Tales from the Deep - Hostile Takeover

July 2067. Wednesday suck for Blade. It's the weekly meeting with his boss, the infamous Go Ottari - a squidman that keeps a rein on the Fishface Syndicate. However, this Wednesday could suck more than usual.

Wednesdays sucked for Blade. He hated the hump day with a passion, as the most insipid moment of the week. Especially, in Hampton Brooks. That town was just a bunch of slums and suburbs in the middle of nowhere, which just happened to lie at the right distance from Richmond and to have large swathes of land up for sale. The perfect spot to establish new headquarters, but definitely not to live, have fun or simply having anything else outside of the daily job. That didn’t bother Blade that much, though. After all, his was a job full of satisfactions, if one knew where to look for them. No, it was just Wednesdays that felt wrong. Mondays were the beginning of the week. Lots of busywork to deal with, especially on the accounting side. He kind of liked it, the management part of the whole mob business. Tuesdays were reserved to strategic planning with the lower execs – spineless humans that were still very much afraid of his shark traits and – thus – really easy to influence. Thursdays were used for scouting and looking for new business opportunities. Fridays were for consolidating that week’s results. Saturdays and Sundays were the unofficial working days, when most of their illegal activities took place. A balanced, sensible schedule – one he had no troubles following for a good part of that last year. Wednesdays, though, were different. He just couldn’t stand them.

He pushed the button to call the elevator, while cursing under his breath. Ninth floor, of course. He couldn’t bother taking the stairs – too much physical effort for too little gain. Yet, there was still something alluring about climbing his way up. More time needed to reach his destination. More time to postpone the inevitable, while building up some muscle mass and being lost in thought.

Still, nine flights of stairs were a considerable effort. So, he decided to wait for the smart, energy-saving option. As the doors of the cabin closed behind his back, his mind was already projected to the next hour, to his dreaded one-on-one meeting with Go.

Yes, Wednesdays sucked for Blade. All because he had to deal with his boss alone, in a uselessly richly-decorated room, with a giant aquarium no less, and without anyone else around. Discussing with Go was as unpleasant as it could get. His piercing gaze was always looking for weaknesses, contradictions, hesitations, always gauging for any hint of dissatisfaction or – worse – seeds of betrayal. Which for Blade meant having to be twice as cautious as usual. Leaving that room at the ninth floor after two hours of back and forth felt like returning from war. Blade felt like he lost one year of his life every time he stepped inside that cramped elevator to get back to his everyday chores.

As the floors ran by, his mind raced to the previous week, to what might or might not have been the topic of Go’s inquiries and – eventually – how to twist them into harmless, empty, content-free requests. Yet, he wasn’t feeling safe. Even after the performance with Jorma, Go wasn’t trusting him completely – and for good reasons. Maybe, handing him Delfina on a silver platter could have placated him, but what was the gain? Delfina was still a precious pawn, a pawn whom he planned to gain control on very soon. With her at his side, becoming the new leader of the syndicate would have been piece of cake. A smirk marked his enigmatic, expressionless snout, his mouth almost invisible on the golden skin.

The bell rang. The doors opened. Ninth floor of the Ottari Tower. Only one room there, excluding the toilets. And that room was Go’s room, guarded by his two most loyal muscle-headed henchfish. Blade looked around, expecting to catch a glimpse of the wide silhouette of Joe Buracci and the less wide, but still imposing, shape of Carina Kyrie. While Joe was the equivalent of a trash compactor, Carina was a trash compactor that could also tie your articulations into a knot. There was a reason why nobody seriously attempted to openly assault Go on his home turf, and the reason were those two. They shared one neuron, true, but they didn’t need brains to bash someone into a gruesome pulp. Blade prepared for Carina’s snide “Heyo, Goldie” salutation and Joe’s usual “‘sup Golden-boy?”. He had heard them so often that he could hear those voices in his mind.

Only in his mind.

He squinted his eyes, looked around.

Nobody.

Joe and Carina were nowhere to be found.

Blade cursed. They not being there meant Go wasn’t there either.

Has the squidmother bastard forgotten about our meeting? Is he toying with me? Goddamnit!

He looked around again. He couldn’t spot any fins, any muscles, any tuxedos. The bodyguards weren’t there. Nobody was there. He sighed.

Well, guess I’ll skip my 1-on-1, this time. No biggie. Better for my psychological health.

That’s when he noticed it.

The door.

The door was ajar.

Silence. He stood silent for a second.

Go wouldn’t leave the door to his kingdom open. Documents, plans, receipts, accurately sorted and sheltered in the most secure place of the Ottari Tower, protected by a genetic lock and hardware keys. True, due to those additional measures, even if a petty thief managed to sneak in, they had no way of accessing Go’s treasure. Yet…

Blade drew his gun. One step, carefully, towards the door, the weapon kept firmly in his hands, his breathing slow, steady. He peeked through the rift, trying to get a picture from the inside without being seen. Lights. The lights were on. He mentally counted up to ten, at a leisurely pace. He focused on his heartbeat, on keeping it under check, despite the rush of adrenaline. He counted up to twenty, to clear his mind. He probably had just one shot, before the surprise effect was lost.

Just one shot. He had to make it count. No staring around, just look for the intruder and send them to Davy Jones’s realm. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine.

Thirty.

He kicked the door open, aimed his Sachson 42 forward, without saying a word.

That’s when he froze solid.

Go. Go was sitting on the ground. Bleeding. A gun wound on his shoulder, his hand pressed on it, intense pain mirrored in his eyes. On the other side of the room, two bodies, lying on the floor to.

Still breathing, but senseless. A bluish, massive male shark with a scar on one of his eyes. A pinkish female shark with almost the same amount of muscle mass.

Joe. Carina. Both with lights out.

And, at the center of the room, standing among them…

“… Delfina?”

That’s when the gunshot came. Muffled, quiet, precise. Blade’s body took a couple instants to elaborate on what had happened, to realize the situation, as his muscles stopped responding, causing him to tumble down.

His knee.

His knee was bleeding.

Pain.

It hurt.

It hurt so much.

A primal yell, a desperate struggle, his hand pressing on the green jeans fabric, now soaked with blood – his own blood – as he tried to keep up, not to faint for the pain. He coughed, bit his lips, found the strength to look up. There she was. Dressed in a white shirt and a black tuxedo, her fin peeking out of a cut sleeve, a tie and hairpins to complete the picture. And a gun. Still pointed at him. He fought against his nerves, the signals reaching for his brain. Delfina. There. That made no sense, he didn’t see that coming. Yet…

“It’s Elena. It has always been Elena. For the past. Two. Years.”

Blade coughed, kept his grip firmly on the gun, gritted his teeth. Elena. He had never accepted that. Delfina was Delfina, not Elena. Elena didn’t exist, it was a construct of a mind that got lost, lost in the dream of maybe, one day becoming fully human. He spat on the floor. That was sick, disgusting. Becoming the butcher because you’re tired of being a lamb. That was the highest level of betrayal. But Delfina would have never done that, never. Thus, Elena couldn’t exist. He stood the pain, raised his arm, aiming it at her. His breath heavy, his heart beating fast, too fast.

But his finger didn’t move. He couldn’t pull that trigger, not without an explanation. A primal growl, his jaws wide open – a first in a long time.

“I saved your life… covered for you… helped you escape, Delfina… and that’s… that’s how you repay me?”

A sudden gunshot. Blade winced, in utter disbelief. His thigh. His thigh had been pierced by a bullet. Blood pouring out, the pain irradiating. He screamed, his hands covering the new wound, as the fabric turned red, as he barely managed to contain his yells. She did it. Why did she do it? Blade couldn’t understand. There was no logical reason why she should. Unless… no, he refused to believe it, to believe that that was what led her. That didn’t make a shred of sense, Delfina had never been the sharpest tool in the box, she had never been sharp at all – not enough to outscheme him. So, why now, of all times? Why now?!

“I. Am. Elena.”

A grave pause, as her eyes scanned him, met his defiant gaze.

“And I’ll pull the trigger every time you deadname me.”

Blade was trying his best to remain conscious. His wounds hurt like hell. They weren’t lethal, though. Delfina had purposefully missed his arteries. She always had the best aim in the syndicate, despite being able to use only one hand. A shame. A goddamn shame. He stared at her, looked up, looked up at that creature that denied her origin, betrayed her kin and was now asking him to call her something else than her birth name. She would always be a fishface – a failed dolphin hybrid, because some idiots at RealLifeAnime had forgotten dolphins were indeed mammals, thus they had to apply corrections during the embryo development phase. So, she had gills like all of them – gills that were closed when being on the surface, but offered precious support while diving under the sea. And yet… yet she traded her uniqueness… for what? Cosplay? He spat on the ground, two, three times more. What a goddamn shame. He growled, fought the pain, tried to raise his gun once more. That was it. That was enough.

“Put it down, Blade.”

That voice. Another voice. Not Delfina’s. His mind was going blank, as his wounds burned, made his pain receptors scream insane. Go? Go Ottari was asking him to back down?! Nonsense.

“I’ve said… put it down. She won.”

Blade’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“You… you can’t be serious! We can’t bend to Delfi…”

Another gunshot. Blade’s right arm was shaken by the impact, as his gun fell to the ground, as his snout contorted in a grimace of pain. Go stared at him, let out a loud sigh, as he kept on pressing his hand on his wound, stopping the outpouring of blood.

“Elena, please… stop. You made your point loud and clear.”

“If I did, he wouldn’t have used the wrong name, Go.”

Blade gasped in disbelief. Even Go… even Go had abided by her will. The Go Ottari that was always one step ahead of him. The Go Ottari he worked so long in the shadows to overthrow.

That Go Ottari was… just accepting his fate. Accepting he was outsmarted by a failed hybrid turned failed human. The same failed human that was staring at him, now, without a shred of compassion left in her green eyes.

“You thought you had me, Blade. You thought you could dispose of my life as you saw it fit. But nothing good lasts forever. N… nothing.”

If Blade could have read her thoughts, wandered through her mind palace, he would have been consumed by an endless dark void. Happy memories together with Renzo, the cosplay festivals, the time she sang for his band, their tender hugs, their nights spent together, in that cramped flat that they had started to call their home. All gone. All gone, because of her past. Because someone found out about her new identity and acted on it. Someone who couldn’t have known, unless told explicitly. But by whom? She spent almost one year looking for an answer. Almost one year, lurking in the dark, avoiding been seen, keeping a low profile, watching Renzo fall into depression, till he moved to Euterpe, leaving her and her memories back in England. Elena, though, couldn’t leave him behind. His eyes. His scared gaze. His utterly, desperately scared gaze, as she stood there, in front of him, in a bloodied cosplay outfit. Surrounded by corpses. No, she couldn’t erase that from her mind, as much as she tried. Every night, every single night since that day, Renzo’s fearful face haunted her nightmares. She had turned into a monster, in front of the person who gave her a chance. She had turned again into a horrible, foul assassin, breaking her promise to him, to herself. It was karma. Karma hit her back, because of all her victims, the innocent people she shot and killed when she was still called Delfina. In a corner of her consciousness, she knew she deserved it. Yet… the way those lowlives had found out about her was suspicious. They knew she would have gone to that convention, despite nobody except Renzo and her knowing. They knew when to ambush her. They knew where to strike. That didn’t make any sense – someone with that knowledge would have disposed of her quietly, far from cameras, while she was alone. No, that wasn’t a real assassination attempt. That was more than that. Those guys had a bone to pick with her, true, but they were victims as much as her.

Someone had set them up to fail. Someone had caused that situation to force her to go in hiding.

Someone had orchestrated that to either kill her or make her look like a monster to the person she cared for. A gambit with no winning outcomes, not when her assailants had been instructed to kill Renzo too. To protect him, she didn’t think twice. She acted purely on her instinct. And, as she came back from her frenzied state, her hands were caked with blood. Their blood. Someone had set her up to fail, no matter her actions. Die. Lose Renzo. Or kill at least one of them. One year.

She thought about it for one year, until she understood. It was clear in hindsight, as clear as spring water. Left in her state of disarray, she had only one person she could count on. The person who answered her phone call immediately, as if he knew it was coming. A person that never accepted her departure from the syndicate.

That person kneeling in front of her, with three bullets shoved inside his body.

Blade.

Aural.

“You organized everything, didn’t you? You wanted me to be yours, to depend on your charity to survive. You set up all that circus so that I couldn’t live my life as Elena Marea anymore – not after pictures of the massacre you made me cause popped up all over the internet. Even if no official news outlet ever shared them, even if my face was blurred and it was impossible to recognize Renzo, if a human woman with a fin appeared anywhere, rumors would spread like wildfire. I’d clap my hands at your deviancy, Blade. Really, such a masterfully crafted plan to chain me to you.”

Blade shook his head in disbelief. How? How did she see through it? What was his mistake?

Where did it all fail? The pain was dulling his reasoning, his neurons fighting for supremacy on what was more important – the wounds on his flesh or on his pride. The right answer, though, was neither of them. As Elena towered over him, he realized the worst had yet to come.

“Let me guess, Blade. You wanted to use me to kill Go, right? In exchange for your protection as the new leader of the syndicate, I should have got rid of him for you. You were waiting for my despair to pile up, until I couldn’t take it anymore and beg you to save me. To your credit, it almost worked. Almost.”

Elena tapped the handle of her gun, the magazine expelled, replaced with a new one from her belt, without using her fin. She removed the silencer too, with a precise twist of her wrist. In less than five seconds, the barrel was aiming at Blade’s head again. In that infinitesimal time, Elena’s mind had wandered through months of hiding, months of being cut from society, months of stealing to survive, eating at charity canteens for homeless people, sleeping under bridges, concealing her fin as a stump, a malformed arm. But, then, she got wind of something, courtesy of a certain alien nightclub owner, something she needed to verify. Renzo. Renzo was back to New Langdon, searching for her. He had never given up. Never. She looked for him too, without being seen, not wanting to put him in danger, not wanting to talk with him – just to be sure he was fine, be sure he could go on without her. And, when she finally found him, right in front of Jackson’s, she couldn’t help but smile. He looked good, more adult, more confident. With that crop top, flaunting his abs, all those tattoos and piercings, she almost didn’t recognize him. And that yelling neko at his side… could have she been his new girlfriend? Of course, after the trauma he had to move on, at least on that side. She did feel a little bit jealous, but admiration overshadowed that, as she kept observing him from the shadows. She could clearly see some of his tattoos. One made her gasp for air. A dolphin. A beautiful dolphin, inked on his shoulder. He didn’t forget. He really didn’t forget about her.

“… this place looks soooo décevant. Of course, of course it’s managed by an ami of yours!”

“Come on, Claire, gimme a break! I just want to greet the owner, that’s all.”

Elena was eavesdropping from the sidelines, their voices loud enough to be clearly understandable, despite the distance. Renzo’s words kept on flowing, as he seemed not to be in the best terms with that cat-eared gal.

“Elena loved Jackson’s. We used to drink coffee together here, every Sunday. Maybe… nah, forget about it”

Hearing her own name startled her, much more than she expected. She kept listening though, as the two chatted in front of the door. That neko had such a strong French accent that she felt like rolling her eyes at each of her words.

“Yeah. We’ve looked for her all around the city without results, Ren. I’m not even sure that intel was correct, at this point. I’m sorry…”

“That’s fine. You miss all the shots you don’t take. She taught me this… and she’s never missed a shot. Best markswoman I’ve ever met, not even a contest.”

“I know, I know. You talked about her for the whoooole time we’ve been on this trip.”

“Well, without her I would have died in Euterpe… or in Aubépine. I feel like… I’ve never thanked her properly for saving my hide.”

No, you’re wrong. Elena’s mind raced. You thanked me more than enough. You made me live my best life. You…

“Well, princess, time for you to meet my good ol’ friend Vince! But I must warn you – his face is…

well, one of a kind. Or many of many kinds. Hard to explain, you’ll see.”

“Call me princess once myare and I’ll have your balls for breakfast!”

“… whatever…”

As they disappeared behind that door, Elena noticed her heart was equally grinning and aching.

Renzo was fine, he had developed into a beautiful, gorgeous, healthy adult. His girlfriend, though, sounded like an annoying piece of work. Was she really replaced with a meowing spoiled brat?

She would have run a background check on her, when she had time. Still, she felt relieved. Renzo had moved on, but didn’t forget her. She was still important to him, as he was to her. She fought the urge to break her hiding, run to him, hug him, but that… that could have put him in danger.

No, that slice of happiness that she felt was enough.

Enough to make her sick of her predicament, of her impotence. That’s when her resolution hatched. That’s when she took action. That’s when the first brick fell into place.

The first brick leading to that moment, in Go’s office, one ocean apart. And, now, Blade was staring at the barrel of her gun, drowning in his own impotence, kneeling in front of her. To think she used to love him – Delfina used to love him. But Delfina was no more, and Elena almost risked to suffer her same fate. If not for one solid anchor, the anchor that made her endure her odyssey, her return trip to Ithaca.

“… but almost wasn’t enough.”

Blade sputtered, as the pain had become unbearable, his reasoning lost, his mind unraveled. That was not the plan he had in mind. That wasn’t even a contingency he could plan for. Delfina couldn’t… wouldn’t…

“What… what do you want to do now? Kill me? Kill Go and the others too?”

“I need Go alive. I can’t lead the syndicate alone and I can’t fabricate a new identity without his help. His assistance will be very appreciated.”

Blade blinked. That… what did that mean?

“A new… identity? Leading the syndicate?!”

Yet, a shrug was the answer, a shrug which conveyed pain and frustration in one, slow gesture.

“Thanks to you, Elena Marea is dead. Thanks to your… machinations, I had to give up on the most beautiful part of myself, Blade. I had to give up on my dreams of a new, honest life together with the man I loved. But, if I can’t live my dream anymore, I’ll live yours instead.”

She raised her fin, watched it with a melancholic stare, lost in her thoughts.

“Elena Thetis-Ariadne. This is who I am now. This is who I will be: the new CEO of the Ottari Holding and head of the Fishface Crime Syndicate. A woman with a prosthetic arm, a fanatic of scuba diving that had gills artificially implanted – someone with a very well constructed list of business achievements and previous affiliations. Money and influence can buy a lot, Blade, even create stuff that never existed. You taught me about this, remember?”

Silence. The air itself felt oppressive, every word, every sentence heavier than the previous. Blade spat on the floor. Delfina. Head of the syndicate? Hiding her fin inside an empty mechanical arm?

Starting again? Refusing her name, murdering it once more? No. He couldn’t stand for it. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let her have her way. And, if he knew her enough, she would never have the courage to get rid of him. Delfina would never. He found the strength to react, conscious of his position, of his bargaining power. She wasn’t anything. She was just a pawn and he would have had the last word. He growled, pointed his finger at her, fighting against his own body.

“It… it doesn’t make any sense! Why are you doing this? Why have you ruined everything we’ve worked for together?! Answer me! Answer me, Delfi…”

A loud gunshot.

The last one.

Blade’s nape hit the floor, as his chest rebounded from the impact, as the pictures began to fade, his eyes to close. And everything became blurry, as light was engulfed by a thick blanket of darkness.

It was then that Go stood up, his hand moving away from his shoulder, uncovering a darkened patch. Not a bullet hole, not a wound, not blood. Just paint. He stretched his arm, moved it up and down without any effort, then directed his gaze at the body sprawled on the floor, in a pool of blood.

“To think I was right all along. Serves me well for trusting him.”

He directed his gaze at Elena, her gun still aimed at the motionless great golden.

“Well, I guess that’s it. I’ll keep my word.”

“You’ll better.”

He sat on his ornate office chair, crossed his fingers under his squid-shaped head, playing with two short tentacles.

“It was quite the surprise to hear your story… and your will to support me, by exposing this treacherous bastard who played us like a fiddle for so many years. Yes, you arrived at the right moment, Elena, because we need change – and we need it now. After that giant mutant plant emerged in Shard, this world has gone insane. Wars, riots, mob families killing each other for just one dealing spot. This is not what I was born to deal with. A new world needs a new leader, someone ruthless, but also, compassionate... humane. Someone capable of bridging the gap with those scaleless monkeys. It’s no time for isolation or mindless violence – the Fishface Syndicate has to adapt or we’ll die out, all of us. You just served me the solution on a silver platter.”

“I expected more resistance from you, Go.”

The squidman shrugged, would have smirked if his features allowed it.

“I recognize a good business opportunity, when I see one. And, if this… let’s call it hostile takeover means I can still hold power without being as exposed as before, I’ll gladly take it.”

“You were always the smart one, huh?”

“Only way I could survive so long, Elena.”

He made a short pause, while looking at her with a piercing gaze, full of excitement.

“Now, Ms. CEO…”

A button pushed on his desk. The aquarium covered by a sliding display, a map with several red spots flaring up.

“…where shall we start from?”

**

He didn’t know how much time had passed, just that some time had. Lying down, on something resembling a bed, pain still running through his muscles and bones, flaring up his neural connections. He breathed. His heart was beating. That was no afterlife, then. He was alive. But where? When? As he opened his eyes, he noticed it. A scrap of paper, taped to his hand.

Thank my promise to the man I loved.

He tried to parse the content, with some difficulty. The promise to the man she loved. That didn’t mean… Rage mounted up, filled him, made him mad. He opened his mouth to scream, to shout. But he realized he couldn’t. No voice. No sound. He brought his hand to his throat. That was still working, air was flowing in and out. Then…

“You woke up. Good. Many don’t.”

An unfamiliar voice, speaking a very broken English with a heavy Japanese accent. A man, relatively old, with a face mask and a gown. A doctor? He looked around, looked at his limbs. Rolls of gauze and bandages were wrapping his arms and legs, reddened with dried blood. Every movement was hard, as if his body was still heavily sedated. Sedated? His eyes immediately went for his chest, the spot the last gunshot hit. Bandages there too, but no blood. He lay puzzled, without an explanation. What had happened? Why was there no wound? All of a sudden, he felt sick. It was as if everything around him was spinning, and spinning, and spinning. Where was he? He felt his voice coming back. Sounds, he could hear them. He was taking control again over his body. He tried to stand up, but his muscles didn’t cooperate at all, made him fall down.

“You need quiet. If you no quiet, you no improvement. But you are alive. Which is good. Dead patients are no good.”

He suddenly realized who the doctor reminded him of. Shissu Kobase, the renegade underground surgeon wanted by the police of several states. Why was he there? Where was there? His memory was fuzzy, the last thing he remembered was…

“Delfina… AGH.”

A sudden shock, through his muscles, his bones, his nerves. He gurgled in pain, as the effects of the convulsions waned.

“No, no, no, no! You mustn’t think about that name! You do, you feel pain. Special request, addition to your brain. Paid very well.”

Addition to his what? He couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but did that mean…

“What? C… can’t I say the name Delfina… AAAAGH!”

Again. An electric shock, stronger than the previous, leaving him gasping for air. What happened?

How was that… even possible? He almost puked, as his convulsions ended. Could the simple act of thinking about the word Delfina…

“AAAAAGH!”

He almost lost his breath. It did. Somehow, it did. The word. That word triggered something that caused that reaction. A torture? Was that her way to punish him? No, that…

“Calm down, shark-san. No way out. But you breathe, good. Your body is fit. You just need some rest.”

Blade calmed down, as the spasms subsided. Yes, he was still alive. The last shot, that last bullet, was a strong sedative, something that caused him to lose consciousness. She never intended to kill him. He was right. He was right. And yet, Del… he stopped his brain at the last possible second from completing the thought. He breathed, slowly, trying to assess his situation. Where was he, again? And why, of all people, Shissu Kobase was patching him?

That feeling once more, the feeling of not being on solid ground. Squinting his eyes, he finally saw them. Circular windows. And the sea, outside. A ship. A vessel of sort. Then, he heard them.

Steps. Noise of steps, light, well spaced, without any hurry, coming from his left. Kobase had heard them too, as he stood up almost immediately.

“Oh, good, boss-sama is here.”

What Blade saw, was a mutant woman unlike any other he had met till then. Diminutive, sure, but emanating a singular, menacing aura of authority and ambition, behind her black sclerae, as she finished feasting on a red apple, her fangs sinking into the pulp.

“How’s with the sleeping beauty, doc?”

“He lives. As Thetis-Ariadne-sama said.”

“One hell of a payment for just one ocean ride! Wish this wreck was just a bit faster, but there’s a limit to how much an illegal fishing vessel can be upgraded.”

Blade squared her in silence, noticed the pointy, wolf-like ears, the brown fur, the human visage, the vast swathes of naked skin only barely covered by a long, ripped red cape.

“Welcome aboard the Mattanza, Blade Aural.”

She proffered her clawed hand, fur covering her arm up to her elbow, flaming golden irises scanning him from head to toes.

“I hope you’ll enjoy your stay... as a new member of my Broken Moon Circus!”