The Pix-Blade [End/Finish/Finito/Completed/Done & Dusted/etc]

You probably thought Pix's room had a sort of video game motif. Posters of Sonic, Solid Snake, and Rayman. Else a scale model replica of the bedroom from the Pokémon games. Complete with a computer you could store your potions inside. Because more monitors should double as medicine cabinets. But Pix had never been a gimmicky villain. Despite having ample material to base his theme on. He could have stormed into any bank shouting Fragout! and be accompanied by four henchman types wearing sheets over their heads whom he would name Inky, Blinky, Pinky, and Clyde. It would be glorious, but he would be less successful.

In reality Hubert Exley's room was devoid of any gamer console. There was a TV nestled into a housing unit but that was permanently showing the news channels. Needless to say, he did not have a TV license. But neither were the cops likely to bust in and ask to see his. There was a long bookshelf which took up one wall, and an overflow pile stacked next to the viewing port. Mostly they were biographies, political texts and manifestos, atlases, else Garfield cartoons. His taste in literature was very practical. It paid to know that someone out there disliked Mondays also. His wardrobe was unsorted, the contents of his under-bed cubbyhole were unknown even to him, and stacked next to his immaculate bed were yesterday's dishes. Mounted upon the far wall, prize of place, was an exotic weapon of sorts. It used to belong to Quinn. But ever since her death (a short lived affair) it had become the Pix-Blade. Pix owned it. Which was a sure-fire way of saying it would never see action.

The sprite himself was at a work-desk, littered with groups of papers and tomes which related to one project or another. He was typing into a laptop, the screen of which was angled away from the open doorway. Lest prying eyes invite themselves to browse. TIBERIUS' office was now open. And he had moved much of his private research into there. But the transition hadn't been smooth, and Hugh found himself more at-ease working in the comforts of his own room. Less of a neurotic sensation of being watched in here.

Pix had quite the luxurious room – at least in comparison to one of his teammates. At this current moment in time, Quinn was situated within her own quarters within the HIVE base. It wasn’t filled with any gadgets, or a TV, literature or anything else of the sort. It was bare bones, the very minimum of what one would require. You would find Quinn simply lying back on her bed, staring up at the dull coloured ceiling, lost in her own thoughts. Her bed was in one of the corners; it was just a mattress on the floor, accompanied by a single pillow and a sheet. Beside it, a small lamp – and that was it. On occasion, you would find weaponry and armour scattered about, but really, it was empty. It’s all Quinn needed, all she ever needed and all she had been afforded in the Guild when growing up. She was an assassin, and that’s it. Never had she ever had her own space to personalize in her own way like most children as they grow up. Quinn was just another face, another cog in the machine, and all that mattered was that she fulfilled her role as just another assassin.

It remained barren and bare, even now, even with the Guild and Tiberius having abandoned her – and Blake. For the first time, ever, Quinn wasn’t under any restrictions, she could do as she pleased and do whatever she likes with her allotted space within the HIVE base. But that proved problematic, for the trouble with being brought up in the Guild was that all you ever were, and all you could ever be; was another assassin. Ever since being abandoned, a feeling of being lost had come over Quinn. She knew one thing; how to kill. When the question she really needed answering was; who IS Quinn? That she didn’t know. She no longer had to be; just another assassin.

From down the hallway, a tapping sound could be heard – the sound of someone tapping away at their keyboard. It was an annoyance, bringing Quinn back into the real world as the heavy tap sound of the space bar was hit over and over again. Sitting up, Quinn then rose to her feet and departed, she couldn’t deal with such an annoying sound. Having left her room, she began walking down the hall, the sound grew louder. Alas she stopped at the doorway of Pix’s room, seeing him inside, tapping away on his laptop. Figures, only Pix and Quinn could be boring enough to occupy the base during the day despite the new found freedom of post-Tiberius HIVE. She didn’t say anything at first, her presence unknown. Her eyes lit up though as she looked around the room, her eyes focused on the exotic weapon hung up on the wall. ‘Angelus Mortis’ – her ring blade, Pix had actually kept it. In truth, it was her last remaining link to the Guild, past down to her. “Ahem…”. Quinn would say, attempting to get Pix’s attention. Even so, the brunette haired assassin remained looking at the weapon, her weapon, a smile spread across her face, the first smile in a long while. Maybe the weapon could help solve her little identity problem right now.

Pix was stuck on a sentence. The interruption waited until after he had resolved his mental block. A delay he indicated by holding up one finger at Quinn until the task was achieved. No, not the middle finger. If he wanted to insult his friends, there were wittier ways to go about it. For example, reversing their sentence in order to tell them their mum was, in fact, an ahem. Or their face.

"What's up, Quinn?" The inquiry seemed to invite her inside. Pix shut the lid of his laptop and flipped over a couple sheets of paper, proving she was not wholly welcome into his private domain. Hugh reached over and grabbed a coffee he had snarfled from the base kitchen. He began to sip it as he waited for the assassin to continue.

Pix was lucky not to get his finger cut off. For someone just looking in, it appeared a tad rude. Making her wait, with nothing inherently obvious going on. Never mind, Quinn waited patiently at the door for the Pixel-powered-pansy to be done with... whatever he was doing. It allowed Quinn time to scan the room for a few moments longer, perhaps what was on the laptop is why Pix was deep in thought. Whatever it was, it wasn't at all easy to see. "What're you working on?". Quinn inquired as she stepped into the room after Pix had spoke. No doubt, he wouldn't say, always seemed to be rather secretive.

"That". Quinn didn't point or anything, she looked at the ring blade on the wall, and then back to Pix. "I want that". No please, or pretty please. Quinn expected Pix to comply. With the Guild gone, and Tiberius. It's time for Pix to learn how to manage the assassins left at HIVE's disposal. Perhaps best to keep them all happy.

There was no reason Pix couldn't share the scope of his projects. Nothing would be hindered by others knowing. They might even be able to lend assistance. Heck, Pix loved to allow his friends the opportunity to tell him how brilliant he was. An opportunity rarely grasped, but not through lack of brilliance on his part. Quinn's inquiry was innocent and polite. She was also correct when she thought the gesture futile. Pix was a wannabe enigmatic, after all.

"Working on? Oh just a desk. I considered all manner of workstations. Tables, chairs, the floor. Gilda wouldn't keep still long enough for-" Interrupting his scimitar wit, Quinn spoke a single word. At first Pix didn't understand, "Huh?" The sprite followed her eyes to the far wall of his room. It had been a long time since he'd thought of that trinket. "Oh! You mean the Pix-Blade? Well I can't give it to you. It has sentimental value. S'all I have left to remember a dear dead friend of mine. Sometimes it's like I can still hear her voice in this very room. Kinda whiney." In all honesty he had no use for the weapon. But now that he knew Quinn wanted it, he was inclined to want it back.

Quinn wasn't in the type of mood where she would happily go back and forth with creative jibes at Pix. This just wasn't one of those times. The remark didn't bring about anything; no smile, no smirk, no nothing. Quinn had just remained making eye contact with him, an icy glare if anything, staring right through him. "Look, I'm not in the mood for jokes, Pix". Clearly. "I just want it back, because of its sentimental value". It had been with Quinn a long time, and before her it had been with her mother for an even longer time. It was essentially a family heirloom - a rather horrific one at that. A soft sigh, Quinn spoke in a soft tone. Perhaps she could scare Pix into not wanting it. "It's the weapon I took possession of, after I killed my mother". A revelation that Dart had been clued into thanks to Ekmed, having released information on the past of them all. Though Quinn had never told Pix before that the weapon he had in his possession was the spoil she earned from that very incident.

Wait. WAIT WAIT WAIT! Quinn had moods which weren't for jokes? This was news to Pix. Her demeanour was unsettling, causing Hugh to withdraw his previously relaxed attitude. It was a snap response to the unexpected. Quinn explained herself clearly so that there could be no mistaking the seriousness of the situation. This wasn't a laughing matter. It was a taboo subject - the death of a loved one. More than that - the death of a loved one by her own hands. The sprite recalled when Ekmed had broached the subject. He'd just been too cowardly to bring it back up before now. Even a little sceptical as to whether the Prior had been lying to mess with their heads.

Pix would give her what she asked for. It was only right. It was only proper. It was socially expected. However... His uncertainty suddenly gave way to a winning grin. The grin Hugh gave when he felt that he had outsmarted someone, "You would invoke the name of your dead mother to sell me? Props."

It was sweet manipulation. The unlikely idea that Quinn was lying to him in order to get something she wanted without hassle had suddenly dawned on Pix. Once dawned it stuck in his mind like a splinter, because if he was right he would look so very cool. If he was wrong then he was a horrible, horrible person, but he'd take that as it came. "Cmon. Why would you want a keepsake of, what I hope was, the most horrific day of your life? You'd have to be dead inside. A psychopath. And before you reply - I'm not convinced that you are a psychopath anymore. Not since you returned from that all expenses paid TIBERIUS vacation."

Reclining back in his adjustable chair, Pix put both hands behind his head and commenced smugness, "So nice try. Denied."

"It was the most horrific day of my life, but I've had a couple days like that". Even still at a young age, Quinn had seen her fair share of death and misery - more than most would in a lifetime. But, you needed a stern resolve to be an assassin, a near heartless look on the world. Otherwise the guilt will bring you down, and for those in the Guild; failure was not an option. "I didn't want to do it. But I had to - for the Guild. I was brought up on lies, Pix. Lies that led me to be that seemingly psychopathic killing machine. Lies that came from Tiberius, from the Guild - the very ones that my whole life has been dedicated to, who have now abandoned me". Quinn hadn't spoken much of her upbringing before, and even now it wasn't at all very detailed. But it was a glimpse, a very small one at that. Quinn had shared more information with Pix than she had with any outsider before. The weapon meant a lot to her, maybe Pix will realize it. "But you're right, I have changed. Because after seventeen years of lies, I finally got a dose of truth". Maybe some would get emotional talking about such subjects - but not Quinn. She was made of harder stuff, keeping up a composed look as she spoke, making eye contact with Pix. She didn't flinch, or even blink - not even once. The serious tone of her voice matched the look on her face.

"I killed my mother, yes. But I'm not the only one to have beat Death in a game of chicken". Quinn was alluding to a power that remained dormant in her for quite some time, that had been brought out in recent times. It had been passed down to her, by her mother. The ability to return from the land of the dead. The HIVE knew nothing of it, very few did. But there were hints, maybe someone should catch on. "I... don't trust many people, Pix - three people, to be exact. But... I think you know how much that weapon means to me, and I trust that you'll do the right thing and give it back".

Well wasn't she persistent. Consistent at least. Life had been good to Pix. He hadn't suffered loss, he wasn't familiar with any pain Quinn may or may not be feeling. It helped him bob above the soreness of the topic. Her claims about the Guild were taken with a pinch of salt as well. It wasn't happening right in front of Pix, he had trouble empathising. There were also supposedly kids starving in Africa, but Hugh couldn't waste his life concerning himself over each and every one.

It was touching that Quinn had come to trust Pix, assuming he was on that list (surely he was on that list), but trusting him to do the 'right' thing was pushing the envelope. They both knew he could be an ass and his assitude stretched to new limits when faced with political correctness. He could and would be sceptical over wanton claims of horrific tragedy. People did lie about these things! Only because they normally wouldn't be called on it. Pix didn't think worse of Quinn for doing so as he probably would try it himself at some point in his long career of villainy.

"Alright, alright, alright. Say I believe you. All I ever hear about this Guild is how horror-flick awful it is. It's become synonymous with the boogie-man around here. But I don't quite understand what it is yet. Explain the Guild to me and maybe I'll give you the Pix-Blade back. You gotta keep the name though. Get it stencilled along the edge." So it would be the last thing all their enemies read - kachow!

Explain the Guild. Not exactly the most straight forward subject, nor a concise one either. There was a lot to cover when it came to the Guild, and Quinn didn't have all the answers. She only knew what she had been told, what she had picked up during her time within the Guild.

"That's... a big subject, Pix. Want to be a little more specific?". How they go about recruiting? How they train assassins? The Guild bathroom policy? The dental plan? There's a lot to pick from, and knowing exactly what Pix wanted to know would be for the best. No doubt, both of them wanted to return to... busy work. Getting a specific genre that Pix wanted to know about would serve them well with saving time, whilst also satisfying the conditions set for Quinn to be reunited with her beloved ring blade. 'Pix-Blade' isn't going to stick, Pix can fight her for the naming rights.

Either way, Quinn ventured further into the room of Pix; taking a seat down upon his bed. Pix didn't exactly invite her in, but. Quinn had grown weary of standing, and she didn't really care whether Pix minded or not. When you have a guest, you invite them in and offer them a beverage - so where is Quinn's chocolate milk?

Hugh's reply was immediate and a little haughty, "No I really don't. If I knew what was relevant I wouldn't need to ask the questions." The idea of playing fifty questions didn't appeal to him when he had, until moments ago, been entirely engrossed in a pet project. However, he was rather intrigued by all the mystery surrounding the Guild. He hid it well; as you can tell. It had been one of those background presences that he'd been content to let lie uninspected for fear of drawing TIBERIUS' eye. His change of heart lent mainly to the fact that they all still felt jilted by the tyrant and thus everyone became a bit less considerate regarding what their old boss would want.

Quinn seemed in a talkative mood. Without her immediate caving to his demands, Pix quickly surmised he would be a fool to waste this opportunity. Pet projects be damned, "Alright. Start with their recruitment procedures. I get the impression you were brought up by them. But at what stage of your development? And was it usual?" The sprite was also unassumingly trying to drudge up more information about Quinn's past. And this was just the question likely to require such input. After all, if he didn't know whether she was born, how would he know what stereotypes he could attribute to her?

Fifty questions can be fun. Whilst Quinn, and others were happy to spill the beans on their former boss; there were a few things best not said. Pix would get answers, but they would be censored to some degree. There’s information that you just can’t spill, information that could get you killed – Pix can forget about an address to send Tiberius a Christmas card if that’s what he’s thinking. Sat on the bed, Quinn looked to the floor. A heavy sigh, she wasn’t too fond of talking about the Guild. But this was how she would get her beloved weapon back. Here goes… “Well… most of those recruited into the Guild are only three, four, five years old. Snatched from their parents, and taken into Guild care. I don’t know exactly what makes them candidates; could just be based upon opportunity”.

“But… there are a few exceptions. Some are born in Test tubes, biologically engineered for the Guild. They get kept away from the rest, the ‘special ones’ – I have no clue what they go through. And then there are others, like me. Who are born directly into the Guild, whose family has been in the Guild for generations; accepted in due to pedigree – which makes being dumped by the Guild much worse”. Quinn’s biological family were still in the Guild, even if she only knew of one or two. It was a big hit being dumped, without given any reason. It was only a few months ago that Quinn learned of the existence of her mother, and already that had been taken away from her. Like many times before, where the Guild has taken from her.

“You begin learning the necessities needed in life – how to read, how to write, that sort of stuff. Then you move on to subjects that will span into when you’re an adult, or at least until when you’re ready to be out in the ‘field’, alone. Things like various martial arts disciplines, different weapon proficiencies, tracking, hacking… everything an assassin may need. Whilst also being put through various vigorous trials to build you up physically; to test your conditioning. You would do this stuff every single day for as long as the Guild deemed it necessary, and even after – I still have to hit the gym. Then it depends on your ability, at some stage in your teenage years you will be given assignments, out in the field. Though you’re never alone, not to begin with; there’s always a safety net. These assignments are… never the important ones - the grunt work. The Guild then decides when you’re ready to move onto bigger and better things”. Quinn alas looked up towards Pix, there wasn’t much more to it really. The dull life of an assassin. “So, it’s far from usual. Nobody celebrates a birthday, Christmas or any other Holiday. Your free time is non-existent; it’s just training. Punishment is dealt out mercilessly, and you learn to live in bare minimum conditions. Of course, there are a few differences from individual to individual – but that’s the basic pattern”.

((OOC: Sorry for the delay.))

Hugh thought he'd initially detected reluctance. But Quinn was comprehensive with her answers. It was a full account of her lot in life. A summary of everything necessary to understand. Pix knew there was an obligation to acknowledge the hardship Quinn had gone through, the chances denied to her in life. Only he didn't feel exclamations of 'how terrible!' could be of any use to anyone. At a loss of what else he was to contribute in that regard, Pix forwent the obligation entirely. Not like Quinn would take it to heart anyway. Instead he offered a, "Curious."

It had by no means satisfied his curiosity, only elicited more questions. His other projects were momentarily forgotten, mentally cast aside. Quinn had more to tell than he originally thought, "So what you're saying is you had no grade school education. Sure they taught you the essentials. But they couldn't have been comprehensive. You must have gaps in your knowledge. Who signed the Declaration of Independence, the layout of the Periodic Table, erm world religions." If she could confirm this then his opinion of her had just changed. For worse. There was a reason these things were taught. They were the basis of what made an IQ. Ignorance meant without reservation that Quinn was dumb.

"And I can assume the, ahem, confrontation between you and your mother was not a usual thing. If she had done likewise to hers then that engenders reluctance to even have a daughter. At the very least it would make her prepared for you, someone with lesser experience. Unlikely you would have succeeded under those circumstances. I wouldn't expect you to so TIB surely wouldn't." Pix kept a steady eye on Quinn even as his head was bowed in a thinking position. He wasn't sure if he was overstepping any boundaries by talking so openly about her mother's demise. If Quinn didn't care then it leant credence to her argument that the memories weren't painful and the Ring Blade held sentimental value.

Was Pix calling Quinn dumb? In a way, it seemed like that. Made more so apparent with how quickly he looked to change the topic to something else. Whilst it is true, Quinn is not the brainiest of the HIVE bunch. She does know what she needs to know, and that's what is important. "Wait, hold up... are you calling me... stupid? I don't know about the Declaration of Independence, or whatever else you said. But... that's not relevant to me. Maybe it was to you, but I bet there are a few things I know that you don't. Do you know how to apply a Crucifix neck crank, dumbass?". Quinn was fully capable of trading slurs with anyone, and she was right to do it. Pix could often come across a tad insulting, and very condescending at times. Sometimes he needed to hear the lash of a sharp tongue to tone back some of his own words.

"And that's complicated". It really was. There was no easy explanation for Quinn's upbringing, for what she had been told and what was the truth. It was... complicated. "I didn't know she was even my mother until earlier this year. I told you before, I was kept in the dark, raised on lies". It was all a part of a plan. Supposed to cement Quinn's loyalty for the Guild, whilst allowing Miseria to operate for the Guild as a 'ghost'. Not everything went to plan of course, rarely does anything follow script. "It's not hard to kill someone who goes into a fight knowing they're supposed to lose".

As the attendee of a private school Pix held the level of public education in some esteem. It didn't matter that the subjects weren't important to Quinn nor in any way practical for more than a pub quiz; they were State or Nation mandated topics of enlightenment. Just as society would expect you to tie your own shoelaces or cross a road sensibly, it required that you know these basics. The sprite momentarily considered making the assassin take up studies for an honorary high-school diploma. But then he recalled how she'd been made his equal now. The opportunity to help in such a way had passed. Quinn would have to stew in her ignorance. Pix didn't press the issue.

In regards to his other observations, the girl gave him valid reason to question his first assessment. The obedience TIBERIUS doubtless commanded and the state of mind of those so morbid, as evidenced by Quinn, would have gone a length to ensure her advantage in the battle. Another point Pix wouldn't press. At least Hugh still had a mother.

A sympathetic air finally came through. Pix fiddled with an executive toy on his desk as he thought about the phrasing of his next question, "And where did the Guild operate? I'm not asking for an address. I'm asking how big an operation this was. State? Nation? Continental?" Distribution would offer a keen understanding of the pull TIBERIUS had. The resources allocated to him in terms of intelligence had granted Hugh a first impression, but such a thing could have easily been censored to hide the dictator's full capabilities.