No Rest for the Wicked

Aysel left the office and sighed, it was already a quarter to 10. If she hadn’t known any better, she’d have guessed her father had something to do with the most recent series of fires she’d had to put out. He of course, hadn’t remembered the conversation they had had about her mother in the slightest and had no real reason to make her any more busy then she already was. These late nights at the office were putting a serious cramp in her ability to “reap divine retribution”, as her father had so pointedly told her was her new job description as a fury, and that made her cranky, since she had rather taken to addling peoples brains, whether she was doing it for the inane reasons of whatever dark goddess was telling her to or if it was just because she felt like it. However, she was starting to lean towards the former reason given the odd results of the DNA test that she had run on herself.

She didn’t quite get the logic of it though. If the gods were going to start punishing people for not being grateful for what they had, well… that was pretty much the whole population, why not invoke an apocalypse instead? Meh. Greeks. Just blame them, they came up with this stuff and it seemed the logical thing to do.  As for her father making a mess of things and keeping her there late, Aysel had to wonder if it had to do with Pyr moving in with her. Ugh. It probably did, dear old Daddy probably had done his whole PI thing on him.

Aysel felt a sudden need for a drink. She looked at her watch and figured that Pyr had already gone out without her. Right. Pocket D and scotch on the rocks it was then. She activated her VIP pass and lounged around in the Tiki Lounge after she began to nurse a single malt 27 year old scotch. She was restless and the Lounge wasn’t helping things. She got up and wandered her way past the dance floor and up to the area where the newer barkeep was on patrol. He tended to draw an interesting crowd. She leaned against the stair railing and watched for a bit. A hero flying in nearly ran into her and made her spill her drink and she shot him a cold glare as he bumbled in to socialize. Lots of capes there tonight she thought as she sipped the drink.  It was entertaining enough though, some of the people that fancied themselves the good guys were… in a word… fairly naïve about how the world worked. Take for instance the guy wandering around in a black and pink rabbit costume hitting on some of the gents. One gal couldn’t quite grasp why it might be that he goosed the Hero that had nearly flown into her. That gave her some amusement, a little bit of divine retribution for him perhaps.

As a rule, Aysel didn’t like hero types much. She understood why some of them did what they did, but others of them… well it was like they didn’t have a reason so much as they had no reason not to. Sure, some heroes knew how the world worked, and were ok with it, but a startling number of upshots were fairly idealistic and naïve. Add in the fact that it seemed that a good number she came up against when patrolling Siren’s Call and Bloody Bay didn’t actually have any of that “Self Proclaimed Virtue and Honor” that they all seemed to get hyped up about and it just left a sick feeling in her stomach. This line of thought is particularly important in understanding just why she felt the need to cut in and put in her two cents when the do-gooder known as People’s Elf was engaging in a conversation about mercenaries with one said Mercenary, Rostov Kushan. She watched and listened for a bit, her attention had been pulled that direction when the bunny had goosed the Merc and he shoved a gun down the guys throat. The elf was trying to keep the peace. Bleh, there goes some fun she had first thought. But then the conversation started in and the fact that the Merc was trying to explain his business while the Elf was busy not quite understanding. It was too tempting for Aysel, the girl asked if the Merc would have been able to make as much money if he were an accountant when she cut in.

“Only if he were cooking the books, though he doesn’t look the type.”

She smirked at the elf and then shared a knowing glance with the Merc. “I wouldn’t worry very much about her understanding, it’s not exactly to be expected.” The “hero” ignored her and continued her conversation with the Merc.  This amused Aysel to no end, especially when Rostov referred to himself as a knight in dark grey armor and promised the elf he’d set her up a nice IRA if he should ever find himself out of work.

When the hero who introduced herself as Gina finally walked off, Aysel gave the Merc a grin. “Going to be a looong time before she’s going to retire if that’s the case.” She really didn’t care if the Merc agreed or not, he just looked the type that would make good conversation.  She was right of course, she usually wasn’t wrong when it came to entertaining herself.  Unfortunately it ended all too quickly. She got a page from work…  one of the emergency codes. Someone was getting fired tonight. She excused herself  curtly and was off. If it was really an emergency, she would even be a nice as to leave the offender’s brain entact.


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