other and slaps him sharply across the cheek. "Wake up."

Argh! Consciousness returns with a swift vengeance as the slap hits, Yurimaru 
jerking his head to the side to get away from the sting. For a moment, there's 
confusion and pain in his eyes. Who, what, where... what? Memories flood back 
fairly quickly, however. Even more quickly when he turns back to look at Setsuri, 
his expression growing stone-sobre once more as he does. As sobre as one can 
look when they're injured like he is, that is. Fairly good poker-face, though.

     There are worse things to wake up to than the sullenly-glowing glass eyes 
of the Goliath armor staring at you. He could be a demon from hell, after all. 
Even in comparison, though, it's not reassuring, particularly when the laser 
sight attached to the side of the helmet is active and pointed at your throat. 
The armor is still fundamentally the same armor that Yurimaru blew up, but it 
has... changed. A lot. The voice is hollow, detached, intentionally altered to 
sound as if it was generated by a robot. "Identify yourself."

     Carefully, Setsuri watches the demon for any signs that her cords of 
binding might not be enough to seal his power or his movements; at the first 
hint of a break in the power of the cords, she'd move to quickly punch him again. 
For now, though, it seems to be doing all right, and so she releases his chin 
and steps back, folding her arms again. As a starting question, Tony's works out 
well enough, so she remains silent for now.

The question is answered patiently, almost immediately. "I am Yurimaru. Hand of 
the Priest of Roc." There's no secret in that. Most people already know. Setsuri 
certainly does, after all. Mind you, he shows no sign of any more detail if, 
indeed, there is any. Expression still numb and solemn, the devil looks from 
Setsuri over toward the Iron Man. Familiar face? Not... exactly. But similar 
enough that he can recognize it. "I see the gods saw fit to bring you back," he 
says to Tony, musingly. "A shame." Pushing his luck? Of course.

     "Are you prepared to cooperate?" Tony watches Yurimaru from behind his 
steel face, reflecting that for somebody who has the odds in his favor, he's 
feeling terribly unsafe. It must be that thing wherein Yurimaru effectively 
killed him. "We need information on all high-level officials within the 
military." He could just up and ask what they're really after, but that's 
tipping the hand a little too much for him.

     Might as well get straight to the point--or Setsuri would have done so, had 
Tony not been cagey and crept around the question. True enough--it is rather 
difficult to keep people silent, considering they just come back if killed. 
"Where they are, their activities, any weaknesses--anything and everything you 
can think of," she expands instead. Her voice is pitched perhaps a bit lower and 
flatter than normal, although after so long of speaking like this while here, 
it's become almost second nature.

After a brief inspection of Tony, the devil turns his head away, staring off 
through the pair, as though he were trying to look at the wall beyond it. "You 
may be surprised to find out that I don't know much about them." he says simply. 
"You are not the first to ask. And you'll have no more luck finding the 
information." The corner of his lip twitches up in a half-wry smile. "Besides," 
he says, "as you may have heard from the mumbles, the Priest of Roc has not been 
seen in some time. So it is of little matter; he may well have been destroyed by 
Thunderbird." The monotone voice holds an undercurrent of quiet defiance to the 
pair. Something that should glow like a beacon to Setsuri, and be fairly obvious 
even to Tony.

     "Tell us of King Bradley," Goliath orders impassively, starting from one 
name and with a vague intent to work around to the subject. And besides, Bradley 
is of particular interest to Tony, since Roy told him and Setsuri to stay away 
from the man in no uncertain terms. "His current location, his recent 
activities... everything." The laser swings down slightly, to Yurimaru's upper 
arm.

     The drawback--or at least lack of an advantage--to her sensitivity is that 
it doesn't really say much about truth or falsehood. Only the emotions that 
might go along with the telling of such gives a clue, and even then they can be 
misleading... not unlike a regular lie detector.
     Her lips thinning slightly in impatience, Setsuri reaches back again to 
give the demon another casual slap, more insulting than painful--at least in the 
physical aspect of it. With it, though, she adds a surge of holy power--barely 
enough to form a glow around her hand, but enough to be felt. "We do not care 
how little you know. We simply want to know everything that you do."

Yurimaru's head snaps to the side, his expression held stony this time even 
despite the pain the slap brings, and the red handprint that blooms fairly 
quickly. _Ouch_. Damn. Still trying to keep himself as calm as possible, he 
looks back at the pair of them, focusing this time rather than mostly ignoring. 
"I know very little about Bradley," he says, "aside from the fact that he is 
General. If you wish to know more? Ask him yourself. I'm certain he'll be back 
soon, if he isn't already." Was that snideness? I do believe it was! "So far as 
I know, he's still in Winterheart after the... incident." He says it like there 
was just a little tiny 'oops', as opposed to the whole world being mostly 
destroyed.

     "Where has he been? What have his recent projects been? Whom has he 
fought?" Goliath's voice presses in relentlessly. Inside, Tony makes a note to 
watch Setsuri. With her recent, erratic behavior, there's no telling how far 
she'll go in questioning this prisoner. "Answer."

     "Where are his offices? With whom does he usually associate? What are his 
duties, precisely, and his abilities?" Setsuri follows up, barraging Yurimaru 
with questions he most likely cannot answer. She isn't certain of that, though, 
and so it's best to cover all bases... just in case. Her interest is briefly 
sparked, as she recalls that he went to fight the Middleton insurgents, but it 
dies after a second. That isn't her purpose here, after all, and if they were 
strong enough to extract themselves, that's sufficient. Her lips are tight, the 
only sign of her impatience; otherwise, her expression is still, her voice flat.

"He was last at Middleton, helping the war efforts there. He's since returned, 
the last I heard, though I've not had a chance to find out what else he's been 
doing. It's of no interest to me; he deals with the Rota, and the Justices deal 
with him." Apparently ask, and ye shall receive. If only in small bits and 
pieces. "It would stand to reason that his offices are in the war complex. And 
even you should be able to find _that_ in this city. Perhaps you would have more 
luck if you barged in there and started shouting for answers." Somehow, he 
manages to keep the sarcasm dripping from his voice, and the look on his face as 
stately as ever. "As for his abilities, it's better if you ask him; I've never 
made a point of trying to find such things out. As I said before, it holds no 
interest to me." Know some of them? Yes. Who wouldn't? Know all of them? Not 
even close, and Yurimaru's not going to lie.

     "We're asking you," Goliath says coldly, one of the devices on his armor 
clicking softly, menacingly. Combined with the laser, it makes a nice threat. Be 
that as it may, he skips on, not having lost sight of what he actually wants to 
know, but still approaching it from the side. "What is the state of the city's 
air force? How much importance has been given it, where is it deployed? What are 
the plans for it?" He'd really like to kill Yurimaru right now, and that 
repulses him. He has killed, and will kill again, but he is not, by his own 
lights, an out and out killer.

     Shifting, Setsuri paces off to the side a step or two, circling slowly 
around Yurimaru until she exits his range of vision. "You said the Priest of Roc 
has not been heard from; how is the government reacting to that? Who is in 
charge now--really, and not in name only? Who are the Justices, and what do they 
look like?" she adds. Picking up the wire found in Yurimaru's fingers, she 
begins to idly play with it, stretching it between her hands. It might not 
escape Tony's notice--or Yurimaru's, if he's sensitive to the play of energies 
around him--that energy is seeping from her actions into the wire, as well.

Alas, until it touches him, or unless it's a physically visible thing, Yurimaru 
is ignorant of the energies that are passing along that thread. His hands shift 
briefly against their binding, turning the wrist to try and activate one of the 
threads to wind around it. Hopefully while the two are paying attention to his 
face... ah, but if those bindings block his energy, then it's not going to do 
any good; can't create any of his garrotes without the necessary demonic energy 
to 'thread' it from his body. Still worth a try as he speaks: "Ask me if you 
want. I am not one of the Rota. I have no knowledge of these things, aside from 
the smallest amount. Which you already know, I'm certain." The threat isn't lost. 
It's just being ignored as much as possible, his face steadfast, not even 
sweating even though there are glimmers of tension within. "As for the justices, 
I can tell you nothing about them." he says, quite simply. "Only that Anakin is 
missing, and the others have their faces hidden. Besides," he adds, breaking 
into a smirk again, "even if I knew, it would not be worth it for me to tell you 
anything. And you'll find that thought in the rest of the city as well." Already 
got questioned once. And that was from Itachi. Even _he_ couldn't wrench 
everything out of Yurimaru.

     Without sophisticated sensors, Tony is also blind to energy, and the 
sensors in his armor, while steadily increasing in sophistication, are not quite 
up to the level required to sniff out Setsuri's personal energy going into an 
object. "You begin to convince me that you're of no use to us," Goliath remarks, 
with no greater emotion than he has shown to date. "At least not by choice. Here, 
many do not fear death, but there are other things to fear. Persuade us of your 
usefulness."

     What Setsuri is doing does have some physical signs--a faint white glow is 
transmitting from her hands and flowing into the wire, glimmering lightly before 
it appears to twine around the piece of metal and sink in--but these would 
likely not be visible to Yurimaru, not until she paces around to enter his field 
of vision again, still working at the wire. With each minute that she handles it, 
the glow grows more pronounced, the wire appearing somehow shinier, gleaming 
more. Even if he doesn't know precisely what she's doing, the signs of priestly 
powers at work doesn't bode well for the demon. (The fact that he's a demon also 
makes this much easier for her, at least.) "Give us names, then," she says 
coolly. Sensing a shift in his energies, a swelling that tests the boundaries of 
the sealing cord, she takes a step forward--then suddenly jabs at one of 
Yurimaru's eyes with the wire, now infused with as much holy energy as she can 
squeeze into it in a few minutes. Which isn't much--it would require a much 
longer ritual to make it truly effective--but on the whole, getting pinned in 
the eye hurts just generally.

Yes, it does. A pain that Yurimaru's experienced once before in this city, too. 
Damn Jubei. "ARGH!" he bellows, unable to hold the stoic facade under that 
amount of pain and the damage incurred. Answers will have to wait for a moment. 
He's not exactly able to talk while he's being half-way blinded with his own 
energy. Fortunately, there's a good chance that the wire Setsuri's handling 
isn't going to stand up to much of the holy energy either. After all, it, too, 
is made with devil-being. Pumping too much into it will probably cause it to 
dissolve rather effectively. Unfortunately for Yurimaru, what small amount she 
had there? Not enough to be 'too much'. Head is left snapped back, his breathing 
tense through gritted teeth as he fights down the reactions of that pain. 
Surprisingly, his expression is making its way back toward stoic. Just not very 
effectively."You cannot torture out," he pants dryly, "what I do not know." That 
much is certainly true. Yurimaru's got no more knowledge of which justice is 
which, aside from the missing Anakin.

     Inside the armor, Tony is a bit aghast. HE was bluffing; he lies and bluffs 
quite often, and is even good at it. He doesn't go in for torture. He doubts 
Setsuri would, either, if she hadn't been taking strangely of late. His armored 
hand snaps out to pull her hands away from Yurimaru's face, and he's glad that 
the armor strips emotion and emphasis from his voice automatically. "Stop." He 
tries to keep the facade up: "My predecessor died for his weakness. Do not 
expect the same from me; you have begun to see what we will do. What have you, 
personally, been working on?"

     That's the problem with Setsuri; she can lie, and she can bluff, but she 
rarely does either spectacularly well. When she says something, she generally 
means it. Or does something, for that matter.
     She nearly whirls on Tony when he pulls her hand away, her lip lifting in 
what might have been the beginnings of a snarl, before she pauses and collects 
herself, and allows her hand to be pulled away. She releases the wire as she 
goes, though, leaving it where it is. Probably not a comfortable place to be, 
but on the other hand, pulling it out would also hurt. "Perhaps we can't," she 
says dryly to Yurimaru, ignoring Tony's words, "but it would give satisfaction, 
at least." Stepping away, she folds her arms again, apparently fixing her gaze 
on Yurimaru's face.

With the wire left where it is, Yurimaru can't even close his eye properly. And 
don't think he doesn't want to, from the way the lid twitches a few times. Teeth 
are gritted together to hold his expression while the two 'chat'. By the time 
they're done, he's fully under self-control once more. "You do Winterheart proud, 
Miss," he says cooly to Setsuri, "but it is ultimately only a waste of your time. 
The justices hide their face for a reason. Even their own people often do not 
know who they are." Slowly, he draws a breath, then lets it out, perhaps 
steadying himself more completely for this discussion. "As for what I work on, I 
have my own duties. Searching for a sign that Priest of Roc remains. Guiding the 
workers in their efforts to restore the Hall Of Justice. The other Justices have 
not approached me yet with an offer, so I have no reason to make any attempt to 
extend my hand to them. I have my loyalties." Yes, they changed once when Harth 
disappeared, and may change again if Roc chooses a new one. But that's still a 
loyalty!

     "We make no profit if we learn nothing," Goliath reprimands the woman. Tony 
was ready to punch Setsuri /and/ Yurimaru, if he had to, for that moment. He's 
been over so many subjects that he feels breaking into the one he really cares 
about should be safe enough now: "What do you have in the way of prisoners? How 
many, from where? Any big names?"

     ... oh, you did not just say that.
     Setsuri's face is still as ice, frozen in its serenity, save for the 
slightest twitch in one eye... and then she moves.
     Quite slowly, actually, and quite casually, she moves toward Yurimaru's 
chair again, reaching toward his hand. Almost gently, she takes it up, threading 
her fingers through his... and then, with her other hand, she takes his index 
finger and snaps it back on itself, intending to break the joint clean through.
     "They do not care how we learn it so long as we learn something," she 
responds coolly to Tony, and squeezes the broken finger as hard as she can with 
both hands clasped around his hand in a parody of concern.

Compared to the pain of having his eye jabbed out, the broken finger could 
almost be laughable. His expression doesn't change, though his body jerks in an 
obvious moment of pain as the joint breaks, the tightening of his lips into a 
line the only demonstration of it other than that. Apologies for what he said? 
Not at all. If anything, the expression finally manages to tweak itself into 
amusement. Only proving his point, after all. "I am not the prisonkeeper," he 
informs Iron Man tightly. "The Rota and the military deals with them, as well as 
the Justices. Perhaps they have some from Middleton, perhaps not. I haven't 
heard of anyone travelling to Golden Hall, so unless they were foolish enough to 
come here, then there are none from there. And if they were, then I've heard 
nothing about it." Harmless enough information, anyhow. "I am not military. It 
is not my place to deal with such things as prisoners. I wouldn't stoop so low."

     "Enough," Goliath says. It is quite literally impossible for him to speak 
sharply, but his hand is moving. It will hit Setsuri in the wrist, unless she 
moves her arm. He would not, of course, break her wrist, but his arm is very 
heavy, and he is expecting her to move, leaving his steel-encased arm between 
her and the prisoner. "Give us information on the upper echelons of the Rota." 
The words are almost an afterthought to Tony, who is, at this point, more 
concerned with his 'friend' than he is with Yurimaru. He is well aware that this 
could be the beginning of a fight that he has no desire to be in.

     Sensing the movement coming down at her, Setsuri hisses softly and moves 
back, releasing her grip--but not before she can try and inject a surge of raw 
power into Yurimaru through the contact, still seeking some revenge for that 
remark.
     Surging to her feet, she paces away, nearly as far as the door, before 
whirling and pacing back. It's revealing her emotions to the prisoner, but at 
this point she almost doesn't care. "Who /is/ military, then, or can tell us 
more information than you?" she snaps at the demon.

An eye that's not working, and now a hand that's gotten broken and burned. Oh 
yeah. There's a lot of pain there. No doubt about it. It's screaming through his 
aura, even if the devil manages to keep it from his face, other than deep in his 
eyes. Can only keep so much from the eyes, after all. Even when one happens to 
be supernatural. "You already know of the General, Bradley," he says. Obviously, 
he doesn't feel bad about giving a few famous names. "There is also the colonel, 
Sephiroth. Others, you can recognize by their uniform. They wear it throughout 
the city." Yeah. Not something that'll help Setsuri, of course, but Yurimaru 
doesn't know this! ... and would probably laugh his ass off if he did. "If you 
want all the information in the city, then I suggest you deal with one of the 
Justices. They know more than I do about such things." He may know the 
underworld, and who works for who, and various spy networks, but the genuine 
internal affairs? Nope. And unfortunately, that's what this pair wants to know. 
"If you want more than their names, ask them. As I said, I do not deal with the 
military." He is a spy. Not a fighter. And damned if he's going to give them 
_that_ much satisfaction of knowing.

     "Useless," Goliath says, the disdainful word doing its best to make up for 
the owner's inability to give it vocal inflection. "Go and see the Justices, 
whose identities you do not know, one of them being dead or faded. Regardless, 
the pay is not sufficient for the risk." The helmet turns to look at Setsuri. 
"What do we do with him? If we kill him, he'll just come back."

     All names she's heard or met, none of which are particularly useful just 
yet. "Toss him in the Bog of Bones," she says with a shrug. "Or weigh him down 
and throw him in the ocean." Her weapons had been left in the room while she was 
prowling in the city, so they're leaning against the table; it's only a few 
steps before she can reach the harness and its multitude of weapons. Drawing one 
of the swords, she lunges forward, seeking to sink it deep into Yurimaru's 
abdomen and twist. A slow death, but at the moment, she wants to vent her 
frustration--and he is the simplest and easiest target.

As he listens to the pair of them discuss, Yurimaru at least doesn't see fit to 
let them know that the Bog Of Bones is already under water, if what he's heard 
is true. That would... probably be a bad thing. As for weighting him down? A bad 
way to go, indeed, but he thinks he'll be able to work his way free before it 
would get too bad. And then Setsuri grabs for the weapon, turning and lunging. 
And Yurimaru's eyes widen a bit, then snap tightly shut, even against the pain 
of his eye, bracing for the agony that he knows is upcoming. Oh lord. Not again.

     Instead of the soft thud of blade striking flesh, the room receives the 
grinding sound of metal on metal, as an iron-clad black hand latches onto the 
swordblade in mid-thrust. It is a narrow margin for the captive, but the blade 
is trapped, and then shoved violently back towards its origin with inhuman 
strength. "No. Not like that." Whether he means the immediate kill or the long-
term plans, it's probably a relief for one person in the room and a frustration 
for another. He sweeps a hand towards Yurimaru's head with carefully controlled 
power. He's been knocking people out for years, and knows how to do it without 
killing them by accident. He does not stop concentrating on Setsuri; she's the 
dangerous one.

     "Then how else?" Setsuri nearly shouts at Tony, the frustration welling up 
again. "We cannot have him around, and we cannot simply leave him out there--he 
can identify us! Killing him is a temporary solution, but it is longer than any 
other!" The sword is shoved violently back at her, and she automatically 
reroutes the force, allowing it to go back, then around, and sweeping toward 
Tony again. It's less a conscious decision than it is an instinctive reaction, 
born of both the simmering anger she can nearly taste, redirected from the 
prisoner to the captor who keeps her from doing as she wished, and the force 
that sent her sword back.

The sly smile that touched Yurimaru's face for a moment is quickly wiped away by 
that strike against his head. It jerks back, then sags, the devil's body 
slumping forward in the chair where it's held. Ten-four. Over and out. Cold.

     "Death, perhaps, but not like that." Tony snarls inside the helmet. The 
armor feels very like a prison, as he hears his own words come back to him 
without the emotion or emphasis he put in them. He swings his forearm into the 
path of the returning swordblade with another clang. "I saw where you were 
aiming. A gut wound? You're not yourself." He's been thinking it for some time, 
and has some loose guesses why, but this is the first time he's said it to her 
face.

     Feeling the clang shivering down the blade to her arms, she twists the 
blade around, twining underneath the arm and thrusting forward and angled up at 
the seams of the plate-armor covering his throat and head. It's a serious attack 
with her strength behind it, but at the same time, she knows, somewhere, that 
it's not likely to do much; she's seen the effect simple steel has on his armor 
(that is, very little) and that it would take magical assistance to pierce it, 
even if it is a greatsword. "Words! I cannot /be/ myself, not in this city, and 
you appear to forget this. Any weakness we show, any sign of softheartedness or 
'good' behavior, and we would be under suspicion. I cannot see how you can 
remain so calm in this place, with this chill, with these /people/--and I use 
the word loosely--when for months we have been here with no progress, no sign, 
and the world falling down around our ears!"

     In a normal suit of armor, the precisely inserted blade would slide up and 
perhaps core the man inside like an apple. Thankfully, this is Tony's armor, and 
tremendous magnetic forces keep the plates tight against each other under attack, 
for all that they move freely across each other when he turns his head. "There 
is no excuse for seeking pain," the passionless voice intones. "You can be hard 
without being cruel." He shifts his body, letting the sword scrape over his 
armored neck while he steps closer. "Look at you. You're attacking me, for the 
love of God. You think this whole thing has been easy on me?"

     The size of the greatsword really is too much for the confines of the 
apartment; as the blade scrapes over the neck, the tip runs into the ceiling, 
sending a shower of plaster flaking down. Something about the very monotony of 
his voice, rendered through the Goliath armor, just infuriates her all the more-
-even though she can still sense his aura behind the armor, the sheer mass of 
metal and the magic involved in making it dulls it somewhat, so even the 
emotions from that feel curiously blanked, duller than normal. "It seems to be 
grand for you," she snaps back, bashing forward with the lower edge of the blade 
and quillons of the greatsword as hard as she can to try and catch him upside 
the chin, a touch of chi infusing her arm with extra strength. "You have had all 
the time in the world to sit in this tiny apartment and fiddle with your 
machinery and your armor, while I have gone out every day walking until my feet 
were numb or combing the populace for some hope of a familiar trace of an aura, 
and Nauthiz up and disappears on us, and our stay extends from--what? What was 
it supposed to be? A few weeks at most? And here we are, three or more months 
later, still no further than the first day we stepped in here! And yet you still 
refuse to budge. Enough, I have had /enough/ and I wish to be out of here--and I 
will be leaving, with or without you or the other Knights." Unlike the rest of 
her impassioned tirade, her last sentence comes out cold and serious, hard with 
determination--a decision she should have made long, long ago.

     The armor's head rocks just slightly under the powerful blow, and the 
armored figure's arm curls up and locks it there, pressed against the helmet. He 
is still while she speaks, listening, waiting for her to get it out. He finds 
the enforced appearance of calmness quite infuriating on his own. "You know 
that's not so, but I won't spend more time arguing on it. I hate it here, 
Setsuri. I hate it more than you can imagine. All my life, I have believed men 
and women can rule themselves, and need freedom to be the best they can be. I've 
fought for that, killed for that... died for that. This place is the opposite of 
everything I believe in." He moves the sword's blade away from his head, slowly 
and deliberately, and then reaches up and frees his helmet. "You're right. We 
need to go." If she hadn't said it, he was going to. For her sake, in fact, he 
was going to take her back to the Hall. It's just easier this way.

     Somehow, it's the mention of her name--her real name, not the pseudonym of 
Shikharin--that undoes her. Her fury drains away nearly as swiftly as it had 
come, leaving only a core of dampened sooty anger. When he moves the blade away, 
she doesn't resist; a second later, she lowers it on her own, before the blade 
slips from her fingers to fall to the ground with a mighty clatter. Taking a 
step back, two, Setsuri tears off the eyepatch with a sudden fit of motion. The 
piece of leather drops, and with it, the hair it had been holding up in a wild, 
artificial spray spills down her back again, dropping to her feet. Her roots are 
showing, just barely, traces of white against the false blackness. She sinks to 
sit on the edge of the cot, burying her head in her hands. Her head hurts. It 
always has, since coming here. Time has allowed her to ignore the dull throbbing, 
but for some reason, she is suddenly more aware of it now.
     A moment later, she raises her head again. "He still needs to be taken care 
of," she says, quietly, with a certain intensity in her voice.

     The use of Setsuri's name was not accidental, but neither was it insincere. 
Tony drops his heavy helmet and strips off one of his gauntlets, the magnetic 
seals disengaging easily for him. He sits awkwardly on the floor beside the cot 
and puts his ungloved hand on her back, as he would a friend with a really bad 
hangover. "We're leaving, anyway. We..." He starts to suggest a clean kill, then 
stops. "Will your magic hold his powers if we chain him and leave him in the 
closet?"

     Turning her head toward Tony with a faintly quizzical expression, Setsuri 
nods. "It should, so long as the cord remains in contact with his body. ...I 
have another that will restrain him bodily, if need be," she adds, getting what 
he's hinting at. Reaching inside her coat, she pulls out a small tube of rolled 
paper; unrolling it, it shows itself to be a small rectangle of plain white 
paper, with characters brushed onto it. "I do not know how long it will last, 
though, as it can be fought, and it will not prevent him from speaking."

     "Then I'll put together a strong mechanical binding and we'll do that," 
Tony concludes. "It should hold him for long enough while we escape. But if we 
can... I want to make one final attempt. We'll take the highest-ranking Rota man 
we can find, interrogate him quickly on the spot, and perhaps bring him to the 
Hall with us. But we're leaving, no matter what," he finishes.

     Well, a gag would also help with the noise, it just occurs to her. Her lips 
thin faintly as she hears the plan--it would still be far more efficient to just 
kill him, and assures them of at least a week's worth of silence--but she says 
nothing for now. She'll take her chance later, if she gets one, and if not, then 
it doesn't matter. She doesn't truly care any more, whatever gets them going 
faster, and arguments would certainly slow them down. "Fine. Then let's get to 
work." And she does that, setting the binding seal to his skin by means of 
hanging it off the wire in his eye, and tearing up the sheets for a gag.