Chapter Text
Tyr, 45, Ex-Captain, Varia Independent Assassination Squads
Tyr wound his way slowly through the maze of desks and file cabinets that made up Human Resources, his brand new cane-sword tapping dully on the charred carpet. Even now, Tyr thought HR felt like an odd choice of departments for what was essentially an assassin’s guild. It hadn’t existed prior to Tyr’s leadership, but Tavo had eventually convinced him of its necessity.
Not that he’d ever been able to say no to Tavo.
(Not even when Tavo decided to take up with that CEDEF plant, that one time. “But I know, and he knows I know, and he knows I know that he knows,” Tavo had said, and Tyr had gotten a headache and given up.)
Still, it hadn’t been a bad idea, all in all. Assassins’ specialised skill sets didn’t generally extend to organisation and taking care of themselves. They hadn’t really needed it before Tyr took over, but between the Eighth's iron-fisted shakedown of criminal Italy and the Ninth’s deep seated paranoia under his sunshine-and-daisies exterior, the Varia had just kept growing… and growing… and growing. That many dangerous personalities under one roof made for a volatile mix, and while people chafed at the rules and regulations, nobody could deny HR was the only thing keeping the rapidly expanding Varia from descending into chaos.
It also gave Tavo something to do that satisfied his strange obsession with corporate organisation, and kept him well away from any type of weaponry.
They hadn’t had the chance to talk about Tyr’s impending semi-retirement yet, but Tyr thought it would be a 50-50 chance on whether Tavo would stay. Perhaps he’d agree to help Tyr with the European Martial Arts school he’d always thought about opening …
Tyr turned the corner towards Tavo’s office. The air smelt faintly of gunpowder and rust, though someone had made a vain attempt to cover it with lemon air freshener. It was quiet, with most of Tavo’s underlings out of the office, leaving a miserable-looking pair quite literally shackled to their desks (ball and chain included). Tyr presumed they must have lost the daily scuffle for assignments and were stuck with the paperwork.
Said unfortunates looked up briefly and greeted Tyr as he passed, without so much as a stutter in their typing.
“Sir.”
“Morning, sir.”
After being ‘Boss’ for nearly two decades, the new term of address took some getting used to. Tyr wasn’t as upset about it as he thought he would be, though. He’d watched Xanxus grow up from a malnourished, lice-ridden street rat to a respectable teenage one-man demolition company, and he’d even trained him himself! (Once. For ten minutes.)
Xanxus would do fine as Boss, not as if there were any better options (that Squalo boy included). The job would get Xanxus cleanly out of the succession struggle, and perhaps Timoteo would finally quit being suspicious of the Varia’s loyalties, with it in family hands instead of some foreigner’s (if only he knew the truth of the matter, but that was neither here nor there).
“Morning. Is Ottavio in?” Tyr asked the minions, after finishing that thought.
“He’s in, sir,” chirped one of them, a pleasant girl named Sparrow, if he remembered right. “Might have an appointment later, though.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded to the deskrats and headed on to Tavo’s office at the end of the hall. The door was open, as it usually was during his office hours, with the smell of freshly-brewed coffee wafting out, probably Tavo’s favoured drip coffee instead of the usual moka pot brew most of the others drank. This early, it was even likely entirely the real stuff, rather than Cloud filler. Cloud-coffee always gave him heartburn.
“Any left for me?” Tyr teased as Tavo noticed him and stood up in greeting.
“Always,” said Tavo warmly, coming round his desk to firmly press Tyr into a chair. His brow wrinkled slightly, which signalled to Tyr his dissatisfaction about Tyr being up and about so soon after being nearly hacked to death by that Squalo boy, so Tyr let him fuss. Other than that, Tavo made no comment or complaint, and instead simply passive-aggressively poured him a coffee, which was peak Tavo, really.
“I filled out most of your paperwork already and was planning to take it to you,” said Tavo. Read: Tyr should have stayed put instead of traipsing about a castle full of murderers, bumpy stairs, and explosives. Tyr rather thought that was an overreaction! It wasn’t as if he’d lost his other hand or anything.
Tavo retrieved a folder and handed it to him. “It’s a bit chaotic at the moment, what with the leadership transition and recruitment drive.”
“I noticed,” said Tyr dryly, remembering the fresh carpet stains. He opened the folder and started flipping through the contents. “Someone angling for your position?” The Varia operated by the rule of ‘you break it, you own it’, which also applied to job positions, though it had been a very long time since anyone tried for Tavo or Tyr’s (well, until last last Tuesday, in Tyr’s case. Nobody actually wanted Tavo’s job).
“Ah? No, there was a new … recruit who came in last night and had some disagreements regarding HR policy. Something about rules not applying to royalty.” Tavo adjusted his glasses.
Surely there was a story there. It was so cute when Tavo tried to be coy about something. Tyr raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to go on. Tavo cleared his throat.
“It turns out he was actually really royalty. Of course, this is the Varia, so his royal highness will unfortunately have to live with it. Anyway, he’s Xanxus’s problem now.”
Oh? “Did they match up?” That boy could stand to pad out his collection of Guardians some; Xanxus was known to be notoriously picky in that regard.
“It’s early, still, but I believe so. The boy is a Storm.”
“Good!” Tyr approved. “Good start.” That Squalo boy was one, so that made what, two? Maybe three if the Sun (Luca? Lucy?) hanging around was any indication.
“He’s eight years old.” Tavo smiled.
“Sounds familiar.” It brought up nostalgic memories of when Tyr and his other guardians first met Tavo, so small and already so serious. Tyr had zero regrets kidnapping him.
Their reminiscing was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Ottavio?” A brown-haired man poked his head in and blinked when he spotted Tyr. “Ah, I didn’t mean to interrupt…”
“It’s alright. I remember the appointment. You’ve brought the special hire?”
After a quick glance at Tyr, who indicated he didn’t mind, Tavo motioned for the man and the girl accompanying him to come in. Tyr rolled his chair and his paperwork to a side table so he wouldn’t be in the way, and so he could surreptitiously observe the newcomers (since he was a mostly-retired busybody now).
The man he recognised-- Tavo’s assistant, Shrike-- but the girl was unfamiliar, probably the aforementioned ‘special hire’. She was extraordinarily beautiful, with long, raven-black hair cascading down her back in soft ringlets, and glittering violet eyes. Unfortunately, her striking appearance was eclipsed by the aura of affected aloofness she radiated, like she was trying too hard to be a textbook-perfect Cloud. Tyr found it a little bit funny.
She looked at Tavo with barely concealed disgust as he introduced himself, which wasn’t particularly unusual (no one liked HR), then glanced over at Tyr and kept staring, and not in the way awestruck underlings or fans would look at him, either. In particular, she seemed to be staring at the stump of his left hand. He’d not been able to get a replacement prosthetic yet, having wrecked the previous one in the duel with Squalo. Had the girl never seen an amputee?
“Miss Amaranth?” Tavo, usually the sweetest cotton-candy Cloud any Sky could wish for, sounded distinctly cold now, though he was still smiling. Barely. He’d always been very touchy about people staring at Tyr.
“This is Tyr, the former head of the Varia, who has now taken up an advisory position. Is there a problem.”
“No, I…” The girl--Amaranth-- looked quite taken aback. “Wasn’t. Expecting. I thought Squalo killed him?”
Behind her, Shrike cringed and mouthed “wasn’t me”.
Was that the latest thing circulating through the rumour mill these days? Tyr had mostly been laid up in the infirmary, so he was a bit out of the loop. He shrugged.
“Almost,” he told the girl.
Tyr would be one-hundred-percent dead, if Tavo hadn’t dashed to his rapidly cooling body and inflated his blood volume enough to sustain him until poor Max could get to him. As it were, Tavo had nearly killed himself with the effort, and Max said that they got very lucky.
“Shit, really,” said Amaranth, to herself, lapsing into English– her native tongue, perhaps? “Fuck, is this an Ay-You? Fuck fuck fuck what about Xanxus, does he know the Ninth isn’t---shit!” She clapped her hands over her mouth.
Interesting.
“I’m afraid it doesn’t seem like you’re a good fit for our organisation, Miss Amaranth,” said Tavo, no longer smiling.
“I’m not talking to you, traitor,” spat the girl. “I need to speak with Xanxus. I have important information. You won’t be gloating for much longer! I’ll tell everyone about your shady deals with the military.”
“Girlie, which mafia organisation doesn’t have shady deals with the military?” commented Tyr, amused. The girl shot him a horrified look that read oh my god he’s in on it too. Haha!
“Detain her, please,” Tavo told Shrike.
“Fuck!” The girl drew a pair of daggers and struck out in a panic as Shrike stepped forward.
“Why are you listening to him? He’s a traitor! He’ll rat out Xanxus! Believe me, I know the future!” Amaranth had raised her voice and appeared to be trying to attract as much attention as possible, which seemed a bit silly to Tyr. Who was going to rescue her, those two on clerk duty outside?
The girl had some skill with daggers, but seemed unpractised at stabbing actual people. She Propagated the weapons to completely unnecessary numbers, and a scuffle broke out as Shrike countered her attacks with...was that a spike from the perimeter fence? Tavo, for his part, simply looked irritated, swatting at the cloned daggers flying all over the place with a ring binder, and seemingly deaf to the screaming about how he was the scum of the earth and that his robot was stupid. Always calm, their Tavo.
Already tired of the clownery, Tyr stuck out his cane, tripping the girl (awful spatial awareness on that one), and Shrike took the opportunity to knock her out before she could contribute further to this one-sided discussion.
Unfortunately, Amaranth face-planted onto Tavo’s desk and broke her nose.
Some splatter occurred. Luckily, Tyr’s coffee escaped unscathed.
“Um.” Shrike carefully peeled Amaranth off the desk and looked at the mess. “I’ll call for cleanup?” He had a dagger sticking out of a bicep, but otherwise seemed unharmed.
“Thank you, but I’ll deal with it later,” sighed Tavo, sitting down and starting to shuffle around some papers. When no further reprimand or instruction seemed forthcoming, Shrike saluted and scuttled out, body in tow.
Tyr could see that Tavo was typing a transcript of the admittedly short meeting to attach to Amaranth’s slightly bloodied dossier, adding Tyr and Shrike’s names as witnesses. He printed it, stamped “FAILED EMPLOYMENT INTERVIEW” on it, and signed off at the bottom.
“Who recommended her?” Tyr asked. ‘Special hire’, in the Varia, referred to personnel not personally sourced by HR or the elite ranks, and instead came by external recommendation. As much as the Varia attempted to operate independently, some … accommodations …had to be made. However, even if these ‘special hires’ made Quality (rarely), they were generally regarded with some suspicion. CEDEF had sent its fair share of moles that way.
“She’s the Bellini heiress; the Don pulled some strings and got her recommended through the Beccio,” said Tavo.
Then why the English, thought Tyr.
“...probably to see if she could fit Xanxus’s Cloud Guardian position,” continued Tavo. “This is the first I’ve heard of any precognitive abilities, though, if that’s what was going on with her.”
“Hmm.” Prescience, even the wonky kind, was uncommon enough that it could explain why Amaranth’s sponsors had been sure she could make the cut. Regrettably, her rare talent had not been accompanied by the requisite level of intelligence or discretion. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find out.”
“We’ll see.” Tavo smiled at him and put the folder under his arm. “Teo, I’m just going to run this up to Xanxus to see if he wants to follow up on anything. I’ll be right back.”
Normally, this sort of matter would just stay at Tavo’s level, or whoever was vice-captain now, but Tyr supposed Xanxus, being new, might want to keep a tighter hand on the reins. Not unreasonable, in his opinion.
He waved Tavo off and continued sipping his coffee. Though, what was an Ay-You, he wondered, then shrugged, dismissing the thought.
Tyr relaxed into his chair as gunshots rang out in the distance, accompanied by the sounds of shattering glass and crumbling plaster. Just a regular Monday at Varia HQ.