Runemaster: The White Witch Pt. 02

"Neat trick," Rafe noted, all of the U-Sec officers he could see, still all wore radios for communication. A personal quirk of the Detectives? Something else to file away about the man in case it was needed.

"Just some magic," the Detective said dismissively, clearly not wanting to discuss it with him.

The trio stood in silence for an awkward minute as they waited for Natalya's escort to arrive. They'd moved to the edge of the walkway, standing near the steps that lead into 'Nevermore', allowing the smaller crowds of this tier to pass easily by them. Natalya had captured Rafe's hand with her own again, intertwining her fingers with his and enjoying the feel of skin on skin while they waited.

It didn't take very long for the floating voice of Boyd to have a face matched to the name. A bespectacled, balding man emerged from the depths of 'Nevermore' and descended the steps in a slow amble. He was also dressed in a suit, though one less fine and distinctly more crumpled than the detective's. He approached them all with a serious face and nodded to Kallow in greeting.

"Miss Ashcroft," he drawled a greeting before looking at Rafe.

"Mr Newark, Miss Ashcroft's companion," Detective Kallow supplied before Rafe could introduce himself.

"Mr Newark," Boyd said as he nodded another greeting before refocusing on Natalya.

"Should we go Miss Ashcroft? I'm sure there are plenty of things you'd rather be doing than standing around here all day."

"Of course," Natalya replied with an easy smile and released Rafe's hand to follow the already departing officer.

"I'll call you when I'm done," she told her lover, "and you had better answer."

"I'll be waiting," Rafe said with a grin, which caused Natalya to roll her eyes at him yet again.

With a quick kiss, Rafe bid her goodbye and watched as Natalya sashayed away and up the stairs into her store after Boyd. Good gods that ass was sublime. He watched it and her until they disappeared entirely. Nodding to himself, Rafe decided it was time for him to be off as well if he was going to get what he needed before Nat called him back.

"Detective," Rafe murmured with a polite nod of farewell to the other man before turning away and starting off.

He'd only made it a few feet when the detective called out to him. The other man raising his voice slightly, not enough to yell but enough to be heard even amongst the small crowds of people passing them by.

"Be very careful Rafe; this attack on Miss Ashcroft wasn't random. Who knows what else is waiting for the pair of you out there."

Rafe turned and looked at the other man in surprise. Detective Kallow hadn't seemed the type to take an interest beyond what was required of the job. He raked his eyes over the U-Sec Officer once more to see if he could spot what had prompted such an action. But there was nothing that Rafe could see, just the same slightly bored look above a neat suit. He nodded slowly to the officer before replying.

"I will detective. You have a nice day."

The detective didn't even bother to reply, holding his gaze for a moment before turning back to his work, pulling his notepad out as he ambled back towards the taped off section by the railing.

Rafe watched him.

Allowing the foot traffic to pass around him, as he studied and considered. Something was tugging at his mind about the whole thing. The detective, the man's magic, but he couldn't quite place it. It just felt off. The obvious answer was the Greys, but he didn't think so. In his experience people working for the Greys tended to absorb some of the family's arrogance. True he still could be one of theirs anyway. But so could any of the U-Sec forces and the detective hadn't reacted to his name. As long as there was a group of them all together it was unlikely any of them would make a play at Nat. Jumping at shadows and accusing the man straight up of being dirty was not going to go well. He'd have to do some digging there as well. Better to be on the safe side.

Rafe gave one last look at the man before his gaze swinging back to 'Nevermore' as well, hoping for just a glimpse of his love through the windows, but unfortunately he was left disappointed. Joining the flow of Undertown traffic, he started his journey downwards, eyes flicking through the crowds as he went, thoughts spinning through his mind. It could be the Fae, it was a shapeshifter after all, but Nat had driven it off with iron. He had to hope that it wasn't strong enough to just shrug off a blow like that. They were well and truly in the deep end if the thing hunting her could bounce back from the Fae's biggest weakness that quickly.

He needed answers. He needed to know the lay of the land in Undertown. Who the players were. What they had their hands in. Which of them had the balls to stand against the families. Which of them would roll over on him and Nat as soon as they got a sniff, and if any of them had any idea that there was a murderous Fae on the loose. Once upon a time that would have been an easy task, but those days were behind him. He'd left and done his best not to look back. Now though... Now he needed those he had left behind, and they weren't gonna make it easy on him.

Circling downwards along one of the faultless elven bridges, Rafe pulled his phone out of a pocket, and checked the screen with a glance. Still no reply. It didn't surprise him, not really, but he had hoped. Hoped that there was still enough of the respect that had once been there to at least get a reply. Though from the looks of it, he was gonna have to do it the hard way.

Rafe allowed himself a smile. At least he'd get to make an entrance this way. It would be good to remind them that just because he'd left it all behind, it didn't mean he'd gone soft. He allowed himself to enjoy the thought of ruining someone's day in the very near future as he continued down into the depths of Undertown.

Bridge by bridge, ramp by ramp Rafe left the large crowds of the commercial levels behind, then it was the rings of the upper class. The wealthier inhabitants of Undertown carving mansions from the earth itself and creating lavish personal paradises. Rafe went past them all, sidling through the tastefully decorated avenues and past the artfully arranged frescoes. Warily watching the bodyguards and escorts of the supposed elite as he was watched in turn. Just because they were rich didn't mean they didn't want to be richer. The Greys could be generous with their wealth if they thought it was needed to get what they wanted.

It was a relief when he left the rings of the upper crust behind. Only another couple and then he'd be back on what had once been home soil. It didn't take him long, his stride growing, his pace increasing as he felt the pull of memory dragging him ever onward. Natalya was his home now; wherever she went, he would follow. And yet this still felt like a homecoming. A return long past due.

Rafe paused, standing still, and allowing a grin to plaster itself across his face as he took the final step off one of the elegant elven ramps and stood on the ground of his once-upon-a-time home. Years had passed, but still, he could see the familiar sites, hear the familiar sounds, and for a moment he let it all wash over him.

The Midden. The beating heart and middle ring of the entirety of Undertown.

The House - U-Sec's station on the ring - along with Grady's Bar, Samson's General Goods, Madam Cooks, and Madam Akers. Local landmarks still standing proud one and all. The beat of heavy bass echoing from inside Evolution, the cries of kids as they chased each other round the ring, the jeers of teenagers at their peers as they lounged against the inner rails and watched the world pass them by with youthful contempt. Street vendors hawking their wares, gangs of goblins chattering as they came from below to spend their cash, the lazy unending murmur of the locals as they chatted beneath the magical daylight. It blended together, a familiar tapestry that he hadn't realised he had missed until he had returned.

Starting to move again, Rafe kept a wary eye on the crowds around him. They knew he was back; he'd told them as much when he messaged ahead, and he knew that one of the lookouts would have seen him as soon as he stepped off the bridge onto the Midden. It was just whether they would wait for him to come to them or whether they would make a play in the open, that was the concern. Acting in the open didn't faze them a whole lot, they'd done it before and would do it again, it just came down to whether it was worth the trouble of having to deal with U-Sec and the other Undertown factions if they did so. He was willing to bet they'd wait till he was on their turf, behind closed doors before they tried to teach him a lesson, but it never hurt to be careful.

Finding one of the maintenance alleys that allowed access to the rear entrances and curving walkways that circled behind every building, Rafe started making his way towards an old haunt. Publicly it was an old and worn restaurant, a local institution that had weathered and endured to the modern age. To those in the know though, it was a sanctuary for a gang as old as the ring. A matter of minutes walking along the refuse-filled alley brought him to the back door; he had felt eyes on him the entire way. They were waiting, they were prepared. It wouldn't be enough. He'd tried to do it the polite way, and he still wanted to, but they were spoiling for a fight. He could taste the impending violence in the air. Rafe rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck as he limbered up and allowed power to flood his frame. His magic sank into the runes tattooed across his body.

When he was ready, Rafe calmly rapped his knuckles on the steel door and waited.

With a sharp scrape and a harsh clang of metal on metal, a small window was thrust open, and a pair of angry eyes below dark bushy eyebrows squinted at him through the gap.

"Hello Kiel, I've come to see Dwayne," Rafe said cheerily.

"Fuck off, you don't get to ask anything around here anymore you stupid fuck," came the reply.

"Oh Kiel, you should know better than that. It's not hard to be polite is it? Let me in and we can talk about this all civilised," Rafe told the other man with a wry smile.

"I said. Fuck. Off."

Rafe leant forward, his stare never leaving the man on the other side of the door. His voice was calm, almost eerily quiet when he spoke again.

"Let me in Kiel, or you're going to have to buy a new wall for this place. Do you understand me?"

Kiel looked at him sullenly, the slot in the door slamming closed before Rafe heard the locks begin to click and shudder open. Rafe had to laugh to himself. Looks like Kiel's mood had not improved one bit.

The door slowly slid open, the hinges creaking and the bottom of the steel scraping against the concrete below as it swung inwards. Rafe let it fully open, scanning the room beyond before taking a step forward. Kiel, all seven feet of him looking like someone had badly stuffed a gorilla into a human suit, was standing directly in front of him. The shadows of another three were lurking in the back in front of a door leading to the rest of the building. The room itself was basically unchanged since the last time he had set foot in here - the day he had left them and Natalya behind. Dimly lit dwarven carved walls, dark floorboards, a well-stocked bar against the side wall, several TVs showing various channels hung above it, a few wooden tables and chairs spread around with empty glasses cluttering their tops, all surrounded by a haze of cigarette smoke. If a more cliched criminal hideout existed, he hadn't seen it yet.

"Nice of you to invite me in," Rafe drawled as he stepped across the threshold. "Now where is Dwayne?"

He knew they weren't gonna tell him, this was just the prelude to the fight. But he had to try to be polite. He didn't want to actually hurt them. Well except for maybe Kiel. Fucker probably deserved it.

Rafe received his answer when a fifth member of the welcoming committee appeared from behind the door, metal bat in his hand and already swinging.

The runes around Rafe's eyes lit up. The shadows receded and the dim light that had hung lazily in the bar brightened.

The man to his right. Human. Some sort of enchanter, the swinging bat in his hand lighting up with magic.

Dead ahead. Kiel. Possibly Human. Possibly Gorilla. Warded suit. No magic of his own but deadly up close.

The three at the back. Goblin. Human. Elf. That was new. Dwayne had never been big on the other non-human races. The entire trio were mages of some sort as well. The crew had definitely grown in his absence.

It wouldn't be enough.

Rafe caught the bat mid-swing, stopping it cold with a meaty thwack. The runes on Rafe's arm flaring as they absorbed the blow. A twist of the wrist and it now belonged to him. Another and the would-be striker was on the ground after receiving a lick to the stomach from his own weapon.

He could hear the casters starting their incantations. Containment of some sort probably.

Rafe stepped in close to Kiel, blocking the mages line of sight and meeting the hulking man's swinging fists with his new bat. The bat bounced backwards, and Rafe let it go. He dropped, ducking under the other swinging haymaker that had come flying at his head. Runes flared. Rafe struck at the bigger man's knee. One, two, three lightning quick blows that struck like sledgehammers. The wards in Kiel's suit held for the first two, light shimmering along the fabric as they shuddered with the blows. But they cracked with the third and Kiel's knee went with them, the bone breaking with an audible snap and the big man screamed.

Rafe stayed low, letting the falling giants bulk block the mages and collapse against his shoulders. More runes flared, power pumping in his legs. Rafe stood, holding Kiel aloft before shrugging him forward and throwing the still groaning goon at the mages with a yell.

The goblin and the human scattered, but the Elf held his ground, magic condensing around his fingers as the mage muttered. A tide of blue smoke erupted just in time, the magic catching Kiel and shunting him to the side to crash amongst the bar stools.

Rafe hadn't slowed. His rune-boosted legs providing inhuman speed as he followed the body he had thrown. Bursting through the smoke, runes of magical protection preventing it from touching him, Rafe grabbed the Elf. A pivot on the spot and he threw the mage at the fleeing goblin, the elven bowling ball colliding with his companion to tumble roughly into a corner.

Turning on the spot again, Rafe sought the final mage. The other man hadn't stopped casting as he ran, and as Rafe found him, he was met by lances of eldritch lightning. Rafe took the hit on his arms, crossing them in front of his chest and letting his magic do the work. Skin blistered and burnt, runes of magical resistance and regeneration fighting against the shocking bolts and blunting the blow. Rafe gritted his teeth and forced himself a step forward, bracing against the lightning as he tried to close the distance with the mage. If he could reach the caster then this was all over.

The mage knew it too, his face a rictus of concentration, the flashes of his lightning illuminating his face with every pulse of power. Rafe knew it wouldn't be enough. His runes would win the day. The mage wasn't strong enough to overcome them. But that didn't mean he wasn't something that could be ignored. Backup could be on the way to interrupt them at any moment.

Rafe rushed the remaining distance between them, forcing himself through the lightning and at the other man. The mage tried to pull back, letting his spell falter as Rafe barrelled out of the light and into his face, but there was nowhere to go. Rafe hit him squarely with a fist, and his opponent tumbled to the floor with a hard thud.

Silence. Or at least calm. Rafe's heavy breathing filled the room, the groans of pain from his foes and the drone of televisions providing accompaniment to his laboured breaths. From the door to the far side of the room, five small time crooks taken down in mere minutes. Rafe shook his head and winced. Picking up one of the stools Kiel had toppled when he was thrown aside, Rafe sat down and surveyed the wreckage. He was out of practice. He shouldn't be this winded from such a quick fight. Or perhaps he still wasn't quite as recovered as he thought he was after duelling the Fae in Nat's shop.

"I don't think I've seen you this winded since that time you thought it was a good idea to bet the pups of a Were tribe you could take them all on in a brawl."

The voice came from the back, deep and rough, like boulders cascading down the side of a cliff. The closed door that led to the rest of the building had been opened and the man Rafe had come to see was standing in the gap, the bright lights of a busy kitchen glowing beyond.

Or more precisely, the troll Rafe had come to see.

The troll was of a height with Rafe, but bulkier, almost too wide to get through the door. Its chest and arms were bare, the reddish-brown stone-like craggy skin of its kind covering more muscles than Rafe thought was actually possible to have. Dark pants, heavy boots, and a crumpled chef's hat were the only things the troll wore. Fiercely intelligent eyes shone at Rafe from beneath cliff like brows and teeth like granite were bared in what could possibly be construed as a smile.

Rafe spun his stool lazily, so he was facing the other man.

"To be fair, I did win," Rafe replied, "and they did deserve it."

"True, true," the troll answered from his spot in the doorway, "though you were always quick to violence. Having a sniff is just them being polite, giving you a deserved welcome."

"I didn't have an issue with the sniffing; I know that's their custom," Rafe retorted. "It's the licking that was the issue. Some people just don't seem that interested in being polite. They had to be reminded that there are consequences to that."

"There's consequences to poking about where you aren't wanted as well," Dwayne countered with a glower.

Rafe flashed a smile that was sharper than any knife. Time to be direct then.

"All I wanted was a few answers, Dwayne. You could've replied for old times' sake, it wouldn't have cost you anything. Instead, you made me come down here, leaving Nat behind, watching me all the while and then you try and have these idiots take me down?

"It's Kiel for fucks sake! I'd have been in more danger from the fucking barstools," Rafe let his anger loose, rising from his seat as he yelled at his once-mentor.

The bass rumble of Dwayne's angered reply was like a miniature earthquake.

"You don't get to demand answers Rafe. You left me, you left Natalya, and you left the gang behind because you couldn't cut it anymore. You wanted to be 'normal' and now that that's failed you come crying back? You can fuck right back off to where you came crawling from for all I care.

"You. Are. Dead. To. Us," Dwayne spitting every word at Rafe with a jab of one stony finger.

"Hahahahaha," Rafe couldn't help but laugh in the old troll's face.

"Cut the bullshit Dwayne," he said.

"You know it wasn't the job I ran from. If anything, I was enjoying it too much. I ran from Nat, and we all know it. From whatever connection it is that we have. I wasn't ready for it then, but I am now; it's who we are. And I am not going to let anyone or anything stand in the way of that. Not you, not the Greys, and definitely not some fucking serial killing Fae."

Rafe slipped from his stool, his eyes cold and hard as he got in the troll's face.

"So, you can either help me, Dwayne, or I'll grind you into dust and take over as your successor just like you wanted me to."

The troll didn't flinch or back down in the face of Rafe's tirade. Dwayne just sighed heavily as he met the Runemasters fervent gaze, weighing and measuring Rafe's words as he considered the man before him.