“I am most sorry, madam. I will get the mix up with your dish resolved, and please accept another glass of cabernet by way of an apology,” the maître d’ apologized to an annoyed looking woman. Once the maître d’, a Japanese man just south of middle aged, turned the apologetic look melted into a molten iron glare as he looked at young Franklin; the new waiter responsible for the mix up. Trained poise kept him from storming over to the young man, and the palm planted on Franklin’s back left little question that he needed to go where the maître d’ was pushing him.
“I was led to believe you had service experience, so why are you mixing up orders like this is some backroad diner?!” the maître d’ was able to raise his voice ever so slightly as he and Franklin stood in the side office. Franklin felt thankful for the man’s restraint, as he wasn’t a fan of being yelled at. All he could do was wince at the rebuke. “Now I need to figure out what to do with you. I can’t just leave you on the floor messing up orders, but I also can’t afford to be down a set of hands; so count yourself lucky that I’m not sending you away. But you had better believe I will be bringing this up with management. Now, come.”
Franklin let out a breath he had been holding when the maître d’ turned his back. Barely twenty, he had come to Japan to travel in between schooling, and on a lark (needing some extra spending money) he had gotten a job working here through some careful persuasion (lying). He did, in fact, have some service experience, but as it so happened it was at a backroad diner. He had lasted three days; but hey, how much harder could fine dining be? Even three days of tips would likely set him up well. Wait… did Japan do tipping? Sighing dejectedly, Franklin followed the maître d’, who glared at him for sighing in the dining room, on their way to the kitchen.
Passing through the swinging double doors, the quiet din of the dining room shifted into the controlled chaos of the kitchen in full swing. It was, well, intimidating and Franklin found himself staring until the maître d’ practically yanked him by the ear to keep following. Seriously, the ear? Who does that? But Franklin followed dutifully if just to avoid another lashing. The two walked to a door at the side of the kitchen. It was a nice-looking door. Oak. Oddly out of place in the pristine white of the kitchen. He noticed the sign above the door, reading: Cellar. Cellar? Wasn’t this restaurant on the fifteenth floor? Or was he misunderstanding what a cellar was?
Inside the room Franklin was greeted with the sight of shelf after shelf of wine bottles. He was apparently gawking again as the maître d’ pulled him inside and closed the door. Now he was surrounded by a wine collection that could pay for a college degree at some schools. The maître d’ smacked his shoulder again. Oops, more gawking. Snapping back to the moment, he saw the maître d’ walking over to a woman. Ooh, she was pretty, Franklin thought. Franklin followed dutifully, now focused.
“Oi, Willow. Sorry to interrupt. I need to ask you a favor,” the maître d’ spoke plainly as he got close.
“Nope. Busy,” the woman, Willow, replied bluntly without looking away from her project; dusting bottles and checking corks, it seemed.
“Can you at least wait until you hear…”
“You’re being tailed by a new kid. It’s a pretty short list of options, and my answer is nope to all of them.”
“Don’t make me pull rank.”
This seemed to finally phase the woman, at least to the degree that she sat the bottle back in its spot and sighed with annoyance.
“This is Franklin,” the maître d’ paused for a moment, perhaps to either let Willow greet Franklin or visa versa; but Franklin was glued in place, and Willow just stared. “Short story is he’s been messing up orders all night, and I want you to give him some extra floor training.”
“Nope.”
“Willow!”
“Oh come on! Get Nozomi or Bernard to train him. I’m not a trainer.”
“Except that training is specifically in your job description.”
“Yeah, training staff about wine. This kid looks more inclined towards whine.”
“Don’t care. Both Nozomi and Bernard have their hands full as is, and tacking him onto them leaves his section unmanned. You’re the only other person on the clock who can pick up his section and teach him how to actually do his job.”
Franklin furrowed his brow as he watched the exchange between these two. On one hand, it was kind of amusing, if just to see someone talking back to the maître d’. On the other hand, they were being kind of rude to him. Man, fine dining kind of sucked. At last, it seemed like this Willow was finally giving in.
“Good. Franklin, this is Willow. One of the sommeliers we have on staff. She’s going to take time out of her busy schedule of dusting bottles to teach you how to actually function as a waiter. Pay attention and don’t slow her down.” The maître d’ was straight to the point, and still pretty rude. Without waiting for confirmation, the older man left the room; leaving Franklin alone with Willow.
Clearing his throat awkwardly, Franklin gave Willow a once over; purely to admire her outfit. Her blonde hair came a little ways down past her shoulder, but she kept it draped to the front over her left shoulder. While she was wearing make-up, it was not a lot; mostly just enough to accentuate her features. She wore a slim black pantsuit with a low two-button jacket over top of a cherry pink blouse with a white thin scarf wrapped neatly. Her shoes had a bit of a heel to them, but otherwise looked pretty function focused.
“Eyes up, chief,” Willow said as she collected a small notebook and a pen from atop of wine cooler housing some house whites.
“I wasn’t…” Franklin started, but Willow whisked past him as she opened the door and ushered him out first. Once back in the kitchen, Willow seemed to brighten a bit and a number of the cooks took a moment to greet her or make a joke. Franklin walked a bit faster so that he was just behind and off her right side. “Hey, uh, we didn’t get much of an introduction, I’m…”
“Frank. Don’t fret about propriety. Now, game face,” Willow was pure business, and once she stepped through the door she adopted a professional air that even put Franklin a bit more at ease. She almost seemed to glide through the dining room on her way to the first table. It was an older Japanese man and his wife. “Good evening. My name is Willow, and thank you so much for joining us for dinner. I’m also the sommelier of the night; so feel free to ask me about pairing suggestions, or even if there is a wine that catches your eye.”
Wow, Frankling thought, Willow seemed completely different when she was working. Just standing near her made him feel like he was gravitating towards her personality, and it seemed like the man and woman felt the same. They looked like they would be stiff and uppity, but they went right in to conversing with Willow. Mostly about how it was impressive for someone her age to become a sommelier at a nice restaurant like Félicité, and… wait, yeah, that was kind of odd. Willow looked like she was in her older twenties. His mental image of fine dining wine people was middle-aged dudes.
“Fine choices from both of you. A glass of Les Lauzeraies with the lady’s salmon, and for you Sir I would recommend a glass of our Bartolo Mascarello. It’s a younger Barolo wine that shares many qualities with its is older Nineteen Ninety-Nine counterpart, but you’ll find that the sharp tannins will work wonderfully with the rich oxtail.”
Franklin knew he was supposed to be watching, but he was sort of just gawking again. Half of what she said blew right over his head. He wasn’t supposed to know about wines, was he? Before he realized it Willow was off to the next table, and he hurried after her. So it went for a good while. Talking to tables, taking orders, delivering said orders to the kitchen; wash, rinse, repeat. And Franklin retained none of it. Finally, Willow announced she was going on break as there was a good lull in Franklin’s section. Franklin made to follow after, accompanied by some chiding and warnings from the cooks who picked up on the young man’s intentions. He ignored them as best he could and made his way outside a couple minutes behind his ad hoc mentor.
Willow had gone down a service elevator and out a back door to the alley behind the high rise. She had changed out of her black jacket and now wore a well worn leather jacket, and had a cigarette hanging on the edge of her lips as she drummed along with a song playing in her headphones. Even with the headphones in and her eyes closed as she imaged the drum set in her mind, she noticed Franklin step out the door. The kid was gawking again.
“Sup, kid? A few things before you start though: no, I won’t go out with you; yes, I can take you in a fight; and I only get one smoke a week, so this had better be good,” Willow stated plainly as she continued air drumming. She felt a breeze pass in front of her nose, and the cigarette twitched suddenly followed quickly by a metallic thunk. Opening her eyes, she looked down to see the cigarette was noticeably shorter than it had been, and there was a rather noticeable throwing knife embedded in the dumpster off to her side. She paused her music.
“How about those things will kill you?” Franklin asked, his tone flippant and his demeanor shifted from how it had been inside.
“Cigarettes, or throwing knives? Because I already knew that about both of those,” Willow plucked the cut cigarette out of her mouth and looked at it with evident annoyance. Pulling out a battered vintage zippo light, she made to relight it. Then the lighter flew out of her hand. No knife that time, and for the first time since Franklin had met her she looked surprised. She looked between the lighter that had flown down the alley, and back to Franklin. With a burn of Iron Willow pulled the lighter back towards her and snatched it out of the air. “Guess I’m gonna be later to band practice than I thought.”
“Unbelievable. A knife didn’t phase you, and now the most I get from you is momentary surprise?” Franklin asked, his tone cold with a hint of his own annoyance.
“To quote the bard, Shania Twain, that don’t impress me much,” Willow squared off with Franklin. “Always figured there must be other allomancers ‘sides just me. Do mark me down as curious about why you’re trying to threaten me, though.”
“I have a message for you.”
Willow cocked an eyebrow, but otherwise looked immediately disinterested.
“I am to tell you that you’re being too noisy, and…”
“Oh shit, did the old lady upstairs hire you? Because…” Willow interrupted.
“No!” Franklin snapped, before somewhat regaining his composure. “You’re being too noisy Fairburn, and…”
“Eeeeeee,” Willow interrupted again, making a buzzer sound.
“What now?!”
“Your information is out of date, buckaroo. I don’t go by Fairburn anymore,” Willow’s comment made Franklin take several deep breaths before he started again.
“Regardless…”
“And what do you mean by noisy?”
Franklin rubbed his forehead, a growl rumbling out of him.
“My organization has spent a long time trying to let people forget about allomancers, and then you come along and start making a show of the art,” Franklin continues, slow and deliberate, possibly to avoid another jarring interruption. “My leader wants to invite you to our organization, and barring that, well…”
Franklin gestured to the knife sticking out of the dumpster. Willow stood silent for a few long moments.
“You’re one of those assassins from way back? Mist something or others? Pfft, this is just a kill me now or kill me later deal, ain’t it? Say I go: it’ll probs be your leader telling me to fall in line with the Murder Bunch, or get slit. Same dice for me talking to you. Well, Frank, just gonna say now I’m not keen on any of those three options, so go kick rocks.”
“Heh, I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll be well rewarded for taking you out,” Franklin flashed a wicked grin before another knife flicked from his sleeve. As quick as it came into view it flew from his hand towards Willow’s neck. After a moment’s delay she dodged, a sliver of red growing on her skin. Thank god for Pewter, because turns out Franklin’s knives weren’t metal. Made sense if he knew he was going after another allomancer. She didn’t register the other one since it embedded in a metal object, but now that element of surprise was spent. She bent forward and rushed her assailant.
“Already told you, Frank, no, I won’t go out with you,” Willow smirked as she threw a punch. Franklin made to dodge, but a burn of Orichalcum halted made him stumble long enough for her fist to clock him square on the jaw. Dropping the Orichalcum burn as she struck, Frank went sprawling only to recover with remarkable grace; he was burning Pewter no as well.
“I’d heard you had some unique allomancy,” Frank remarked as he wiped his lip.
“I’ve got a few more surprises, you got any tricks besides ceramic knives?” Willow flashed a cocky smile. Franklin responded by dropping a coin and launching into the air. Willow just watched him go. “Running already Frank? That was a little lackluster.”
“No, I’m going to pay your Drysi a visit.” Frank’s words echoed down into the alley.
“Wrong answer.” All of Willow’s jolly brawler demeanor was gone in an instant, and with flared Mithril and Pewter Willow launched up after the fleeing assassin. The mental acuity of Pewter let her rationalize that he was clearly trying to goad her into a full fight, and that he was likely…
Another knife shot towards her as she crested the lip of the building. She pushed against a metal facet of a neighboring building with Steel, but the knife sliced through the sleeve of her jacket and bit into her arm. Vaulting the edge onto the roof, she felt a sudden force push her back out over the alley. The bastard was pushing against the metal on her jacket. Damn fighting allomancers was annoying, she thought ironically as another knife flew at her. She dropped the burn on Mithril and flared Ivorium.
Immediately she began to plummet back down into the alley, and took the chance to kick on her Copper and Bronze while taking off her jacket and letting it fall. She stopped the burn on Ivorium as soon as she was out of Frank’s line of sight, and Steel pushed against a drain down the alley. She flew out over the street, which was relatively busy at this time of night and she wondered idly if anyone was looking up. She found an anchor point on the lip of the roof and flared Iron to send herself flying towards the spot she glimpsed Franklin. A quick Steel push to make sure she’d fly passed the lip rather than into it, and she sailed above the building again; only this time Franklin didn’t know exactly where she was coming from. Still, he was fast. Likely well trained, which was amplified by Pewter. There was already another knife flying towards her.
Ivorium flared once more, arresting her upward movement and dropping her under the knife and into a tuck and roll onto the gravel cover roof. Dropping Ivorium, she rose like a sprinter off the starting block while grabbing a handful of the small stones beneath her. Franklin darted to the side and burned Steel, looking to be retreating to another rooftop. Gauging his trajectory, Willow whipped her arm forward, hurling the handful of gravel towards him like a shotgun blast; and for good measure she burned Orichalcum while focusing on the stones, increasing their mass just before they struck. He took a hit hard to the shoulder, the side of his ribs, a couple to the back, and his leg. Franklin went reeling over the side of the building.
Giving chase, Willow pushed herself off to the left to avoid potential knives flying at expected points of appearance before leaping over the side as well. Franklin was flying down the street in the back-and-forth pattern of Steel pushing while angling upwards. He looked to be making his way towards some of the skyscrapers in Downtown. Willow found a point behind her, then with Steel and Mithril went soaring after the fleeing man.
Even though Willow didn’t need to worry about making a back and forth motion, there was enough metal in these buildings that Franklin was able to gain plenty of speed to keep ahead of her. Eventually he seemed to arrive at a building that fit what he was looking for: the Umeda Sky Building. A tall building with twin structures connected by skybridges and a large canopy top floor. This was going to be a pain if it drug on, especially if she lost sight of him. To many blind corners.
The fleeing man slowed somewhat as he started to climb, the distance of his pushes eating away at his speed. Willow gained some ground up until he got within range of a skybridge and pulled himself with what had to be an Iron flare. She flare pulled after him, but had to Steel push to either side as another string of knives came toward her. The pacing was slower by a bit. Hopefully that meant she’d broken one of his arms, but even still with Pewter he could muscle through it; damn durable allomancers. Was she this tedious to fight, she wondered off-hand.
They were nearing the top, and the large circular opening in the canopy floor. Reaching into her back pocket where she had stored her lighter, she whipped the zippo at Franklin’s back and flared Steel to push it faster. Apparently, Franklin had been expecting something like this as he turned to look back and Steel pushed on the lighter as well. Normally, this would cause the lighter to be affected by the heavier individual, namely Franklin would be able to push the lighter away, and by extension pushing the smaller Willow as well. Unfortunately for Franklin, Willow made a play.
Ivorium. She burned Ivorium again. While it meant sacrificing a chunk of her upward speed, she made herself weigh more than Franklin, and between her Steel flare and Frank’s own the man was sent barreling up through the circular opening and well above the rooftop; out of range of any metal he could push or pull on. In other words, a sitting duck for Willow’s enhanced aerial maneuverability. Dropping Ivorium, Willow found a few anchors on flanking skybridges and yeeted herself up through the opening as well along with burning Mithril. She caught up with Franklin just as he was losing his upward momentum.
To his credit, Franklin seemed surprised but still reacted with his best option. Another fucking knife. This time Willow had no metal to juke with, and changing her mass wouldn’t appreciably alter her path. Focusing on the knife, she flared Adamantine and blocked with her arm. The knife’s weight became negligible, but thanks to sheer relative speed and being so dang sharp it punctured Willow’s arm; but thankfully it didn’t cause much damage. Then Willow caught Franklin. With a soaring uppercut the slammed him in the jaw again. His arm whipped forward, this time to stab rather than throw.
“How many fucking knives do you have?!” Willow shouted over the rushing night air.
“Die!” Franklin responded as he sank the knife into Willow’s forearm as she blocked the swipe aimed at her neck.
“Gotta work on your banter, dude,” Willow twisted her arm, catching his at the expense of deepening the gash the knife was leaving. Bringing her other arm around, she flipped him and threw him down towards the building while flaring Orichalcum to give him a hard time stopping his fall. Flaring Ivorium for herself, Willow began to fall rapidly. Franklin began to slow, finding some metal it seemed, but Willow was hot on his tail. Catching him around the waist, Franklin yelped as his push wasn’t strong enough to counteract Willow’s amplified weight pushing him downward. Once close enough, Willow shifted, got her feet against Franklin’s back, and kicked with a Pewter flare coupled with a Duralumin burst. Franklin roared downward, impacting onto the roof like stone as Willow descended slowly with a partial Mithril burn.
Landing nearby, she walked with a steady stride to the broken man. Franklin was coughing and trying to breath, alive by the grace of Pewter. Standing over him, Willow took a moment to consider what she was going to say.
“You lose. You lost the moment you threatened someone close to me,” she knelt closer to him. “And here’s how the rest of this is going to play out. I’m guessing you have a handler in town to help with information and tracking. Assuming they come and get you, and you don’t die, you are gonna fuck off back to whatever hole you crawled out of. Then you are gonna leave me and mine alone. I’m genuinely not interested, and so long as you don’t target anyone I care about I’ll probably go back to forgetting about ya. Sound good?”
A rustle of gravel sounded behind her, and Willow whipped around; feeling a little sluggish without Pewter, not to mention the pains and aches beginning to set in from the cuts she’d taken. On the ground a little way away, there sat an envelope. Flaring Tin, Willow couldn’t see or hear anyone else that might have quickly left the parcel. The envelope was addressed to her. Franklin began to make a choked laughing sound.
“You… hehe, still think… you have… a choice,” Franklin shifted his jaw, and then began to convulse as his mouth foamed. For the first time in their interactions, Willow looked shaken.
Making herself look away from the body, Willow knelt down and picked up the envelope. Some blood smeared on it, making her realize how bad the cut on her arm was. Burning Iron, she looked back at Franklin and saw a few sources of metal. One was a coin pouch, and the other was a vial of metal shavings. She reached into Franklin’s pocket as delicately as she could and withdrew the vial. After a cautious sniff, that confirmed it was an alcohol solution, she tipped it back and swallowed the contents.
It was fairly basic stuff. The Eight Main. Sadly it wasn’t all that much in the way of Pewter, but at least it was enough to take the edge off. Pulling the envelope back out, she gave it a quick inspection, both visually and with Steel. Nothing untoward aside from being left by an assassin guild. She broke the seal, a wax embossing of some alchemical looking symbol, and opened the flap. The first thing she saw was a note. Unfolding it, it read:
And nothing else on either side. Looking back at Franklin, she remembered his last words and clenched her jaw as she went back to looking through the envelope. The next thing she pulled out was a plane ticket. Osaka to Zurich. Switzerland? she thought. The flight was in a few hours; a red eye flight. Scoffing a bit, she tucked the ticket back and pulled out the last item. Her blood ran cold. It was a picture taken from outside of her apartment, Drysi was inside reading on the couch.Congratulations, you passed
You still think you have a choice
The assassin’s words rang in her mind as she pocketed the plane ticket.