hadriel_logs | they always told me that you'll never get to heaven with a life like yours.

Mello comes back to consciousness with a violent start and a gasp of breath that segues into a surprised cough. One gloved hand presses reflexively to his throat, the place where Bianca did her butchery. It should hurt, he thinks - it hurt at the time - but it doesn't. A mystery to be contemplated at another time, most likely, because there are figures in front of him, and though Mello may be disoriented by the abrupt return to the state of living, he isn't stupid. He can guess who they are, but why guess when you can ask? So ask is what he does, once his mouth remembers how to form words again and his lungs begin to settle back into a regular rhythm of intake and output of breath.

"Who the hell are you?"

It is a courtesy that they wait and do not seize Mello the moment that he takes his first breath. It is also a courtesy that Henry's hand merely rests on the hilt of his sheathed arming sword, his weapon neither drawn nor pointed at Mello.

From gorget to sabatons, Henry is dressed in full plate armour, his heater shield ready on his left arm. He stands with a proud and subtly dangerous grace, still only while it suits him to be. The sharp edge to his voice matches the look his keen eyes place on Mello.

"The Guard. 'Tis well past time that you pay your dues. You have one chance to come with us peaceably. If you are wise then you will take it. For let us be clear: you shall leave this temple in our custody."

Edited (whoops, correcting a mistake) 2016-07-21 11:12 (UTC)

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Mello stares down the pair of them, stone-faced. He isn't easily intimidated on general principle, but he is incredibly observant, and the armored man's weapon doesn't escape his notice. Mello lost hold of his pistol in the scuffle with Bianca, and he can tell that the familiar weight of it is nowhere to be found on his person. So that means he is completely unarmed, in addition to being outnumbered, two to one. For now, he makes the decision not to move.

"Funny," he says, meaning anything but, "I don't remember seeing an invoice. Are you sure you sent it to the right address?"

It is all the answer that Henry needs.

"Remember," he says, stirring into action without hesitation, "that it was you who made this choice."

A lifetime of conditioning means that he is not hampered by the weight of his heavy armour. He takes the direct route, looking to to simply close in and seize Mello.

He and Shadow have the obvious advantages of numbers and martial skill. Mello cannot half-engage either of them and hope to win, but if Mello fully engages just one of them then Mello will leave himself open to the other one on a different front.

Henry is perfectly fine leaving his and Shadow's coordination down to honed instinct. He doesn't need to tell Shadow when to move or what angle to approach from, because he is confident that Shadow will make the right choice. It is highly unlikely that Mello can outclass either of them in a straight up fight. And even if Mello should slip away from him, there is no chance that Mello will prove quicker than Shadow.

What Mello hopes to accomplish by his defiance is beyond Henry, but he is certain that Mello will soon regret it.

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Mello isn't especially skilled in combat; his victories in that arena have always relied on the right tools and the element of surprise, neither of which he has in this situation. When Henry moves in toward him, he's on his feet in an instant, both gloved hands raised up - not quite in surrender, but enough of a gesture to show he's not making any offensive moves.

"Hey! Take it easy, Lancelot." His attention is mainly on Henry, but he does still glance over to Shadow to keep an eye on any movement he'll make. "First of all, I don't recognize the self-appointed City Guard's authority, and secondly, you still haven't told me what I've been accused of - which is a key factor in how you typically make an arrest in most civilized places, by the way." His expression sharpens into a scowl. This is just the worst. "That's the least you can do before you make with the manhandling. Unless, of course, you want a reputation for being a bunch of aggressive despots." He's guessing not.

Henry narrows his eyes.

"Yes, I can see how there shall be outcry that we dared to drag an unrepentant murderer to our headquarters without care for his delicacy."

It doesn't matter to Henry that Mello does not recognise their authority and wants to play at civility now that he is cornered. The time for talking is past. Mello had more than enough time to come to the Guard under his own power, but instead chose to go on the run and taunt them from whatever hole he crawled into.

He is not deterred by Mello's words or actions. He knows better than to let their opponent control this encounter. He is already in motion and he will not retreat.

"Yield. Make it easy on yourself."

Once in range, Henry makes a grab for Mello's arm with bruising strength.

He laughs, high and sharp, an automatic response to the absurdity of this whole situation. "I'm not delicate." He's also not showing his incredible intelligence in arguing such a minute point with someone heavily armed and intent on taking him into custody, but Mello is pretty spry for a corpse, and he's always had quick reflexes and a fair amount of agility. The idea of yielding out of force is one that his entire body rebels against, so he ducks Henry's grab.

"Listen, asshole, I don't know what story Bianca spun for you, but she shot first."

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Henry is of the same mind as Shadow in terms of getting this over with. Seizing the opening that Shadow creates by dropping Mello, Henry pins Mello to the floor using a foot to the centre of Mello's torso, leaning not only his weight -- he is all muscle -- but approximately sixty pounds of his full harness too. Naturally, he knows the plan Maketh and Nick have in mind. His sharp gaze quickly sweeps over Mello and a moment later he takes possession of Mello's phone.

With that done, Henry straightens up and removes his foot, stepping back. His eyes remain on Mello.

"Get up," he says disdainfully, giving Mello a none-too-gentle nudge in the side with the solid toe of his sabaton. "We are confiscating your phone 'til you have made amends."

He could haul Mello up, but he does not -- by not doing so, he gives Mello just enough rope to hang himself, and therein perhaps a little more fun for Shadow. He won't let this drag on much longer or get out of hand, of course, but morale is always important.

Fine. He's cooperating. Only by the barest definition of the word, but it's enough to count in Mello's book. He allowed those idiots to lead him back here for questioning. That's cooperation, right?

Of course, he never agreed to actually answer any questions. Whether that's a thing he will do remains to be seen. In the meantime, Mello settles for staring down the interrogating party with a defiant set of his jaw and narrowed eyes - watching, waiting, brain clicking ahead with silent calculations.

The initial interaction went as smoothly as such things can. Maketh made the decision not to attend it herself - it was a place for fighters and those trained for those moments, which she is decidedly not - but now she takes a seat in front of Mello, coffee in one hand. No weapons, though. A precaution.

No notebook, either.

Maketh sips her coffee, face neutral. She's dressed in her uniform as always, a hunting jacket viciously ironed and slacks treated just the same. Her bearing is strictly military. "We're going to have a personal chat, you and I."

Her demeanor isn't a surprise at all; certain types are drawn to law enforcement, or however the City Guard is classifying itself. Some people might be intimidated by a military presence, but Mello isn't one of them. He leans back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, and allows his expression to shift into a decidedly unamused smirk.

"Are we? Well, then - you first. Start with who the hell you are and why you think that means I should care about anything you have to say."

Maketh shrugs. She expected the attitude. Not for the first time, she's reminded of the bounty hunters her mother once kept company with. That same careless way of walking, and the sheer arrogance of their existance. But really, arrogance was hardly the right word for it. Quite simply, those people walked with the understanding that they had fought for their place in the world and come out on top, bloody and scarred, but ultimately victorious. She gets the same air from Mello.

For better or worse, she's dealt with his kind before. Was even raised by one of them.

"Maketh Tua. Guardswoman."

She watches him silently for a moment.

"Are you clever, Mello?"

Her initial assessment of his character is mostly correct. Yes, he has fought his way into the world, bled for his goals, taken on scars - like the jagged burn mark that mars the left side of his face. He just doesn't count himself as a victor. He may have survived the brutality of the life he chose when he renounced L's title and set out on his own, but he hasn't won anything - nothing that truly matters, at least, and he now knows that he never will.

In response to the question posed, Mello tips his head to the side, smirk shifting wider into a crooked grin. "Wise men don't wear name tags, Maketh Tua." He repeats her full name to emphasize his point. "If I did consider myself clever, it wouldn't be a terribly sound strategy to advertise that fact, would it?"

An honest answer. Maketh shrugs. "Hmm. But you do know what I intend. To keep the peace."

Even if that means enacting something he won't enjoy.

At this point she's not afraid of his retaliation, whatever form that might eventually take. No doubt he could think of something creative if pushed hard enough, but she's stood before monsters more than once. In the end, he's not worse than Lord Vadar. Few things are, really.

"A clever man might read the network posts and gain a clear understanding of where everyone stands, or at least where they pretend to." Maketh doesn't smile. "So perhaps you'd understand the depth of my conviction when I say I mean to keep the peace."

If he knows anything about her, then he'll have an inkling about the Empire. And if he doesn't, that will say something about him in turn. If he's prepared, if he's willing to admit that - where he takes the game. And it is a game, sadly. Someone will eventually win.

Mello watches the network like a hawk; it's the best way of gathering information, especially given that so many of the people here are all too willing to talk about themselves in open broadcasts. He's seen some of Maketh's conversations, like the one with Newt Geiszler when he was busy freaking out over Pyramid Head; Mello too had questioned him about methods of attacking the monster, looking for a possible weakness. But what he saw of their interaction was enough for Mello to glean a few key facts about her: that her world is ruled by a dictator; that she used to serve that dictator's whims; that she is now committed to atoning for whatever misdeeds her past holds.

He shifts in his seat, propping his elbow on the top of the chair's back and leaning his head back into his open hand. "I have nothing against peace," he says, in a somewhat arch tone. "In fact, if you'll recall, Maketh - if you were paying attention to the network, that is - that was my goal in trying to stop Sharon." In a roundabout way, what he says is true; he did want her destructive nightmare to cease, only it wasn't out of some altruistic impulse. It was for a much more personal reason - to keep Near out of harm's way.

"And since the City Guard is so laughably ineffective, it hardly seems fair to hold it against me for stepping up to handle what no one else was willing or able to."

"One that you failed."

It's said just a touch unkindly.

Maketh flexes her hands, then folds them in her lap. It's easy to fall back into old patterns like this. The Empire trained her in interrogation as well as infantry tactics. Control the flow of the conversation, give no ground. Show no emotion that does not gain you something. Crush your opponent underfoot.

The Empire is not here, though. She will have to be something else.

"Oh, that. You were hardly the first to suggest it."

This time, the tone is conversational. Maketh doesn't smile, though. There will be no false camaraderie between them. "It was suggested as a solution to the problem you pose as well. And like before, deemed inefficient. I'd rather you not be a problem constantly corrected, Mello. I won't waste the ammunition."

Mello is highly skilled in many areas, but he's never been good at hiding exactly what he feels; he is, for the most part, an entirely open book when it comes to his emotions. The thin veneer of belligerence he's been holding up so far in the conversation cracks into a sharp scowl that makes its way into his expression when he hears the word failed. Yes, it's true, he didn't succeed in ending Sharon's nightmare reign by causing her death, and that's just one more failure in a long string stretching back as far as Mello can remember.

Maketh doesn't need to know just how sore a point his failings are, though - he's already given away a lot with the shift in his expression, and he doesn't need to give her any more ammunition than she already has. He leans forward in his chair, narrow-eyed, elbows propped on his legs, gloved fingers interlaced in front of him.

"You don't frighten me, Maketh. You can kill me as many times as you like, if that's how you choose to throw your weight around, but I'm reasonably sure you don't want to do that. If you want the people here to trust the City Guard, you need to cultivate a favorable image. And nothing kills a favorable image of law enforcement than an overshow of force, which is exactly what killing me repeatedly would amount to." He tilts his head to the side, not quite smiling. "Besides, no one can argue that I wasn't acting for the greater good when I tried to stop Sharon. And that was an isolated case. It's not as if I go around shooting people without provocation - which is more than can be said for Bianca, for example." He makes an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression, then continues: "What are you planning to do about her, hmm? I mean, I don't actually expect much, seeing as how it took you - what, almost a month? - to catch up with me, and that was only because I was dead. But I am curious as to what kind of justice you intend for my murderer."

Edited 2016-07-24 02:35 (UTC)

Hmm. That touched a nerve.

Maketh raises an eyebrow. "I don't intend to kill you. We've already established that would be a waste of resources."

Something will need to be done about Bianca, that's true. And something will in due time. Right now they're discussing Mello and his attempts to change the direction of the conversation will not stand. Maketh leans back in her chair, watching him a moment. "The others intend you to serve the will of the community for a time. To publicly atone for your actions."

Community service, in other words. She knows exactly how humiliating it sounds.

"There are, of course, contingency plans in place if you do not comply. As I said, we would not kill you. But you will stand in line or I will break you the way the Empire breaks disruptive cadets."

Namely by shattering their legs and letting them sit with the pain for a few days. They can't kill Mello and there are some among the guard who would balk at such extreme measures, but Maketh prides herself on having multiple contingencies. If Mello won't cooperate, then she'll take away his ability to harm others. It's not killing him, but neither is it without pain.

"Yet you mentioned it, and a clever person would be able to see the thinly veiled threat therein." Or a highly paranoid one. Whatever. He shrugs, unconcerned. "Useless posturing is a waste of everyone's time, Maketh. And it only makes you look weak when you don't have the action to back up your claims. Everyone knows that."

The idea of Mello serving anything but his own aims is a laughable one, and he does in fact laugh at her statement. "I have absolutely zero interest in your misguided ideas about atonement," he says, once again leaning back in his seat, both arms propped lazily atop the back of the chair, a defiant half-smile stretched across his face. The underlying premise of redemption for his actions is a flawed one; Mello believes his actions were entirely justified.

"You can try to break me, Maketh, but I can guarantee you won't succeed." You can't break something that has already been broken, after all. And anyone who has a measure of skill at reading people should be able to tell that Mello is fundamentally broken. Pain isn't something he fears, nor death - in fact, there are very few things that he cares enough about to be used against him as leverage. Near is one of those things, the most important of them - but Mello has taken care to not speak of Near to people here. Ai knows, because she saw his dreams. Sharon too knows, but in a much more vague sense. Near and Mello are both highly secretive; keeping the depth of their connection to each other under wraps is a given.

... His phone, though. The Guard has his phone, and he has communicated with Near in secret using their phones. If the Guard were to go through all of his messages, they would learn more of the nature of Mello and Near's relationship, and that could be used to their advantage. What's more, he'd downloaded Chris' emergency message app and set it to report to Near. A clever person could easily use that to lure Near out into the open and cause him harm, and that is something Mello won't tolerate. A cold ball of fear settles hard in his stomach as this realization dawns on him. Shit. There's no good option for getting out of this, not while his phone is being held as collateral. Mello sighs and folds his arms across his chest.

"Look, Maketh, we can do this all day long - you attempting to threaten me into submission, me being clearly unimpressed by it and refusing to bow to your whims. You might even actually make good on some of those threats, but as I've said, they're not going to be effective with me. Kill me, torture me, whatever - it doesn't really matter to me. I have a fairly high tolerance for pain, and I've already been killed once, so I know what to expect. We all know death isn't a permanent solution, and, as you've said, it would be a waste of resources - plus, it would be a PR nightmare for you to mitigate. Frankly, I find this whole conversation exceedingly tiresome. I have no interest in sustaining a prolonged vendetta with the City Guard. In fact, I think you'll find that I can be quite reasonable, actually - which is why I'm willing, in the interest of moving past this whole ordeal, to listen to your terms."

"No, I doubt pain would be much of an incentive to you."

It's said frankly. Maketh meets his gaze easily. Of course this would go much easier if she could scare him, bow him down into submission with a lash of words - or even a literal whip, if it came to that. Simple and quick. but the scars on Mello's face mark him as a survivor, and his bravado isn't empty.

Thus, she'll use cold logic. He ought to appreciate that.

"And while it's true I'd rather not return to Imperial means, people will believe the easiest truth. And you're not liked, Mello."

He's certainly not trusted, either. Maketh is fairly confident she could make him disappear for a while without too many people noticing. Not permanently, of course, but it could be done for a time. Shatter his ankles, lock him in a box somewhere, take his phone. Keep him alive but quiet. Problem solved.

Well, one of them. It would make more trouble in the end. She'd prefer not to go there at all.

Hopefully he won't push the matter.

"You are going to agree to the terms dictated by the guard concerning your sentence. You are going to carry out that sentence without trouble. Complain if you wish, I do not care. And you will not involve yourself in the affairs of either Sharon or Bianca. Is that clear?"

"I may not be liked," he says, coolly, unwilling to budge even an inch, "but people hate a betrayal by those they've entrusted to keep them safe much more than they can ever hate me." He shrugs; he's seen this happen in his own world, the way public opinion flipped so fast in the wake of Kira's reign of terror and law enforcement's complete inability to do anything to stop it.

"What I am clear on, Maketh, is that I don't take orders from you. I am not one of your dogs. I may not be interested in fighting a war with the City Guard, but that doesn't mean I won't do it if it becomes necessary. Now, I am willing to cooperate, but that is what it will be - cooperation." Delineating this difference is important, in his mind - he won't agree to being strongarmed into submission. "I'll agree to the terms of the sentence once I hear them and find that they are, in fact, agreeable. And for the record, while you and the rest of the City Guard were busy doing whatever this place's equivalent of chasing kittens up trees is, Sharon and I already talked out our differences. I have no quarrel with her, and as far as I can tell, she has none with me." Which is as much as he's willing to say on that subject. He meant what he said, when he told Sharon he wouldn't tell anyone the things she'd told him in their conversation after her death - certainly not the City Guard.

"As for Bianca - " He scowls. She's a problem - an annoyance, mostly, but that energy pistol she has is no match for any weapon he's ever used. Avoidance is likely the best method of dealing with her. "I'll remind you that she shot first - that is, she's the one who picked a fight with me, not the other way around. I don't have much interest in taking revenge on her, because she's frankly not terribly important to me. But if you think you have any kind of sway in this place, you'd do well to keep her on a leash and out of my affairs."

It's important for him to win something here, Maketh realizes. She wonders if she ought to let him. Perhaps it will make him more cooperative.

But no. She won't play to his ego. At least not yet. Perhaps when he has something she truly wants.

"You're not useful enough to be under my command."

A crass dismissal if ever there were.

She inclines her head ever so slightly. "It will be explained to you shortly. And I believe this concludes our chat. Thank you. It was enlightening."

they always told me that you'll never get to heaven with a life like yours.

and when you see your face, well, you'll never be the same again. (hope's temple)

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not ashamed of what i am. (guard hq)

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