What Little Remains Of Terpsichore Ironheart

It didn't take terribly long to make my way to the little clearing Tenpenny had prepared. I'd been running low on magicka and holy tolerance from our exertions earlier today, but between the long afternoon nap and the recovery potions I'd downed, I was... not quite at the top of my game, but I was in good enough shape to rip this bitch in half the long way.

"It's honestly kinda cute," Antoinette Tenpenny said, as I dismounted my bike. "House Redwater was having their little New Year's party, and spending so long at the top of the food chain... well. They've gotten pretty lax with their security, haven't they? Took me barely any effort at all to sneak in, grab the girl, and leave." She ran a fingertip up Emily's cheek- Emily had been bound and gagged, tied to a cheap wooden ladder-back dining chair from god-knows-where- and sighed. "The worst part of this, honestly, was that I wasn't sure it'd work- if the newspapers are to be believed, your tastes run more towards blondes. Tell me, are you just less discriminate, or did you really keep things platonic with those Silver Bimbos you had fawning over you?"

"Hi, Antoinette, I'm doing great, thanks for asking," I said loudly. "Despite everything I've had to deal with today, I haven't actually drained myself too badly- all I needed after dealing with Karthrynax was a few potions and a nap. I'm feeling pretty fresh, all things considered. How are you?"

"The cocaine'll wear off in a few hours, but I'm not too worried about that," Tenpenny said. "I'll be honest, I was expecting you to go off about how you don't have time for this."

"Honey, I'm a priest of The Father," I said. "Time is very much on my side."

I snapped my fingers just as she realized where I was going with this, and instantly, the world around me slowed to a crawl. Tenpenny was already moving, managing about a walking pace even through the dilation, but it still wouldn't be fast enough. I pointed at Emily, and targeted her, and her personal effects like clothing and whatever's in her pockets, but not the chair she was tied to or rope she was tied with.

And, with a teleportation-like pop, she disappeared, sent into the future by... an indeterminate amount. However long my fight with Tenpenny lasted, and whether I won or lost, Emily would re-emerge from the timestream right afterwards.

The haste effect wore off, and Tenpenny sped up, crashing through the chair and ropes and knocking them over- when Emily returned, it would not be sitting in that chair, and most likely, she'd fall on her ass. At least it was a well-padded ass.

"Shit," Tenpenny hissed, as she drew herself up.

"Now, you and I both know why you're really here," I continued. "You want me dead, and likely could not give less of a fuck about Emily. Well, I'm here now, and I'm ready to put an end to this at last."

"I was hoping to have a little more leverage to-" she began.

"Tony, I have things to do," I interrupted, loudly. "This isn't the time for big, revealing monologues or shit like that. We both know what's going on- I killed your shitbag husband, you want to avenge his stupid ass, I'm out of your league, and this ends with you dead in the fucking ground. You're not really capable of threatening me, here."

Now, if any properly-trained Bards were present, they'd be wincing and looking away, because it was a well-known fact that you don't do this. A Bard seeks to convince the world that they are the hero, and the world believes that the hero will respect the challenges they face and take them seriously. And if the hero doesn't respect the challenge they face, then they will be made to respect it.

However, while that was generally true, there was something key that they'd be overlooking: a Bard doesn't only care about what the world thinks, they also care about what other people think, and belittling your opponent before a fight was a perfectly valid way to throw them off their game.

There's more than one way to skin a thief, after all.

"...Tony?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. "That's... Hrm. You know, I was already expecting to take exception to whatever you had to say to me, but that managed to catch me off-guard, I'll admit. Tell you what, though- this doesn't have to end in violence."

"You and I both know you're only saying that because your hostage is gone, and there's nothing stopping me from setting you on fire," I said. "But you're right, this doesn't have to end in violence. Walk away, make a new life, and make sure I never hear your name again, and I'll let you live."

"Now, now, how can I trust that?" Tenpenny asked. "How do I know you won't come after me for revenge?"

"I'm not the one trying to avenge an attempted rapist," I said dryly. "You know, all day, I've been hearing about how I've victimized so many people- such innocent, upstanding citizens who just wanted to kill me for the sake of their blood-soaked ritual sacrifice that'd empower them at the expense of everyone around them so they could conquer the goddamn world." I snorted. "Well, it's time to face reality, hon: I don't care about you. As far as I'm concerned, you exist solely insofar as you are making yourself a nuisance and an obstacle to me. This whole mess? It is on your initiative- I would have happily ignored you until you died of old age, if you didn't force my hand. So! Let your grudge go. And if you don't?" I shrugged. "Well, as it so happens, I'm actually acquainted with your daughter. Cassandra Tenpenny, Rogue Studies major at the University of Mount Fate. What would you like me to tell her after I kill you?"

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"You keep your filthy hands off my daughter, freak," Tenpenny snarled.

"Jesus christ, I offered to pass a message along, not stick my tongue down her throat," I said. "That's the problem with y- well, that's one of the problems with you: you assume the worst of everyone, because as a Thieves' Guild member, you're surrounded by professional scumbags all day."

"Did you already forget about the years I spent deep cover in the Paladins?"

"The Paladins are a different flavor of professional scumbags, I'll grant you that," I said. "They're more capable of pretending they care about more than their own personal enrichment. Well, since you seem so interested in talking..." I reached into my coat, and produced a pair of folding chairs- which were still three feet wide even folded up, and getting them in and out of my pockets had taken one hell of a working- before unfolding them and tossing one over to her, taking a seat in the other one. "Go ahead. I'm all ears."

"Why do elves always insist on talking like they're afraid you forgot they invented stand-up comedy?" Tenpenny complained, even as she sat down.

"It's funny, especially because it annoys humans," I said. "So... Deep-cover fake Paladin, huh? Were you expecting to blow that cover with this job? Or did I give you an unpleasant surprise?"

"I figured it was fifty fifty odds, honestly," Tenpenny said. "Honestly not too fussed either way, honestly. I've already got plans for after this job. Hence why I'm not willing to give up and walk away at the first setback."

"Huh, so you're trying to play towards a professionalism angle here, now," I said, nodding. "Interesting. Lemme think out loud here, don't bother answering if you don't feel like it, but why are you bothering to talk anyways? Why haven't you just come at me with a knife or a wand or whatever holy magic Fingers gives you?"

"Because..." Tenpenny trailed off, and chuckled, shaking her head. "God. You don't even know my Handle, do you? It's Sting. Did you learn my husband's, before you killed him?"

"Butterfly," I supplied. "Let me guess, you two were fans of that one famous boxer who said 'float like a butterfly, sting like a bee'?"

"Yes, exactly!" Tenpenny said, nodding. "Back when we were rank-and-file thieves, he was always the one who'd case the joint and talk people into sharing things they couldn't. A real social butterfly. And I was the muscle, who hurt people and broke things when that inevitably became necessary. Float like a Butterfly, Sting like a bee." She sighed. "You don't run with Butterfly for thirty years without picking up some sweet-talking and con artistry, that talent for planning. But I've always been the bruiser, the scrapper. The one who's always spoiling for a fight."

"This isn't flattery, but you do not look like you're forty or fifty," I said, noting the relative smoothness of her face. "I've met fifty year old women with access to tons of magic, and they still show at least some signs, around the eyes and mouth. Are you..." I paused, frowning at her blonde hair, her slender build, her sharp features... "...You're a half-elf, aren't you?"

"Nope!" Tenpenny said cheerfully. "I mean, come on, I don't look like a Silver Maiden to you, do I? They're the only half-elves who can have kids. No, I'm a vampire."

I inhaled sharply through my teeth.

"Max was always such a fucking pussy about it," Tenpenny said, as her canine teeth visibly elongated into fangs. "Fingers is the only god who gets to give us shit about what we do, and he doesn't care if his clergy do blood magic. But noooo, he just had to do that convoluted rape-by-proxy ritual to steal your lifespan, instead of letting me teach him the spells to grow fangs and drink blood."

"So that's your plan," I said, standing up and drawing my weapons- my sword in my left hand, my gun in my right. "Tell me, how many people have you eaten for your own glorification?"

"Only the one," Tenpenny said, as she stood up more lazily, drawing her long dagger from its sheath on her hip. "I'm highborn, see, and my dad had an... indiscretion, with one of his elven maids. So I took care of his embarrassing little bastard for him. But vampirism... It's just not as efficient as I'd like, you know? When you drink someone's blood, you only get half of their remaining lifespan- less than a third, when they're a half-elf. But when a vampire eats an elf? Well, even only a tenth of forever is still forever, and I'll never have to wash the cloying taste of your subhuman blood out of my mouth ever again."

She came at me like lightning. But as inhumanly fast as she was, after years of honing her craft, I was still an elf, and that still counted for something.

I squeezed the trigger of my gun, and rather than a spray of hot lead, what came out was a miniaturized warhead, like what I'd made for the Battle of Barracuda Bay. When I'd fought her husband, all those months ago, he'd been fast enough that I simply couldn't draw a bead on him when he was in motion, and the bullets kept missing.

Tenpenny let herself be flung back by the drawn-out burst of burning fuel, managing to ride the blast wave without rupturing too many organs in the process.

"The fun thing about these bullets is that aim is now optional," I said cheerily. "I don't need to land a direct hit to hurt you. I just have to shoot them in your general direction, and the fireball does the rest."

"I hate Wizards," Tenpenny said, to nobody in particular.

And then, she came at me again, and the fight began in earnest.