See No Evil: Lost and Found (ch. 27) (Patreon)

"So, just to be clear -- this is one of those things you're going to do anyway, and you're just telling me so I'll be in the loop, right?" Vergil questioned, leaning against the bar counter at Staircase while sitting in a seat. There was another cup of coffee in his hand -- it was becoming increasingly rare to see him without one. Only now he made them so strong they could be used as motor oil.

Tifa offered a smile, "Pretty much!" She confirmed, glad to see he got it. Their relationship was good because of it. Vergil was a people person. Not in the sense that he was an extrovert, if anything he was the opposite, but he was good at reading people. He knew what to say, when to push, when to back off, and when to offer support.

He scratched at his cheek, his gaze sweeping over the three of them. "Alright. Just be careful. The gang war has really calmed down since winter started, so don't go starting one in the Narrows." He held out a hand, and the cards that never left his person slid out of his pocket, card by card, in a few seconds. Sammy made a noise of surprise, which surprised Tifa because she had been as quiet as a mouse since they had arrived after a long walk back.

He unsealed a phone before he passed it to Tifa. "You can track the truck with the green app. I chipped all of our cars in case something like this happened," Vergil explained as Tifa took the phone. Booting up the app, she saw a map of the city and a blue line connecting where she was standing to where the truck was. "Just be careful, alright?"

He was trying to not be worried for her. Trying to not hover because he knew that she and Cassandra could take care of themselves. Better than he could, really. It was cute. "We'll be fine. We might piss off a gang, though." To that, Vergil nodded in agreement as he took a sip of his coffee. It was strong enough that it clearly offended what was left of his taste buds, but Vergil seemed determined to wipe out what was left of them.

"Probably. From the looks of it, the truck is in the 108 Street Kings' territory. But it could have just been dumped there," Vergil said. He was using his contact to look at what was on the screen. He really was investing a lot into them. Over the past month, Vergil had tried to do a hundred different things at once, and in the process he finally released his death grip on the money he had. He used the Henching app relentlessly, having large amounts of items stolen for him while he bought what he couldn't steal.

It was how he got the cameras and the microphones. And the trip lasers. And everything else that ran on a half dozen systems, each were directly connected to his contacts so he knew the moment something was wrong. It's also how he made new weapons and armor. Most of which Tifa had yet to see in action, but Revy seemed to like what she had received.

"How bad will it be if they connect us to taking the truck back?" Tifa questioned him, tucking the phone away. Vergil seemed to think about it, his gaze sliding to Sammy for a moment, before he offered a small shrug.

"It'd be better if they didn't know it was you at all, but the timing will give us away. If you aren't going to kill anyone, then give them a very good reason to not come after us," Vergil ordered. There was a core of steel in his voice that only appeared when he was making this kind of decision. That core of steel scared her at times, because she knew where it would lead.

In the months that she had known Vergil, she saw that he had a good heart. A kind heart that wept at every hardship he heard about. It's why she cared for him as much as she did. Vergil was the type of person that would help anyone that came to him for help, and he wouldn't ask for a single thing in return. He hated the praise he got for it. And hated that anyone would dare think good of him.

But Vergil… was not a good man. There was that core of steel in him that just… made him willing to do things that Tifa could never do. Vergil did it because he cared, maybe cared too much, but there was a lot of blood on his hands. And he was willing to get more on them if it meant that Lowtown succeeded. It's why he murdered those Blackgaters. She had always suspected what had really happened to them, but she hadn't truly believed it until Vergil confirmed it.

He was like Barret in that way. He believed in a cause and he was willing to give anything to make sure Avalanche flourished. Anything that he had… including his conscious.

"Are you people a mob?" Sammy spoke up, blurting the question so suddenly that she seemed to surprise herself. Her eyes widened, one more so than the other, before she flinched when everyone turned to look at her. "I mean, I don't care if you are. And if you are, then I didn't see shit and heard less. I-" Sammy hastily started, cutting herself off when Tifa shook her head.

"We aren't a mob, Sammy," Tifa reassured while Cassandra turned to Vergil for an explanation for what was going on. As he began to sign at Cass, Tifa explained. "We're just… in a position that we can take on gangs." Though, there was that fact that Vergil was a part of the Penguin Mob hanging over their heads. But, with some luck, that wouldn't be the case for much longer.

Sammy looked at Vergil, who smirked when Cassandra frowned when Vergil threw in a new sign in his explanation that she was trying to puzzle out. He was good with her. Very good with her. When Cass had appeared, Tifa had no clue what to think. And when she proved to be a mute that couldn't communicate at all on top of being in a wheelchair, Tifa had done her best to build a rapport with the girl.

It was obvious that Cassandra was closer to Vergil than anyone else, though. He knew how to talk to her. How to teach her. Like teaching Cassandra about time by connecting the hours with the sun and moon. Before, like letters, numbers had no meaning to her. To be honest, Tifa was a little jealous.

"... Are you sure? Because, uh, you talk like a mob boss," Sammy pointed out, looking like she wanted to take the words back the moment that she said them.

Vergil gave a shrug to that, “I swim in the same circles as a few.” That wasn’t the reassuring answer that Sammy had been looking for. “But, no, not a mob boss. Just in charge of Lowtown, and CEO of Sainthood Enterprises -- I deal in flowers, construction, and time-waster apps. Not drugs, guns, or people.” That wasn’t entirely true on the drugs part, but it was better than admitting it, Tifa guessed.

Sammy glanced at Tifa, looking for reassurance. Tifa nodded, “He’s making it sound worse than it is because he doesn’t like anyone thinking good of him,” she offered as reassurance and punishment, as proven with Vergil’s indignant scoff. “But it’s true, Lowtown isn’t about any of that. We have to interact with gangs and mobs, but that’s more about beating them up when they try to move in on us.”

Tifa could see the doubt in Sammy’s eyes, but she wasn’t fleeing for the hills. Instead, she offered a hesitant nod to show that she was willing to stick around. Tifa glanced back at Vergil, “We’ll be back soon enough. Sammy can hang out here until we get our truck back.” Taking her with them would be a bad idea. However, Sammy had a different opinion.

“If it’s the Street Kings, then I can help,” Sammy offered, looking at Vergil rather than Tifa. Trying to prove herself to him. “My pimp was with them, same with my new one too.” The same one that hit her and put her on a corner in the middle of winter. “So, I know the haunts and the people. If the car isn’t moving, then it’s either at a chop shop or they crashed it. The heaters will be long gone. I can help you find them.”

Vergil’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping over Sammy like he was trying to see through to her soul. “Why?” He questioned, his tone sharper than the chill outside.

“Because they’ve treated me like shit for a long time. It was fine at the time, you know. I could deal with it. Now… now I see a better option,” Sammy explained, hiding nothing. "I've heard a lot about this place. Good and bad. I figured the bad was the truth, but… it's not. So, if you're going to help me then I want to at least earn my keep."

Tifa smiled to herself -- this was what made it all worth it. Helping people and finding those that wanted to do good even though they were in a bad situation. Who wanted to repay a good turn with another. She gave Vergil a pointed look, knowing that he would have doubts. He nodded, conceding since Tifa knew Sammy better, if only barely.

"Fine with me. I won't turn away free info," Vergil agreed, before his phone rang. Pulling it out of his jacket pocket, his lips thinned. He answered it with a "Vergil speaking." He fell silent for a moment, nodding to himself. "I'll be right there then." Tifa frowned -- only one person could make Vergil sound like that.

He looked to her, "I have to go. I'll see you both later, and it had better be in one piece," Vergil said as a goodbye, not saying more as the Penguin summoned him away.

"You will," Tifa reassured(,) while he and Cassandra shared a sign of goodbye. When Vergil left to dress in his suit, she turned to Sammy. "Ready?"

Sammy offered a hesitant nod, "Yeah, I think so. We're not walking there, right?" She asked as they left the bar. To answer her question, a car pulled up. Another change that happened in the past month. As things got colder, walking became less viable, so Vergil purchased more than a few cars for transportation. Under the guise of taking them to an auto shop, he just combined them and now they were on the road.

The only illegal part of their existence was that Tifa didn't have a license. One of the LG got out of the car, letting them have it. Sammy got in the back seat, leaving the passenger one for Cass. "So… you and Saint Vergil?"

"Yeah," Tifa confirmed, glancing back at Sammy with the rearview mirror.

"He treat you right?" Sammy asked, catching Tifa off guard with the question for a moment.

"I… yes, of course, he does. Vergil couldn't treat me badly if he tried. Why?" Tifa answered(,) and questioned in turn as she handed Cass the phone, letting her be the GPS.

Sammy offered a shrug. "I know his type, honey. That boy is trouble." All things considered, she did have a point there. Her life certainly had taken some turns ever since she met Vergil. For the better, really. Enough so that she absolved him of the promise he made her about bringing her home. "I used to be a booty call for the old leader of the Street Kings years ago -- he had the same look that Vergil does."

"I can handle trouble," Tifa deflected as they closed in on where the car was. "I even like it -- speaking of which, what can you tell me about the Street Kings?" She asked, trying to change the subject. Sammy seemed to sense as much and left the topic alone. Things had been a little… tense between her and Vergil, but that was because they were both so busy. So many people were relying on them, and now more so than ever.

"The Street Kings are a run of the mill block gang. Started out as a bunch of high school friends that expanded when they made a rep for themselves. Pretty small as far as things go -- Last I knew, there were about thirty of them total," Sammy explained as they turned onto the street that their truck should be on.

It was in an auto shop.

"This place is a hangout for them. Know of a few others too. Would… you mind if I stayed in the car?" She asked when Tifa pulled up and threw it in park. The garage had a lookout, who looked half-frozen.

"Feel free. This won't take long," Tifa told her before getting out. Apparently, the lookout recognized her because he straightened up, a hand going to his back to grab hold of the pistol he was carrying. Unintimidated, Tifa strode forward, her hands clenched into fists. Her mittens weren't her leather gloves, but they would do.

"Back up pretty girl," The lookout spoke up, not pulling out his gun just yet. Tifa pushed her luck and kept walking until he did, placing him a few steps out of punching range. "How about you get back in your ride and leave things at that."

Tifa frowned, "You stole the heaters. You're going to sell them?" The lookout shrugged, not even bothering to hide it. “People need them. The kind of people that can’t afford whatever price you’re going to put on them. That doesn't bother you at all?”

The lookout offered a wane smile, “You’re in the wrong city if that does.” He pointed out, before he gestured with his gun, telling her to back off. Only the moment that the gun wasn’t pointed at her chest, Tifa darted forward. The snow messed with her traction enough that she was forced to close the distance with a single lunge. As she sailed through the air, she saw the lookout’s eyes widen before her heel slammed into the side of his head after a spinning roundhouse kick.

He hit the ground hard. Hard enough that if the first hit didn’t knock him unconscious, then his skull bouncing off the snow covered concrete would have. Blood dyed the snow red, and the moment that Tifa touched down on the ground again, she picked up his gun and broke it with her bare hands. The garage was closed, but Tifa heard the sound of a camera moving to look at her. She looked up at it, then very pointedly kicked down the reinforced door.

She hated that mentality. Despised it, really. As if committing every sin under the sun and a complete disregard for others was somehow ever okay. The door opened up into an office, revealing a man that was in the middle of standing up, a hand going to his gun. Tifa dove into the room, crossing it in the blink of an eye to bury a fist in his stomach. He folded around her fist before she followed the attack up with a punch to the jaw.

Cassandra didn’t follow her in. She found her own entrance -- Tifa saw as much because a window that displayed the interior of the auto shop showed that the few inside hadn't even noticed her presence because they had been distracted. Tifa slammed through a plywood door, announcing her presence, while Cassandra expertly disarmed and incapacitated a gangster. As the gun fell from his hand, Cassandra gracefully scooped it up before it hit the ground, ejected the magazine, and threw the pistol and the magazine at two others.

Tifa closed in on one that was holding a broken nose and launched a high knee to his face. His hands offered some protection from the blow, but not enough. He went down and at nearly the same moment, the last one standing fell to Cass. Less than thirty seconds and nearly ten bodies were on the ground. Not too bad.

>Good job!< Tifa signed at Cassandra, who offered a sly smile at the praise. She meant it too. Cassandra was an amazing fighter -- in terms of skill, Cassandra was better than her. She always seemed to know your next move before you did, and knew exactly where to strike. It was because of how she was raised… and as much as Tifa loved the idea of sparring with her, that idea had quickly been put to rest.

Cassandra didn't know when to stop. She was taught that broken bones were meant to be ignored, that pain was meant to be ignored. In some ways, that was true. Pain meant you were pushing past your limit. It was a part of martial arts. What had been done to Cassandra twisted that idea to an unthinkable extreme. She and Tifa couldn't spar because Cassandra would willfully break an arm to get out of a hold. Or dislocate one, which is how Tifa learned about Cass' bad habit.

Turning her attention to the auto shop, Tifa saw their truck was placed over a dip in the floor. Her lips thinned when she saw that they were too late -- the trunk was empty and there were parts laying around on the floor. They lost the heaters and the truck. Criminals worked so fast in this city.

"Where are the heaters?" Tifa demanded to know, grabbing a gangster by his shirt and hauling him up, only to throw him into a rolling chair that sent him on a collision course with a wall. "Are they here?"

The gangster held a hand over one eye, one that Cassandra had punched, leaving him with one lone good eye to look at her with. Then he looked at Cassandra. Then at his friends on the ground. "They're at the Homebase," he quickly answered. "66th street at the end of the corner. White building with 'Fuck the Free World' spray-painted in red on the side. There's a hollowed-out minivan on the other side of the street, and a blue Ford Chase parked in front of the building. The heaters will probably be on the first floor. They'll be about ten guys there, including Tyler, the owner of the house-"

He told Tifa everything. If she had asked, then he probably would have handed over social security numbers.

"Okay. Good. Now, do I have to knock you out to make sure you won't warn them in advance?" Tifa asked, and the gangster held up a hand that wasn't covering his face.

"I won't say shit," he vowed. It was a little difficult to trust that when he had just spilled his guts with the same breath he made that promise, though. "As far as I'm concerned, you already knocked my ass out. Goodnight." To punctuate that point, the gangster went limp in the chair so that whoever found him would think he had been knocked out by the punch that bruised his eye.

Swallowing a smirk, Tifa glanced at Cass. >He says he won't say anything.< She signed, wanting to get Cass' take on it.

Cass looked at the man who was pretending that he wasn't peeking at them through the eye that wasn't swollen shut. She offered a nod, >Scared. Quiet.<

So he wouldn't say anything. Good. With that, Tifa and Cassandra left the autoshop. Sammy's face was all but pressed against the window as she tried to tell what was going on inside of the building. Her eyes widened when she saw the two of them leaving less than a few minutes of entering. Her gaze followed them and the moment Tifa got in the car, she spoke up. "What happened?"

"Got some information. The truck can be put together again, but it'll have to be later. We need to get the heaters before they start selling them." It wasn't that they were even that important or hard to replace. Tifa just didn't want someone paying for them, possibly with money they don't have when they could get the same heater for free. That's why time was of the essence.

"And you… beat them up?" Sammy questioned, looking between the two of them. "They were packing heat, right? I didn't hear any shots."

Tifa put the car in gear and started driving towards the Street Kings Homebase. "We didn't give them a chance to," she answered, flashing a grin at Sammy in the rearview mirror. The woman looked bewildered as she leaned into her seat.

“You were in there for like, three seconds,” she pointed out as if the numbers just didn’t add up, but she couldn’t figure out why.

To that, Tifa didn’t respond, letting Sammy think about it for the time being. She pulled onto the road and drove by a line of houses and apartments. This part of the city was a wreck, that became more and more obvious the deeper you went into it. Graffiti was everywhere to the point that they overlapped one another. Gang tags, curse words, and art. The gangster hadn’t been lying either -- at the end of the block, Tifa saw a white house tagged in red spray paint with the cars he described in front of it.

Pulling up nearby, just not close enough to alert anyone, Tifa killed the engine. When she made to get out, Tifa heard an extra door open. Glancing back, she saw it was Sammy. “You don’t want to stay in the car?”

Sammy glanced at the house, “I might be able to help here.” She said, earning a frown from Tifa. Sammy’s pimp was a member of the Street Kings, so being seen helping her would put her in a really bad spot.

“Are you sure? No one has to know,” Tifa offered her, only for Sammy to shake her head.

“I’m sure,” Sammy said as she offered a wane smile. “If I’m gonna change my lot in life, then I’m going all in on Lowtown. From the sounds of it, you’re the better bet.” Returning her smile, Tifa wondered if this is how Vergil felt at times. To have someone bet everything on you, to have trust that you’ll lead them into the light against every odd. It was a heavy feeling.

Nodding to Sammy, Tifa turned her attention to the house just in time to see that Cassandra had left the two of them behind, and was currently climbing into the second-story window. Tifa froze for a half-second before she took off, heading towards the building with Sammy right behind her. “Wait!” Sammy called out, stopping Tifa from kicking the door down.

Sammy stepped forward, swallowed thickly, and reached out and rang the buzzer. It rang for a few seconds, then there was silence. Tifa glanced at Sammy, who stood tall. She had given away the element of surprise, but Cassandra was already in the house. And… if this could be resolved with words rather than fists, then that was worth investigating.

Vergil’s response to getting hit was to hit harder. So hard that whoever hit him would never think about doing it again. But, violence wasn’t always the answer. Escalation wasn’t always the answer. If they could avoid escalating and meet in the middle, then they could go their separate ways without any more broken bones.

A few seconds later, the door opened, revealing a dark-skinned elderly woman. She smiled warmly at Sammy, “Sammy! It’s been too long!” The older woman said, stepping out and giving Sammy a hug. She seemed a bit caught off guard by the action, but Sammy didn’t waste any time hugging back.

“Mom, what-” A voice called out from within the house, rushing to the door, only to pause when he saw who it was. It was like he couldn’t take his eyes off of Sammy, barely even noticing Tifa. Then a deep scowl settled onto his face. “Sammy. What are you doing here?” He demanded, his tone harsh. Harsh enough that his mother let go of Sammy and rounded on her son.

“Watch the attitude,” she warned him, and he looked like he had swallowed an entire lemon tree. “I haven’t seen her in so long, and that’s the first thing that comes out of your mouth?”

The young man -- and he was young. Around her age, or a little older. He seemed older with a full beard. He shuffled his feet at that, “Sorry, Mom. Sammy. Nice to see you. Why are you here?”

Sammy failed to answer. There was a story there, because their entire reaction was off. That sounded like bad blood rather than Sammy just being a prostitute attached to their gang. When she failed, Tifa spoke up. “I’m here looking for some heaters that had been stolen from my truck. I found my truck in an auto shop,” Tifa informed and the guy’s expression changed from forced politeness to a snarl instantly.

“Oh,” the woman started, realizing what Tifa was hinting at. “I thought it was a little odd when my boys brought me a space heater. I suppose you’ll want it back?” The woman questioned, looking at Tifa with far less fondness than she did Sammy. Luckily, Sammy found her voice.

“No, she doesn't. She’s with Lowtown and they’re giving out heaters for free. Anyone that needs one, can have as many as they want since Bruce Wayne is footing the bill,” Sammy explained, and the older woman had less difficulty believing that from Sammy than if it had come from Tifa. “She’s tracking them down to make sure that they aren’t going to people that are going to charge people out the nose for them.”

The older woman looked at Tifa for a moment, “Lowtown is real?” She questioned, earning a nod. “Those boys in the autoshop… did you kill any of them?” she asked with a hard tone in her voice.

Tifa shook her head. “No. They’re sporting broken noses and bruises at most,” Tifa quickly reassured and saw the woman’s eyes climb high, before her lips quirked up.

“Girls get it done,” She remarked. “Anna,” she introduced herself. “Would you like to come inside-”

“Mom!” The young man snapped, glaring hard at Tifa and Sammy like he couldn’t decide who he wanted to be mad at.

Anna closed her eyes for a moment, before she opened them, “Son, this lovely lady found where you lived in about thirty minutes. If I’m going to raise a gangster, then I’m not going to raise a stupid one. Get inside, and sit your ass down so we can talk this out.” She snapped at him and, for the briefest of moments, Tifa thought he was going to pull a gun.

He didn’t so Tifa gave him a sweet smile, “Thank you for your hospitality.”