Chapter 8 - The Iron Maw (3)

The roar of the crowd had faded, replaced by the low thrum of the Iron Maw’s machinery and the distant clang of technicians repairing the breached containment field. The VIP booth, still smelling faintly of expensive liquor and fresh pastries, felt abruptly quiet after the morning's spectacle.

Vance seated himself on the plush seating area, gesturing for Elara and Aiko to do the same; Elara flopped onto the low sofa, stretching her legs out with a sigh. Aiko perched nervously on the edge of an adjacent armchair.

"I have a client," Vance began, choosing his words carefully. "A very private, very well-resourced individual. They wish to place a personal order directly with you."

Elara’s posture subtly shifted, her relaxed sprawl tightening. Aiko felt the atmosphere thicken.

"Vance, we’ve danced this tango before. I don’t care how deep their pockets are or how shiny their containment vault is. I’m not procuring live specimens for private collections. Period. It will end badly, because it can only end badly." Her voice was still moderately chipper, but Aiko knew exactly how Elara spoke when she was starting to get angry, and right now, she was.

"This," Vance said, holding up a placating hand, "is different. The client isn’t interested in a live specimen. Not at all. In fact, a dead one is explicitly requested."

Elara frowned, suspicion warring with confusion. "Dead? Then they can just bid for it when a fitting corpse comes around like everyone else. No reason to come to me."

"They can’t," Vance continued, his voice dropping slightly, "because the client desires a specific type of Rift-Monster in a very specific condition. And they wished to make a personal appeal to you directly. They understand your reservations and wish for a chance to explain themselves."

Elara stared at him. A personal appeal? From a client? That was unprecedented, and deeply unsettling. "Directly? How?"

"An audio only call," Vance said quickly. "Right now. If you’re willing. They’re waiting on a secure line. The client is a close friend of the family and I would appreciate it if you could at least hear them out."

Elara glanced at Aiko, who looked bewildered, then back at Vance’s impassive face. The silence stretched. The distant clanging from the arena seeming to grow louder in the quiet booth. Finally, curiosity won her over and Elara gave a single, curt nod. "Fine. Audio only. Put them on."

Vance didn't smile, he simply pulled out a sleek, heavy looking phone out of a suit pocket, tapped a sequence, and placed it carefully on the low table between them, activating the speakerphone. A soft chime sounded.

After a moment of static a voice came through. It sounded male, relatively young, perhaps in their mid-thirties, but audibly distressed, layered with an unnatural tension that vibrated through the speaker. "H-hello? Is… is this the Violet Courier?"

Elara leaned forward slightly. "It is. You have my attention."

The voice swallowed audibly. "Miss Violet Courier. Thank you so much for taking this call. I know… I know your time is incredibly valuable, and I apologize for the intrusion." The words tumbled out, thick with nervous energy.

"I heard you had a personal request for me," Elara said, her tone carefully neutral.

"Right. Yes. Of course." The man took a shaky breath. "I… I need to ask you about certain Rift-Touched. Is it… is it true? That there are variants that can… take on the appearance of a person? Exactly? As long as the have a sample of that person’s blood?"

The silence in the booth was absolute. Vance stared fixedly at the phone. Aiko held her breath. Elara’s voice, when it came, was low, tight, devoid of any warmth. "A mimic variant exists that can do as you said. Given a sufficient biological sample, usually of blood, they can replicate the physical form of person."

The man’s exhale was ragged over the speaker. "So… it is possible." He paused, gathering courage. "Could you… would it be possible… for you to acquire one? For me? And… and have it… replicate… a specific person? I have the blood sample. I can provide it."

"No." Elara replied without hesitation.

The man flinched audibly. "Please! Please, just listen! Mr. Vance said… he said you wouldn't approve of a live one, I understand! I want it dead! That’s the point! As long as… as long as it can maintain the copied form after it dies. That’s all I need!"

"Again, no." Elara answered once more, her voice growing a touch angrier.

"Money is no issue, Miss Violet Courier. I have plenty of money, and I only need the one"

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"I SAID NO!" Elara yelled, slamming her fist down on the table in a moment of fury. "What on Earth would you even want such a thing for?!”

There was a long, heavy pause. Then, a sound came over the phone: a choked, muffled sob. The man was crying. Trying to hold back tears, and failing miserably. "The… the blood," he gasped out, voice thick with tears. "It belongs to my late wife."

Elara flinched this time. Aiko felt a cold knot form in her stomach.

"She… she was caught in one of the recent rifts. Downtown. Two months ago. The police… they found…" Another sob wracked him. "Bits. Pieces. They said… she was probably killed quickly. By the Rift-Spawn. And that she had most likely been… eaten. Most of her was gone." He struggled for breath. "All they could recover… for me to cremate… were bits. Chunks of flesh and hair. Barely enough ashes to fill a fucking test tube."

"I know…" the man cried, despair cracking his voice. "I know it’s messed up! I know it would just… just… just be a monster wearing her face! But…" His voice dropped to a broken whisper. "I just… I just want to her a proper burial. To put something… something… something whole… into the ground. So that I can say goodbye." He dissolved into quiet, shuddering tears.

Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Even the distant arena sounds seemed muted. Vance stared down at his hands. Aiko felt tears pricking her own eyes, overwhelmed by the raw, desperate grief pouring through the speaker.

The man sniffed heavily. "I'm… I'm sorry. I'm sorry for wasting your time. You probably think I'm completely insane. I understand. I'll… I'll go." His voice was small, defeated.

Elara spoke. Her voice wasn't gentle, but the hard edge was gone, replaced by a rough, weary flatness. "I'll do it."

The sniffling stopped. "Wh-what?"

"I'll find a mimic," Elara said, each word deliberate. "I'll acquire it. I'll use the sample. I'll bring you the… the result. Dead." She paused. "I make no promises about the accuracy. It might not be perfect. And I make no promises on timeline. It might take days. It might take months. They're not common."

A choked sob, this time of pure relief, came through the speaker. "Oh god… thank you! Thank you, Courier! Thank you! Please… name your price. Anything. I have savings, investments…"

"Discuss payment with Vance after I deliver, not before" Elara cut in firmly.

"I will. I will. Thank you… thank you…" The man was weeping openly now, gratitude mingling with grief. "Thank you."

Vance leaned forward. "We'll be in touch regarding delivery arrangements once the Courier has secured the specimen. Please, take care." He reached out and picked up the phone, whispering one more thing inaudibly before he ended the call. The silence that followed was profound. Vance pocketed the phone, his expression unreadable. "Courier… I apologize. For putting you on the spot like that."

"Zip it, Vance," Elara said, pushing herself up from the sofa. Her movements were stiff, her face pale beneath its usual grime. "Just… make sure you don't bleed him dry. Charge him cost plus a finder's fee. Not a fortune."

"Understood," Vance replied quietly. "And I’ve spoken with Mr. Thorne. Given the circumstances he has agreed that you should take the rest of the day off. Consider it… hazard pay of a different sort. He will ask some of the other Rift-Touched in our employ to cover your previous commitments."

Elara just nodded. "One more thing before I leave Vance, I’m not paying for your broken table."

"I wasn’t going to ask you to." Vance replied softly, his face unreadable.

Elara nodded once more and stormed towards the elevator. Aiko scrambled to her feet, casting one last wide-eyed look at Vance before following.

The elevator doors slid shut, enclosing them in a humming, mirrored box. Neither of them spoke for several floors, the air heavy with silence. Aiko watched Elara's reflection; her face was completely still, her jaw set. The sunglasses had slipped down a hair leaving her violet eyes exposed; revealing that she was staring forward distant and troubled.

The elevator slowed upon reaching the sub-level holding pens. As the doors slid open, Aiko noticed immediately that the cacophony of snarls, screeches, and rattling bars that had nearly deafened her when she first entered was gone. Now the pens were utterly silent. The Rift-Spawn in their reinforced cages were pressed against the far walls, huddled low, or utterly still, their eyes closed or their heads turned away.

They stepped out. The heavy door thudded shut behind them, sealing them in the unnerving quiet of the holding area. Aiko couldn't bear the silence anymore.

"Elara?" she whispered. "Are you… are you really going to do it? Get that… mimic?"

Elara didn't look at her, continuing to walk down the dimly lit corridor flanked by silent cages. "Yes."

Aiko hurried to keep pace. "But…" She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "The Rift-Touched… they were people once, right? Before the Verge consumed them? What if… what if there's still part of that person trapped inside? Some… spark?"

Elara stopped walking. She turned slowly to face Aiko, her expression grim. "There isn't."

"How can you be sure?" Aiko pressed, her voice trembling slightly. "How do you know there's nothing left?"

Elara met her gaze directly. "Because," she said, her voice low and hard, "I once asked myself that exact same question." Her gaze softened a little. "And I can tell you, for a definitive fact, Aiko, that when the Verge consumes someone directly, swallows them whole in a rift and twists them from the inside out without a corrupted gem acting as a buffer, the person is gone. Utterly erased. What's left is a monster. A husk running on alien instincts and Verge energy. There is no trace of the original person inside a typical Rift-Touched."

Aiko absorbed this, the weight of Elara’s certainty settling on her. "Okay," she said softly. "But…" She bit her lip. "Even if it's just a monster wearing her face… isn't it still… disrespectful? To her and the mimic? To hold a funeral with someone else’s body?"

Elara sighed, a weary sound that seemed to come from deep within. She looked away, down the corridor of cowering beasts. "Maybe. Probably. I don't know." She rubbed her temples. "But I also see it as putting down another dangerous monster. One less mimic to crawl oit of the Verge to lure and kill someone else. And in the process, maybe help a man find a sliver of peace. A chance at closure." She sighed. "In the end, a mimic is no different on the inside than any of the other Rift-Spawn in these cages. A monster to be put down. Or a tool to be made use of."

Aiko frowned, her earlier thoughts resurfacing in the oppressive silence of the pens. "But… do they really have no intelligence? None at all?" she gestured at the silent, terrified monsters around them. "You told me these lesser Rift-Spawn follow the will of the strongest monster, in this case, you. Do they really only act as emotionless tools because you want them to be emotionless tools. Forming a self-fulfilling prophecy?"

Elara opened her mouth, the reflexive 'no' already forming on her lips. But she stopped. She looked around at the cowering creatures, then back at Aiko’s earnest, questioning face. The certainty she’d been willing to voice moments ago wavered.

"I…" Elara began, then shook her head, a flicker of genuine uncertainty crossing her features. "I don't know. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you see something I never tried to look for." She stared blankly at the endless rows of cages around them, an idea forming in her head. "How about you try to test your theory?"

Aiko blinked. "What?"

Elara gestured broadly at the rows of cages. "Pick one. Any one here and try raising it as your familiar. See if you can find that spark of bestial intelligence you think might be there and prove me wrong."

Aiko’s eyes widened, darting between the cages and Elara’s challenging gaze. The sheer audacity of the suggestion was staggering. "I… I…"

Elara didn't wait for an answer. She turned, a shimmer of violet energy coalescing beside her. "But for now, I want to spend some time alone for today, maybe try to capture a mimic if one happend to cross my path." A rift opened up beside her, and before she stepped through she pulled out a small, rugged-looking smartphone and tossed it to Aiko, who fumbled but managed to catch it. "I’ll call you when I'm done. Maybe meet for dinner. Try not to get eaten while I’m gone."

Before Aiko could formulate a response, Elara flicked her hand errantly to produce another rift. Stepping inside and dissapearing from view. The violet tear flared brightly for an instant, then collapsed in on itself with a soft pop, leaving Aiko utterly alone in the silent, monster-filled corridor. The rift-spawn remained deathly quiet, their myriad eyes fixed on the spot where Elara had been moments before.