Work Text:
Erik jerked upright as something slammed into the doors. He’d maneuvered a thick metal beam across the doorway to ensure he wouldn’t be interrupted.
The beam was now bent at a nearly right angle. It dragged across the floor as something pushed the door open in one slow arc. Like there wasn’t a few hundred pounds weighing it down.
The man who came through was tall and thin. His face was placid. Only a single hand splayed across the door’s wood. He wasn’t even breathing hard. Sharp black eyes scanned across the room. Taking in Erik. The knives hovering around him. The bleeding man tied to the chair. All with the same apparent interest as the curtains covering the window.
"Well, I was not expecting this.” The English was accented but clear enough that Erik didn’t have to struggle to understand. “May I ask who you are?”
“You first.” He slid half of the knives to point in the new man’s direction, rather than his prisoners.
“You may call this one Zhang Qishan.”
The prisoner flinched, whimpered. Wiggled in a way that implied he’d have tried to run if he wasn’t tied down.
“Lehnsherr.”
“Ah, one of Europe’s famed Nazi hunters.” Zhang Qishan turned away from the knives still hovering over him. Kicking the beam away with a contemptuous flick of his foot, he closed the doors again. With himself still inside. “I would suggest you inform the local parties of your hunts in future.”
“This is not usually authorized work.” Even the governments for the allies frowned upon the extrajudicial killings. As though he should debase himself over and over by bringing his family's killers to the police. Pleading for justice in front of a jury of peers who’d turned a blind eye to the disappearance of the Jews.
“The families are not precisely in the authorization business either these days.” Zhang Qishin picked up a heavy wood and cloth armchair and carried it over. Placing it where he’d have a prime view of the prisoner. Still ignoring the knives trailing him. “He’s not one of mine. Or I’d ask you to allow me the right to finish the matter. I’ll speak to my cousins regarding the matter. If you can show me the proof of what he did to bring to your attention.”
The prisoner whimpered and moaned. The tone was something like pleading.
“Why should I interfere? If you are an enemy of the party? My history is still the topic of gossip among the families, is it not?” Zhang Qishin's voice held nothing but contempt for the prisoner.
“I don't," Erik said. Not liking being so far out of the loop.
“Do you plan to ally with the party? Or my family?”
“I don’t know your family. And have no interest in relying on politicians to keep their word no matter what their beliefs.”
“Then I have no interest in sharing my private business with you. Don’t you agree?" A single raised eyebrow.
A dare for Erik to take exception and escalate things. A line in the sand. Where a single death of a confirmed Nazi collaborator and spy was acceptable. Only not at the expense of any state secrets.
Erik itched to take the dare. Push his luck. The knives began to spin in place in response to his rising agitation. But the man was still sitting there, unbothered by the obvious proof of Erik’s mutation. The metal bar, now sadly abandoned in the corner, was a warning. Erik had already lost the element of surprise. Showing his own powers so openly while whatever mutation Zhang Qishin carried could have unknown depths.
He scanned the man again. Searching for any signs of potential power. He still appeared unremarkable. Like Erik one of the ones lucky enough to be human passing. A slight difference in his hands, but nothing that would give anyone pause.
“Did you know I was here?” Had this whole thing been a trap? A way to draw out a hunter for the low cost of an already compromised spy?
“No. Not you precisely. He was under suspicion. A new, strange foreigner was stalking him. Before they disappeared together. I expected a collaborator had come to smuggle him away.”
So, it was a trap. For different prey.
“I won’t be gentle on him just because you are watching.” The hunger for vengeance. The nightmares of the camps. Of watching slow death come for hundreds of those around him. It wouldn’t be sated by a simple knife through the heart.
Zhang Qishin waved his hand negligently. “As I said, he isn’t one of mine. His secrets, and the manner of his death is not my responsibility to guard.”
-
True to his word, Zhang Qishin didn’t interfere throughout the entire time Erik worked. It was almost possible to forget he was there, for how quiet and still he became when Erik wasn’t looking at him.
The dawn started sending light through the curtains before Erik was done. His prisoner was more blood than human.
He pulled his knives away and began to clean them with a militaristic zeal. Niggled by the iron in the blood from that filth marring the singing purity of the metal.
“Are you planning any other hunts while you're here, Lehnsherr?”
“Not right now. I found him through a smuggler planning to take him to Argentina. A few more names in China, but none are close by.”
“I’d ask you to share at least the names and locations.”
Erik stared him down. It would be a risk. Let them set a proper trap for him. It's easy to let him go here when they weren’t prepared for a mutant of his capacity. Only to make up for it later.
“I won’t force you. Traitors being cleaned out is to the benefit of our country. Besides, it is personal validation of my own feelings.”
Still, those vague implications that he had a similar background to Erik. Without giving details. “If you don’t mind me hunting them, why do you care where I do it?”
“It would be a shame if you were to be killed over a simple misunderstanding. When your work is so necessary.”
Necessary. A good definition of it. Worthy of a compromise, if not trust. “Give me a way to contact you. I’ll let you know once I catch them.”
Zhang Qiling’s mouth quirked into an almost smile. “My thanks.”