PRIVATE Night of our Lives | Closed

Colt Sigvardsen

s c o u t
Colt Sigvardsen
Eddies
3,229
NIGHT CITY
GALA
IN THE PAST

Today was going to be an escalation that they couldn't come back from. This low-grade war between this corporation and his clan had been going on for months now. One hits, the other hits back, it went on and on without either getting the full advantage. The Corpo had money and resources behind it. But they couldn't extend themselves too much. If they used all their resources they'd be leaving themselves open to retaliation by one of their other corporate rivals like Arasaka or MiliTech. The Nomads might not have the money or the firepower, but they knew the lay of the land and they had a network of subterfuge assisting them on top of it.

That was how Colt managed to get inside this Gala. In a suit that fit him perfectly, but feeling awkward in it anyway. The escalation would change everything. Because Colt was here to commit capital murder. Specifically taking out the CEO's eldest son.

Doing that in this Gala would send a message to the other Corpos that this one was weak. That they couldn't even defend themselves from an assassin. The blades would be out immediately and relieve some of the pressure on his clan. Sigvardsen was looking around, casually, trying not to put too much attention on himself. He had a cover story, a background. But with enough push... they could figure out that he didn't quite belong here.

He turned around and he froze in place.

His eyes meeting someone.

Mouth dry.

Colt Sigvarsen saw @Margo Bennett for the first time.
 
NIGHT CITY
GALA
IN THE PAST

A cloud of laughter erupted among the four women that stood in a tight little knot, each with a cocktail in hand. The women had known each other for years -- they had the same kind of lifestyles, the same kinds of families, the same kinds of cars, went to the same kinds of universities. In fact, most of the people in that room had known each other for years, had similar lifestyles, went to the same universities. It was a large gala, but it felt intimate and safe, like a family reunion. They had all developed a shorthand with one another, a style of humorous gossip.

It was a long way of saying that the women, in their tight little knot, with their cocktails, were laughing at an inside joke.

Margo wore a black evening dress, floor-length, strapless, and a pair of gloves. Platinum jewelry. Much like other women in the room, though some wore silver, some gold, others the kind of flashy resin and plastic jewelry that had become popular among the lower classes before they had become popularized by wealthy party girls in the screamsheets, and suddenly the cheap, tacky jewelry -- made from recycled plastic, affordable to even the street people -- had skyrocketed in price and plummeted in availability.

Margo thought something that was tacky was tacky whether it was around the neck of a homeless person or an heiress, but she kept that to herself.

"I need a refill," Margo told the others, and she turned. After a pause to let a waiter pass -- she put her empty glass on his tray -- she looked up and stopped dead in her tracks. It was rare to see someone she didn't know at events like this. Rarer still to see a man in this circle without the slicked-back corpo hair. Her eyes drank him in, the golden hair and piercing eyes that seemed to be fixed on her. Margo's eyes met his, felt some frisson of energy like when two live cables connected. Some might have called it love at first sight, but Margo didn't think that way. But there was certainly something there, some magnetic compulsion. Like unexpectedly seeing an old, dear friend for the first time in years, except as far as she was aware she had never before seen this man in her entire life.

She moved first, crossing toward him. "Hello," said Margo, her tone curious and bright. "I don't think I've seen you at one of these before. I'm Margo." Extending a hand, platinum bracelet jangling with the motion.

 
@Margo Bennett

It felt like a tether joining them together, pulling them closer with each step, until her hand was tantalizingly close.

His slipped around hers for a soft squeeze.

"Colt, and that doesn't surprise me, it's my first time." He murmured before leaning in to kiss her knuckles. He had once seen it on television. The thing to do when you were face-to-face with a noble beauty. There was no way for Colt to know that this sort of move had gone out of fashion seasons if not decades ago. "Pleasure meeting you, Margo." One more hint to her that he was out of place?

His hands were rough. Worn from years of a hard life.

"Can I get you a drink?"

Anything to keep her close to him instead of letting her go.
 
Margo flinched when the man's rough hand enveloped hers. Not that it was rough -- though it was -- but that it was out of place. He isn't one of us, she reasoned, her eyebrows lifting a little. So who is he? His manners -- also out of place, not to mention out of date by only about two centuries. Was he one of those historical reenacters? He didn't look like an enormous nerd, but looks could be deceiving...

"You read my mind," Margo said to his offer of a drink. "I was just headed that way."

She took her hand back and gestured toward the bar at the center of the room, fell into step beside him. A few minutes later the pair had drinks in hand and were settled near a window, where outside Night City was awash with neon and chrome. "New to Night City, or just new to all... this?" Margo asked, gesturing vaguely toward the revelry happening behind them. She couldn't even remember what the gala was all in aid of, but she was certain it must have been a good cause.

 
@Margo Bennett

The flinch wasn't missed by him.

Margo. Why was that name familiar to him? He had a brief, of course, about the family he was up against. But in that briefing there hadn't been a mention of Margo. Just... Margarita, the daughter. But in the here and now he didn't consider that those two names were eerily familiar to one another. Instead Colt was primarily occupied with her, the way she talked, the way she smiled, the way her hands moved.

Colt had never been obsessed before but he was starting to get the appeal.

"This." He says lightly, accepting a drink with a grateful nod. "I have been living mostly outside Night City, but been in and out of the town for years now. Never had much reason to join one of these shindigs though."

He looked her up and down again.

He couldn't get enough of it.

"You seem entirely at home here though."
 
Margo's eyes went wider with concern. "Outside? Outside the City?" As if she couldn't imagine it. She knew that people did live outside the city. There were little towns here and there. Farms. The Nomads, too, though she wasn't sure they would be what one would call at a fixed address. She struggled with the idea of not having the stability of the city. As violent and chaotic as it could be on the streets, in the stratosphere where she belonged -- the penthouses, the corporate suites, the fashionable nightclubs -- things were safe and more or less serene. And you could get anything you wanted at any time. What was life like out there -- where the skies were too open, too wide, too blue -- was too much to consider.

Her privilege was certainly showing...

"Me -- well, I was born here," she said before lifting her glass to her lips for a sip of the cocktail. She didn't mean this room, not literally, but she might as well have. She looked over at him, smiled tightly. "It's very boring, I'm sure, but you -- living out there? It sounds like an adventure. Tell me."

 
@Margo Bennett

It didn't surprise him to hear she was born here. Everything about her radiated elegance, grace, beauty. He only got smitten with her a few minutes ago, but it already felt like he had known her for years.

That they simply hadn't seen each other for a while and this was a warm welcome back.

"I could tell you a lot of things... some of them probably not appropriate for this scene..." That last bit murmured as a tease. She took the hint and he offered his elbow to her. They left the gala hall behind. Instead they found a quieter spot at the balcony. Away from the humdrum and the cacophony. Margo would notice he immediately got a bit more steady, less on edge, once they were alone.

His hip against the railing while he regaled her with some of his stories.The less gruesome ones. About how they survived outside the city... and a funny adventure that involved a MiliTech patrol, two bottles of Jack and a very drunk Sergeant.

All throughout Colt's attention squarely on her.

Like he was in the desert and she was a source of life.

"So I gave him a smack on the ass and send him on his way. The Patrol sheepishly followed suit and didn't bother us again. Not everything needs violence, eh?" A pause and then he pulled out a little box with cigarettes. "You smoke?"
 
Margo was attentive as he told his stories. Captivated by the swashbuckling nature of the adventures. And seemingly rooted to the spot by his eyes, which were shockingly, breathtakingly blue. She leaned against the railing, getting more comfortable. She laughed at the conclusion of his story -- a real laugh, though, delicate and musical, not like what she shared with the women she had been drinking with before -- and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear that had come loose in the warm breeze.

"My brothers loved to haze the Militech grunts. They think they own the place." Granted, they did own a lot of it. Which made hazing their grunts all the more entertaining, according to her brothers.

The young lady hesitated a moment at Colt's offer of a cigarette. "Depends on who you ask, but I should be all right provided my mother doesn't see. You may have sent a Militech patrol on their merry way, but you've never encountered my mother." She adopted a kind of hushed shout of a very angry Hispanic woman: "¡Margarita Esperanza Soledad Aquino de Bennett! ¡Apagas ese maldito cigarrillo en este momento o voy a por la chancla, así que ayúdame Dios!"

"You can see why I go by Margo, hm?" Margo accepted a cigarette from him, then leaned forward to allow him to light it, the flame briefly illuminating her features. She took a lung-full of smoke and exhaled through her nostrils. "Colt, I have this incredible sensation that I know you from somewhere. We haven't met before, have we?"

 
@Margo Bennett

She said her full name and he caught his breath once he realized it. Margo was bone other than Margarita, the only daughter of the CEO and founder of the very same corporation that was making his Nomad clan's life a living hell.

That meant they were enemies or at least destined to be them.

"I don't..." Colt said gently despite himself."Margarita is a wonderful name." And he didn't seem even a little sarcastic about it either.

His mouth was dry.

He hadn't seen her brothers all night. But here she was... Served up to him in a silver plate. If he took her out, wouldn't it be the best sort of revenge?

"No... I don't think so." Tone warm, a bit hesitant because she distracted him so even as he lit up his own cigarette. "But I feel the same way... Like old friends meeting once again... Or something... Else."

Old flames reconnecting because what Colt was feeling was definitely not just friendly.

"Do you have anyone... Margarita? Someone you love? Someone you feel affection for?"

And he was praying she'd say no, even as he struggled with the realization that his Clan expected him to do some damage to the corpos today.
 
The wind blew across the balcony, and Margo's coppery hair blew around her head, then settled. She raked her fingers over her hair, smoothed it back in place. Something in his demeanor subtly shifted. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. What were her instincts trying to tell her? She watched as his own features glowed with the flame of his lighter, then were plunged back into darkness.

"Margarita is a ridiculous name," she corrected him wryly. "Best case scenario, people think I'm named after a cocktail."

She leaned against the railing, took another drag of her cigarette. Blew out the smoke through her nose. Cool as anything.

"That's quite a question," she told him, tapping her cigarette lightly so that the ashes blew away. "Lots of people I love, sure. Parents. My brothers. My friends. But I'm not -- attached -- if that's what you mean." Glancing sidelong at him. "Why do you ask?" A beat, and her eyebrows furrowed curiously; something about this was starting to feel off. The intensity of the connection they both seemed to feel, the probing questions. "What are you doing here, Colt?"
 
"That's what I meant." He murmurs softly, another thing locking into place for him.

She was available or at least not currently with someone.

That shouldn't matter to him, but it made him happy.

Had anyone been ever this bold with her? She was used to a corporate environment. Intrigue, double-speak, where nothing was as it seemed. Had she ever been courted by a man who simply looked at her and said: I want you and nothing else? Maybe it was a ridiculous notion. Such heart-on-the-sleeve feelings could kill or annihilate. It wasn't safe, but Colt didn't particularly care about safety right now.

"I am not sure I know anymore." When Colt had just arrived here, he knew, but now they were here. Smoking at the balcony and alone. The truth would get him killed here, didn't matter what their half an hour connection felt like.

But Colt couldn't help himself.

"I didn't realize... it was you when we got to talk. Margo... didn't make the connection to Margarita." Said truthfully as he finally glanced to her. "The reason why I don't seem like I belong here... is because I don't. I am part of a Nomad clan your family is at war with." But his truthfulness would only go so far. Not even he was stupid enough to say that he had come here to kill her brothers.

"I came here tonight to stir some trouble... get some intel... see exactly how far your family is willing to go to chase mine off of the lands we have claimed for generations."

@Margo Bennett
 
The mention of the Nomad clan sent a frisson of anxiety through Margo; her eyes widened in realization, but that was as far as it got. She wasn't afraid, exactly. Anything he wanted to do to her he could have done already; they were standing alone on a secluded balcony. A little push would have been trivial for him. She had no doubt that Colt could have lifted her and flung her from the balcony with one hand. And he hadn't. So either he didn't intend to, or --

Or what? He wanted to make a spectacle of it?

"The troublemakers," Margo said with a smirk. She lifted her drink to her lips, took another pull from it, then gave a satisfied sigh. "If you want intel you've come to the wrong Bennett, I'm afraid. I'm not terribly involved with the company. More of an idle rich," she said derisively, reaching up with her cigarette hand to tuck a hair behind her ear. A nervous tell; there was no such hair out of place. "But if you want to know the lengths they're willing to go...?" A low whistle, a solemn shake of her head.

She took another sip of her drink, rested the empty glass on the balustrade, then leaned against it too. "I don't know exactly the nature of the dispute," Margo began. "But I'm sure they -- that is, we -- made a fair offer. Your people don't have use for eurodollars, or...?"

 
His hand reached out, slowly, his eyes on hers... and fingers ran across her hair to 'tuck it back behind her ear'.

It hadn't been necessary the first time she did it and it was unnecessary now too. But that didn't stop him. He wanted, no he needed, to touch her in that moment. A gentle touch to make her believe that the last thing he ever wanted to do was to hurt her. Or use her in any way. That is what Colt assured her there. That the only reason they were here together at this balcony was because the moment their eyes met he felt a connection he had never felt before.

He'd explain about the choice the corporation had given the Nomad clan that was no choice at all. A bullet in the head or a monetary compensation. It was a false choice and the people that died in the aftermath, his father included, only solidified that.

They moved from the balcony at some point and found themselves on the roof. As if changing the scenery would extend the time they could spend together. Laying there next to one another, their hips gently brushing.

Watching the skyline.

"There are still places in the countryside... where if you look up to the sky you can see the stars." Colt said with a soft laugh. "Here in Night City... its all noise, flying cars and artificial stations."

Was that why the city had lost its way? Or did it even have a way to begin with?

"I am not sure you'd enjoy the rough discomfort out of the city... but I think you'd love the stars in the sky."

@Margo Bennett
 
Something about the tall, broad-shouldered would-be viking's demeanor told Margo that she was in no danger here. Maybe he had come to destroy her family's business -- maybe even to harm them -- but there was authenticity in the way his blue eyes kept and held hers, the way his hand felt against hers. As he explained, she followed, and they sat on the roof, then reclined, gazing up at the sky that was too polluted with light and emissions to truly see the stars.

The way he told it, the corp had been the aggressors, the bad faith negotiators, the ruthless ones in the whole affair. She tried to square that with the stories her brothers told about the negotiations, their breakdown, and the resulting violence. Were they really capable of that kind of brutality? Was Colt?

"Would you ever... show me?" Turning her head, craning her neck to look over at Colt as they lay on the roof.

@Colt Sigvardsen
 
@Margo Bennett

He smiled and looked back to her.

His hand found hers and laced fingers through. There was a gentle squeeze. It was a risk. She'd feel how rough his hand truly was. Nothing gentle about it, nothing soft. They are hands that live a hard life full of labor and violence. Maybe she'd pull away from it, but Colt was taking a chance that she wouldn't. That the connection he felt she was feeling equally.

"I could show you right now." Colt murmured softly. "My bike is behind the building. We could sneak out right now... and I can take you for a drive."

It would mean abandoning his mission here.

He hadn't done shit here that would progress the goals of his family. But... Colt had been living for his family for years now. Even before his father was killed in the first thralls of this cold war between a family and a corporation. Was it really that bad if he took a moment to live for himself? Tomorrow he could go back to the war. There would always be something he could do... something that wouldn't wound this beautiful creature laying next to him.

It was possible, wasn't it?

To live two lives... he was starting to believe it.
 
The refusal came to her lips immediately, but stopped there. Was it insane that she was contemplating getting on the back of a stranger's bike in an evening dress and jewelry enough to finance a year's tenancy in a megabuilding? Certainly. And that was to say nothing of the man's stated goals to cause trouble here, for her family. There was a whisper of warning in the back of her mind, that it was foolish, but --

"Yes," she said. "But not like this. Need to change."

Margo almost hadn't noticed that he had taken her hand; it felt almost automatic. Who was this person, who seemed to have a direct line to her mind? "Meet me out back?"

@Colt Sigvardsen
 
He didn't think.

She said yes and asked a question, but frankly Colt didn't hear the question. He was already leaning in to kiss her before he knew what was happening. Their eyes met for a brief moment before their lips would follow suit. If there was shock or disgust, he'd stop right there... but if there was even a hint that it was a welcome approach? He'd celebrate... by giving her a soft and tentative kiss while cupping her jaw.

"Yes... I will wait for you."

The next moments, breaths, happened one after another in a cycle he could hardly remember later on. It was like he was drugged, drunk or both at once. His feet carried him through the building, outback.

Just as Margo, he himself had a wardrobe change. Back then it had been to replace any blood and to shake off a tail in pursuit of a murderer.

That's how Margarita would find him. Already on the bike, in a distinct different set of clothes that fit him much better, having another smoke.

@Margo Bennett
 
The kiss they shared had been surprising, and not necessarily unwelcome. The intensity of what connected them crystalized for her, and she leaned into it. Neither a blushing virgin nor an accomplished lover, Margo's response was tentative, shy, uncertain, but not unhappy. She didn't know how long they sat like that, but when they separated, she had to take a deep breath.

She allowed him to help her to her feet and they separated with plans to meet again. Margo was almost certain that Colt meant her no harm, but things got dicey in the streets of Night City, and she understood they got fairly dicey outside of the city, too. If anything happened to her, she didn't want to be another statistic, another body mouldering in a landfill while her parents anxiously worried. So she scrawled a note, asked a member of staff to deliver it to her best friend at the party, and then proceeded to her car.

Margo kept a small wardrobe in the back of her car for any occasion -- or at least she thought she had. Nothing had prepared her for this occasion. She had some freshly laundered gymwear that would just have to do; a pair of plain black leggings, a dark blue tank top, which she wrapped in a hip-length leather jacket. Forgoing her gym shoes for a pair of fashionable and durable boots, Margo topped it off by tucking her hair under an I <3 NC ball cap. She slung her purse over a shoulder to sit crossbody against the opposite hip before going in search of Colt.

She found him at his bike, just as he said. He looked much more at-ease in his clothes. "Will I look terribly out of place out -- there?" she asked, waving expansively off to the side to indicate somewhere generally not within the city.

@Colt Sigvardsen
 
The moment she arrived on the scene his eyes got a bit wider.

She was just as beautiful like this as she had been in her gala outfit. In a way even more so, because before she had looked like something out of a dream. Which made him concerned that if he didn't hold tight to her she'd slip out of his arms and it would all become a nightmare. Now she looked real. If he touched her shoulder, there would be purchase and it would validate everything he was feeling.

It did mean that it took him a moment longer to respond.

"I... sorry, what?" Then a quick blink and Colt flushed slightly. "Yes, no, you look... perfect." His eyes briefly looked her up and down. "Well, a bit... expensive, but you have an angry man carrying a gun with you, so you will be safe."

He pushed himself forward on his bike to make space behind him.

"You ever been on a bike before?"

@Margo Bennett
 
"I have one myself," said Margo. She went to one knee, then the other, to make sure her boots were secure before she climbed onto the back of his bike with the grace of a dancer (or, more relevant, a practiced rider). She settled against his back, her arms circling his middle for security. Margo's chin rested against his shoulder, making it easy for her to go on: "Nothing fancy -- a '79 Nazaré. My brothers gave it to me for graduation."

She waited til they had peeled off into the streets.

"I race sometimes. Nothing in the major leagues, 'course. But it's true what they say about corpo brats. A life of unearned wealth is boring; they'll do anything for a thrill."

Margo left a beat there; was that why she was doing this ludicrous thing with a total stranger? This had certainly been the most exciting evening she could remember. Then: "Why are you angry? Should I have brought one for myself?"

@Colt Sigvardsen
 
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