Assassination

Ryven lay in his bed in the spacious cabin of his Revelation-class dreadnaught, Princess Shalee.  His skin was the smooth, pale skin of a fresh clone.  His wooden pipe, formerly Titus's pipe, hung from his lips and he puffed away at it, the bluish smoke drifting up and hanging a few feet below the overhead.  He had a grin on his face.  It had all gone as he had hoped it would.  He had just been assassinated.

He had been sitting in the Broken Piano bar, relaxing and keeping his eyes out for any familiar faces, but mostly just wanting to be alone.  He hadn't been there very long when his neocom chirped and he received the call he had been expecting from Matthaios Panthera.  Panthera had sent him a discreet mail around a week ago asking him to meet.  Matthaios said he had information about Tigerfish Torpedo that might save Ryven's life.  Ryven was curious, and as far as he could tell, this was a win-win situation.  If Matthaios turned out to be legit, then he would gain some possibly crucial information.  If Matthaios turned out to be something else entirely, then Ryven would get a chance to show Shalee he was serious.  Chicks dig it when you die for them. 

So, when Matthaios asked where to meet, he of course chose the Rowdy Stray Jazz Bar, owned by his close friend Zhou Liang, knowing full well it would be empty and knowing full well there would be no security.

When Ryven arrived at the Rowdy Stray, the bar was empty, as he knew it would be.  He walked over to his favorite booth and had a seat.  He pulled a pack of his personal brand of cigarettes from his pocket and placed one in his mouth.  He lit the end and took a long slow drag before leaning back and waiting for Matthaios to arrive.  He didn't have to wait long.

Matthaios came strolling through the entrance and looked over to Ryven.  Ryven examined him, his face passive.  Matthaios wore a full robe, and his features were mostly hidden.  He had a somewhat unsavory look about him.  Matthaios looked nervous and asked, "Ryven?"

Ryven waved him over.  "I'm Ryven."  He took a long deep drag of his cigarette and exhaled a trail of bluish-white smoke.  He gestured to the bartender to bring two drinks.

Matthaios moved in quickly and to sit down beside Ryven in the booth, blocking him in.  "Nice to finally meet you." He said.

Ryven simply raised an eyebrow, noting he was blocked in.  He shrugged and inwardly felt a sense of satisfaction.  It was going to be that kind of evening. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

Matthaios slid his hands under the table, slipping them into his robe and reaching down onto his belt "About Tigerfish of course. I know the man, you see."

Ryven managed not to roll his eyes at the obviousness of that statement, but instead just nodded.

Matthaios pulled out his neocom with one hand and passed it to Ryven. "There, check that video." he grinned.  "I managed to get a recording of Tigerfish's plan, spoken by the man himself." 

He seemed very pleased with himself.  Ryven accepted the neocom, his mouth turning up in the tiniest of grins, the cigarette nearly dropping out of his mouth.  He had to play the part.

Tigerfish Torpedo appeared on the screen, dressed in his usual combat fatigues but holding a large silver blade - the handle, uniquely carved.  "Krennel? You there? I know you're watching me!"

Ryven stroked his chin in silence and put out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table.

Tigerfish held the blade inches from the screen, allowing Ryven to see every detail of the intricate carving. "This blade has never left my side.  Not once in over 6 years.  It's killed nearly 200 men so far, and a few women too."

Ryven grunted. "That's charming.  Not so polite when your girlfriend's not around." He reached into his pocket and pulled out another cigarette and lit it, blowing a stream of smoke out the corner of his mouth.

"Mr Krennel, my blade houses a secret.  A secret you can probably see from the handle.  Did you notice?"

Ryven nodded. "Yeah, I noticed."

Tigerfish nodded. "I just wanted you to know how important that blade is to me."

Tiger smiled and looked back down at his blade. "You know, I've not been parted with my blade in over six years.  That's six years, Mr Krennel!  Long time to carry around a blade like this.  But you want to know the amusing thing?"

Ryven  shrugged. "I suspect I'll find out regardless."

Tiger moved his head towards the tiny screen. "This one isn't mine!  It belonged to another man that I killed several years ago." 

At that moment, Matthaios pulled his other hand from beneath the table and jabbed a blade squarely into Ryven's side.  Ryven gasped from the intense pain in his side, his eyes immediately wide with shock, even though he had suspected this might happen. 

Tiger laughed in mirth.  "Don't worry Mr Krennel.  I had the liberty of coating the tip with poison, just because I know she likes you so much."

Ryven spat up a glob of blood and managed a wild-eyed grin. "Well, I will give you this much: you have a flair for theatrics." His breathing was becoming labored.  He leaned back in his seat and took a long slow drag of his cigarette, a smile forming on his lips. "And now I can say I've died for her."  He closed his eyes.  It was taking so much effort to keep them open.

Tiger bowed his head, tossing the other blade away.  "You should feel honored, Mr Krennel.  That blade has never left my side.  Seemed fitting that it be the one I use, even if I don't want your blood on my hands directly."

Ryven opened his eyes momentarily, after hearing Tiger's voice and simply muttered, "Privileged," and slumped in his seat, his eyes closed, dead, a trail of blood dripping from his lips down onto the tabletop.

Matthaios pulled the blade from Ryven's side and wiped it on Krennel's jacket before sliding it back beneath his robe. "Sleep well, Ryven." With that, Matthaios shifted out of the booth and pulled the hood over his head and tipped the bartender on his way out the door.

Ryven had woken in a new clone in Egghelende and immediately made his way to his quarters.  He had been laying in his bed ever since, smiling to himself in the knowledge that everything had gone according to plan.  How could she not love him now?  After all, chicks dig it when you die for them.