Chapter Text
For the first time, Gepard hadn’t immediately recognized Sampo when he reached the arranged meeting place. The lack of the flashy garb with all the straps and buckles rendered him almost invisible among a crowd of people, and the missing snakehead - a sure symbol of his untrustworthy nature - that the male always carried on his shoulder like some pet, made him look twice before realizing that Sampo was wearing decently normal clothes for once.
His shoes were still the same, tricolored, patent leather, and the pace and weight of his footsteps was what had made Gepard look up from his phone from his seat on the bench in the first place.
When Sampo grinned at him with one hand in his pocket and the other up to wave him down as he approached, was when Gepard clicked his phone off and got up to meet the male halfway.
“You’re late.”
“Fashionably so,” Sampo winks at him with the smile never leaving his lips, but Gepard is crossing his arms.
“It’s irresponsible. I needn’t remind you why I'm here, and time is very important to me. If you’re here to waste it, I'm leaving.”
Sampos' lips drop into an exaggerated pout as both his hands go to his pocket, posture slouching back as he stands, pelvis jutted slightly. “Oh c’mon Geppie. I’m the one helping you out here.”
“By blackmail, and I'm only cooperating to keep an eye on you. Now, before I take another step, is whatever you found related to what i’m looking for?” Gepard asks, all bark and ready to bite Sampos head off if he gives the wrong answer, but the male doesn’t feel intimidated in the slightest as he perks right up, no longer maintaining their eyes at a level height.
“Of course! I just said that I was the one helpin’ ya didn’t I?” He reaches a hand out to Gepard, ready to knock against his head with his knuckles, but it’s promptly grabbed onto with a cold grip on his wrist. Sampo doesn’t deter. “Kind of a think skull ya got there, huh?”
Gepard glares at him minutely before schooling his expression and releasing his arm. “Lead the way.”
With his newly released wrist, Sampo brings his hand to his head. “Aye aye, Captain.”
Gepard's brows twitch. “Don’t test my patience.”
Despite his earlier irritation by Sampo, Gepard felt somewhat at ease when they made their way through the tightening burrow of homes and in a direction that was completely unknown to him. Which, accompanied by someone who he’s been trying to arrest for close to a year now, is strange.
Nothing about this should make him drop his defenses the way they have, and he has to force the thought back instead of letting his mind wander to the wrong things.
An example being that Sampo looked like an actual citizen instead of a tall rat covered in belts and leather as if he came straight out of a fetish club. Another one being why the man in question hasn’t said a word the whole way there. The silence should be disturbing, where it would bring bubbling anxiety to what awaits him on the other side of the man's schemes, but Gepard only gives Sampo a few wayward glances to gauge his expression, and all he can see is a pensive stare and the occasional tap of the thumb sprouting from his pocket.
After a while, Sampo looks up, perks up, and then abruptly turns around to face Gepard with his hands in an exaggerated presentation to his left.
“Ta-da! And here we are!” He gives a laugh. “Or maybe I should say ‘may thus be satisfied with thine prize’... Get it?” He says, but Gepard is looking at the building Sampo is gesturing to, head tilting up to read the sign, relatively new compared to the old building with exposed pieces of brick.
“A shop.” he mumbled before Sampo came to stand next to him.
“A boutique, to be exact, and a very popular one back in the day. Now it’s more of a place to get your clothes tailored and fixed after the divide. The workers tho… gotta tell ya, they aren’t too good at what they do.”
Gepards fists clench at his sides. In other words, a fabrics shop.
They were stalking the wrong one.
If he weren’t so irritated at himself for overlooking other possibilities of other potential locations from their information broker, he’d be relieved at the fact that Molly is keeping watch at a place that is otherwise safe, and the guilt of leaving her alone wanes a little as he lets a sigh escape him.
“That tell you anything, Geppie?” Sampos' words drawl out as he leans forwards to be able to get a look at him, and Gepard blinks at his form with a frown. Did I miss something?
Sampo pulls his bottom lip. “Oh cmon, I thought you were better than this!” He complains, obviously pointing out Gepards lack of attention, much to his embarrassment, so he crosses his arms to lean away from the con-man.
“I already know it’s a hideout.” It’s why they were in front of the other fabrics shop. “I’m just deducing whether or not this could be the real one.”
“Alright,” Sampo goes, curt, before stepping in front of him. “I worked my ass off getting you this, so the least you could do is give me a little credit by piecing it together yourself, so-” then he points at the building. “Use that pretty little head of yours and tell me what you see.”
Gepard is ready to call him out, to stop wasting his time before he would- reluctantly - praise Sampo for his findings before getting to the point to see if the shop is what they’ve been looking for. But the look on Sampos' face makes him hesitate, the way his green gaze bores into his own in a manner unfamiliarly serious, he can’t find it in himself to snap without feeling a sense of shame for not taking things seriously. But, he really really can’t waste any time making an argument about it, so he flickers his gaze up at the building.
The sign, the walls, the homes attached with the only thing dividing the property being the switch in paint color, and all the decor used to advertise the tailor shop. Or, lack-there-of as all there was, was a dainty chalk board with smeared words of advertisem*nt drawn on top.
He gives Sampo one last look before he speaks, slow at first. “Well, if what you said about it being a big-time clothing store is true, I can make the assumption that while the Divide was the cause of its downfall and the effect was the lack of clientele wanting to purchase, with the reason that the underworld is more of a mine. So clothes that are new and pristine wouldn’t only be ruined, the expense wouldn’t be worth their significantly lowered paygrade, causing the shop to go bankrupt.”
Gepard keeps his eyes on the shop as he continues with a hand to his chin, and the other crossed around his chest. “Whether they selled it or turned it to a tailor to keep up with the demand of the new times, is unknown, but that could be easily found out once I send word to headquarters. But considering you said that the workers weren’t very good, the owners most likely selled it, and further eliminated possible suspects unless we can find who they selled it to.”
Sampo blinks at him, eliminating the serious expression he wore previously.
“This can be supported by the bad workers you mentioned. A cause for less people to come and get their clothes tailored, and eliminate themselves as competitors by dropping off the radar. That being said, it’s almost impossible to wipe out all the customers that once frequented here unless they closed indefinitely, but then that would draw the attention to the ones that come here not for the purpose of getting their clothes fixed, but for whatever else they use this place for; a hideout. Am I satisfying you?”
Gepard turns to look at Sampo, face impassive but not bored, before he continues without giving Sampo the chance to speak.
“The customers are a cover; keep the business alive, but only enough to get people to come in and let the rest that are in for whatever business they really run blend in with them. So if we were to stake out this place, we wouldn’t be able to pinpoint who the real bad guys are right away. Not that would stop a police force, since the Divide also closed off law enforcers to investigate them, but enough to drive away curios, suspicious onlookers or smaller, similar organizations on par with the law.” much like Wildfire.
He turns to Sampo. “Did I miss anything or are you ready to kindly tell me what it is you want me to do or say before we can go inside and investigate. Or, furthermore, let my team know.”
Sampo really wonders how the hell this man hasn’t caught him yet with deductive abilities as amazing as this. He barely even said anything! But Gepard just talked him into a whole story where half he himself wasn’t - completely - aware of.
It’s not like he could have just walked right up and asked who the owners were, or their life history with the shop.
But, he’s gotta keep up his bravado and points up at the sign because yes, Gepard missed a piece of information that was otherwise crucial to what he found, and like hell he was going to show the side of him that was impressed.
“One thing: Why renovate only one part of the shop?”
Gepard looks at the sign, a thoughtful look on his face. “Also a part of their plan to have a dwindle in their paying customers, i’d assume.”
“Eehh, that would be true if people always needed to know the name of the place they went to or advertise it to a friend or two, but because these people weren’t exactly looking for new customers…” Sampo drawls out, letting Gepard finish his sentence, and watches as blond brows pull as he looks back up at the name.
“May-thus be with us…” He reads in a mumble. “It is a strange name for a store… I don’t think It counts as a logo either from how preach-y it sounds.”
“And we have a winner!” Sampo calls, a loud boisterous announcement that makes Gepards shoulders rise in a flinch at the unexpected volume. He’s about to scold him as his eye darts around the otherwise empty streets, but Sampo puts an arm around his shoulder. “Gotta say, took ya a little longer then I would’ve liked, but you got there, eventually, so I’ll give ya my props to the effort.”
“Effort?!”
“But yes! It’s their motto.”
“Hard to believe these people have a motto.” Gepard mutters before he looks at the shop. “Not important, how would we get in?”
Sampo hums, and he only needs to count down from four before he hears the sharp clicking of heels before his eyes flick over to a couple. A woman is hanging off a man's arm as her heels clack against the uneven stone ground and miraculously keeping herself balanced on them, and the man throws the two a look, assessing more than anything and Sampos head dips down to whisper in his ear to not be heard.
“I think these two will give us the grand tour.” He says and Gepard has to resist the urge to look, pretend to be unaware of the stranger's eyes on them. Then, a finger goes to Gepards cheek, catching his attention to look at the man before his head is nudged to turn in the direction of where two are headed, back to them as they enter the shop.
When they disappear behind the doors, Sampo speaks up. “Give you any ideas, Geppie?”
“What?” Gepard asks, turning slightly to look up at the male, not completely getting out of the awkward hold Sampo has him under, the arm lightly squeezing from the back of his neck preventing him from moving much. Sampos' head tilts in the direction of the shop.
“You saw the pretty lady. Only a few places you can find those.”
Gepards expression turns pensive. “An escort.” and then he taps his foot on the ground before he goes to grab his phone. “I’ll contact Molly and get her up to speed.”
Gepard really didn’t intend to have Molly go into the field, only have her as background support that he can rely on, but if some kind of escort is what he’d need to get in to the building - to which he is now slowly beginning to piece together to what it might really be - she’d be his only option. There are no female operatives in his team, and none that would even come close to at least look like one if need be.
Just as he brings her contact up, his phone is snatched away by nimble fingers, snapped shut, and held in a loose grip far enough away to where he couldn’t get to it. Gepard throws the other a look, peeved at his antics as the other simply grins at him.
“Can we stop wasting time? If I want to have a chance to at least look inside the shop before going down to whatever hole those two have gotten to, we’re gonna need someone to play the part as something close as a courtesan. Molly can fit the picture.”
“I'll agree with you on one thing, Gep, and calling your worker here is gonna take more time than what you so clearly hate to waste. Besides, you’ve got one very handsome man standing right next to you.” Sampo says, fingers hanging from Gepards shoulder fiddling with his shirt. Gepards expression is set in a frown, and is now overly aware of how close they are.
“Absolutely not.”
Sampo laughs at him. “Why? Scared of being seen with another man?”
“That’s exactly what we need to avoid. We can’t attract attention. Two men is an abnormal sight and spells trouble and a cause for suspicion.” Gepard goes and he steps away from the man's hold with a push at the arm, and goes to stand in front of the male to grab his phone.
Sampo, quirking a brow at him as he willingly steps away from Gepards space, watches him reach for his device, but he simply pulls it further away and takes advantage of their height difference, however small. Gepard huffs at him and stands up straight, no longer trying to reach his phone, but he does hold out a stiff hand.
“I’m really not in the mood to joke around, Koski. Give me the phone and let’s get this over with.” He makes a ‘hurry up’ movement with his fingers, urging Sampo to listen, but the male looks between the hand and Gepards expression before he brings down the device into the other's palm.
However, as Gepards palm closes around it, Sampos fingers intertwine with his, the phone small enough to fit in between them, and pulls him close. When Gepard almost trips into his space to be flush against his chest and stomach, Sampos' other hand sneaks behind his back and almost poses as if he were getting ready to dance with the pretty blond.
Instead, he looks down, faces close to where he could feel Gepards breath, and trails his hand down the curve of his spine.
“Then allow me to do the honors, Captain.” He says before leaning a little closer, tilting his head just so to reach his ear again. “We’ve got company.” Gepards body stiffens minutely, but Sampo feels every muscle doing so and he grins just a little wider as he catches sight of two onlookers inside the shop past the dirty window as they linger behind the old displays.
When he looks back down to Gepards profile, or at least what he can see from this proximity, his expression is one of regressed fear. Not the kind of getting scared to, but the kind of having been caught. Sampo knows the dreadful feeling so it’s easy to spot it in someone else, but for him, it’s always accompanied by them, the Elation.
But for Gepard, there were more things than just himself on the line. Everything he worked for, could be gone in an instant if he didn’t make his next move, the right one. Sampo has to make him understand, and he does so with a squeeze of his hand to bring him back from the what if’s that are surely swirling his mind. The phone between their palms groans at the pressure.
“Just follow my lead, yea?” he tells the man, and he gets what he hopes for in the form of a flicker of blue looking his way for a moment, taking him all in as they focus on his nose, cheeks, lips, until finally reaching his eyes. If he weren’t distracted at the warmth, Sampo would be amused at the flash of brief panic Gepard gave him a viewing of before it smoothed over with a firm nod.
“Yea.” He says, albeit a bit distractedly before he looks away as Gepards hand tightens in his. “Ok.”
Sampos' lips pull into a smile before his head dips just so to feather over the shell of his ear. It hides his face from the small group of spectators.
“Good,” He says. “Now relax and get into character. You’ll be my special guest tonight.”
Letting go of Gepards hand, careful that the phone won’t slip from his grip, Sampo turns to fall into step with Gepard. The hand low on his back doesn't leave, only pressing to guide the blond away from the side of the road and in front of the door.
“Just follow whatever script feels right to you.” Are Sampos last words to him before he opens the glass door and welcomes him inside. Gepard takes in one last breath before following behind the male, and doesn't pull away when Sampos hand returns on his person as it curls to his side.
“We can give it a try.” Sampo speaks, but the tone and volume of his voice indicate a past conversation and Gepard has to quickly adjust now that they're within hearing range. “Just indulge me for a night and then I'll do whatever you want, how does that sound?” Sampo looks down to wink at him and Gepards brows furrow lightly. Really? He’s the maiden here?
He wants to complain, and Sampo must have known that considering his scripted words indicate a past dislike of the idea of coming here in the first place between them; as a couple. So, he does, and crosses his arms with his head jutting away to look away in a convincing enough way to look- pouty.
Then an idea pops into his head, unbidden, and a smirk tugs his lips as he forces himself to look back up at the male. “Including putting you in a pair of cuffs? I’d love to see how that ends.”
A double innuendo, but Sampos eyes do widen slightly in clear surprise, either at his quick wit in acting, or at the words that spilled from his mouth that most likely is bringing more erotic scenarios in his mind. Something that was more for their audience to pick up on if they're playing a pretend couple, but the genuine look on Sampos face might sell too.
Of course, Sampo catches on to what Gepard really meant, jail, and he laughs light heartedly and nervously.
“That's a bit of a big ask…” He trails off and Gepard lifts a brow at him, to which Sampos shoulders crunch up minutely. “Anything else that might keep you interested?”
“No.”
“Excuse me,” A chirped voice comes and both their heads turn towards a woman, who’d been listening from the opposing side of the shop, and she gives them both a bright and welcoming smile at their gained attention. “Hi- Is there something that I can help you two gentlemen with?” She questions, every bit of professional as her hands clasp in front of her in a ready-to-serve manner, and Gepard notices the attire matches well with the environment up here with her leather apron stuffed with pins, needles, and all kinds of minor sewing tools.
Their cover up to sell this place as nothing more than a shop is well fabricated. Enough to fool and overlap the lack of skills Sampo mentioned.
“Why yes! I was hoping to show my date here the, ah” Sampo makes a show of swiveling his head around to look for any other persons that might be listening, which were only the workers stationed around the room, before turning back to her with a goading charming smile. “-I see you have no customers. That makes it easier for all of us.” and then Sampo is bringing Gepard closer to the point the sides of their hips and chest are flushed together, hitting him with the scent of-...perfume?
But the action was to allow Sampos free hand to travel to his pocket to retrieve a box, small and flat before he flicks it open when it faces the shorter woman. She peeks into it with a discerning eye as they remain fixed on whatever was inside, and Gepard is almost inclined to do the same.
“I came here myself a few nights ago and enjoyed myself, but I thought I’d bring a little company to make the more boring parts of the entertainment more enjoyable to sit through.” Sampo laughs then, the hand at Gepards side rubbing in an up and down motion and he almost noses his temple if he didn’t lean away in time by reflex.
“Took me a while to convince the guy, tho. He’s a real stickler for rules and the places we go.” He pulls away to look down at Gepard, eyes on him and him only, and he feels himself resisting the urge to frown at the attention, so he focuses on the open box still hovering between them and the girl. “Had to haggle my way through this one little one's heart of ice with a night he wouldn't forget.”
The woman's smile is tight lipped at Sampo’s humor, obviously a sign that this isn’t the first time she’s had to force amusem*nt from other customers, and Gepard is thoroughly humiliated to be at the receiving end of her scorn and Sampos' unbelievable antics. He’s sure Sampo is well aware of what he’s doing, but the fact that he’s probably doing it on purpose is even worse.
“Awnyway, this enough? Got me in last time and I was told friends were allowed as long as they had their lips sealed, tho-” The box snaps closed as Sampos voice lowers to speak to him. “-I’m sure yours will be busy doing other things.”
Mortifying.
“I’ll get you with someone that might be able to help you with your request, one moment.” She bows her head lightly before turning to walk to a different room, going out of sight, and as soon as she is, epard mutters under his breath a short.
“You’re ridiculous.”
Sampo hums, pleased with the first act of his play.
--
When they entered through the first set of doors, locked tight by nothing but a key that was brighter than the rest, Gepards ears picked up on a ruckus. Indescribable loud shouts that can’t be differentiated to what kind they could be- cheers, shouts, screams, cries, moans they were all too blended together to put a name to them - as they were lead down a flight of stairs to reach a hallway with dripping pipes lining the narrow and short ceiling.
From there, the voices began taking the shape of words, varying from chants of encouragement that were either led by a burst of song, or an orchestra of unheard slang that sounded more like spit than anything else. Gepards stomach churns lightly at the narrowing possibilities of what he might find here.
“To your left and straight ahead.” The assumed gatekeeper of this dungeon speaks, and then he’s turning around with the set of keys twirling in his hand as he disappears back up the stairs to the shop.
“After you.” Sampos voice calls with a sweep of an arm in the direction of the hall, blocking one of the two directions. Gepard steps down the final step after giving a fleeting glance at the opposing hallway, until it’s blocked by Sampos body as they begin walking. Now that they were alone again, eyes to the walls in search of blinking lights, Gepard takes this opportunity.
“What is this place.” He questions, a breath away from being a whisper. Behind him, Sampo remains unfazed as he continues on ahead with a confidence that matches that of a mad mole, but his tone holds weight.
“A place that was hard to find and get into, and even harder to get out of depending on the person, and it ain’t pretty.”
The sound of a bone-crunching punch echoes through the hall and Gepards fists clench at his sides at the choke that countered it before it was overthrown by victorious yells.
“And just how deep does it go?”
Sampo was quiet for a moment. “That’s a loaded question there, and I don’t have the time to give you the rundown, so for now,” his voice lowers now that they’ve reached something close to a reception, which was an open, furnished room with groups of lingering people and couples either smoking or taking a breather. The hand returns on Gepards lower back.
“Stick close by and i’ll-”
“No.” Gepard interrupts as his eyes are set on the open archway that leads his ears to the chaos just beyond it and steps away from the male. “I need to find evidence to bring back. I’ll meet you back here in an hour if I hit a dead end.”
“Gepard,” Sampo hissed, and he steps in front of him to block his path but his gaze is at the few eyes still lingering on them as the newcomers before smiling at them with hidden nervousness. His hand snakes back to his side and steps close- too close- and cranes his neck down to almost brush his pointed nose against Gepards to speak. Sampos' eyes bore into him, and Gepard can’t cross his arms to show his displeasure when their chests are already inches apart, but he doesn't let that stop him from frowning up at the male.
“Don’t stop me. You got me in, and I’m grateful, but this is as far as you should be going.”
“I’m already deep enough as it is. I don’t need you to do something that could get you caught.”
“I can take care of myself, Koski. You should think about yourself if you’re so worried about your own predicament. I didn’t ask for you to go as far as you did, that was your choice, but this is my job.” But Gepards heart jumps at his throat at the duty bound phrase that threatens to spill from him.
My job to protect innocent civilians.
Sampo may not be innocent, and much less a civilian with his criminal record, but he had nothing to do with the killing of a field officer, the investigation following it, and the undercover mission to bring the culprits to justice. Gepard needs to keep him out of the danger, especially now that the bigger picture is so close to being found in this hell-hole of an underground arena.
Sampos' eyes flicker back and forth between his, searching, and Gepard waits patiently even if his breath is caught in his lungs to not let it fan over his face. After a few moments, Sampo blinks back, looking to their left at the people around them, before he gives a melancholic sigh.
In an instant, the bravado is back when he gives Gepard his signature grin.
“Then I'll leave ya to it, Gep.” He says, bringing both his hands to Gepards hips to press him flush against his body, and Gepards heart lurches from his chest to his throat as it rings into his ears and gags his throat with its unsteady beat. The lips brushing over his ear don’t help.
“I’ll meet you in the lounge in an hour. Don’t be late.” Sampos' lips feather against the shell, trailing lightly across his skin before lips press to the corner of his mouth and cheek in a puckered kiss. They stay there for only a moment before they slowly peel back with a soft sound that sounded too intimate when Sampo took his time in peeling himself away.
Gepard is burning on the inside.
Sampo gives him one last smile before the hands on his body slip away, taking the shivers that threaten to escape him and only leaving behind the goosebumps they created. Gepard follows shortly after before turning in a different direction to start his search for answers.
The butterflies dwindle with each second that ticks by in the underground arena of tacit fighters. Where carnage and conquest were the stakes, the cage the playing field, and the people inside of it, the betted chips.
Gepard forces himself to watch the match at a distance, and has to school his expression with every punch, kick, and illegal move thrown in the game. As a form of distraction, Gepard tries to put his analyticals to the forefront of his mind by jotting mental details of the opponents inside the cage.
Neither of them were wearing the proper clothes for a ring fight, and they didn't even look the part to being appealing or be recognized like popular legal fighters he’s gotten glimpses of. They were simple, simple clothes, consisting of a tee and a pair of pants, but the stains of blood and sweat, the wear on the knees from constantly falling or scraping against the floor told him that they’ve been going at it for a while.
The woman looked worse for wear, but what takes Gepard's attention first is the color of what could only be blood by the way the stains grew in size on her clothes and the way it seeped out from her nose and mouth. It was a dark blue, and a lot of it littered the grated floor in comparison to the splotches of red coming from her opponent.
What was even more mortifying, or fascinating if he were to see this in a different light, were the white-like veins that pulsated around each wound or fracture, turning bright when it was overexerted. And there was a response from the woman in the form of a pained grunt or a shift of the leg before it dulled to a light flicker. The shapes of the veins were almost too symmetrical, robotic almost, but her movements were too fluid to have her structure be compared to one of that of a robot. Muscle was still in place of pistons as her skin stretched around its contourns, and her pain indicated that there were still nerves and tendons instead of faulty wires and tubes of artificial fluids.
She’s not a robot, at least not in the fictional sense, but it’s unlike anything he’s ever seen, much like her opponent with the pair of ears that stand tall above his head and the tail flickering behind him. They even lower each time the blue-blooded woman comes with a limped hop and a pulled fist before he countered it with gritted teeth and eyes squeezed shut.
His body was shaking, too, as he kept a fighting posture, and tears were running down his cheeks when he blinked them back open as another blood curdling scream- of pain, frustration, or desperation- came from the girl as she slams against the cage, her voice drowned by the hollers of the audience. Gepard swallows as he realizes that his constant trembling was caused by the unregistered injuries he sustained, adrenaline being the only lifeline his body was running on by the simple need of survival.
But with every swing, guilt overtook his expression as his tears screamed apologies, shaking his head each time the girl came near, telling himself no before he would have to protect himself with a fist knocking against her jaw. And yet, he never pulled a single punch.
Because of this, this match is on a stamina timer, waiting to see who would be the first to allow their injuries to be their downfall, and possibly the last.
He’s already established that the people confined in the cage weren’t just any willing participants, and their lack of real skill in combat was a testament to that fact. Guiltily, he hopes they’re connected to the ones that killed his officer and offer him a lead. That is, if the opportunity were to ever show itself, but seeing that the small fenced tunnel where the fighters came from was connected to a wall with no other visible entrances, Gepard doubts he’ll be able to speak with them personally.
He also had to think about getting caught, and snooping around for other possibilities probably wasn’t the best course of action, and Gepard decides on a tactical retreat to another area of the venue.
