Twilight walked through the doors of Bayleaf’s Gourmet precisely on schedule and scanned the room, finding Riot like a sore thumb. His roguish attire and daunting expression made him look like a disheveled mob boss waiting on his subordinate running late for a meeting. She crossed the room and nervously sat at the table. A waiter, sweating bullets, approached them and asked for their order.
“Order whatever you want. I’m buying,” Riot said, not looking away from the menu. It didn’t sound suggestive, and Twilight felt like she had little choice in the matter.
“Uhm, I’ll ta~ke, ” She picked up the menu and randomly chose the first thing she saw, “the quesadillas with a side of nachos,” Twilight responded.
“Okay, and you, sir?” The waiter asked, turning to Riot, feeling just as nervous as Twilight.
“One of everything else.” Riot said without hesitation, almost overlapping the waiters' words
A ripple effect of reaction throughout the restaurant unfolded from those within earshot of what was just said.
“Beg your pardon, but—”
“I don’t stutter.” Riot said, cutting him off so abruptly it was enough to make even the gutsiest person weak-kneed. His voice wasn’t loud or hostile. It was just the opposite, soft-spoken and calm. However, the words seemed to echo off the walls.
The waiter turned pale, “It’s just that—”
Riot pulled back his trench coat and reached inside. Everyone held their breath as they assumed he was grabbing a weapon of some kind. Instead, he slapped down a hand full of bundled hundred-dollar bills on the table. “It doesn’t have to be all at once just as it’s being made.”
It was impressive how the waiter could respond after the amount of pressure directed him. “R...right. Yes, okay… I’ll—” finally looking away from the menu, Riot turned towards the waiter, who was glad he was wearing shades, as he handed him the menu. “Leaving.”
With the tension suspended, everyone went back to their personal affairs, a handful deciding to leave after witnessing the brutality behind the recent events. By now, Twilight was doing all she could to stay seated and not make a break for the nearest outside exit, whether it be door or window. She tried not to think about what would happen if she did.
Clicking her tongue unintentionally, she started to ask her question. “So~ you wanted me to—”
Riot reached down to reach into a suitcase positioned to be overlooked by anyone who didn’t know it was there. He pulled out a folder bulging with papers and slid it across the table to Twilight, “That’s all you need. You can go now.”
“Oh… aren't you going to—”
“I. Said. Leave.”
By the time Twilight’s mind caught up with reality, she found herself making a beeline for the exit already halfway to the entrance, the folder clenched tightly in her hand. She felt like her brother Pharynx would be happy that it went so smoothly.
Twilight walked through the doors of Bayleaf’s Gourmet precisely on schedule and scanned the room, finding Riot like a sore thumb. His roguish attire and daunting expression made him look like a disheveled mob boss waiting on his subordinate running late for a meeting. On the table he sat at was a pile of bundled cash. She calculated that the amount was close to two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
She crossed the room, noticing the many strange and worried glances she was receiving from others. Nervously, she sat at the table. Riot waved a waiter over to them, who looked exceedingly hesitant to comply.
“Order whatever you want. I’m buying,” Riot said. It didn’t sound suggestive, although Twilight felt like she had little choice in the matter.
“Uhm,” she thought back about what she liked the last time she came here, “I’ll ta~ke, the garlic butter Italian sausage, with a side of salad,” Twilight responded.
“Okay, would you like to have that before or after your quesadillas?” The waiter asked, turning to Riot, feeling twice as nervous as before and slightly confused.
A shiver ran down Twilight’s back, “No quesadillas for me please, I’ve never been a fan of those, I’m afraid.” Hearing that made the waiter cock an eyebrow.
“Swap it out with the one I ordered and bring hers out first. After all, I’m paying.” Riot said, making it sound like there were dire consequences if the waiter messed up. Strangely though, it wasn’t as brutal as he last remembered.
The waiter took the new information into account and excused himself, having the slightest feeling of familiarity. “I’ll… inform the kitchen. Déjà vu.”
What was that all about? Twilight thought as she watched the waiter hastily leave.
Looking around, she could still see other people still giving them unusual attention. When she looked about, she would make eye contact with someone just in time to see them turn away.
“Talk.” Riot said to Twilight, sounding as blunt as a sledgehammer.
“Excuse me?” She responded, confused and frankly annoyed that he had told her to come here, and now he was the one telling her to talk?
“Just to pass the time.”
“Okay?”
“Whatever you want, it doesn’t matter. You need to be having a conversation with me.”
Twilight was about to ask what she should talk about, but to her surprise, Riot had answered the question she never asked.
Something to talk about…
Twilight’s eyes lowered to Riot’s torso and wondered how his injuries were.
Once more, Riot responded before she said anything. He shamelessly lifted his shirt and exposed his muscular torso and flawless skin comparable to hardened leather wrapped around rocks. But no scars or other indications were suggesting that there was any kind of injuries to begin with.
“That’s nothing to be concerned about,” Riot said, pulling his shirt back down, “Something else.”
“Okay fine,” Twilight said, starting to sound agitated. She got ready to ask why he called her here, but again Riot answered before she got the chance to ask.
“Not yet. You will learn soon enough, but for now. Something. Else.” Riot said with a strong emphasis on the last two words. “If it’s really that hard to think of what to talk about, then tell me about your visit with Sir E. Why did all of you decide to decline the offer he made?”
A moment of silence fell between them as Twilight, dumbstruck, waited for him to say what her feelings were about that. She picked up the glass of water and drank about one-fourth of its contents, menacingly looking at him, never taking her eyes off him, and thinking he already knew the answer.
“If you insist on me doing it that way, then that way I shall. Yes, I do know the reason, and no, he didn’t call me as you just thought he did.”
This conversation was the strangest one Twilight had ever had with anyone. Every time she was about to say anything, Riot would respond with the answer. However, it didn’t break the flow of the conversation they ‘needed to be having,’ as Riot had said. The way it was unfolding, only she would understand why it was going where it was. Like he was attempting to hide something from potential eavesdroppers.
“You’re getting warmer. No, that is a misconception I’m constantly running into. I’m just highly observant of my surroundings. Take, for example, the waiter that’ll soon be coming back with your meal. An off-duty officer has told him to hand you a napkin with a note asking if you’re in danger. You’ll find it wrapped around the silverware you're given. They’re only half right. I’m not the one you’re in danger from.”
Twilight begged to differ. The way things were going, she agreed with the officer.
“We’ve gotten off-topic. You were going to talk about what happened after you learned the truth of Sir E’s servants.” The second time he said Sir E’s name, Twilight couldn't help but noticed he was saying it as though it were one word.
“If you let me.” The word fell out of Twilight’s mouth, surprising herself with the snarky remark.
“By all means,” Riot said, unaffected by Twilight’s tone.
“Okay, after we—”
“Learned their secret.” Riot said, making it clear to her that it was a secret for a reason.
Twilight took a breath to calm herself, venting out her rising anger towards Riot. “Yes, that.” Her mind replayed the event still fresh in her memory.
The Servants had removed their masks, and hidden underneath were metallic bones covered with synthetic muscle tissue. Sir E told them that faces were the most challenging thing for him to construct. As amazing as it was in the moment, it was also terrifying and sad. Sir E was indeed alone in a building full of artificial intelligent humanoids.
When they asked about the chauffeur they saw back at the mall, as she didn’t have a mask, Sir E summoned Proxy and told her to undress. As it turned out, her exterior was nothing more than a holographic projection used to simulate the appearance of a human down to the last skin pore and hair follicle. Underneath was a complex, almost artistic metal frame cover with wires and motors for mobility.
“Anyway, after that, Sir E offered to protect us, the decision fizzled throughout everyone, and as you said, we all declined.”
“If I had to guess, you said that you wouldn’t feel comfortable being guarded at all times. Rarity said she didn’t want to involve her sister. Applejack similarly said the same with her family and farm.” Riot effortlessly broke down each of the reasoning behind their decision. “Fluttershy had responsibilities to take care of at the animal shelter and didn’t want them in harm's way. Pinkie had pastries to make for upcoming parties, and none of her plans had bodyguards in them. And Rainbow Dash made an excuse to hide the intent of simply playing video games alone in her room for the rest of the night.”
If Twilight didn’t know any better, she would have assumed that Riot had been there himself. However, Riot continued, “Those reasons are weak on many levels, but if that’s your choice, so be it.”
The conversation was distributed for a moment by the waiter as the food arrived. He was pushing in front of him a food cart with ten dishes of food.
“Here you are, miss, one garlic butter Italian sausage, with salad on the side.” The waiter distinctly placed silverware wrapped in a napkin in front of her, then turned to Riot, “and for you sir, the quesadillas with—”
Riot snatched the dish from the waiter’s hand and basically inhaled the whole meal, then shoved the plate back into the waiter’s hand before he could finish the sentence. It wasn’t animalistic or revolting to watch. It was swift, clean, and finely executed. Anyone who had their back turned for a second wouldn’t have even noticed.
“... Nachos.”
Facing straight at Twilight, Riot snapped at her. “Start eating.” Then he turned back to the waiter. “Well?”
As the waiter delivered the other plates of food, Riot just as rapidly consumed them and then returned dishes. Once they were all finished, Riot looked at Twilight again. “Your food is still untouched. I told you to eat. Or maybe you’d rather check for the note on the napkin I told you about earlier?”
Twilight had forgotten about that little detail. Purely for the sake of her curiosity, she opened the napkin, and sure enough, there was indeed a note.
“Huh… you were—”
Raising his hand to silence her, Riot redirected his attention to the waiter, who was now a few shades paler than before. “Don’t you have other tables that require your services?”
Watching the waiter leave and looking like he was on the verge of wetting himself, Twilight was now fed up with Riots' consistently brash attitude. She stood up, sliding the chair backs making a noise loud enough to turn heads. Not that it made a difference, everyone has already been looking at them since the moment she arrived.
“You know what, I’m going to do this your way. The ‘be an aggressive bully to everyone around us’ way! I. Want. Answers!” she pounded the table hard enough to rattle the plates and glass.
“Eat.” He said, utterly unfazed by Twilights' verbal assault.
In a blind rage, Twilight snatched up a piece of the garlic bread, shoved it into her mouth, viciously chewed it, and swallowed. “There! Now tell me what I want to know! Now!”
Grabbing a napkin, Riot closed the distance between him and Twilight. “You got some sauce on your cheek.”
The... au… dacity
Twilight nearly had multiple aneurysms at that very moment, and her blood pressure was high enough to make a diamond in nanoseconds. There was no measurable unit system big enough for her to reference the level of rage that surged through her. But before she knew it, Riot had his hand clamped firmly on her jaw. “Hey! Get your—”
I’m being followed.
It was as clear as if he had said it aloud, but the words came from inside her head. No, from his… hand? Twilight was familiar with the concept, a sound vibration sent through the bone, like music or a phone call, and only you could hear whatever it was.
How? Was it something on his hand? She didn’t see anything when he grabbed her. It couldn’t have been tiny. Otherwise, it would not have been so clear. Magic, that had to be it. No, she had felt the vibration travel through her. It was a physical action that could be located like an invisible string in a magic trick.
That was the least of her worries though, the message she received mentally floored her. He was being followed. Who? She pulled her head back and slipped free from the grip. “Wait, do you—”
Immediately Riot once again grabbed her firmly. “Hold still, almost got it.”
She barely heard any of the words he spoke. The words in her head overpowered whatever it might have been.
Quiet, they’re listening. Take this napkin and follow the instructions written on it. Not here. I’ll shake them off my tail soon.
Riot let her go and placed the napkin in Twilight’s trembling hand. “See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
Feeling the napkin, Twilight knew there were two small hard objects inside of it. By now, she had sweat perspiring on her brow. ‘I’m being followed’ those chilling words continued to echo in her head over and over and over.
It was amazing how much was revealed by the message she received. However, most of it was all wild speculation. Just this morning, her biggest concern was finding the stolen necklaces.
Now? They had been nearly killed by a mercenary hired to hunt down magic users, one of her friends was in the hospital, and now this. Twilight’s mind continued racing with many more unpleasant outcomes.
Were the ones following him the same ones that wanted her and her friends dead? How was Riot so calm after openly talking about the fact she and her friends were unprotected? Why had Riot put her into this position? She wanted answers, but this was too much.
The longer her mind wandered down the maze of possibilities, the more the rest of the world drowned in white noise.
The same three little words kept repeating in her head in tandem with her own drumming heartbeat.
‘I'm being followed.’
‘I'm being followed.’
‘I'm being followed.’
A frightened yelp brought Twilight back to the real world. Riot had seized the waiter by the arm, twisting and squeezing it hard enough to hear the bone creaking. Riot's other hand gripping a pitcher of water, most likely dropped by the waiter when he was grabbed.
“How many times must I tell you? Get! Lost!” Riot changed his grip into one that forced the waiter’s mouth to stay open, lifting him over a foot off the ground. “If that’s so hard to understand, then maybe this will get it through your thick skull.”
Overwhelmed with a rollercoaster of emotions, Twilight could only watch helplessly as the waiter got the pitcher of water slowly trickling into his open mouth.
Choking and sputtering sounds erupted from the flailing poor unfortunate man, unable to draw in a decent breath. Twilight’s entire body was quivering with a multitude of emotions, namely fear and panic. But then, a bystander quickly approached the situation.
“Put him down!” The man reached one hand into his pocket and first pulled out a badge, while with the other hand into his jacket and drawing a pistol.
Riot lazily shifted his head to look at the officer as he gradually increased the flow of liquid ever so slightly until the container was empty. That was when Twilight, being close enough, saw his hand minutely shaking in tremendous self-restraint.
She could tell… no she could feel that Riot was itching to do to the waiter what he did to Tirek, or worse. Far worse. The tension mixed with bloodlust in the atmosphere was as suffocating as trying to breathe peanut butter.
“Last warning, put him down. I’m not asking.”
To everyone’s surprise, a glass full of water was thrown at Riot’s head. Twilight felt absolute pity towards whoever it was, only to look down and see she was holding the smoking gun, or more accurately, the empty glass.
If Twilight wasn’t pale before, she was now. She didn’t feel the glass slip from her hand, but she heard it clatter to the floor. Her breathing became uneven, and she wanted to curl up and die on the spot.
Riot didn’t move.
The terrifying stillness that followed lasted much longer than anyone was comfortable with.
“Miss?... Hey miss!?” The officer said, taking Twilight out of another reality lag. “Get behind me.”
She began to do as she was told without hesitation, but just as swiftly, three words in the back of her mind halted her in mid compliance.
I’m being followed
Was this person the one following them? Or was it the waiter? Even then, maybe they were an accomplice? Riot never said how many were following him. Or perhaps she was overthinking? Twilight didn’t know what to think anymore. What she did know was that Riot, as painful as it was to admit, was her only safe haven in this potential minefield she found herself in. She couldn't trust anyone else.
“Miss? What’s wrong? Did this man threaten you or do something to hurt you in any way?”
“I only told her the truth.” Riot said, grabbing the waiter's arm again, snapping the bone causing him screamed before releasing him. Freed from Riot, the waiter frantically ran out of the room like his life depended on it, and nobody blamed him.
“I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’ll be leaving now.”
Squaring his shoulders, the officer kept his gun trained on Riot. “I don’t think so. I’m gonna call my buddies, and you’re going to stay right there and wait for them to…” His stance loosened as recognition slowly dawned on his face. “There's no freaking way. You're the one who- who… y-you died in the motorcycle accident this afternoon! I was there. I saw you!”
Riot looked like he was just told that the sky was blue, to say nothing of his unchangeable stone-cold expression. “After you recover, the waiter I allegedly attacked will not press any charges on the pretense that he won’t recall ever being assaulted. And you’ll have no case against me.”
That left the officer stunned. Did Riot just confess that he was about to attack him then walk free? There wasn't any time to think as the officer's arm was twisted so hard he flipped forward and landed on his back, the wind knocked from his lungs. Except Riot hadn’t budged from where he stood over twenty feet away.
The gun slid across the floor until it reached Riot. He stepped on the weapon with his prosthetic in a way that made it pop up into his hand without having to bend over. “Worthless piece of crap.”
Without pause, he removed the clip, unloaded the chamber, removed the bullets from the magazine, and proceeded to dismantle the gun. In less than ten seconds, the weapon was laid on the table in pieces, perfectly organized down to the line of bullets.
“Your gun barrel is warped, the hammer spring is losing its tension, and there’s lint in the kickback mechanism. That’s just the start of a very long list of reasons why it would have jammed on the second round.” He said, sounds of slight agitation in the back of his already aggressive tone. “This is why I hate guns. They’re nothing more than hunks of garbage slapped together.”
Once he was finished, Riot reached down and grabbed the suitcase. He put it on the pile of money with the lid wide open, revealing easily three times the cash than what was on the table.
“Spend that however you wish to, I’ve got no other use for it.”
He began to walk away, his prosthetic echoing from the stone floor and off the walls. “As for my food order, disperse it amongst anyone who wants it.”
When he passed the recovering officer shakily rising to his feet, Riot paused to give him one last word of advice. “I never said I would attack you, nor, as everyone witnessed, did I so much as lay a finger on you. Don’t bother fighting the issue. It is one that you can not win.”
Continuing his departure, two individuals eyed Riot as he left. One, with a vicious sneer, the other holding back tears, gritting his teeth, and keenly masking his pain by looking as terrified as the next guy in the room. The angry one thought back on the whole ordeal and released something he had overlooked,
“That sneaky, sneaky, snake.” Pharynx said under his breath. It was one thing to be tricked, but this was a whole different level than anything he’s dealt before.
Back in the alleyway, he never saw Riot dial any number when he made the call. Had he known they were there and listening only to feed them false information? To think he went as far as pretending to fake his own death just to make the facade more believable.
No, nobody, not even Pharynx, could have planned that far ahead. It must have been his backup plan in case he was being followed. If that’s the case, they fell for it hook, line, and sinker only to reel in themselves. The mere fact that they showed up at the falsely given time completely exposed their whereabouts. What is most troubling was that he knew how to detect them.
Pharynx would not fall for such a deceitful stun again. Riot had to run out of tricks and slip up sooner or later. In fact, he felt stupid for not realizing yet another minor detail. The item he was to retrieve had to be in the napkin Twilight was now hastily stuffing into her pocket. It was the only thing passed over to her in their brief meeting.
Whoever this Riot character was, he was undoubtedly a professional in this violent game of cat and mouse—a game in which Pharynx refused ever to lose.