Chapter Text
A full moon was hovering in the cloudy night sky, casting its bright light on the man. It was almost too bright for his liking. He could see his reflection in the window glass, even the excitement in those black eyes under the newsboy cap.
The window was locked from the inside. Of course. Grian would definitely scoff at the incompetence of the securities if they forget to lock their windows again like last year.
He took a quick peek at the surroundings. There shouldn't be anyone. The night shift security guard had just finished a patrol two minutes ago.
He then reached for the pocket of his black jacket after double-checking. After a few seconds, he managed to feel what he was looking for—a small steel piece that had been bent to a 90-degree angle. He inserted the metal into the gap between two windows and slid it until he could feel the handle of the sliding lock and lifted it up.
He had a smirk on his face as he pushed open the window and climbed up. Even though the windowsill wasn't too tall, he still couldn't see what was underneath it on the other side before he almost leapt off it.
He let out a brief sharp shriek. He thought it was a creature crawling in the dark at first, but then quickly found out it was just some kind of gargoyle. It was definitely one of the Art Gallery’s collections. He jumped down carefully, avoiding the gargoyle when reaching the ground.
The art thief then turned on his flashlight to take a closer look at the gargoyle. It had big, bulging eyes and a protruding forked tongue, forever hissing at anyone who was near it.
Grian lowered the light a bit and found the label.
Basilisk Statue, Gorgon Region, 1350~1400 A.D.
It's kind of cute, but probably worthless in the market. Besides, he couldn't carry it to his car by himself. Grian lost interest in it immediately and walked towards the staircase instead. Fascinating finds, though. He didn't visit this part of the gallery when he was checking out the spots earlier.
As he entered the staircase, he noticed a huge banner hanging over it. He directed his flashlight towards it and grinned at the captivating ‘Rubens, Special Exhibition’ written on it. He didn't know anything about Rubens, not even a fan of his art style. Too ‘classical’ for his liking. But his paintings were apparently worth a fortune and Jimmy had promised to snatch him a good deal.
He grunted in disappointment when he discovered that the door to the exhibition hall was secured with a combination lock and chained up. It's a cheap lock, and Grian would be able to cut it open easily if he had a pair of pliers with him. But he decided not to bring it tonight, considering it to be quite hefty and inconvenient as he had to carry a lot of things later.
Alas, he had to deal with it the old-fashioned way. It's going to take a while, whether he liked it or not. He kneeled down beside the lock and put the flashlight on the ground. He didn't need to see the lock during this process anyway.
The art thief started to rotate the first discs on the lock slowly.
The disc clicked quietly every time a digit had been turned. Grian closed his eyes, focused on the negligible differences between each click.
Click. Click. And—
The next click was muffled.
That was easy.
After finally finding the right combination by repeating the patience-consuming process on each disc, he dropped the lock to the ground hastily. The art thief hummed a chirpy tone when examining the paintings—or their labels, especially—one by one in the once-crowded exhibition hall. He was searching for paintings from a specific time period when the artist was at the peak of his career and had already developed a style that people cherished.
He wasted no time grabbing the suitable paintings from the wall. He only picked the smaller paintings that he could carry under his arm. In a time like that, the art thief genuinely hoped he had a helper of some sort. Then he could get one of the large, famous paintings in the center of the hall. He knew that if he could manage to steal one of those, he would make headlines in the entire Arcford for at least a week.
Well, too bad.
Grian checked his watch after snatching two paintings from the exhibition. There were still fifteen minutes until the security guard's next patrol. The sensible thing to do right now would be to go back the same way he came with the trophies. But Grian wasn't known for his brilliant rational thinking, so he chose to stay a while longer.
He went back to the staircase and climbed up to the next level. The third floor was reserved for modern art, which meant it was always empty during the daytime. This gave Grian a great opportunity to appreciate the art pieces during his visit.
People just don't appreciate contemporary art as much as he did. He looked through the seemingly meaningless sculptures with his flashlight and was amused by the fact that they looked even creepier right now than that gargoyle in the dark. There were so many strange metal pieces being welded together in odd ways, with labels that said ‘No name’ or some meaningless numbers.
Grian spun his light to the other side and started to admire the paintings. He found the modern paintings quite charming, honestly. He knew a lot more about them than the ones he stole. Expressionism, Cubism, Constructionism… Painting after painting filled with lines and colors that made no sense to the human brain.
His light stopped at one particular artwork. It was in a style similar to… Abstract Expressionism? Or something. There were no shapes, no shading, and absolutely no objects in the artwork. The off-white canvas seemed to be filled by only ink dots and disorganized lines, placed dedicatedly by a certainly deranged artist.
Besides black dots and gray lines, there was a strange smear of dark green running across the upper half of the canvas.
Nothing more.
He remembered this painting from his visit. Not from its obscure art style, but from its title.
The Horse Thief, B, 1951
Grian almost wheezed a laugh when he first saw it. There was nothing that even resembled a horse or a person in the painting, and he respected the audacity of the artist for blatantly naming it The Horse Thief when there was simply none.
The artist themself, however, was even more intriguing than their art.
B. Just a simple letter.
This was a mysterious upcoming artist that the socialites and art critics of Starseus seemed to love in recent years. Despite being a new star in the art world, the public knew basically nothing about the artist. Not their face, sex or where they came from. The artist was extremely private, never showing up to any public events or exhibitions. They even hosted a personal exhibition this year without the artist attending.
That news headline made Grian laugh. Maybe it was why he had some liking for their paintings.
Jimmy had claimed all modern arts were involved in money laundering because no rational man would pay actual money for simple lines and dots. It was probably true. But Grian couldn't look away from B’s artworks whenever he saw one, especially The Horse Thief in particular.
It was wild and ferocious. It felt like there was a beast trapped inside, waiting for the moment to strike. The smear of green looked down at the art thief dispassionately, like a dragon looking at a meager creature.
There was something about it that was calling to him. And whenever the calling came, the art thief liked to do the thing he did best.
He took a dagger out of the jacket lining and thrust it into the canvas.
Not in the center, of course. He ran the blade through the canvas as close to its minimalist metal frame as possible. There was no way he was going to carry a painting as big as this, so carving it out of the frame was the best he could do. It would usually devalue the artwork, but the value wasn't the top priority for Grian. He just wanted it for himself.
He could hang it above his dining table. It could be a good way to taunt Jimmy whenever he's coming over since he hated modern art so much.
The moon had been concealed by clouds completely when he exited the gallery from the same window he came in. It started to rain a bit, and Grian decided to run for his Ford Shoebox. The rain was pouring soon after Grian hid the paintings under a tarpaulin he prepared inside the car trunk.
The getaway wasn't very exciting besides the sudden rain, because no one was chasing him. Out of boredom, he turned up the radio and instantly realized all the programs had probably ended already by this time. All static. It was a bit frustrating to miss his favorite nighttime talk show True Crimes with Detective S. Major. The star detective was probably going to cover his little art heist later this week. That's what being a celebrity felt like, right? Be the topic of a nighttime talk show?
As Grian was mindlessly scrolling through the channels, he narrowed his eyes as he thought there was something in the rain. He reminded himself to carry a pair of glasses in the vehicle next time. Maybe his sight was getting worse.
But no. It wasn't a stain on his windshield or his eyes playing tricks. There was actually something in the rain.
The car brake screeched painfully right before he crashed into the obstacle. It was a man. A human was standing right in front of his car, in the middle of the road.
Grian’s heartbeat was pounding in his ears. He honked and cursed as much as he could, but the man didn't seem to be affected by his fury at all but walked straight toward his back seat—and opened it.
“Evening, sir,” the man said with a cheerful tone as he sat in Grian’s car. “Didn't see the rain coming, ey?”
“Why are you always like this?!” Grian turned toward the man and said through his teeth. The man wasn't young, but still too young for his hair to be completely silver. A black scarf was covering the bottom half of his face, but Grian still recognized him immediately.
The man’s matching dark gray suit jacket and trousers were soggy from the rain, and he was wiping the unabsorbed rainwater from his teal silk vest onto Grian’s seat without a care in the world.
“Get out of my car, Etho!”
“You don't want me here?” Etho gripped the silk fabric over his chest and acted hurt. “I thought we were friends.”
“I almost hit you!”
“I know, but you didn't,” the quirkiness in the man’s voice almost drove Grian crazy. “Playing something dangerous once in a while is good for your brain, you know?”
“Etho, I swear—”
“Do you mind giving me a ride?” Etho’s eyes narrowed. Grian couldn't tell if he was smiling underneath his scarf or was just eying him up and down. “It's difficult for a man like me to walk alone on a night like this, right? I might get robbed.”
This situation was exactly what Grian didn't want to see on a night like this—ran into an eccentric billionaire who funded the art gallery he just raided.
“Okay then.” He swallowed the bitterness in his throat and put on a fake smile for the man. It genuinely hurt his cheek. “Where do you want to go?”
“Art Gallery of Arcford,” the white-haired man said with the same unreadable expression.
“Oh my god. You are killing me.” Grian gave him an eye roll and then collapsed in his seat in defeat. “How did you find out? Who snitched? Is it Jimmy?!”
“Did you enjoy the Rubens’ show?” Etho didn't answer. Of course he wouldn't answer anything normally like an ordinary person. He’s Etho.
“…What are you going to do?” Grian sighed weakly as he started to fidget his thumbs. “Call the cops?”
Etho barked out a laugh.
“Of course not! I don't care about a painting or two.”
It's three, actually. But Grian chose not to argue with that.
“But you do owe me a favor for that, right?”
“…I know it,” uneasiness started to climb up his spine. “Just tell me what you want me to do. Files again?”
He bet it was an arrears or a contract that the TIES Corporation didn't like after signing it. Etho—one of the TIES’ founders —was always the one who took care of them and got his hands dirty. In other words, hiring a professional stealer like him.
Although Etho was a pain to deal with, at least he paid handsomely.
“No, but a good guess though.” Etho rested his elbow on the top of Grian’s back seat. “It’s a diamond.”
“A diamond?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What? You are not rich enough to buy it, like the rest of Arcford?”
“Actually, no,” the white-haired man’s voice was a bit more solemn than usual. “And it's not a normal heist. It's more like a…”
Digging for the correct words seemed hard for the man.
“A—?”
“Kill and grab situation.” Etho said finally. “Yeah. I need the man who currently has the diamond… Well, dead.”
Grian’s eyes were wide open. He tried to say something but it felt like his tongue was in the way.
“I-I-”
He's not a murderer. Not in this lifetime. Nah-ah. Not a chance.
“You don't need to kill anyone.” Etho got his point immediately. “I have another man to do the job, but he needs a bit of help.”
Oh. Great.
“So… I have to work with someone else?” Grian was genuinely relaxed and took a long breath. He didn't need to kill anyone. It's great. It's good.
“I hired a hitman.” Etho shrugged like it was nothing. “Experienced. Professional. Excellent sniper by the way. He will definitely take care of the assassination.”
“Okay…? Then why do you need me?”
“He needs a driver.” Etho gave him a wink. “And I just found out you are pretty good at it.”
Oh.
That was why he was standing in the middle of the road. Just to test his reflex in the most outrageous way possible.
“Can’t you just hire a—a normal driver for him? I'm sure you can definitely find a driver who is not me.”
“Nope.” Etho popped the end of that word. “Tomorrow, ten in the morning.”
“Wait what—?”
“The same old place!” The billionaire said cheerfully as he grabbed the car door handle and opened it. “Goodnight!”
“Etho! Wait—!”
“Oh, and his name is Scar.”
Then, the man slammed the door shut and walked straight into the rain.
He disappeared as quickly as he appeared. The night was calm.
Grian shook his head and took a deep breath. The static was still pouring out from the car radio. He smashed the power off button and put his hands on the driving wheel again.
He hit the gas, trying to focus on the road. But it was difficult.
This whole thing—he needed some time to process it.
First of all, great. Etho didn't call the cops on him even when he had all the right to do so. The Rubens was stolen from his—or TIES—property.
Even better, he had a job offer for Grian.
A job that involved assassination. Etho wanted to murder someone. It wasn't the same thing as raiding a museum or stealing a top-secret document. It was…hell, bloody. Terrifying. He wasn't ready to become a murderer yet.
The good news was he didn't need to annihilate the unfortunate soul who wronged the millionaire. But he still had to be a part of it.
And—don’t get him started on that—a hitman? A hitman called Scar?
With a name like this and an occupation like that, he couldn't stop picturing a burly seven-foot-tall guy who could tear a bear to the shred with his bare hands.
Grian had parked the car haphazardly in front of the Solidarity Antique and took three parking spaces in a hurry. He didn't even know why he'd decided to go visit Jimmy after the strange encounter with Etho. The past few minutes had been a blur. For all he knew, Jimmy could be the one who snitched.
“Timmy! Open your door!” He banged on the locked door to the antique store. He knew this man slept in his shop so that he didn't need to pay extra rent.
“I’m coming I’m coming I’m coming–” the man he was looking for shouted from the second floor. The volume of Jimmy’s shouting increased gradually until he swung open the front door with a short breath.
“Grian?” His eyelids were still fighting with sleepiness. “Why are you here?”
“I—let me in first!” Grian pushed the man in blue pajamas to the side and rushed into the dimly lit antique store. “There… I…”
“What? You got caught?” Jimmy bolted out of the front door immediately and looked toward the empty parking lot. “I didn't see any cops?”
“It's not. It’s—Etho was there waiting for me after I was done!”
“He caught you with the cops?” Jimmy gasped.
“No! There are no cops, Timmy!” Grian started pacing around the narrow pathway in between Jimmy’s shelves. “It’s just him—waiting for me in the middle of the road! I got Etho’d! I can't believe it! Did you sell me out?”
“Oh…” Jimmy took a long exhale after confirming there were no cops involved. Then, he frowned with aversion. “Of course not! I’m actually offended by that! How dare you think of—”
“I’m sorry, alright? I'm just kind of freaking out right now.”
“Fine. Fi—ne.” Jimmy said with a passive-aggressive tone. “So Etho showed up. It must be awkward.”
“You bet.” He let out a weak laugh. “He didn't even ask me about paintings. He just gave me a job offer and asked me to steal a diamond and—and murder some guy!”
“Wait really?” The dealer’s brown eyes widened. “He knows you are not okay with—right?”
“He said he hired a professional assassin to go with me. I'm like, his sidekick, I guess?” Grian took off his wet newsboy cap and sat down on Jimmy’s crappy old chair behind the counter. “And I just—I came to you.”
“Okay. Okay. First of all, where are the paintings, Grian?”
The trophies of Grian’s heist were definitely much more urgent for the black marketeer than Etho’s request.
“In my trunk,” he clenched the cap in his hands and said feebly. The dealer went out for the black Ford in the rain immediately and came back with the covered paintings.
“Nice job, my man.” Jimmy grinned widely as soon as he revealed framed artwork underneath the tarpaulin. “I’ll call Joel tomorrow. We are going to be rich!”
We?
“It… Yes, rich.” Grian gave him the quickest eye roll. Jimmy’s definitely going to take a big chunk of his remuneration, but he could deal with it later. “Can we get back to—”
“Wait, what is this?” Jimmy interrupted him as soon as he found the rolled-up canvas and expanded it. “This’s not Rubens!”
“I got it for myself,” he said while evading Jimmy’s accusing eyes. It wasn't a part of their deal, he knew. But in Grian’s defense, he wasn't going to sell it.
“Great taste, my dude.” Jimmy looked rather disgusted by the painting in his hands. “Very…distinct.”
“You don't need to sell it for me. Just leave it alone.”
“Alright, alright.” Jimmy put down the canvas and turned back to him. “So you are going to work with a hitman, correct?”
“Not yet. Still debating.” Grian nodded. He was glad that Jimmy finally started to listen to him instead of rambling about the paintings. The art heist seemed like a distant memory right now and he didn't really care for it anymore.
“Like…a mafia hitman? Or does he work by himself?”
“I—I don't know. His name is Scar. Have you heard about him?”
“Oh.” The dealer seemed to be dozing off after Grian finished his sentence. “Oh. My god.”
“Please tell me it’s not bad news.”
His body tensed up. The last thing he wanted to hear right now was how terrifying and infamous this hitman was.
“I forgot to feed Norman this evening!” Jimmy slapped his forehead and yelled. “That’s why he was biting me this whole time!”
“Jimmy—”
“Sorry, sorry.” Jimmy cleared his throat and grabbed an even crappier chair to set down beside Grian. “I haven't heard of him before if you are wondering.”
Of course. Jimmy wasn't that involved in the dirtier part of the business unlike him and Joel since the very beginning. This man simply wanted to get rich and retire before thirty-five. It was an admirable goal, to be honest. Grian just wished this man could spend a little more on his living conditions and furniture.
“But I think you should consider taking the job if you have nothing else to do.” Jimmy tottered his head with eyes sparkling with excitement. “You know Etho will pay you well. And a diamond, you said? You sound like a real phantom thief right now.”
No doubt the dealer would want him to take the job.
“But I’m not a murderer.” It was the thing that bothered him the most. The killing part. “I don't want to be involved with that kind of business.”
“I know,” Jimmy said reassuringly. “But there's another guy to do it for you. I bet you don't even need to be there. He's the one who will get his hand dirty, not you. Think about the rewards, man!”
“Fair.” Grian couldn’t argue with that. “But I’m not so sure about this hitman guy. I work alone. I feel like—”
“Aren't you going to meet him first before you go for the diamond?” Jimmy patted him on the shoulder. “He’s probably a decent guy and maybe you guys could get along?”
Grian looked at the dealer up and down. Jimmy stared back with sleepy eyes. They had known each other since they were teenagers and he couldn't believe this man actually thought he would easily get along with someone.
A cold-blood killer, even.
Grian decided to leave the Rubens to Jimmy and left before the man fell asleep in his chair. The man would end up with a broken neck if he actually slept on that piece of junk, Grian was sure of that. He drove straight back home and immediately collapsed into the sea of pillows and blankets on his bed. There was some peace finally.
He looked up the clock on his wall. It was three in the morning. He got seven hours of sleep then.
Grian wasn't the most punctual person in the world. If people had to wait for him, he was more than willing to let them wait. Even worse, it was for an event he didn't really want to be a part of. A little oversleeping won't do any harm.
Once he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the beaming sunlight. He wondered how this was possible as he clearly remembered the window was facing the North.
He looked up at the clock again. It was almost two in the afternoon.
Oh.
Oh.
A little oversleeping.
His client didn't even called him. That's…expected. But worrisome as well. The founder and the Chief Technical Advisor of TIES probably had something better to do than planning for murder all day. Or maybe the man had found a better option than Grian and forgot about their deals. That would be ideal.
There was also the possibility that he was mad at Grian’s not showing. It didn't seem like something Etho would do, but—
He picked up the phone from the landline, hands hovering above the dials, then decided against it and put it back somewhat aggressively. Etho didn't deserve his apology. Hell no. Last night he basically forced Grian into taking his offer with threats.
Then what should he do? Common sense didn't work on Etho, ever. The best way to deal with him was just…go along with his shenanigans. Grian should better just try his luck and meet the elusive millionaire in person, wishing the appointment was still valid.
The ‘same old place’ was just Etho’s office, located right in the center of the TIES building. The front desk didn't even raise an eye at him when he asked to see their CTA. They had met each other quite a few times in the past.
He stared at the TIES logo behind the front desk as they were checking with their security. The logo was four stylized blue hands holding onto each other’s wrists, forming a square shape in the middle. There was also a line of words beneath it.
T.I.E.S Corporation, Est. 1932.
Next year was their twentieth anniversary. The realization made Grian feel irritated about how fast the time had passed.
This monstrosity of a corporation was founded at the beginning of the Civil War and made a fortune by selling firearms. After the war ended, the genius founders immediately got their hands in the technology and electronics field. Rumors said they were doing business with both Starseus and Gorgon during the war. They denied it, of course.
Grian believed in the two-faced businessman theory wholeheartedly. He had met some of the founders while working for them, and they were definitely not the kindest people.
“Our CTA wasn't at his office at this moment,” the secretary said stiffly as they walked through a long and uninteresting corridor. That was unsurprising. The white hair was probably working on something for his real job.
“But his other guest had arrived.”
“…Who?” Grian asked hesitantly. There was no way that man was still waiting for him for over four hours now.
“His new business partner,” the secretary stated simply, as they stopped in front of the black mahogany door of Etho’s office.