Let's find your mother

[Macbeth]

"I hope to God not overnight," Beth muttered. She'd never been quite so reluctant to leave their modest little apartment. While Risk was gone, she'd explained the situation to Jo--not in detail, of course--and armed herself with an impressive number of switchblades in places that no one but Alec was ever likely to look. "Guess we should head out, then," she said grimly as Jo ran down the hall to see 'Aunt Adri' and 'Uncle Teddy.'

[Risk]

Risk nodded, preparing himself for another adventure for the day. He definitely wasn't expecting for today to be this exciting. What happened to peace and quiet when he got home?

"Be careful and play nice," smiled Risk as he planted a kiss on Jo's cheek before she reached the door.

[Macbeth]

When Jo was gone, Beth flashed Risk a grim smile. "Well...let's do this, huh?" She squared her shoulders, looking as formidable as she could, and headed out.

[Risk]

"Like you said," nodded Risk, checking to make sure he brought his gun. Just in case. "Let's get this over with."

[Macbeth]

They walked in brooding silence for a good long while before the neighborhoods started getting shabbier and sketchier. And for still longer before they finally reached the familiar intersection of Orange, Cross, and Anthony Streets. Macbeth drew in a deep breath. She wasn't scared of the Points; she'd grown up here, for heaven's sake. It was more like she just didn't want to wade through the memories, the personal ghosts of hers that haunted these streets. She glanced at Alec by her side and, satisfied, kept walking.

[Risk]

"So..." started Risk, realizing what they'd just gotten themselves into. "Anything important I need to know around here?"

((I love how bad-ass they are. )

[Macbeth]

((ME TOO. ;D))

She shrugged, glancing warily from side to side, holding up her skirts to keep them out of the mud. So far, nothing more sinister than newsies and whores haunting their usual corners and small knots of roaming street urchins. "Basically the same advice as Brooklyn...guard your pockets, don't look at anyone, don't talk to anyone, don't wander down dark alleys. Oh, and seriously--guard your pockets. These kids are good. I should know, I used to be one," she said with a hard little smirk.

All these years, and she still knew every inch of this street, every building they were passing. Nothing ever changed around here. Nothing except the eyes that she could feel but not see, watching her curiously from alleys and doorways. Eyes that no longer knew her, that saw her as a stranger. She had a sinking feeling that there was no way they'd make it to Archer's turf without some kind of confrontation.

[Risk]

Risk simply nodded, walking instep with Macbeth as he looked around. He hoped that she knew what she was doing. All he could think of was how grateful Tristan and Nevada should be.

"How about this Archer guy?"

[Macbeth]

A smile played around the corners of her mouth. "Archer? He's...well...not what you'd expect." She was surprisingly close to laughter. "If he's still the same Archer I knew--well, he's got about as much of a temper as Racetrack Higgins. Most laidback bloody gang leader you'll ever meet--I mean, he let me work for him and never killed me, so you know he's gotta have the patience of a saint.

"'Course, the thing to remember is that he can kill you with his pinky if he wants to. And his gang's loyal to a fault. But if I say I want to talk, he'll talk. That's assuming we can get past Sentry, o'course." And assuming he ain't hardened into a cold-blooded killer...and assuming we make it there in the first place. A figure stepped out of an alley up ahead, and she tensed but kept walking, though a blade appeared in her hand seemingly out of nowhere.

[Risk]

"He sounds worse than Spot," muttered Risk, almost stopping in his steps as he noticed a figure. Noticing Macbeth's quick reflex, Risk kept his hands loose ready, in case he needed to reach for his gun or give out a punch. Once the figure neared them, Risk kept his eyes on the ground, hoping to hell that nothing would happen.

[Macbeth]

It was a brawny guy, Beth saw as they approached, smoking a cigar and leering. He took a purposeful step toward her, then caught sight of the switchblade gleaming in the evening light. Looking from the blade to Risk and back again, he muttered a curse and wandered back down the alley. Macbeth shook her head, her grip tightening on the weapon rather than relaxing. Thank God that guy hadn't been a whole gang looking for a good time, or they'd be fighting a losing battle right now.

"Tristan," she muttered, "is gonna owe us for this."

[Risk]

"That's exactly what I was thinking," mumbled Risk, letting out a somewhat relieved sigh. "So how do we find Archer? You think he'll still be in the same place after all these years?"

[Macbeth]

"Can't really picture him anywhere else," Beth admitted. "We all hung around down by the pier, 'specially in this one tavern, the Blood Diamond. Archer owned the place--lived in an apartment above the tavern, did business outta the back room. It's just a couple more blocks, so we'll know soon enough. But honestly, not much changes 'round here."

As if to prove her point, a tenement rose up on their right as they turned a corner. It looked just like all the other decrepit buildings, but it made Macbeth's heart skip a beat. She froze in her tracks for a moment and just stared at it.

[Risk]

"You alright, Beth?" asked Risk gently, placing his hand on her arm. "You sure you want to do this?"

[Macbeth]

She snorted but let his hand rest where it was. "Can't exactly turn around and go back now, can we?" She shook herself and turned to look at him. "I'm fine, it's just...useta live there. Me, Dad, Mama, and Ada." She flashed her death glare at a scrawny kid who was inching up on her pocket. He yelped and ran off, and she continued down the street, sticking close to Alec's side.