THE SWEENEY - Log 9
Apr. 19th, 2026 03:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_changeling posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsMA and Amanda find the final link to the missing man.
WARNING: Explicit content and language.
The Jade Palace was a popular restaurant and club in the heart of Soho; five stories of restaurant space, private dining rooms, bars and exclusive supper and wine clubs. It bustled day and night, serving a largely Asian clientele, ex-pats and visiting businessmen alike. It was especially known for its ability to import booze, teas and delicacies rarely exported from China to the West.
The rumours also suggested it wasn't the only thing it imported from Asia. Not just your run of the mill sex trafficking, but also magically talented young people before places like Kamar-Taj could find them. There was the usual mix of drugs, contraband, and weapons; boring compared to their magical trade, but profit was profit. At the centre of it all was Gentleman Jian, like a spider at the middle of an elegant silken web. His temples were streaked with grey, but he moved like a man two decades younger and had ruled with a quietly firm grip for years.
Unlike the Turk, Amanda felt real trepidation when they walked into the Jade Palace. Gentleman Jian had been the ultimate threat from Rack, when verbal and physical abuse flagged and Adam got mouthy: "Behave or I'll see what the Gentleman will give me for you." And given Jian's reputation, they'd never known if one day one or both of them would end up in one of the Palace's back rooms or in a cargo container on a ship to Madripoor or Russia or fuck-knew-where.
With those memories, it was hard to stay the expected step and a half behind Marie-Ange that their cover demanded. Instead she took a deep breath and let her gaze drift over their surroundings. They'd been taken up to one of the private bars, to talk business, and the clientele read like a who's who of mid and high tier criminals, smugglers and the magically-adjacent.
This was not department store blouse and skirt Marie-Ange. This was tailored elegance. Lipstick so dark it was a slash across her face, midnight suit skirt and long, long legs in high, high heels. Her drink sat in her hand like it weighed nothing, and she plucked the orange peel off the rim, and looked at it with clear amusement. "Sugared. Interesting. Darling, would you like a treat?" She wrapped it around one manicured finger. "For being such a good pet?"
"Yes please." Amanda leaned forward and took Marie-Ange's finger in her mouth, pulling off the orange peel in a slow, langorous movement. Like her "mistress", she was dressed in midnight blue, a micro-dress with a plunging neckline that highlighted the intricate gold collar around her neck. One part bodyguard, one part indentured magical servant, one part concubine was the vibe they were going for, and judging from the expressions of those around them, they were succeeding.
Gentleman Jian never hurried. Never let anyone see him as anything other than measured and deliberate. He waited until the tea was poured and his small brandy - his one vice - was set beside it before talking.
"I'm told that you have questions for me. And your introductions are of remarkable quality." He said, referring to both the magical necklace that Amanda had effectively empowered as well as the intel from MA that the Chinese authorities were closing on one of his suppliers. He took a small sip of his tea. "My time and attention is limited. You have both for the moment."
"I would not insult you by offering anything less than remarkable." Marie-Ange matched Jian's sip of his tea with a sip of her own drink. "Or by wasting that time and attention. My darling Mandy is talented and tractable, but the realities of my own limited time and attention means I need something to occupy her time. A little project." She ran her fingers through Amanda's hair. "Something to play with."
"I think you might have bad information. We don't provide a bespoke experience." Jian said, taking a sip. "And I don't trust you enough for even that."
"Of course not." Amanda only spoke after a slight nod from Marie-Ange, and she kept her eyes down. "But if you had access to an asset that you might want to pass on, someone that might be... difficult to offload..." She raised her lashes and looked Jian briefly in the eye. "Someone with government connections, maybe?"
He slowly put down his glass, looking at them levelly. "When my grandfather came here from Hong Kong, he was amazed that despite centuries of experience with our traders and diplomats, how many white British still saw us still as some crude straw hat wearing coolie, clustered in the back kitchens or the laundries serving them, at best an exotic with an opium pipe. It never angered him the way it did me. After all, I was in those private schools, my classmates using ugly kung-fu jokes and slanting their eyes at me." Jian said slowly, measuredly. "He said that if those who enrich you only see you as simple and stupid, they will never be prepared for anything else. I think that is why he built this restaurant as our seat of power. So that those coming in still in the back of their heads are thinking only about the stupid Chinaman."
He made a gesture, and several men came into the room; hard, heavy, scarred. Professionals. "It would take a remarkable coincidence for you to ask for that specific kind of asset without already knowing who it is and what I know. Oh, and you'll find this room quite shielded from magic, just in case you had any notions of threats. Please, take my guests to the sub-basement and thoroughly interrogate them."
"Do you know?" Marie-Ange stood, steady despite the stratospheric shoes. "How often men see a woman in high heels or a micro dress and think she is simple and stupid?" The dark lipstick made her smile look colder, vicious as she pulled a long knife from nowhere in particular. "I never have notions of threats." She did not get a chance to finish her sentence, before one of the guards went for her throat, and she ducked under his arm, and the knife went up high under his ribs, and then sunk in further when he kicked at her knee.
"Not to mention the idea that magic is the only option." Amanda ducked the arms outstretched to grab her, sinking into the floor and reappearing behind one of them. Another long knife appeared in her hand: "Thanks, love," she said, and she slashed at the back of the man's knees, cutting the tendons and dropping him to the floor.
Marie-Ange dissolved the knife stuck under the guard's ribs, and kicked off one of her shoes - the heels were a necessary part of the image, they were absolutely impossible to fight in and her knee was aching already. "Ruining a perfectly good thousand dollar dress on this." She spat, and pulled a very real smaller blade from her jacket, and got it right up under one of the guard's groin, right in the delicate spot between his over muscled thigh and his balls, and dug it in. It bought her enough time to get the other shoe off, and pull an imaged disc from nothing in time to avoid being shot.
Amanda didn't have time to get to the guard with the gun and without the magic, she only had a limited amount of options. But they were in London, her city. She glared at the man and abruptly the floor opened up beneath him, dropping him into a black space with a yell. Then the floor snapped closed around the unfortunate man's neck, popping his head off like a cork. It bounced over the expensive rugs, blood spraying.
"No-one fucks with my girl," the witch growled, turning her attention to the remaining guards. There were only two left on their feet.
"You could send more guards." Marie-Ange said, a little breathless, a little flat. "Do you want to wonder how many more powers we are keeping up our sleeves?" She snapped out her arm, and a card appeared in it. "I imagine you have more guards. Eventually we would be outnumbered." Black armor, deep and matte and heavy crept up her arm, a long spear slowly growing out of the gauntlet even as it finished covering her hand. "By my best prediction, half of your men would die. What happens when two women kill half of Gentleman Jian's men? What becomes of your reputation then?"
Gentleman Jian placed his hands on the table; still and steady. "What do you want?" He said simply.
"Alasdair Stuart. Where is he?" Amanda matched his tone.
"Andrew Ludgate. Doc Druid if you believe that." He said quietly. "We delivered him to him last week."
Marie-Ange leaned on the long pole of the spear and wiped blood off her free hand onto her dress. "Well, really now. No honor among slavers, no? Since I imagine you've been paid already." She glanced down at the head on the floor. "I imagine if they were any good you would not have sent them first. Unless you really did underestimate me?" She didn't wait for an answer and instead bent and picked up her shoes and took Amanda's elbow. "Shall we?"
WARNING: Explicit content and language.
The Jade Palace was a popular restaurant and club in the heart of Soho; five stories of restaurant space, private dining rooms, bars and exclusive supper and wine clubs. It bustled day and night, serving a largely Asian clientele, ex-pats and visiting businessmen alike. It was especially known for its ability to import booze, teas and delicacies rarely exported from China to the West.
The rumours also suggested it wasn't the only thing it imported from Asia. Not just your run of the mill sex trafficking, but also magically talented young people before places like Kamar-Taj could find them. There was the usual mix of drugs, contraband, and weapons; boring compared to their magical trade, but profit was profit. At the centre of it all was Gentleman Jian, like a spider at the middle of an elegant silken web. His temples were streaked with grey, but he moved like a man two decades younger and had ruled with a quietly firm grip for years.
Unlike the Turk, Amanda felt real trepidation when they walked into the Jade Palace. Gentleman Jian had been the ultimate threat from Rack, when verbal and physical abuse flagged and Adam got mouthy: "Behave or I'll see what the Gentleman will give me for you." And given Jian's reputation, they'd never known if one day one or both of them would end up in one of the Palace's back rooms or in a cargo container on a ship to Madripoor or Russia or fuck-knew-where.
With those memories, it was hard to stay the expected step and a half behind Marie-Ange that their cover demanded. Instead she took a deep breath and let her gaze drift over their surroundings. They'd been taken up to one of the private bars, to talk business, and the clientele read like a who's who of mid and high tier criminals, smugglers and the magically-adjacent.
This was not department store blouse and skirt Marie-Ange. This was tailored elegance. Lipstick so dark it was a slash across her face, midnight suit skirt and long, long legs in high, high heels. Her drink sat in her hand like it weighed nothing, and she plucked the orange peel off the rim, and looked at it with clear amusement. "Sugared. Interesting. Darling, would you like a treat?" She wrapped it around one manicured finger. "For being such a good pet?"
"Yes please." Amanda leaned forward and took Marie-Ange's finger in her mouth, pulling off the orange peel in a slow, langorous movement. Like her "mistress", she was dressed in midnight blue, a micro-dress with a plunging neckline that highlighted the intricate gold collar around her neck. One part bodyguard, one part indentured magical servant, one part concubine was the vibe they were going for, and judging from the expressions of those around them, they were succeeding.
Gentleman Jian never hurried. Never let anyone see him as anything other than measured and deliberate. He waited until the tea was poured and his small brandy - his one vice - was set beside it before talking.
"I'm told that you have questions for me. And your introductions are of remarkable quality." He said, referring to both the magical necklace that Amanda had effectively empowered as well as the intel from MA that the Chinese authorities were closing on one of his suppliers. He took a small sip of his tea. "My time and attention is limited. You have both for the moment."
"I would not insult you by offering anything less than remarkable." Marie-Ange matched Jian's sip of his tea with a sip of her own drink. "Or by wasting that time and attention. My darling Mandy is talented and tractable, but the realities of my own limited time and attention means I need something to occupy her time. A little project." She ran her fingers through Amanda's hair. "Something to play with."
"I think you might have bad information. We don't provide a bespoke experience." Jian said, taking a sip. "And I don't trust you enough for even that."
"Of course not." Amanda only spoke after a slight nod from Marie-Ange, and she kept her eyes down. "But if you had access to an asset that you might want to pass on, someone that might be... difficult to offload..." She raised her lashes and looked Jian briefly in the eye. "Someone with government connections, maybe?"
He slowly put down his glass, looking at them levelly. "When my grandfather came here from Hong Kong, he was amazed that despite centuries of experience with our traders and diplomats, how many white British still saw us still as some crude straw hat wearing coolie, clustered in the back kitchens or the laundries serving them, at best an exotic with an opium pipe. It never angered him the way it did me. After all, I was in those private schools, my classmates using ugly kung-fu jokes and slanting their eyes at me." Jian said slowly, measuredly. "He said that if those who enrich you only see you as simple and stupid, they will never be prepared for anything else. I think that is why he built this restaurant as our seat of power. So that those coming in still in the back of their heads are thinking only about the stupid Chinaman."
He made a gesture, and several men came into the room; hard, heavy, scarred. Professionals. "It would take a remarkable coincidence for you to ask for that specific kind of asset without already knowing who it is and what I know. Oh, and you'll find this room quite shielded from magic, just in case you had any notions of threats. Please, take my guests to the sub-basement and thoroughly interrogate them."
"Do you know?" Marie-Ange stood, steady despite the stratospheric shoes. "How often men see a woman in high heels or a micro dress and think she is simple and stupid?" The dark lipstick made her smile look colder, vicious as she pulled a long knife from nowhere in particular. "I never have notions of threats." She did not get a chance to finish her sentence, before one of the guards went for her throat, and she ducked under his arm, and the knife went up high under his ribs, and then sunk in further when he kicked at her knee.
"Not to mention the idea that magic is the only option." Amanda ducked the arms outstretched to grab her, sinking into the floor and reappearing behind one of them. Another long knife appeared in her hand: "Thanks, love," she said, and she slashed at the back of the man's knees, cutting the tendons and dropping him to the floor.
Marie-Ange dissolved the knife stuck under the guard's ribs, and kicked off one of her shoes - the heels were a necessary part of the image, they were absolutely impossible to fight in and her knee was aching already. "Ruining a perfectly good thousand dollar dress on this." She spat, and pulled a very real smaller blade from her jacket, and got it right up under one of the guard's groin, right in the delicate spot between his over muscled thigh and his balls, and dug it in. It bought her enough time to get the other shoe off, and pull an imaged disc from nothing in time to avoid being shot.
Amanda didn't have time to get to the guard with the gun and without the magic, she only had a limited amount of options. But they were in London, her city. She glared at the man and abruptly the floor opened up beneath him, dropping him into a black space with a yell. Then the floor snapped closed around the unfortunate man's neck, popping his head off like a cork. It bounced over the expensive rugs, blood spraying.
"No-one fucks with my girl," the witch growled, turning her attention to the remaining guards. There were only two left on their feet.
"You could send more guards." Marie-Ange said, a little breathless, a little flat. "Do you want to wonder how many more powers we are keeping up our sleeves?" She snapped out her arm, and a card appeared in it. "I imagine you have more guards. Eventually we would be outnumbered." Black armor, deep and matte and heavy crept up her arm, a long spear slowly growing out of the gauntlet even as it finished covering her hand. "By my best prediction, half of your men would die. What happens when two women kill half of Gentleman Jian's men? What becomes of your reputation then?"
Gentleman Jian placed his hands on the table; still and steady. "What do you want?" He said simply.
"Alasdair Stuart. Where is he?" Amanda matched his tone.
"Andrew Ludgate. Doc Druid if you believe that." He said quietly. "We delivered him to him last week."
Marie-Ange leaned on the long pole of the spear and wiped blood off her free hand onto her dress. "Well, really now. No honor among slavers, no? Since I imagine you've been paid already." She glanced down at the head on the floor. "I imagine if they were any good you would not have sent them first. Unless you really did underestimate me?" She didn't wait for an answer and instead bent and picked up her shoes and took Amanda's elbow. "Shall we?"
