A new trump card, huh? What was it going to be this time, five seconds of time stop? An omnidirectional crossbow bolt? Transmutation without exchange? The Cataloguer must be a lucky person, to stumble across all these treasures in one lifetime. Makes one wonder if his first Treasure was a Treasure-seeking map.
Nevertheless, he smiled, dipping his head down to thank the Magister…right as a familiarly unchanging face popped up into the Dangeki Pawn and Parlour Café. Now, there were four immortals in the establishment, and Rui-Ling couldn’t help but laugh at Carver’s pitch. Seems like the door-to-door magic salesman was still trying to get a slice of the profits Rui-Ling got from his organ-selling days, and while the silver-armed youth considered packing some magical heat…
“Carver, you know, we’ve known each other for years, and we’ve probably had this conversation before, but really, maybe you should find someone else to buy your stuff. I’m more of an ‘expensive food’ type of person, you know? That being said, on the topic of people to buy your charms…not 100% sure, but there’s these two Chasers by the name of Lucille and Katherine who didn’t get the memo yet that normal bullets are fifty degrees of useless against most youkai. Perhaps work some of your magic there, lady-killer?”
Rui-Ling patted the slightly shorter teen on the back, winking. “And don’t worry, that information’s free of charge…but seriously, I have all the time in the world to prostrate myself before Aria and become a magical boy, so I’m not in any particular rush to add more spells to my bag of tricks. Keep your sample, and good luck, my friend~”
With that said and done, he turned his attention to Ellie, who finally began dispensing information about the whereabouts of the Yellow Jackets. Shrugging at her speculations about his grudge, he said, “Long story short, it was 1979, I was at an outdoors music festival in Kyoto, and they did a drive-by for shits and giggles. Got trampled to death like…three, five times before I tore out all their souls? Would have been fine with it, really, if those Yellow Jackets didn’t do the same thing seven years ago in Downtown Sonomachi, during the Proud of My Voice live performance. After that, I beat them in a race, stole all their vehicles, stripped them nude, and kicked their asses out...so the cycle of hatred was cemented.”
Patting his own legs, which, unfortunately, hadn’t gained any muscle at all during the past century or so, the immortal nodded at Ellie’s offer for a ride. Unfortunately, his particular brand of immortality meant that nothing could change about him at all. His hair was the same as it had always been, and no matter how much physical training he did, all Rui-Ling could do was be more efficient with what he had. And, as it was, the body of a teenager, regardless of how perfect his running posture was, could not outrun a vehicle.
A shame, really. He probably could do it if he was 25 years old and in the prime of his human life.
Palming the ignition key, the immortal nodded in assent. “No worries, I’ll bring it back without a scratch, Ellie. Swear upon my blood money…and please don’t take a page out of Carver’s book. Don’t need two infomercial characters in Sonomachi.”
With that, he went off to the back of the store, sweeping off the motorcycle dramatically. Tracing a line on the side of its polished red surface, the immortal tentatively tapped the side of the vehicle with his silvered hand. No magical reaction. Good, so Reiko wasn’t paranoid enough to buy an ensorcelled motorcycle as well. Hopping on and twisting in the ignition, Rui-Ling grinned at the rumble of the vehicle below him. It purred like a lion, more than enough power to shame the Yellow Jackets before he kicked their ass out of Sonomachi.
Pulling out of the shop and trying not to laugh at Jun’s scooter, Rui-Ling drove off, gliding through the streets seamlessly. With twenty-two years of experience with all sorts of vehicles and eighteen more of stunt driving, the half-Chinese Chaser zoomed towards the darkened realm of the Industrial District, a red streak through lonely streets.
~
Once he got to the heart of the Old Port, it was easy enough to hear and smell the presence of the motorcycle gang. The gasoline guzzling freaks were at it again, and it looked like their leader had recovered from the facial disfigurations Rui-Ling put him through last time. Pulling his mechanical mount up through the doors of the abandoned warehouse, he stepped off in front of the gang, blue eyes burning fearlessly.
“Welcome back to Sonomachi, you yellow worms! Come here to be humiliated again? Or did you actually get better since the last time I outraced you, took your rides, and sold them for 500 yen on EBay?”
Rui-Ling spat, eight years of training sending the wad of spittle right at Suzumebachi’s feet.
“Honestly, I’ve missed out on AKB48’s concert for this bullshit, and there's some Treasure-hunter around these parts as well that I need to apprehend already, so if you want to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness, I might let you go home fully clothed this time.”
