A Skill Like No Other [S/Exam]

It was easy to lose track of the general happenings of a guild that never happened. It was hard to point at and blame something that never existed. It's difficult to brace yourself for something you never saw coming—someone you never saw coming. It was a skill, like any other. A muscle that had to be trained, refined and shaped into a craft. Not just anyone could make someone disappear, after all. Not just anyone could just disappear themselves. In a society saturated with prizes and titles, good and evil, light and darkness, not just anyone renounces their opportunity to fame, glory, and recognition for their work. But, there were people who could. And boy, were they... someone.

Ahote Chumani Laspor—a.k.a Jericho, a Support Operative. A twenty-four-year-old man who lived in society as the owner of a well-known bar in Capital Crocus. He had a history of terrorist attacks and formerly held the title of Guildmaster over the infamous ex-dark guild, Basilisk Fang. A former Coming Storm, son of Fairy Tail's former Guildmaster, son and protege of Basilisk Fang's former guildmaster... the man had quite the past. But to him and many others, the past was only a thing, and it was the present and the future that followed that truly mattered.

The Bellevue Estate was a beautiful property. It seemed ahead of its time with its contemporary design and compared to other guild halls in Fiore, it almost seemed like it came straight out of a different era. While Jericho could see the appeal in quartering one's self in a building that looked somewhat medieval since he was also cooped up in a fortress for most of his adolescence and adulthood, this place seemed impeccable fresh and clean, so to speak. He could come to this place and do his work with a clear mind.

Sitting somewhere inside, Jericho was reading something looking akin to paperwork, shuffling through the pages as the workaholic normally had. However, dropping it onto the glass coffee table in front of him, his mind was in a different place. The usually very exclusive, gloomy man was picky as to who could be in his life and who couldn't, and after hiring new employees for Boomslang, coming to terms with his past, and exploring his sexuality to the point where it led to a series of flings that were often on his mind, he was wondering if he had bitten off more than he could chew.

I have to get it together. They're just distractions... thought Ahote, leaning back into his seat as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He often looked stressed, and whether or not he created that stress for himself was usually irrelevant. The point was that the man never seemed to let himself catch a break.

"Jericho."

"Yes?" he promptly replied, opening his harsh-looking eyes to find none other than Blanche before him. They were a character that Jericho did not know too well and didn't care to know more of, but he knew that whenever he saw them, there was work to be done. To some extent, he was happy for them to appear as they had, but not because he was a workaholic. He needed to be distracted from those troublesome thoughts.

"The Chairman has requested an audience with you," said Blanche, beginning to walk away, "this way."

"I see..." Jericho's eyes trailed off for a moment before putting his paperwork away and into a neat pile before stuffing it between his arm and standing up to follow Blanche, "Right."


When Blanche and Jericho had parted ways, they were on the second floor of the estate, right in front of the chairman's office. He had been here a few times, but they were all as brief as the next. Whenever he saw the Chairman, Jericho couldn't help but wonder who they really were. It was a certain inquisitiveness that seemed to come naturally to many operators in this organization. In a guild that boasted anonymity, one couldn't help but wonder about the identities of anyone and everyone. While he was aware of some colleagues' identities, he was oblivious to how they acted at work. This place was the epitome of keeping work and personal affairs separate, even if you didn't want them to be. But what did he know? He was getting ahead of himself yet again.

"Jericho," the Chairman began curtly, sitting up in his leather seat and gestured his operator to take a seat across from his mahogany desk, "Glad you’re here. I have a job for you, should you choose to accept it." the man offered. Jericho, meanwhile, accepted the invitation to sit, erect in his chair with a stiff posture. Despite the atmosphere the Chairman always tried to set, Jericho could never relax while in this room. He was here for one thing and one thing only, and once he got that, he kept his farewells and formalities brief. And sure enough, there it was—a thick stack of papers in one neat file, sliding across the desk and stopping just in front of Jericho. "Jaquez De Chellis. That’s your target, officially he’s the Chief Executive Officer of Culgate, it’s a company that specializes in Oral Health Care, however, that is just a front from his substance manufacturing. There was a recent incident with one of his factories, resulting in the death of his employees, stolen product, and the factory being burned down. One of our Clients was responsible for this and would like us to ‘redirect’ his blame. There is another drug syndicate ran by Archibald Talluto, he and his faction are known rivals to the De Chellis family. Our client wants you to misdirect De Chellis so that he blames Talluto, with any luck they will take action against each other. Two birds, one stone as they say. The details are in the file, good luck and as always; Cover your tracks." the Chairman finished.

After that, Jericho didn't say anything or make any particular expression. While his boss gave the whole debriefing, Jericho was sifting through the pages, skimming the details and yet soaking every bit of ink in like a sponge. Almost in sync, he had stood up from the seat with the file in hand, making his way to the door.

"Of course, sir," he dipped his head as he shut the door, "I was never there."

The moment the door clicked shut, a notable sigh had left his lungs as Jericho began to pinch the bridge of his nose again. Once more, he looked down at the first page in the file. There were many things to take in for these sorts of jobs. Names, dates, what happened when, and with who... but wasn't this his job? Support Operatives, the cleanup crew, internal affairs—whatever one might call them, Jericho knew that his job was different from Intelligence Operatives' in the sense that he had to keep track of all this information, not just collect and stop it. It was tedious, meticulous, and detail-oriented, but it was a skill like no other.

"Lavanitir Port... City?" Jericho looked down at his burner iLac, one he had picked up just for ease of use, with a puzzled look on his face. He had to admit that he had never been to Lavanitir Port City, but there was a first for everything. Instead of bringing the file itself, or relying on memory, he ported most of the information onto this burner iLac of his. It was a bit out of character for him, as he always envisioned the worst-case scenario being someone catching wind of that same information, but after refining this craft of his, he began to feel more comfortable with making his life easier.

With a translocation lacrima in hand, the cloaked Jericho opened up a portal between where he was then and the city itself, stepping through the gap in space and into a city bustling with business. It was one of life's many conveniences. He landed in a narrow alleyway, cradled with a thick blanket of darkness, which allowed him, too, to become somewhat invisible as well thanks to this guild-issued uniform.

In the heat of the night, the support operative began their work.


How pathetic... this place is a hotpot of crime, and even with so many legal and independent guilds outnumbering us, the Council still hasn't done anything about it. Jericho scoffed, scrolling through compact information on his iLac, One search and this entire city's dirt was dug up. Even I could've sworn that there was a time that foolish sorcerers made a dent in things that really mattered to their society. That Council isn't worth a damn anymore.

He could've sat there for hours just looking at the cesspool of illegal activity this relatively unsupervised city had underneath its fingernails, but he wasn't trying to make a trip out of this. Right now, his first stop was the scene of the crime. The substance factory itself.

Jericho kept mostly to the rooftops or interconnected alleyways as he made his way to the scene. This city was a busy one, from what he could tell. The streets were congested with traffic, and the local, private police force seemed to decrease in their numbers as the support operative approached the outskirts of town. It made sense why such a renowned oral health care company would put an illegal factory in a place like that, where the watchful eyes of the dogs of the city were blind. But who knows? For all Jericho knew, the police could have been assisting in these projects. They were separate from the Rune Knights and the Magic Council, after all.

Finally, after a few minutes of tracking down the rather discreet address, Jericho finally managed to find the factory ruins—and boy, was it ruined. It was less a factory and more of a warehouse from the looks of it, as it was in the back of an abandoned, private construction zone. It was quite the mess, and judging by how untouched the debris looked, he had arrived before the De Chellis family could. Although it was nice to arrive here earlier than the lot of them, the client didn't give him much time to work with. How long before Jaquez would send people to clean up the mess and quickly rebuild couldn't have been more than a day, as any longer and the police would have caught wind. It seemed that everyone was in a hurry, weren't they?

Well, for what I need, Jericho pulled out his burner iLac yet again, looking down onto the screen with that masked face of his, It won't take too long...
Miguel Pérez was a fifteen-year-old high school student with acceptable grades but nothing too outstanding. He was born an orphan, and although he had no legal guardian aside from his ill grandparents, he was still doing well for himself. Despite appearing as academically average, he seemed particularly talented with chemistry and robotics, making income from creating lacrimas with regenerative abilities and creating machines. With this in mind, it made sense that a kid of his age was responsible for creating popular recipes for Archibald Talluto, his real guardian, to manufacture in his drug factories. They didn't have the resources the De Chellis family had, so many of their "factories" looked more like sweatshops than the warehouses Jaquez had. However, what they lacked in quantity, they made up in quality, making them the forerunning rivals to such an immense syndicate.  

With his face in news articles and other forms of media, it was easy to find out all of this information. It was also clear that in every video, photo, and image, Miguel had worn something like a golden ring with initials 'A.T' engraved into its metal. For the average person, the ring may have meant nothing at all. It was so thin and unremarkable that no one would have wondered or even noticed the initials at all. However, in the criminal underworld, it was a mark of belonging. Miguel wasn't the only one with a piece of jewelry like that, which made it the perfect piece to completing the puzzle. The perfect catalyst.

It was simple enough to track Miguel down, and sure enough, he was in school. It was noon, so it made sense for a school to be in session, despite the mess he was about to find himself in. Like other fifteen-year-olds, he still had an obligation to fulfill his academic duty. Besides, drugs were a side hustle, weren't they? The only difficulty is that such a place was littered with people. However, Jericho was prepared. He wouldn't quite be as competent in his line of work if it all came crumbling down at a hurdle like this, now would he?

Fortunately, in times like these, Jericho could rely on his necromancy and the liches he would conjure up. As filthy and gross of an art as it was, he was able to have his dead and lifeless liches take on the shape and size of a person who looked alive and well, seeing everything they saw and hearing everything they heard. It was how he kept his business running before employing a few people. But today, his lich was not a "the bartender", but instead a random, average looking girl who would join Miguel as his classmate, just for today.

"Alright, everyone. Everyone remembered that today was a lab, right? I hope everyone brought close-toed shoes, and there's a pair of goggles for every one of you. Go to the stations you were assigned to yesterday and get with your partner." instructed Ms. Foley, the chemistry teacher who stood at the front of the class, overlooking her students. Somewhere in the rear of the desks was where Miguel was seated, passionlessly playing with his no.2 pencil. Right behind him was the girl planted in the class, idling in a way that looked alive, although every movement was orchestrated by Jericho, who was safely hidden away in an alley just outside the school. "You know the rules—iLacs away, aprons on, and jewelry in the bin. Lindsey, that means your necklace and Miguel, that means your ring. C'mon now! Out of your seats!"

Miguel flinched and sighed, "Actually, Ms. Foley, I'm feeling sick. I don't think—"

"—You weren't sick earlier today, were you? Enough with the excuses. Your ring isn't going to disappear."

After that, Ms. Foley placed that infamous bin on her desk, and everyone began to situate themselves in a single file line to place both their jewelry and their lacrimal devices in that bin, including the planted lich. She was a few persons behind Miguel, just so he wouldn't immediately notice what was about to happen to his ring.

When it was the blonde boy's turn to place his ring in the bin, he hesitated for a moment. His fingers hovered around the ring on his digit for a moment, clearly not wanting to part ways with it. After a noticeable pause, the boy separating him and the lich girl shoved him.

"Fucking pussy. Is that your Daddy's ring? Oh wait, you don't have one...!" the much larger boy jeered under his breath, and some other boys just ahead of Miguel also sneered at him. Unfortunately, the conversation landed on deaf ears in regards to Ms. Foley. It was a rather elementary mockery, but judging by the indignant look on his face...

"What's the holdup?" Ms. Foley eyed Miguel.

"Tsk. Whatever. Here." he replied, quickly placing the ring in the bin before leaving to go to his station. After that, the boy put his studded earrings inside, and then it was the lich girl's turn. For the purpose of this side-mission, Jericho had fabricated something of a bracelet and had her put it in the bin. However, as soon as her deceptively undead hands descended into the bin, it swiped the ring placed just seconds earlier.

"Ms. Foley..." said the lich girl, avoiding her instructor's eyes.

"Yes? What, you're not feeling well either? Well, you can't get out of it like the others!"

"Actually, Ms. Foley, it's... uhm... a girl thing... you know?"

"Oh! Are you hurting? Do you need to go home?" Ms. Foley asked, "Go to the nurse. I'll excuse you for today's lab, okay?"

"Right. Thank you..."

The moment the lich left that classroom, Jericho had killed all of the security cameras in her path to the alleyway through his burner iLac, but only for a few minutes. It was so he could more effectively cover his tracks, after all. To the school's security, it would be nothing more than the cameras acting up. Jericho looked up, seeing his lich approach him from the darkness with a ring in hand. An authentic symbol of belonging to one of Lavanitir Port City's most infamous syndicates.

"Very good," he said, holding the ring with a white rag as to not let any physical trace of him ever touching it get on the piece of metal, "kids are really ruthless, aren't they?"

When Jericho returned to the factory ruins, it was the middle of the afternoon, and judging by how untouched the debris was when he got back, it was clear that he had made it with time to spare. The rest would be simple now.

I'd hardly call this sort of work a butterfly effect, but with any luck, once they find this ring, it will be no different from finding a declaration of war. It's beyond them to ignore such planned destruction from none other than Archibald Talluto's goons themselves. It's archaic, but... Jericho thought to himself, standing over the heap of debris with Miguel's ring resting on the rag. Without hesitation, he'd toss the ring into the mess, planting the evidence as it'd wait to be found. It really is that simple.

With the security cameras veiling his involvement at the school, and an authentic piece of Talluto property on the crime scene, Jericho was satisfied with his work. All he had to do was see it through and wait for De Chellis's men to arrive for clean-up. And sure enough, hours later, they did.

"What is this?!" shouted Jaquez De Chellis, sitting at his mahogany desk. He was an older man who didn't age very well. Although his three sons were far more attractive, Jaquez succeeded only in business, not in looks.

Across the desk was a man in a suit and dress pants, although with several other men behind him. "Our men found this while cleaning up the warehouse debris, sir. We think it might be—"

Thump! Jaquez slammed his fist on the desk as he inspected Miguel's ring, glaring at the initials engraved into its metal.

"Archibald, that bastard! So it's come to this, now?! Do you fools have any idea what position we're in now?!" Jaquez bit the fingernail on his thumb, standing up from the desk and walking over the windows overlooking Lavanitir Port City's most urban districts. "Fine! We'll crush that bastard and his pathetic syndicate! The De Chellises are not ones to be messed with! Ugh!"

After confirming that the ring was found by the cleanup crew, Jericho left the city to return to The Bellevue Estate to write up a report on a job well done. This job was certainly his most impressive work, although it didn't take too much effort to complete. However, the aftermath is what he seemed most satisfied with.

Sitting down at the same seat as before, Ahote seemed just as lost in thought as before. Now that he had completed his job, he wanted to return to Boomslang, and maybe even hit up Icarus for some late-night fun tonight. After getting a taste of it, it was hard to desire much else nowadays.

Once I finish this report, I can go home. What a day... Ahote thought to himself, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose, How distracting.

It was easy to lose track of the general happenings of a guild that never happened. It was hard to point at and blame something that never existed. It's difficult to brace yourself for something you never saw coming—someone you never saw coming. It was a skill, like any other. A muscle that had to be trained, refined and shaped into a craft. Not just anyone could make someone disappear, after all. Not just anyone could just disappear themselves. In a society saturated with prizes and titles, good and evil, light and darkness, not just anyone renounces their opportunity to fame, glory, and recognition for their work. But, there were people who could. And boy...

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