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Language:
English
Series:
Part 53 of "Mind Games"-verse , Part 6 of The Colossus Saga , Part 13 of The Snake and the Dragon
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Published:
2021-06-22
Completed:
2021-07-07
Words:
31,849
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16/16
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75
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27
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1
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954

Quest for Claire

Summary:

A “Mind Games”-verse “Colossus Saga” story:

The sun had set several hours ago when Night Bat strode up to the front door of the apartment building. The end of a long, drawn-out hunt, one which had stretched over centuries.

A sign hanging on the door read “Mir Tebe” [“Peace to You”]. He scoffed, raised an eyebrow in amusement, and kicked in the door. “Demonta!” The door shattered, the black energy emanating from his foot connecting with the metal and bowing it in, pulling it off its hinges so it landed just inside the entryway. He stepped onto the caved-in door, his sword drawn, scanning the apartment for signs of life.

At the dining table sat a woman with streaks of grey in her sandy hair, the remains of a simple dinner spread out in front of her. She gasped on seeing Night Bat in her home, her eyes widening in fear. “Who–who are you?”

Night Bat sneered. “As if you do not recognize me… Olivet.”

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Chapter Text

The sun had set several hours ago when Night Bat strode up to the front door of the apartment building. The end of a long, drawn-out hunt, one which had stretched over centuries. He had found clues before now, but to no avail – every time it had been a dead end. Twice before he had thought that he had found her, but both times they had claimed ignorance until he ran them through. He had never stopped looking, despite the setbacks and despite the false leads. And yet, they had always had ways to remain hidden.

Until now.

There was a bitter irony to this particular hunt. When he had arrived in Paris, almost exactly one year ago, he had been perfectly content to send this Hato Gozen on a wild goose chase, to allow her to expend all her efforts in following false leads throughout Paris while he watched from the shadows and investigated these rumors of the late Hawk Moth and the Heroes of Paris. Then, thanks in part to Hato Gozen herself, he had fallen into league with this Lynchpin, the petty criminal seeking to spread a network through the Paris underworld. Thus Night Bat had come to work with the Lynchpin. And thus Night Bat came to be here.

This particular clue had appeared back in the fall, when the Lynchpin’s source in the post office had taken note of a letter that had been sent to a post office box in Russia with no return address. That itself had not been enough for Night Bat to act. However, a letter with a Moscow cancellation had come to a box in Paris a couple months later, which had been followed by another letter to Russia. The postal worker had not been in a position to see the person who mailed or received the letters, but that had not mattered. While Night Bat didn’t know too much about her, he could still remember the year he had spent in Russia, chasing shadows. She had appeared no different when next they fought, but the timing aligned. He had left Paris as soon as he found out about the letters, and had spent the last two months searching Moscow from end to end, until finally he had found this apartment.

The apartment building was locked. Night Bat placed his hand on the knob and muttered, “Deschide.” With a click the locking mechanism disengaged and he threw the door open. Night Bat strode purposefully down the hallway, eyes and ears attuned for signs that the other residents were going to investigate. But none of the doors opened. He frowned as he picked his way along the filth-stained hallway. Garbage bags lined the walls, along with the remains of a destroyed television set. Given the state of the building and neighborhood, he supposed none of the residents would care or notice until he was long gone. Which suited his purposes just fine.

If he was correct, the apartment he sought was on the second floor. He sneered as the staircase creaked under his feet. Water stains and worse left streaks down the chipped paint. Dirt and grease clung to his gloves when he touched the handrails. The second-floor hallway had the remains of boxed and packing materials in front of an apartment door close to the stairwell, falling apart from age. Night Bat’s nose turned up at the smell that seemed to permeate the building. Was this all that she could afford? After all these years, she should at least have been able to find decent living quarters.

But, then, wallowing in squalor was an appropriate “retirement” for his enemy.

The apartment in question had a metal door only marginally cleaner than the other ones he had passed, with a small arc of cleanliness in the floor and walls to either side. A sign hanging on the door read “Mir Tebe” [“Peace to You”]. He scoffed, raised an eyebrow at the sign in amusement, and kicked in the door. “Demonta!” The door shattered, the black energy emanating from his foot connecting with the metal and bowing it in, pulling it off its hinges so it landed just inside the entryway. He stepped onto the caved-in door, his sword drawn, scanning the apartment for signs of life.

The apartment itself was only lightly furnished, though with a homey feel to it. A secondhand armchair and loveseat sat against one wall in front of a refinished coffee table. The bookcase beside the door held a small number of books, most in Russian with a handful more in English. A picture of a little blonde girl standing in front of a too-familiar woman and her tall, thin husband sat on the old, battered desk. Two doors opened out of the sitting room, a mean twin bed with a simple comforter visible through one and the bathroom through the other. To the right, the sitting room transitioned into a kitchenette with simple appliances and a small dining table. All told, the entire apartment was no more than 35 square meters.

At the dining table sat a woman with streaks of grey in her sandy hair, the remains of a simple dinner spread out in front of her. She gasped on seeing Night Bat in her home, her eyes widening in fear. “Who–who are you?”

Night Bat sneered. “As if you do not recognize me… Olivet.”

She furrowed her brows, cocking her head at him in confusion. “I–I have no idea what–”

He cut her off. “Do not play games with me,” he scoffed, his eyes fixed steadily on hers, searching for recognition. “I know you received letters from that whelp of yours in Paris.”

She shook her head. “I don’t have any–”

“I know you lie,” he interrupted, his mouth set in a thin line and eyes narrowed. He had come too far to be stymied by such paltry excuses. “The picture? And even without that, the sign on your door was far too much of a giveaway. You are Olivet. You cannot hide any longer.”

The woman sighed heavily, all traces of fear vanishing in an instant. Calmly she picked up her glass and took a sip of the water, leaning back in her chair. “Very well, then, Bat,” she responded, spitting out his name like a curse, a dispassionate look on her face, staring him in the eye. “You tracked me down. It took you long enough.”

“You weren’t worth my time before now,” Night Bat replied, waving his hand dismissively. “I was content to allow you to… enjoy… your ‘retirement,’ my dear Olivet.” He looked around the room and let out an amused snort, knocking a porcelain figurine off a bookcase to smash on the floor as he did so. “Such as it is.”

She arched an eyebrow at him wryly. “How unexpectedly gracious of you.”

“Come now,” he scoffed. “After all these years, do you think I would be so petty as to come after you now, helpless as you now are?”

She gave him a deadpan look. “After all these years, I think you would assault your own mother if you had the chance.”

He hummed. “Yes, I suppose you would think that of me,” he mused. “And perhaps you are even correct.” He stared down at her. “So, then, what are you going to do now?”

“Are you expecting me to beg?” she demanded, her eyes flashing with anger. “It won’t work.”

“I would be disappointed if you begged, Olivet,” he told her evenly. “That would make a poor end for a foe of your tenacity. Even if you are at my mercy now.”

Her eyes flicked down to the pommel of his sword and back up to his face, her blue eyes fearless. “Then how will you do it? Long and drawn out, or quick with the sword?” She pulled aside the collar of her shirt to show a thin white line along her collarbone. “I still carry the memory of that first battle we fought, you know.”

He smirked at her maliciously. “Ah, yes… Indonesia… But no…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I will not make it so easy on you.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she agreed. “I’m sure you will drag this out as long as you can.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your death?” She nodded. “That is inevitable for one such as you,” he told her. “But no… I do not intend to kill you. Yet. I have far greater plans for you.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

He leered at her, placing his hands on the table and looming over her with all his height. “Now that I have you at my mercy and I know exactly where to find your pathetic progeny–” Her eyes widened fractionally “–I have so much more that I can do with you. After all, what is more powerful than the love of a daughter for her mother? What might your brat be willing to sacrifice to see you safe?” He leaned in closer. “And what greater triumph could there be than for me to take your daughter’s miraculous to ‘spare your life,’ only to kill you in front of her eyes? Then she will know the extent of her failure, that it was her mistake that brought about this end. And only then, when she begs me for death on seeing the magnitude of what she has done, will I finally end her life.”

Her eyes narrowed, her mouth setting in a thin line. “That’s what you think is going to happen?”

He leaned back and placed his hand on the handle of his sword. “That is how it will happen, my dear Olivet,” he informed her. “You no longer have your sash, and that troublesome spawn of yours is in Paris where she cannot save you… Without your miraculous, without the source of your power, you are nothing but a helpless old woman.”

The former Olivet scoffed, her eyes beginning to glow brilliant white. Night Bat’s eyes widened in surprise. “I may not have my miraculous, Bat,” she spat out, rising from her chair, “but you will find that I am far from a ‘helpless old woman’!”