Chapter Text
He struggled to find the words to describe her. He wanted to call her obnoxious, or maybe arrogant, but Corbeau, boss of the feared Rust Syndicate, was not a liar. He'd heard others' descriptions, seen photos and video clips, but there came a point he couldn't stand it anymore; he had to see for himself.
She had taken to summoning better than he'd expected, better than Lida had. He'd seen the photos, had heard tales of her prowess, but with the specimen before him...well, he was surprised.
The rainbow-printed cargo pants were certainly obnoxious, but the rest of her torso was, curiously, covered--a simple black tank top beneath a cropped, baggie long sleeve shirt, and black, fingerless gloves. But, he did note, that black ink danced at her fingertips, at the cuticle of long, glittering nails. Black boots finished the ensemble. It was, above all else, practical.
Her hair was the shade of a Sawsbuck's body, pulled into a messy bun at the back of her head. As she walked closer, he could see the left side was shaved to the skin. A multitude of mismatched and glittering piercings lined both ears.
Lida was focused on him the second she was free of the elevator doors, a scowl for n her heart-shaped face. Their tourist, however, had eyes the color of stormclouds, framed in long, dark lashes, and those eyes roamed the whole of his office, eyes flicking left and right. Observant.
Corbeau glanced to the side, golden eyes meeting the silver of his second-in-command. Philippe had noticed as well.
She hung back, letting Lida, with her righteous anger, lead the charge. She stopped before his desk, arms crossed, foot tapping, and Philippe announced, "They embarrassed the guards. I didn't find it necessary."
"She embarrassed you, too!" Lida spit in his direction, and Corbeau watched their newcomer purse her lips, swallowing a laugh. Closer now, he could see a large scar on the shaved side of her head, vanishing into the depths of her head, nearer the back.
"Not a scratch, hmm?" Corbeau sighed, looking to Philippe, "You were supposed to crush their spirits, make them more persuadable."
Philippe looked chastened, "Sorry, Boss... they're tougher than they look."
Corbeau nodded, almost imperceptibly. He, too, was often underestimated. "I see. I suppose you're here to talk about a deal regarding Hotel Z?"
"Um, I have to ask," Lida snorted, "who are you?"
Philippe was personally affronted, "This is the Boss of the Rust Syndicate, Mr. Corbeau."
"So you two come in place of Urbain, eh?" Corbeau smirked. "Too good to come himself, hmm?"
"Hardly," Lida snorted. "We're not nearly as easy to take advantage of."
"Ask your guards," The tourist added, her voice deeper than he expected, a little gravely. It sent a light chill down his spine. Corbeau masked it with a chuckle, "Here to cut a deal, hmm? I never wanted the title of boss, you know, but Philippe here forced it upon me."
"Your talents far exceed my own," The large man argued calmly, "so it's only natural I would surrender the boss' seat to you."
Corbeau stood abruptly, flapping a pale hand dismissively, "Bah! Enough of that! We've got guests. This isn't the time to discuss internal affairs. Where are my manners? We've kept our guests standing this whole time!"
He motioned to a pair of sleek, modern couches to the right, set amidst a zen garden that covered most of the open room. He grinned wolfishly, "Have a seat on those couches... they're real comfy. Our guests all love 'em. In fact, they never seem to want to leave."
Lida frowned, clearly suspicious. The newcomer remained quiet, other than to place a long-fingered hand on her friend's shoulder encouragingly. Lida met her friend's gaze, and watched the young woman step around her and toward the seating area. Corbeau tacked on, "They don't want to leave...at least not before agreeing to everything we ask."
The look the tourist cast him was long, and loaded, and promising. Corbeau noticed. So did Philippe.
...
Once seated, Corbeau focused on the tourist, "You've been quiet. We've not been properly introduced."
She blinked rapidly, eyelashes fluttering, before she settled. She gave a charming little grin, hinging on a toothy smirk, and cocked her head, "Zillah...but you already know that."
"The tales of your skill and prowess are plentiful," Corbeau conceded. Zillah did show teeth then, "And your grunts. They stick out like sore thumbs. Easy to shake when they try to follow me."
Corbeau frowned with irritation. He didn't like plans going away, and he certainly didn't like when his plans were thwarted. He pushed the feeling away, "Now, let's talk business. Like I said, though, your deal...you better make it worth my while. Or else...who knows what may happen to you?"
Lida's scowl deepened. Zillah's smile was nothing but indulgent.
Lida huffed, "We're taking this super seriously, promise. We had to come in Urbain's place because we couldn't get ahold of him. To be honest, though, we're not sure why he came to you in the first place?"
Corbeau tutted, "I guess I'd interpret your friend Urbain's lack of communication as an attempt to save you from worrying. He's such a caring boy, after all. Fill them in, Philippe."
"This whole deal began when I encountered Urbain put helping people in the city, " The large man sighed. "He was helping out a member of our organization. I asked if there was anything he needed, as a thanks, of course. He mentioned the hotel he was helping out was struggling to get customers. I thought it was the perfect opportunity to offer our assistance."
"You sound like a car salesman," Zillah interjected, mild tone masking her disdain. Corbeau glared. Lida swallowed a snicker. Philippe continued, "One of our services is providing loans to those in need, you see. Urbain was rather enthusiastic about the idea. He mentioned needing funds to create some promotional material for the hotel. It was my pleasure to loan him 100, 000 pokedollars for this purpose."
"Your friend helped us," Corbeau smirked, "so we helped your friend. A lovely little circle, isn't it?"
Lida shot to her feet, irate. While she railed against the obvious advantage they had taken of innocent Urbain, Zillah's expression changed in minutes. Her eyes had hardened, her smirk had sharpened. She was mad now.
"Naturally," Philippe interrupted Lida's tyrade politely, "I made sure to indicate the terms and conditions when finalizing the loan. Your friend claimed that if he made a video and posted it ASAP, guests would flock to your hotel and he could pay us back the very next day."
Both women sighed with exasperation,but not surprise, and Lida disparaged their friend, "What?! His videos barely get ten views! The hotel isn't booming, either..."
"Well, I take financial matters very seriously," Corbeau said solemnly, "I even personally warned him, you know. I straight up asked him, 'You're not a pro--can you really make a video that good?' I told him he shouldn't be over-promising. But he was adamant. So now I want to know...what are you two going to do about it?"
Lida began to huff, aggravated and overwhelmed, but Zillah was the picture of calm, "We two aren't doin' anything-- I'll handle it."
Lida whipped around, "Absolutely not--"
"You have school, and dance," Zillah flapped her hand flippantly, having no argument, "I'm just a tourist. I have all the time in the world. I'll call if I need you."
"I don't..." Lida frowned with worry, "I don't want to leave you here...alone...with them."
Both men were personally, obviously, offended, but Zillah only smiled, "I've dealt with worse. I can hold my own, you know that. And, besides..."
She tossed a Dusk Ball, from which emerged a sleek and muscular Houndoom. The canine was unperturbed by her--a female, judging by the length of her horns-- unfamiliar surroundings, eyes alert, but much like her trainer. A lithe hand stroked reverently down the dog's head and neck, "Ixtab has never let me down. You should go, though. Plausible deniability, and all that."
Lida looked concerned, looking from the men to her friend,but headed for the elevator, "Anything...you call me."
"Of course," Zillah placated.
They waited for the dancer to leave, and the elevator to return. The Houndoom, with a gouged horn on the left and a few scars across her muzzle and body, sat stoically by her trainer, who, without her friend there to watch, had become stern and serious, "Whatever this mess requires, you leave Lida and Naveen out of it, understand?"
Momentarily surprised by her change in demeanor, Corbeau quickly recovered. He smirked, "We decided to keep the original loan between us and Urbain. You only have to deal with the interest."
"Oh, only one million, huh?" She replied sarcastically. Corbeau, graciously, ignored that. He smiled darkly, "Nothing too strenuous. I just want you to take care of some little jobs here and there for us. You do well, and I'll start reducing the interest owed to us."
"I always do well," She scoffed. Ixtab cracked an eye, watching the two men leisurely, but closely. Corbeau steepled his fingers, "Then you'll have no problem. And just think... it's all for the betterment of the city."
She hummed, standing. The beast at her side did as well. She looked between the pair of men, "I presume you'll summon me when I'm needed?"
"Keep your phone on you," Was all Corbeau said. Zillah snorted and rolled her eyes. She headed for the elevator, loyal companion by her side. Her expression inside the elevator was unreadable, and then the doors closed with a ding, hiding her from sight.
"Interesting..." Philippe rumbled.
Corbeau murmured, "Indeed."