Cold War Transmission (Clive/Open)

[Slash]

--

Jericho had immersed himself back into the quagmire of the underground. He would start off here, in a place that had gone almost completely untouched by the emissary.Then he would weasel his way to his former position- no, higher. He would build an army, not from the darkness's power but from his own.

First, he had to find that power. And that meant delving into the very lowest level, as a servile thug. That wouldn't be hard. He had hidden his actual identity behind a mask, this one on the outside rather than the inside. His hair was a pure white now, and colored contacts eliminated the need for glasses while turning his eyes from emerald to a sort of blue-green color. He had discarded his normal attire, as well, turning to the plain clothes of the common thug. A simple black sweatshirt and blue jeans were unremarkable enough.

He had also discarded a few more things- he would not use his Keyblade except in life-or-death situations with no other options, and instead of Corruption, he had a simple knife.

He had also discarded his name, or rather any name. 17 was what he went by at the time, a name which his coworkers probably thought had some deep meaning. He had picked it at random. Someday, he would earn everything back. His name, his appearance, everything. But now, he would hold his real self inside as the memory of him faded and became myth.

There was a tense silence in the air as Jericho's teammates circled the store. The leader, a professional blonde man named Aaron, beckoned him and another teammate.

"Go around the back, Klavier. 17, I want you to distract the owner. Just steal something or whatever. Get him to chase you somewhere closed in and do what we came here for. We'll take care of the rest of them. Do it as the client ordered, all right? Can you do that?"

They had been working together for a short time, but Aaron knew Jericho's capabilities well enough. Jericho nodded silently and walked in.

The owner was easy to fool. Jericho simply looked like some punk in his twenties, and was easily able to arouse suspicion and then fury when he took a pretty nice piece of equipment straight off of the shelves. When the owner called him out, he bolted- but not too fast. This guy was a hands-on man, from what he'd heard, and the place was known by thieves as being quite hazardous.

He would give chase. And he did, and Jericho led him into the alley and did what was required.

All right, sliced from throat to sternum, hands cut off, shoved into stomach. What the fuck.[/color]

Aaron was a good enough criminal, but he was notorious for taking on the weirdest jobs he could find just for kicks. Jericho sighed.

[Nothingness]

That was...disgusting

Clive had been watching from a fire escape the whole time. He'd had thoughts of intervening, but frankly, the city's own taskforce seemed more than capable of handling one murder. Besides, only that masked man seemed to have any clue as to what to really do, as sick of a man he was to do that. Although Clive wasn't one to talk--he'd had to do some pretty filthy things in the name of the client.

"That was fairly impressive." Clive called down, resting his arms on the fire escape railing, leaning forward slightly. What the heck--a little friendly taunting wouldn't hurt. "Although it seems like you did all the work, really. Why not just go solo?"

[Slash]

--

"More than one murder. They cover those. I do the dirty jobs," Jericho said, his voice hidden behind a scrambler in his mask. Under the guise of 17, he made sure not to talk overmuch. He could have immediately dropped his disguise and talked to Clive on equal terms, but he wanted to see if he was doing a good enough job yet.

"Solo's not good unless you have a reputation. You'll get killed by gangs. Muscling in on their turf." His arms did not move while he spoke. It took more effort than it should have to suppess his gestures and movements while speaking, but he managed. He wanted to seem like a stoic and strange thug, since that was far enough from his original personality while being close enough for him to avoid things he hated doing.

"What do you want?"

[Nothingness]

You've got a good head on your shoulders

Despite all of those being fairly sound explanations, they didn't seem to completely satisfy him. No, there was something off about the precision of it all. Far too much experience for this man to simply be an underling. Frankly, Clive knew that it wasn't his place to care or intrude upon this man's privacy, but it was curious to say the least.

"Nothing in particular. I was just passing by and happened upon you. That being said, I'm curious as to what's your name? Fake, real, it makes no difference." He was being honest in all respects. That all said, Clive didn't want to be recalling the masked man as simply, "The Masked Man", should he ever think of him at some random point.

[Slash]

--

Well, apparently his disguise was good enough. He would hold it for a bit longer, and whether or not he'd admit to Clive who he was depended on if he stayed around longer. Admittedly, it'd be quite enjoyable having a good conversation with Clive again, but if Clive went on not knowing where he was it'd be fine, too.

"I don't have a name. Call me 17." He looked around to make sure no one was coming. Certainly someone would eventually stroll by, and he had to seem like he didn't want the trouble that would bring. "We should move."

He began to move away from the body, then looked back. "Unless you plan on taking the credit."

[Nothingness]

I didn't do it

Well, that was certainly unoriginal. Having your alias be a random number? Clive wasn't surprised, though. Complexity was usually a fairly poor choice when coming up with names. Using ones like "Ian Moone" or "Ivan Belimsni" would be pretty easy to figure out, after all. So, sometimes being unoriginal was about as original as one could get.

"I have no intentions of taking credit, twenty-five." Looking down the alley, he pointed to a building with a lowered fire escape. "Meet me on the roof of that building. I doubt anyone will bother us." Turning his back to the man called "17", Clive ascended the fire escape before disappearing from sight as he stepped onto the rooftop.

Within minutes he was on top of the building he had pointed to. Hopefully he wouldn't be waiting too long.

[Slash]

If I was still a spider, I could have won this race.

[/center]

Jericho ascended the building a little slower. Clive had always been faster. Now they were both in a place where no one else was going to go to eavesdrop, Jericho really wanted to have a good chat with the guy. He would know how things were going on in the other worlds.

Before he got completely onto the rooftop, he took off his mask. In an inside pocket of his sweatshirt he had his glasses, hidden in a case by a false bottom. After he had taken the contacts out and put them on, he was recognizably himself, albeit with white hair. Eh. It made him look distinguished.

"How was that? I thought I did pretty good. But I always think I do pretty good. It's certainly worked for me so far."

He sat down a small distance from Clive. "How's life?"

[Nothingness]

Don't you look different

The transformation happened rather suddenly. One moment the man was removing his mask, and with the simple addition of glasses Jericho was now standing before him. "That was pretty impressive. You've certainly mastered the art of subtlety in disguise, that's certain."

Sitting down on the building's ledge, he crossed his arms and remembered everything that Nadia told him. Jericho really had seemed to change, if second (or was it third?) first impressions mattered. "Everything has been going well. I've been spending a lot of time in Agrabah lately. I did love Radiant Garden, but it's not my place to be there. The same for Port Royal--I made my peace and I don't intend to be returning again."

Leaning forward a little, he uncrossed his arms and lightly gripped the edge of the ledge. "So, I take it you've been busy?"

[Slash]

Similar intentions.

[/center]

"I see. I'm rather stuck on this world for a while. Not that I mind it. I lost the need to jump from place to place when I shed the old life." He smiled. It was less maniacal than it had been previously- now it was full of bitterness with a hint of cruelty, as it had used to be.

"Yeah, I've been a little busy. Taking a new life is always busy at the beginning." Jericho took a deep breath. "It's nice in its own way, though, to shift yourself out of contentment. It's like dunking your head in a bucket of cold water- it's rather unpleasant when you do it, but right afterwards you have a sort of heightened awareness. Besides, I feel much more like myself now. Power's no good when you lose parts of yourself in it. So I plan work here and find my own strength. I forgot one of the most important rules of life- never rely on anything or anyone besides yourself. I'll just hide here until what I was is forgotten. I'm going to build up what I had again, bit by bit, but this time I'll do it right."

[Nothingness]

Glad to hear it

"It feels good to remember who you really are, doesn't it?" Clive softly chuckled. "I spent so long trying to get a hold of what I'd lost that I forgot I couldn't grab what wasn't there. While I still have my own reservations about killing, at least I do it on my own terms now." Cracking his knuckles, he looked up at the sky for a moment. Infinite possibilities within all the worlds, but only one that works for each person.

Looking back at Jericho, he said rather lazily, "All things considered, it's nice to see you without the extra limbs." He wanted to also say that it was even nicer to not worrying about being torn apart by them, but he let that slide.