The Story of Ace Doubletake

[Rayse Valentino]

Ace is an NPC. Just putting to words certain thoughts that were in my head. Might be good, might be shit, who knows? Don't know how to include anyone else in it, but I'm open to ideas. This thread happens parallel to the Rise of the Underground threads, and after Dreadful. An alternative title is Rise of the Underground: Part 1.5.

"See? I told you we could get them. Easy as pie."

A tall man with a furrowed brow stood over the crate filled with muskets. In a dark warehouse in Old Quarter, Knife's Edge's leading center for criminals hiding out, three men stood over the crate. One was Dereck, a former mercenary turned career criminal who was a skinny guy with short dark hair and sideburns.

Dereck pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a match, "Who knew that fatass would actually be right?"

The muskets were from Alerar and were on their way to the church before these three men stole them off the loading dock that the trains pull into. It was a quick job, especially since the security was light.

"Yeah... how the hell'd he know there'd be nobody there?" said the third man, Greg, a tall man with long blonde hair and a sorry look plastered on his face.

The security was light due to the guns already traveling in secret, which meant...

The man with the furrowed brow and the smug look on his face, Gripper, explained, "Fatass got an informant, that's the only way."

The three men were still dressed as loading dock workers. The other two were also former mercenaries. They used to hire out to parties as a group, but most of their comrades decided to stay in a place called Tradepost to start a new life. So, they were all that was left. Dereck was the one who got them this job by offering information to Lord Bartholomew about his former employer, Rayse Valentino. Gripper dropped the crowbar he used to pry the crate open and picked up some muskets, distributing one to each of the group. They inspected the devices, being foreign and rare to Salvar, and even put some ammunition from the side of the crate in them. The warehouse was filled with all manner of walls and storage units, creating a labyrinth maze of boxes to navigate around. It would be extremely difficult to track anyone through this place.

Unless, of course, you were Ace Doubletake.

[Rayse Valentino]

Behind the row of large crates obscuring the vision of the three men, a single mercenary leaned against a stack of boxes. The boxes were probably six feet cubed each, perfectly stacked on top of each other and aligned in a row. Most were probably stolen, but they've been here for a long time. They were all that separated the three men from their pursuer.

That pursuer being a man in his mid-20s named Ace Doubletake. His brown hair was kept under a white bandanna that covered the length of his head, he had clear crystal green eyes, a white shirt tucked into a green sash wrapped about his waist, black gauntlets with finger holes, and poofy white pants tucked into tall brown boots. He certainly had an odd appearance to accompany his odd name. He wanted to just go with Ace, but apparently that was a popular name in any professional business, so he had to tack on the other name. It wasn't his idea either, but he decided that he cared so little for names that he would accept it. He leaned against the crates, knowing that the three men were on the other side. He had tracked them all the way here, so all that was left was the confrontation.

Tracking came naturally to Ace, after all. Through his pupil-less emerald eyes he could see perpetual green dots in his vision that pointed directly toward his target. Thinking about someone was enough for a dot to appear in their general direction. Even a faint scent or trace of a person was enough to form dots in his vision for tracking. The closer he got, the bigger the dots got in his vision, and right now there were human-sized dots that he could see through the crates. Although, right now he wasn't looking at them. He was staring down the depths of the warehouse, through the dusty pathways that he navigated to get here. Since he was this close, he could also discern what the three men were doing. He didn't expect them to take out the weapons and arm themselves, so he was thinking of his next course of action.

Of course, thinking wasn't exactly a strong suit for Ace. He walked around the crates, still inches away from them, and faced the three men.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat.

The three men immediately took their newly-acquired weapons and pointed it at the newcomer.

Dereck piped up, "Out with it! Who are you?!"

"Now, now," Ace put his right thumb and index finger to his temple. "Don't make this hard on yourselves. I'm going to give you one chance to return the merchandise."

The crates at the very top of the stack started to fidget.

Gripper started laughing, "Is this guy serious! Who do you think is in control here, buddy?"

"F-forget it, j-just waste him!" yelled Greg, about to pull the trigger to his musket.

Just as the three men were about to fire, the crates from the top of the stack behind Ace slid out from the top and fell to the ground in front of Ace, absorbing all the bullets. The crates cracked and splintered as they hit the ground, collapsing halfway and making a messy pyramid of wood. It looked like the boxes buried him.

Dereck grinned and lowered his musket, "Hah! Would you look at that! Serves him right."

"Uh..." said Greg, his weapon still shaking as he saw the boxes move.

Gripper glared at Greg, "What the hell is your probl--"

Suddenly, the broken crates started floating a few inches off the ground. The three men were speechless. Before they realized what was going on, several cracked boxes flew out and slammed into the three men, burying them in the same manner that Ace was buried. Except, he wasn't. There he stood, completely unharmed in front of the slightly smaller stack of lined up crates. His emerald eyes were glowing and he walked forward, a few scraps of wood still hovering around him. Blood was soaking through the floor of the new pile of shattered container. Ace looked around and kicked a crate off of one of the men. The man was Dereck, who had several wooden spikes shoved through his body and was bleeding profusely. He was still moving, somewhat, and the moment Ace removed the debris over him he was pointing his musket at Ace's face at point blank range.

"Die, motherfucker!"

He fired, and the bullet missed completely, hitting the ceiling and ricocheting around before finally coming to a stop. Ace didn't manipulate the bullet, but he moved the gun with his mind to throw off Dereck's aim. Besides his amazing ability to track anything, he was also a master of psychokinesis.

"Tsk, tsk," Ace wagged his finger.

All the scraps of wood that were hovering around him impaled into Dereck, finishing him off for good. Looking over the box of muskets, Ace thought about his employer, but something went wrong. The green dot that usually appears in his vision was not there. This meant one of two things: Either something was wrong with him or the one he's thinking about is dead. Since he's never had a problem with his vision before, he angrily accepted the latter conclusion. It was annoying, because only a few hours ago his employer wasn't dead.

"It's too early in the fucking morning for this shit," Ace said as he rubbed his bandanna.

His employer, Bale Kenrick, was dead.

So, returning the guns at this point would be fruitless. The stolen guns that were Kenrick's before Bartholomew's boys re-stole them. Looking at the fresh corpse of Dereck, Ace formed the only conclusion he could: He would complete the job for these lackeys and deliver the guns to the Lord Bartholomew guy.

[Rayse Valentino]

Bale Kenrick was an old-fashioned guy. His organization, despite failing against the current of the new underground, was tight-knit. Kenrick let Bartholomew get an informant in, and he let him find out about the guns. Being able to link Bartholomew to the illicit act would serve as powerful blackmail material, but Kenrick was under the influence of alternative machinations of destiny. Ace didn't know what did him in, but the fact it was done so early in the morning was highly suspect. At least, it would be if he cared enough to think that hard about it. Putting the loose guns back into the crate and sealing it back up with his psychokinesis, Ace sat on the crate, letting his feet dangle inches above the ground. It was almost the same crate as the ones he knocked over, but only about three feet high and it was filled with mostly hay except for the hidden gun racks. He didn't bother to rearrange the displaced hay when he closed it back up.

"Fuck it."

At a bar across town, Ace walked through the doors as the little bell above him echoed throughout the empty establishment with its little ring. Behind the bar counter, a bartender who was polishing glasses glared at Ace.

"We ain't open till noon," he spit in the glass. "Get outta here!"

Ace shrugged, "The sign said you're open."

"I thought I took that damn thing down!"

Ace smiled, "You did."

He walked over to the counter and sat down on one of the stools.

"Hit me. Something hard."

"I said get the fuck out of here!" the bartender roared, right before reaching for some whiskey and pouring it into a small shot glass. Luckily for Ace, it wasn't the one he spit in, although that puts to question whether or not all the glasses were subject to such a cleaning method.

Although, Ace wasn't one to think about such things, so he drank it down without hesitation. He's always been a loner, so drinking alone wasn't something he regretted. For as long as he's remembered, he's been a professional. Until five years ago, he worked covertly for The Throne, doling out peace-keeping measures to all the dissenters. It was easy work, especially considering his abilities, but it didn't last. The government cut back on its extraneous programs and just like that, he was out of a job. Maybe the city wouldn't be so scared of civil war if he was still on that damn payroll.

"Hit me. Leave the bottle."

He took another shot. Since then, he's been a professional mercenary, finding work where he could. He couldn't do anything else, and the thought of a straight job was nowhere in his mind. To an outside observer, it would seem like wasted potential seeing the kind of money psychokinetics bring in.

The bartender left the bottle on the table and said, "What's wrong? Another busted job?"

"Something like that," Ace replied as he wiped his mouth. "So, where's this Bartholomew guy live?"

The bartender stopped wiping glasses and stared at Ace. The question was completely out of nowhere, with no coercion or tact or anything, but it wasn't unusual of Ace.

"Do you want me to draw you a map? Why would you want to go there?"

As Ace left some money on the table, he stated, "Look, just tell me where and you can keep the change, alright?"

The bartender shrugged and explained to him how to get there. It was in an old part of Knife's Edge, and Lord Bartholomew had carved himself a headquarters out of an ancient building. After the directions, Ace took the bottle and left the bar, waving to the bartender with the back of his hand as the door closed behind him. It was his last trip into that tavern.

[Rayse Valentino]

Not a whole lot of people were bold enough to steal from a mob boss and then turn up their doorstep with the loot. So, when Ace showed up with a crate floating behind him in mid-air, the guards were more than a little confused. He was in front of a large building, with two statutes to the side of its massive door. It was a building from the old city, the ruins of the civilization that existed here a long time ago. With two large statues facing the doorway; donning helmets, swords, and shields, it looked like it used to be quite the important place. Now, it was a crime headquarters. The reach of law could not get here.

Ace was used to this kind of thing however, and casually announced, "I'm here to see your boss. You see, I found some of his belongings and I simply wish to return it to him." The two guards looked at each other, and then one of them ran inside. Ace smiled at the remaining guard. "You want to hear a joke?"

The inside was a much different look from the decadent streets he was just on. It was like a grand ballroom, bright and cheerful. Ace was getting a feel for the guy he was about to meet already. He left the crate outside with the guard who, for some unexplainable reason, had decided to take a nap. There were some men inside, and it felt like Ace ruined the party when he walked in. Idle chatter turned to violent glares and the shambling of weaponry.

"Is this the way you treat VIPs? I have half a mind to bury you all."

Without waiting for whatever response they had planned for him, Ace jumped onto the second floor, which was conveniently connected to the first by two sets of semi-spiral staircases leading up to a balcony. These kinds of organizations were ruled by fear, so it would be easy to find the only fearless one: The leader! At least, this is what he thought when he jumped up there. Actually, he felt fear from everyone in here. Was there something the mob boss was scared of?

In front of him, a man who was approaching had stopped and blinked a few times before saying, "Ah, Mr. Intruder! I was just coming out to get you. Lord Bartholomew is waiting, so please come along with me. I was told that you had a 'package' for him."

"Finally!" Ace sighed. "Some respect around here!"

The men who chased him up the stairs fell into a deep sense of confusion as Ace casually strolled into Bartholomew's office. Inside, Ace was greeted by a rather grotesque face. This was the one who stole from Kenrick?

Twirling his tiny mustache with his finger, the enormously fat man behind the desk beckoned Ace to come inside.

"Come, come and sit down! I was beginning to wonder what happened to my shipment, so it was you!"

He didn't seem so angry for a thief who just got thieved. Maybe he was a reasonable guy after all.

"I ought to skin you alive right here and now!" he screamed, his face turning red and sweat rolling down his cheeks.

Or not. However, he didn't seem so interested in killing Ace, at least for now. This was immediately suspicious. Ace decided to tell him about his job and the alleged demise of Kenrick. This calmed the mob boss down a bit.

"So, I decided to complete the job and get something out of it. Pretty responsible, eh?" Ace smiled like a schoolboy with the last comment.

Bartholomew rubbed one of his many chins. As he opened the desk and took out some documents, he said in a sly voice, "I like your sense of duty. You've definitely done the right thing. How about I make it up to you? There's this job I--"

"Wait," interrupted Ace, much to Bartholomew's annoyance. "Look, I don't want your damn 'jobs', I want the cut that you were going to give those three guys. Don't give me the run-around, it's too early in the damn morning for that."

"You ingrate!" yelled Bartholomew. "Here I offer you the chance of a lifetime, and you spit in my face! That's it! Men! Get rid of him!"

The doors to Bartholomew's office opened, many men with knives drawn came in and surrounded Ace. Two from behind tried to grab Ace.

"I don't think so," Ace said, throwing the two men into the right and left walls, respectively, with his mind.

The rest of the men closed in and Ace dodged like they were nothing, making a new dent in the wall with each body. He telekinetically grabbed a couple chairs that were in the room and slammed them into a few men. When Bartholomew noticed that he wasn't even breaking a sweat, he stopped the fight: "Wait! Just hear me out! If you don't want to take the job, then I'll pay you here and now. Stop this nonsense!"

The remaining men backed away from Ace and went to help the injured. Ace was pissed, and he could barely keep from making his hands into fists as he stood.

Ace spoke one word with the force of hundreds, "Talk."

Bartholomew, trying to recompose himself, started to explain, "Well, uh, you see- It-it's a high profile assassination job. Possibly the highest profile there is. The one to complete it will be the most wealthy mercenary in Salvar. There are only five targets, and the pay is a generous sum of ten thousand."

"That's five zeros?" Ace wondered.

"Yes! Naturally, I would only give this job to the most skilled of Knife's Edge, and you clearly fit the bill."

Considering how pompously he behaved just a minute ago, this new Bartholomew's flattery worked well. Ace could feel the shattered pride, the shamelessness, the fear. He couldn't refuse. He pretended to think a long time about it, pacing about the room while Bartholomew's nerves were being stretched to the breaking point.

Then, he suddenly stopped and walked up to Bartholomew's desk, "I'll do it."

The mob boss sunk into his chair in relief, and after some awkward reshuffling he supplied Ace with all the necessary materials. After a brief examination, Ace figured out what they were: Dossiers.

"Once the war starts, it'll be near impossible to find these people. I don't pay per head, only when they are all gone."

It was an odd sort of bounty hunt. Ace was wondering about why his new employer would do this in such a fashion, but then something caught his eye in one of the dossiers.

His eyes widened as he exclaimed, "Wait.. this is Kenrick's!"

"Yes, well... yes, he was one of the targets."

"Is there someone else you've hired for this?!" Ace wondered in anger, nearly crumbling up the dossier of Kenrick he was holding. If this fatass was going to play him for a fool, he was going to see what happened when something that big was dropped out of a two-story window.

What Bartholomew said next was, "I would say it was a fortunate coincidence for you. Considering that I haven't reduced my offer, you should be grateful that Kenrick kicked the bucket already."

However, Ace heard the hidden words: "You have to understand! There isn't much time, and this sort of thing has to be done as soon as possible! By as many people as possible!"

Ace knew that this was too good to be true. It was just a scam. A way to get rid of people that the fatass couldn't deal with. Ace slammed his fists on the desk in front of Bartholomew, looking down and then chuckling slightly. The laugh grew louder and louder, sending chills down the mob boss's spine, and then Ace let go of the desk, scooped up the manila envelopes, and started strolling out of the room.

"You don't know this," he said, with his back to the confused mob boss. "But I am the best tracker in Salvar. I'll not only find these people, but I'll kill them too. You better prepare that reward, because I'm about to make all your dreams come true."

It would be impossible for any normal man to accomplish this, but for Ace it could happen. He could make ten grand and really move up in the underworld. He could feel that the money was at the end of this, that the offer was true. Bartholomew had hidden it away somewhere, but felt the words: "I'll pay him if he actually does it." Maybe it was just a side-effect of his abilities to determine this, maybe it just his intuition. He just felt it was possible, and that was good enough for him.

After Ace left, Bartholomew calmed down a bit and wiped off his sweat with a handkerchief. He pattered away at his forehead, his neck, and undid his collar. While he was doing it, his sorry expression turned into a smile and he started a light, hoarse chuckle. He patted away at his neck some more, but as he reached for his head again, he stopped and stared at the cloth in his hands. His smile widened and his laughter grew in size, until he was laughing uncontrollably. It roared throughout the office, and only he could see the humor. Ace sensed the truth in him that the money was there for whoever managed to complete the job, but the job was indeed impossible.

"Hahahaha! Nobody can kill Stefan Tyray! Hahahaha! That monster! By that punk?! Impossible! Completely impossible! Ahahahahaha.... !!"

[Rayse Valentino]

In a slummy part of town, Ace turned his key and opened the rust-covered door into his home.

"I'm home," he announced.

"I'm in the kitchen!" replied a voice nearby. Ace put down his things and joined the girl in the kitchen.

For the longest time, this girl was all he knew. She was his sister Chantal Gregorian, her late teens, and his real name was Alex Gregorian.

When he was young, they lived with his mother father. His sister and father had a special kinship, and it became the subject of much envy for Ace. However, when he suddenly died a decade ago and their mother abandoned them, Ace put away his harsh feelings and knew that he had to take care of his sister. It was also around this time that he discovered his unique abilities, and their various uses. It didn't take much showing off to The Throne before he got a job as a spy. He could find anyone, no matter how far away.

His jobs before had always had him gone for days, maybe weeks at a time, so Chantal knew how to take care of herself at this point. Maybe she didn't need him anymore. He sometimes wondered if the life he lead affected her negatively. There was the constant threat that she would be targeted, especially now that he was pulling these scummy mercenary jobs. Yet, what could he do? The pay was atrocious. He didn't have nearly enough to leave the city and start over somewhere quiet. Maybe this job was the ticket he needed to finally realize that dream.

"You came just in time," said Chantal. "I was just making some dinner."

Ace wondered just how close he was to her. He had been mostly absent from her life recently, so what was he to her? She still loved him for sure, but how could he save her from his life? Sometimes he thought that the only way she could move on is if he didn't exist.

He put his arms around her, "Did you get taller?"

She shook him off playfully, "Come now! I'll mess up the stir fry!"

He shrugged and walked into his room with the dossier he got from Fatman. If there was one place that was off-limits for her, it was his room; More specifically, the one cabinet with a lock on it. None of his past should be given a chance to ruin her future.

"Call me when it's ready," he said, closing the door behind him and looking over what he was given.

There were five targets. Bale Kenrick, Stefan Tyray, Bishop Draklira, The Four Horsemen, and The Magician. With Kenrick already gone, that left him with four, or eight if he counted each of the Horsemen individually, however from what he knew, they tended to stay together.

He took off his bandanna and ran his hands through his hair. He thought about each of his targets and it was like he saw through walls, his surroundings becoming mere outlines as he saw a straight line to his target, represented by a glowing green dot in his line of vision. All of the points were fairly bright, so it meant they were all still in the city. The trick was not only finding them at vulnerable times, but insuring that his employer would know it was him that did the deed. As a telekinetic, that usually meant impaling their bodies in ways that only he could. Time was not on his side, as well. Not only that, but he was fairly sure The Four Horsemen were involved in a gang war with some of the older criminal groups. Bishop Draklira was listed as the secret king of a drug empire, even though he was a big shot at St. Denebriel's Cathedral. His death would most certainly be hushed up for the sake of publicity.

It was all a bit much to take in, and as he rubbed his eyes and sighed, he heard his sister calling for him. He had to listen, and come out to have dinner with her. It was essential, for every day his humanity seemed to wane.

[Rayse Valentino]

The next day was a great Mass for the city of Knife's Edge. Nobles and other privileged peoples piled into St. Denebriel's Cathedral to participate in the great reverence of their deity. Those who were not so fortunate to be let in heard the address outside, broadcast by mage-priests of the church. Covered in robes from head to toe, Ace used his telekinesis to float himself to the roof of the cathedral, and made his way down while adjusting his mask. This was the same disguise he used one time to spy on the church back when they made some questionable appointments, but it turned out to be all hot air from the king. The Throne and The Church have never been on good relations, but it seems now was the worst of all. Either way, the mask was that of an old man, but due to his hood only the lower half would be seen.

As he made his way down the stairs, he casually strolled by various clergy and walked into a balcony with a good view of the pulpit. It was occupied by a minister, who seemed offended at Ace's intrusion.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

In his best senior voice, Ace replied, "There's an emergency summons from His Highness. He requests your presence immediately."

The minister seemed flustered, but he didn't doubt Ace's words. This was, after all, the suspicious minister in question. Ace actually discovered some illicit operations being conducted by him, but it was all condoned by the king since none of it was treacherous in nature. Regardless, Ace got himself a free seat. He was too high up to be noticed, and could easily escape the way he came in.

This was, after all, an assassination. The conductor of The Mass was none other than Bishop Draklira. Ace waited for the people to take their seats, patient and calm as ever. He was never one to get emotional during a job, but lately he couldn't help but feel a little anxiety. Killing a bishop in broad daylight didn't concern him as much as the consequences were for everyone else. However, he felt no sympathy to these con men masquerading as do-gooders.

The people were quiet, the lights were dimmed, and The Bishop himself ascended the pulpit, raising his hands and addressing the masses, "Faithful servants of Denebriel, I bid you all welcome to our great homage to Her Holiness. It was on this day, tens of thousands of years ago, that The Great Lady first blessed us with her wisdom."

Ace's eyes stalked his prey, his hands slowly rising as if to conduct an orchestra. The Bishop was a giant, towering at nearly seven feet. He wore the finest of white priestly gowns with red stripes along the sides and the seal of The Sway on the front. Above his stern face was a bald head, and Ace estimated his age to be somewhere in the seventies.

The Bishop continued, "Since then, depravity and sin have set into our once great mecca! How long must we endure the corruption of those we call our masters? Listen now, Children of The Goddess! Our time is now!" He made a fist and raised it up into the air. "Our call to arms is now! The king... gck!!!"

He found that he couldn't breathe as Ace wrung his hands around an imaginary neck. Although, this wasn't enough. Ace lifted his arms and Draklira was moved off the ground, his audience looking on in horror. High up in the air, The Bishop took his last breath of life. The show wasn't quite over yet, as some sort of red light escaped from his mouth and eyes, turned into some sort of mass of pudding that flew around the halls of the Cathedral before vanishing completely. Ace dropped his victim, a bit taken back himself from the light. It looked like he was exorcised or something. Nonetheless, he had to leave. Now.

[Rayse Valentino]

man i hate solos. gotta finish what i started though.

Escaping during the confusion wasn't all that hard, since most of the commotion was down below. Making his way toward the back of the Cathedral, he made sure the coast was clear then gently floated down into one of the gardens. Deciding not to stick around for the fallout, he made his way home to make sure Chantal was okay. He may have gotten himself a bit over his head this time.

When he got home, however, the news had not quite spread out this far yet. Chantal was warm to greet him as usual, but this time she had a letter for him.

"The postman said it was privately addressed to you," she said curiously. "Something about work I assume. I left it on the table."

Ace was a bit apprehensive about the sudden mail, so he didn't waste any time in locking himself in his room and reading the letter. It was quite different from what he was expecting.

Dear son,
It must be strange to hear from me after all this time. Ten whole years! You and Chantal must have grown so much, I'm so proud of you! Back then, I was a foolish girl, and eventually my past caught up to me. If you're receiving this letter now, then that means I'm probably long gone, dears. It hurt so much to leave you as I did, but it was the only way to save you. You see, my dear Alex, I was being pursued. When they got Stephen, it broke my heart. I couldn't stand to see anything bad happen to you two. Know that I'll always love you, and take care of your sister.
Love,
Mom.


What... what was this?! Ace's breathing had become heavier, and his confusion turned to rage. He looked over the letter and it indeed looked aged, and the stamp was nearly broken with wear and tear. Did she write this before she left, knowing that she would be caught? Was it same people who caught Stephen, his father? Why? If she intended to answer questions with this, she was dead wrong.

He heard a knock on the door.

"Alex!" yelled his sister. "Something terrible has happened!"

[Rayse Valentino]

As the news was spreading throughout the city, Ace couldn't stop thinking about the letter. His sister's worried words were just noise to him. He decided to put the job on hold so he could investigate this. With not much to go on, he went to the only place he knew of his mother: Her place of employment before she became pregnant with him.

The brothel.

He hated this place. The thought of his mother ever being here disgusted him, but he was far too old and it has been far too long to care about it anymore. He walked right up to The Madam of the place.

"Oh?" she mused. "We don't get too many young ones in here. What can I do for you, honey?"

"I'm not here for that. My mother used to work here."

"And what did you want to know? What was her name, honey?"

"Alexia Gregorian."

"Hmm," she thought for a moment. "Sorry honey, but I don't remember any girls by that name, and I'm very good with names."

"That can't be right! She quit here around 24 years ago, does that ring any bells? Blond hair? Hazel eyes?"

"Hold on honey," The Madam paused. "We take special caution here to avoid that sort of thing, but it does still happen. 24 years ago?"

The Madam seemed disturbed about something for a moment, but said, "Well... if you claim she became pregnant with you around that time... then it may have been her. Cassandra was her name, and she was a beautiful girl. Left without a word one day, and never said why. Would make sense if she became pregnant, but we help each other out around here. She could've told us."

"Cassandra... ?"

"Sorry honey. Whatever happened to her?"

"She's dead."

"Oh! I'm so sorry, hon!"

"Look, would you happen to have... the last few... jobs... she did? It would help a lot."

There was a thought in the back of Ace's mind. His mother became pregnant with him here, and she quit to go live with his father. Why the secrecy? The different name? It doesn't add up. Maybe if he caught up with some of her clients he could learn more.

[Rayse Valentino]

Knock knock.

Knock knock.

Knock knock.

"I know you're in there!" Ace yelled. It wasn't a lie, since he could see the green dot in front of him clear as day. "I'm not leaving until you open up, so you might as well!"

"Fine!" came a yell from inside, and an overweight balding man came to the door. "Whaddya want?"

"Does the name 'Cassandra' ring any bells?"

The man blinked.

* * * *

"So, you're her boy, eh?! I guess stranger things have happened, haw haw!"

Ace wasn't really interested in his opinion, as he had a fairly short time limit, "Look, I didn't come here to talk about the things you did to my mother. I just want to know the last time you saw her."

"That damn old broad gave me away, did she? So much for confidentiality! Well, kiddo, I didn't see her at all after I guess she got knocked up with you. To be honest, I'm glad she just left, since whores were dropping left and right back then. Lemme tell ya, the things she did..."

"Wait, wait. Back up and let me erase that mental imagery. What was going on?"

"It was a big thing around town. Every brothel was feeling it. One day you'd seem them ladies walking around all happy-like, the next BAM! They're dismembered in broad daylight. It was like the killer wanted everyone to know what he'd done, y'know? 'Twas awful."

"How come The Madam didn't tell me about this... ?"

"Not good for business, y'know? Maybe she still thought you were a customer, hah hah!"

That or there's something she doesn't want me to know.

"Y'need anything else kid," asked the old man, belching.

"No, that will be quite enough."

[Rayse Valentino]

Ace was back at the brothel, and he was furious. Almost tearing down the silk veils dividing the rooms and stomping on the wooden floor, he walked right up to The Madam.

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Tell you what, dear?" said a flustered Madam.

"My mother was in danger! I heard about the situation back then. Now tell me everything!"

"Hon, I'm telling you, I told you everything I knew! The killer was never caught! Nobody figured it out!"

"My mother apparently figured it out! There has to be something!"

"Calm down honey," she said, motioning for the bouncers to stand down. "Tell you what, if you really want to look into that nightmare, why not try the brothel that was hit hardest by it? It was over by western Old Quarter."

"Western Old Quarter?" Ace repeated. Wait, wasn't that Four Horsemen territory? What did they have to do with this.

"I'm really sorry about your mother, honey, but there was nothing any of us could do! If we ever thought she was in danger we would've risked our lives for hers, that's the way we work around here. I can see that you're her son. You have her fierce eyes, the kind that will never leave you alone. Whatever you do, just be careful hon."

Ace started walking away and looked back at The Madam one last time, asking, "If there was any way you would've known..."

"I would've laid down my life for her, hon."

[Rayse Valentino]

It was getting late, and Ace was getting exhausted running around the city. Not only that, but looked like war was gonna break out at any moment. As he got home, he got bombarded with news. Apparently The Church is claiming that The King instigated the assassination, and the people were furious. Rathaxea square had been put under the lockdown and the palace was on full alert. This was quickly becoming a very bad place to live in.

What became a politically tense situation was now just short of a full-blown riot. Ace looked at his innocent sister, and thought about what he was doing. Knowing the truth about the fate of his parents was not nearly as important as making sure Chantal would be safe. Yet, what could he do? They could escape the city, but what could they do without money? The only way to avoid this war would be fleeing the country entirely, which would be the most expensive option. There was still one way to get the money, and that was completing this job. With few options left, Ace retreated into his room and looked over his documents again.

With Bale Kenrick and Bishop Draklira down, he decided to look at the other targets. Stefan Tyray looked like he was still in the city, as were The Four Horsemen, but... he couldn't find The Magician anywhere. His real name was Rob, but even using that there was not even a faint green dot to indicate real distance from the city. He just vanished. How could someone simply vanish overnight? Well, there was one way.

The other assassin...

Bale Kenrick was no pushover, so maybe it was possible that The Magician was done in by the same party. It could be just coincidence though, since it seems criminals all over town were making mad bids for power. Ace wondered how much longer he could take before Fatman would be gone. He decided he would continue his investigation while he was in the area to take out The Four Horsemen, but if it was a dead end, then he would stop there. He could barely stay awake as he thought of the ways he would kill his next targets.

I do this... for you, Chantal.. he thought as he fell asleep on his desk.

[Rayse Valentino]

The next morning, Ace was knee deep in Old Quarter, the premier hideout for the criminal element of Knife's Edge. Populated by old shacks, underground tunnels, warehouses, and the smell of trash, under normal circumstances it wasn't a safe place to be. However, right now there wasn't any safe place to be in the entire city. Ace followed the four green dots, that seemed close together, but first he made a quick stop to the nearby brothel.

"You Alex?" asked a bouncer, who was not letting anyone in without an invitation.

"How did you know?" replied Ace, surprised.

"The Madam said you might be coming. Said to look out for the bandanna. Get inside."

Ace walked inside, and silently thanked The Madam for her help. It looked fairly run down, with the stench of smoke permeating the air. He knew that none of the younger girls would be of any help, so he walked up to one of the older ladies of the night.

"Oh ho ho?" she said, taking a long drag on her cigarette. "Sorry boy, but I'm way past my prime, although you sure are tempting."

"I'm here to talk about the killings that happened around 24 years ago."

Her crooked smile turned into a crooked frown.

"Now why did you have to go and say that? You just ruined my mood, boy."

Ace continued, "My mother may have been a target in that. I just want to know the truth."

"What will that change, eh? A bunch of senseless killings over bullshit! Absolutely outrageous!"

"Do you have any idea why the killer was targeting them? Was there any sign of a pattern?"

"You think I want to talk about this? Shit." She spit to the side. "I've had my suspicions, but the way the guy could find the girls no matter where they were hiding made everyone go hush-hush."

"Suspicions?"

"Yessir, if I had to wager a guess, I'd say that all of those girls were knocked up."

"What?!"

"There was one girl... when she found out she was pregnant, she was bragging and bragging about blackmailing the father. He was apparently some big shot, and nobody knew what he really looked like. The next day, we found her out front missing her arms and legs. Most horrible damn thing I've ever seen."

The killer was targeting pregnant whores? Nobody knew what he looked like? These clues... were tempting to pursue, but he had Chantal to think about.

"Do you know anything else?"

"Sorry boy, but that's about it."

Ace left the brothel as fast as he could, and tried to buy some lost time by getting to The Four Horsemen hideout while it was still morning. He didn't even have enough time to be sneaky about it; He had to go right through the front door.

"Who the hell are you?!" said the guards to the warehouse.

Ace didn't even feel like being cute today, "Shutup and die."

[Rayse Valentino]

"What the hell is going on out there?" asked Phil, one of The Four Horsemen.

There was screaming coming from outside. Hank, Domino, and Chey, the other three, were also there. One of the guards ran into the warehouse, clutching his chest as blood poured out.

He was screaming, "Help! Help! Somebody help! It's a monster!"

Phil jumped down from a crate and pulled out his knife, slitting the guard's throat, "Don't you dare raise your voice to me."

They were in the process of moving their stock, since this was no longer going to be a safe place to house them soon. They were all young men, wearing little more than a shirt with cotton pants, but they all made sure they had nice shoes. Phil had dark hair, Hank had blond hair, Domino was bald, and Chey was a redhead. When they arrived on the scene only a couple years ago, they redefined what it meant to be a criminal. A smart businessman who didn't take shit from anybody was their motto. In that short time, they had grown to such a size that they rivaled some of the oldest powers in the city. However, with half of their crew dying to gang wars, and the other half fleeing the city, they had little left but evacuation.

Domino shook his head, "I don't know who's out there, but it might be The Crown. We should split up. I'll stay here with Phil, you two make sure the stockpile gets out safely."

Chey didn't like this plan, but he didn't tend to speak out.

Hank, however, immediately said, "Like hell! We'll get taken out long before we reach the gates at this point. This whole shithole is under martial law! They don't even care about the law anymore!"

Just then, a head from one of the guards came flying into the room, spinning around on the ground before stopping and bleeding out.

Domino looked it and didn't even flinch, then turned back to Hank, "If you want to stay, be my guest."

Hank shook his head and made his way to the back of the warehouse.

Ace took a few steps in before facing Domino and Phil. He looked around, and couldn't find the other two.

So much for sticking together till the end.

The duo noticed that there was no one else coming.

"It's just you?" asked Phil. "What is this shit?!"

"How did you find this place?" asked Domino.

Ace didn't care for their trivial questions and picked up a nearby crate with his mind and tossed it at them. They dodged it, and threw several knives at him, which all stopped in mid-air and then fell harmlessly to the ground.

Phil slammed his fist into a pillar, "He's a damn magi! I knew I should've stayed home today!"

Using his telekinesis, Ace ripped the stone right off the floor and broke it into little pieces, sending all of them at Phil and Domino at once. Despite their speed, they were overwhelmed by the barrage and knocked down. Ace decided that they would look a lot better without their heads.

[Rayse Valentino]

Leaving the two with their heads in their laps, Ace set off after the other two. Although he could track them with his unique ability, his telekinesis wasn't useful for covering large distances, so as he was always lagging behind them. By the time the afternoon hit, Ace stopped his pursuit, as he noticed the green dots disappeared.

The City Guard must've got them.

Taking a few steps forward, he did something that was very rare of him to do. He pictured Chantal in his mind and used his ability to locate her. Did he, for a brief moment, think that she was in danger? With the city as it was... did he not have enough time? No! There was one target left! Last but not least,

Stefan Tyray.

However, he had a bad feeling about this. As he thought about it, that old whore's words seemed to etch out a scenario in his memory. He came back home to a flustered Chantal, who wanted to seek refuge in The Cathedral.

"No," said Ace. "We're getting out of here. Pack only your essentials."

Suddenly, it hit him. The killer was targeting pregnant women. Like his mother. One of them was even talking about the father. Could it all be one big coincidence? Was the killer just trying to go for two birds with one stone? No, it couldn't be. Some of the women were barely even pregnant, and how would he even know they were all his? His... children...

Was his father... not his father? The memories flooded his mind, of all the times Stephen paid special attention to his daughter. His real daughter, not the bastard son he was forced to raise. The man whose appearance was not known...

"Chantal," he announced. "If I'm not back in an hour, look under my mattress for a key and open the top drawer in my desk. Take whatever money is in there and leave the country. It's not enough for two, but it's perfect for one. Just get out of here, understood?!"

"Brother! What are you talking about?! I want to leave here together with you! Please!"

"One hour," repeated Ace. "Promise me."

Tearfully, she replied, "I.. I promise."

[Rayse Valentino]

On the outskirts of the city, on a snowy hill overlooking the city of Knife's Edge, there were two men. Ace stared at the other man's back, his rage boiling and the very ground shaking beneath his feet.

The other man was none other than Stefan Tyray.

"Looks like you finally caught up to me," Stefan said, turning around. "Son." He took off his mask and cracked it in two before discarding it.

Several stones ripped themselves from the ground and floated up in the air near Ace as he said, "Before I kill you, I just want to know one thing: Why?! Why did you do it?! What was the point of it all?!"

Tyray was non-pulsed by the show, "Why should I tell you anything? You should've never been born. Look at how foolish you were. I was moments away from leaving this hellhole, and you would've lived to see another day, but now you've gone and thrown your life away. Why should I answer anything to such an imbecile?" Tyray sighed. Wearing a long black goat with flowing brown locks, his sunglasses reflected the light of the setting sun. "If you must know... it was quite simple really. I didn't desire any heirs."

"Damn you!" yelled Ace, telekinetically throwing several rocks at Tyray, which all changed direction and landed harmlessly on the snow. "What the?!"

Tyray chuckled, "Come now, where do you think you got your puny little magic tricks from?" He flicked his bangs and continued, "For tens of thousands of years, I have been raising heirs and taking their place, continuing my lineage and keeping my... lavish accommodations. However, with the imminent arrival of Denebriel, I have no need for such trivial matters. I decided, at the last moment, to not go through that bothersome process again. So, naturally I had to dispose of any whores who had the audacity to think they could bear my child."

"Argh... you tracked them the same way I did... !"

With his mind, Ace pulled a massive stone from the ground and chucked it at Tyray, only to watch it crumble to pieces against some sort of invisible barrier. It seems that his true father possessed something far more advanced than just moving objects with his mind.

"Indeed," said Tyray, ignoring Ace's strongest attacks as though they were nothing. "However your mother was quite the clever one. She caught on to what I was doing and decided to quietly disappear, never announcing that she was pregnant. Since I was only targeting the pregnant whores I slept with, she was out of my radar... for a while. She even changed her name, could you believe that? You know very well that our tracking abilities extend beyond such a ruse. Of course, ten years ago I decided not to take any chances, and went for every woman I slept with, to sort of finish the job. I managed to catch that lecherous husband of hers, and despite what you may think, he admirably did not give in. Not his wife, daughter... or you."

"He never gave me up..." Ace was stunned. He never imagined that Stephen would protect him with his life.

"Anyway, is that all? I really have other matters to attend to, if you don't mind."

"What are you? What am I?"

"Oh come now, don't think so highly of yourself. I'm a powerful demon from an ancient age, and you wouldn't even qualify as an insect. Are you done? You're really trying my pati--"

Ace decided that enough was enough and charged in, brandishing a dagger. He tore through Tyray's shield using his telekinesis and nicked his coat before falling into the snow. Tyray summoned a gust of air that sent Ace flying into a stone wall. Ace fell to the ground and slowly got back up, blood dripping from his face.

"That's the first time I've ever seen someone penetrate my shield! Impressive. However, I grow tired of you. Begone!"

Pointing his palm at Ace, Tyray violently sucked out air from Ace's body, causing him to scream out in agony. It was a type of magic that manipulated the very air, something far more sinister than telekinesis. Ace was no match for him. Tyray picked him up and planted him into the stone wall, pelting him with bursts of air so fast that they might as well have been bullets. After the barrage, Ace fell into the snow, his face looking up into the amber sky that was slowly descending into night. His entire body was unresponsive. The chilling Salvaran cold assaulted his senses, the smell of soft snow putting him to sleep.

Chantal... I'm sorry I can't go with you. Please forgive me and... be happy.

Requested spoils:
Some dollars yo. I dunno like 1k?

[Taskmienster]

The Story of Ace Doubletake: I’ll be helping out here with minimal to moderate commentary. If you want further clarification of anything in the judgment feel free to PM me or catch me on AIM at TheTaskmienster.


Continuity 5

:: I think that knowledge of the character, possibly through the other threads that came before and after this one, would have helped the reader a lot. However, as a common reader just coming into the thread, I had no clue as to the background or anything about Ace, Bartholomew, or anything about the general story. There were a few little things that you added that eluded to the general continuity, but the purpose of the thread wasn’t very clear till near the end.

Setting 5

:: [[The inside was a much different look from the decadent streets he was just on. It was like a grand ballroom, bright and cheerful. Ace was getting a feel for the guy he was about to meet already.]] :: “getting a feel” when used in conjunction with the setting is a great tool for writing, however, it should be worked out quite a bit more. I get that he lived in a “bright and cheerful”, open house that was completely different than outside. But what about the room makes it bright and cheerful? How does the setting give the reader insight into the personality of the boss man? Just a little more description after the sentence about the ball room and before the one about getting a feel would have allowed the reader to see some more about the character, and allow them to also get a real feel for him as well.

Pacing 5

:: The quick, concise style of writing that I comment on in the technique created a really fast paced pacing for the thread. As the reader, I felt like I was following only the most important part of the story, but had nothing else to look at or slow down the pace. If you take a little bit of time to incorporate more setting, continuity, and persona it would slow down the story to a point where the reader is gaining more without following only the story.

Dialogue 4.5

Action 5

Persona 5.5

:: Personality, not just the main character’s, is important to bring out, even just a little. The way people say things, or the way people respond show a lot of persona. When you got into the conversation with the barkeep in the 3rd post he was yelling for Ace to leave, and then without reason he suddenly was allowing the man to stay and drink. I wasn’t sure what happened to shift his feelings, or what had made him so mad to begin with. A little more narrative writing to give a bit of reason and reality to the different persona’s would go a long way and help the reader understand more.

Technique 5

:: The general writing style you went with for this was rather concise and to the point, but didn’t have a lot of flair about it. It seemed a little rushed, so the style of the writing was like that most of the times. I’d suggest slowing it down a bit and allowing yourself to add a little more advanced technique here and there, even short things added to compliment the style would have worked well.

Mechanics 6

:: There are a couple times where you dip away from the conventional sense of third person, past tense writing. You write a few things that make it feel like present tense, now and then, which breaks the common sense of writing that you keep up with for the most part.

Clarity 7


Wild Card 5


Score: 53


Rewards:

Rayse receives :: 2400 exp | 500 gold

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added.