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friendlyneighborhoodpsyop · 3 years

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Quotes about Kaz Brekker:

Every act of violence was deliberate, and every favor came with enough strings attached to stage a puppy show.

The boy called Dirtyhands didn’t need a reason any more than he needed permission.

He was a collection of hard lines and tailored edges.

“Who’d deny a poor cripple his cane?” “If the cripple is you, then any man with sense.”

“I’m a business man,” he’d told her. “No more, no less.” “You’re a thief, Kaz.” “Isn’t that what I just said?”

“I’m not here for a taste. You want a war, I’ll make sure you eat your fill.”

The boy he’d been talking to had been cocky, reckless, easily amused, but not frightening—not really. Now the monster was here, dead-eyed and unafraid. Kaz Brekker was gone, and Dirtyhands had come to see the rough work done.

“You’ll get what’s coming to you one day, Brekker.” “I will,” said Kaz, “if there’s any justice in the world. And we all know how likely that is.”

“Well I’m the kind of bastard they only manufacture in the Barrel.”

Inej was always trying to wring little bits of decency from him. “When everyone knows you’re a monster, you needn’t waste time doing every monstrous thing.”

“Greed is your god, Kaz.” He almost laughed at that. “No, Inej. Greed bows to me. It is my servant and my lever.” “And what god do you serve, then?” “Whichever will grant me good fortune.”

“What’s the difference wagering at the Crow Club and speculating on the floor of the Exchange?” “One is theft and the other is commerce.” “When a man loses his money, he may have trouble telling them apart.”

“You’re a blackmailer—“. “I broker information.” “A con artist—“. “I create opportunity.” “A bawd and a murderer—“. “I don’t run whores, and I kill for a cause.”

“You see, every man is a safe, a vault of secrets and longings. Now, there are those that take the brute’s way, but I prefer a gentler approach—the right pressure applied at the right moment, in the right place. It’s a delicate thing.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard the stories.” “Each more grotesque than the last.” Brekker’s hands were stained with blood. Brekker’s hands were covered in scars. Brekker had claws and not fingers because he was part demon. Brekker’s touch burned like brimstone—a single brush of bare skin caused your flesh to whither and die. “Pick one. They’re all true enough.”

Kaz was not a giddy boy smiling and making plans for a future with her. He was a dangerous player who was always working an angle.

“Please, my darling Inej, treasure of my heart, won’t you do me the honor of acquiring me a new hat?”

Brick by brick. It was a promise that let him sleep at night, the drove him everyday, that kept Jordie’s ghost at bay.

Kaz’s servant, greed, luring them South like a piper with a flute in hand.

“Being angry at Kaz for being ruthless is like being angry at a stove for being hot. You know what he is.”

“I wouldn’t trust you to tie my shoes without stealing the laces.”

Matthias knew monsters, and one glance at Kaz had told him this was a creature who had spent too long in the dark—he’d brought something back with him when he’d crawled into the light.

“The easiest way to steal a man’s wallet is to tell him you’re going to steal his watch. You take his attention and direct it where you want it to go.”

“You can’t spend his money if you’re dead.” “I’ll acquire expensive habits in the afterlife.”

“I don’t want to die.” “I’ll do my best to make other arrangements for you.”

“You came back for me.” “I protect my investments.” Investments. “I’m glad I’m bleeding all over your shirt.”

Matthias suspected that Brekker would drag the girl back from hell himself if he had to.

He’d gifted her her first blade, the one she called Sankt Petyr—not as pretty as wild geraniums, but more practical.

“Kaz told me...he said it was my choice, that he wouldn’t be the one to mark me again.”

Because I’ve been looking for an excuse to talk to your for two days.

He needed to know she believed in him.

“What to do you want, then?” The old answers came easily to mind. Money. Vengeance. Jordie’s voice in my head silenced forever. But a different reply roared to life inside him, loud, insistent, and unwelcome. You, Inej. You.

Kaz would always remember that moment, when he’d seen greed take hold of his brother, an invisible hand guiding him forward, the lever at work.

There could be no judgement from a boy known as Dirtyhands.

“Let’s say the mark is a tourist walking through the barrel. He’s heard it’s a good place to get rolled, so he keeps patting his wallet, making sure it’s there, congratulating himself on just how alert and cautious he’s being. No fool he. Of course every time he pats his back pocket or front of his coat, what’s he doing? He’s telling every thief on the Stave exactly where he keeps his scrub.”

It was because she was listening so closely that she knew the exact moment when Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the bastard of the barrel and the deadliest boy in Ketterdam, fainted.

He’d heard there were sharks in these waters but they wouldn’t touch him. He was a monster now, too.

He’d imagined his death a thousand ways, but never sleeping through it.

It was as if once Kaz had seen her, he’d understood how to keep seeing her.

“If it were a trick, I’d promise you safety. I’d offer you happiness. I don’t know if that exists in the barrel, but you’ll find none of it with me.” Better terrible truths than kind lies.

He knew he was being reckless, selfish, but wasn’t that why they called him Dirtyhands? No job too risky. No deed too low. Dirtyhands would see the rough work done.

A good magician wasn’t much different than a proper thief.

She could see it took every last bit of his terrible will to remain still beneath her touch. And yet, he did not pull away. She knew it was the best he could offer. It was not enough.

“Some people see a magic trick and say, ‘Impossible!’ They clap their hands, turn over their money, and forget about it ten minutes later. Other people ask how it worked. They go home, get into bed, toss and turn, wondering how it was done. It takes them a good nights sleep to forget all about it. And then there are the ones who stay awake, running through the trick again and again, looking for the skip in perception, the crack in the illusion that will explain how their eyes got duped; they’re the kind who won’t rest until they’ve mastered that little bit of mystery for themselves. I’m that kind”

“You love trickery.” “I love puzzles. Trickery is just my native tongue.”

“Do you know the secret to gambling, Helvar? Cheat.”

There was no part of him that was not broken, that had not been healed wrong. There was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken.

Her eyes were shut, her oil-black lashes fanned over her cheeks. The harbor wind had lifted her dark hair, and for a moment Kaz was a boy again, sure that there was magic in the world. She’d laughed, and if he could have bottled the sound and gotten drunk on it every night, he would have. It terrified him.

You’ve cheated death too many times. Greed may do your bidding, but death serves no man.

He needed to tell her...what? That she was lovely and brave and better than anything he deserved. That he was twisted, crooked, wrong, but not so broken that he couldn’t pull himself together into some semblance of a man for her.

“Saints, Kaz, you actually look happy.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. But there was no mistaking it. Kaz Brekker was grinning like an idiot.

“I can hear the change in Kaz’s breathing whenever he looks at you.” “You...you can?” “It catches every time, like he’s never seen you before.”

“How will you have me? Fully clothed, gloves on, your head turned away so our lips can never touch? I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.”

“I’m not big on bluffing, am I, Inej?” “Not as a rule.” “And why is that?” “Because he’d rather cheat.”

Inej wanted Kaz to become someone else, a better person, a gentler thief. But that boy had no place here. That boy ended up starving in an alley. He ended up dead. That boy couldn’t get her back. I’m going to get my money, and I’m going to get my girl.

“A proper thief is like a proper poison. He leaves no trace.”

There were no good men in Ketterdam, Kaz said. The climate didn’t agree with them.

“If you don’t care about money, Nina dear, call it by it’s other names.” “Kruge? Scrub? Kaz’s one true love?” “Freedom, security, retribution.”

“It’s pragmatic. If I were cruel, I’d give him a eulogy instead of a conversation.”

“You haven’t been alive long enough to rack up your share of sin.” “I’m a quick study.”

Patience, he reminded himself. He’d practiced it early and often. Patience would bring all his enemies to their knees in time.

“You’ve got the devil’s own blood in you, boy.”

Kaz was going to have to find a new language of suffering to teach that smug merch son of a bitch.

“I would come for you. And if I couldn’t walk, I’d crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we’d fight our way out together—knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that’s what we do. We never stop fighting.”

“My mother is Ketterdam. She birthed me in the harbor. My father is profit. I honor him daily.”

Desperate for some sign that he might open himself to her, that they could be more than two creatures united by their distrust of the world.

They could continue on with their armor intact. She would have her ship and he would have his city.

Sure, a lock was like a woman. It was also like a man and anyone or anything else—if you wanted to understand it, you had to take it apart and see how it worked. If you wanted to master it, you had to learn it so well you could put it back together.

He always liked returning to a home or business he’d had cause to visit before. It wasn’t just the familiarity. It was as if by returning, he laid claim to a place. We know each other’s secrets, the house seemed to say. Welcome back.

“When people see a cripple walking down the street, leaning on his cane, what do they feel? They feel pity. Now, what do they think when they see me coming?” “They think they’d better cross the street.”

“We can endure a lot of pain. It’s shame that eats men whole.”

“I don’t hold a grudge. I cradle it. I coddle it. I feed it fine cuts of meat and send it to the best schools. I nurture my grudges, Rollins.”

It was as if Kaz had a secret map of Ketterdam that showed the city’s forgotten spaces.

“I’ve taken knives, bullets, and too many punches to count, all for a little piece of this town. This is the city I bled for. And if Ketterdam has taught me anything, it’s that you can always bleed a little more.”

Was Johannus Rietveld meant to be his Jakob Hertzoon? Or had it been some way of resurrecting the family he’d lost? Did it even matter?

“I wreak all the havoc I can until my luck runs out, use our haul to build an empire.” “And after that?” “Who knows? Maybe I’ll burn it to the ground.”

Tell her to get out, a voice inside him demanded. Beg her to stay.

Kaz thought he knew the language of pain intimately, but this ache was new. It hurt to stand here like this, so close to the circle of her arms.

“These things don’t wash away with prayer, Wraith. There is no peace waiting for me, no forgiveness, not in this life, not in the next.”

Two of the deadliest people the barrel had to offer and they could barely touch each other without both keeling over.

A black glass boy of deadly edges.

A bit of entertainment, the dramatic end of Kaz Brekker, the humbling of Dirtyhands. But this was no cheap comedy. It was a bloody rite, and Per Haskell had let the congregation gather, never realizing the real performance had yet to begin. Kaz stood upon his pulpit, wounded, bruised, and ready to preach.

“You have two minutes to get out of my house, old man. This city’s price is blood, and I’m happy to pay with yours.”

“What is wrong with him,” Nina grumbled. “Same thing that’s always wrong with him. He’s Kaz Brekker.”

“Rich men want to believe they deserve every penny they’ve got, so they forget what they owe to chance. Smart men are always looking for loopholes. They want an opportunity to game the system. The toughest mark is an honest man. Thankfully, they’re always in short supply.”

“Well, Brekker, it’s obvious you only deal in half truths and outright lies, so you’re clearly the man for the job.”

“What do you think my forgiveness looks like, Jordie?” “Who’s Jordie?” “Someone I trusted. Someone I didn’t want to lose.”

He put his gloves back on and didn’t take them off. He became twice as ruthless, fought twice as hard. He stopped worrying about seeming normal, let people see a glimmer of the madness within him and let them guess at the rest.

The rage inside him burned on and he learned to despise people who complained, who begged, who claimed they’d suffered. Let me teach you what pain looks like, he would say, and then he’d paint a picture with his fists.

That was what destroyed you in the end: the longing for something you could never have.

“I will kill you, Brekker. I will kill everything you love.” “The trick is not to love anything.”

“Suffering is like anything else. Live with it long enough, you learn to like the taste.”

She smiled then, her eyes red, her cheeks scattered with some kind of dust. It’s a smile he thought he might die to earn again.

“He doesn’t say goodbye. He just lets go.”

“Ketterdam is made of monsters. I just happen to have the longest teeth.”

#soc #kaz brekker #quotes

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yourvenicebitchhh · 3 years

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DEKAPPEL HEIST PART TWO of three

"Three DeKappels?" said Jesper incredulously. "to Visser, Meyer, and Van Eck?"

Kaz gave a nearly imperceptible nod. "That's three merchers the Dime Lions have their teeth in."

"Since when did merchers accept money from the gangs?" Inej asked.

"Times are changing," said Kaz bitterly. He'd have to reevaluate the stocks he held at the Exchange. They could be usurped from him if the dirty Council was paid the right price by any of the gangs. "Every damn share in this besotted city is in jeopardy."

It was the second night of the infuriating heat wave. Kaz's veins were unusually fraught, his patience ran out and his temper unchecked. The cheap clock on his office wall chimed its off-key tune marking twelve o'clock.

"Get to the door, Jesper," Kaz snapped irritatedly.

"I was going," Jesper said sullenly, shutting the door behind him.

Kaz barely registered the look of what might have been hurt on the sharpshooter's face as he got up to pour himself a drink. He slammed a dusty glass onto his cluttered desk and filled it halfway. He threw it back and drained it to the bottom. He poured another one and flung his coat and jacket onto the bed, then slumped in his desk chair.

Inej had moved silently to the window sill. "Bad business on the East Stave again tonight, Kaz," she said quietly, watching the people below.

Kaz took a sip of whiskey. "Look down the street, Inej."

He heard her exhale. "Bad business at the Crow Club."

Kaz's response was the thud of the glass on wood. His leg pained him worse in the cold than it did in the heat, but stress did nothing to alleviate that tension either. Agony was shooting up his taxed muscles.

Inej was still on the sill, gazing outside. She looked like a saint when she sat like that. She should keep sitting like that. But now she was getting up and pouring her own drink. There, a few sips down. Now she was balanced easily on the edge of his desk, despite the drink.

"You know what we need?" Kaz said.

"Business?"

"Money.''

"Lots of it."

"Let's steal a painting."

Inej pushed her drink away. "Kaz, no."

"Yes. Let's steal a DeKappel."

She met his eyes. "Everyone in Ketterdam knows fully well you're a thief. Committing every sin to prove it is unnecessary."

"I want a painting, Inej."

"Buy one."

"But you said I'm a thief. What good is a thief who doesn't steal?"

She looked away, exasperated, and Kaz immediately regretted his words. He gazed at the girl, the phantom poised a few feet in front of him. He wanted to touch her just to see if she was real.

Kaz slid a leather covered hand into one pocket and pulled out a packet of cards. He flipped the deck face up and fanned it out.

Inej turned her head back to him at the sound.

He squared up the deck in his left hand, thumbing four cards over to his right. He showed these to her: the ace of diamonds, the king of clubs, the queen of spades, and the jack of diamonds. "The merchers make a profit the same way we do. They watch and wait. They invest and reap. They steal and they con, Inej, they just do it under a title to justify it." He showed her the seemingly same four cards in his right hand, but this time revealing four aces. "These are the same merchers who exchange human bodies, exploit children, and swindle countries for their personal gain. And the rats have the gall to call it trade."

Kaz flipped over the four cards again, showing four kings this time. "At least I know I'm a thief." In the second it took Inej to blink, he had the set of queens added to his hand. "Let's steal a painting. A DeKappel. Only the best for you, my queen." He set the four kings and four queens down on the desk.

Gingerly, she picked up the king of clubs and queen of spades. "What is this Kaz? You show me a card trick and feed me pretty words and you expect me to go along with your wishes?"

Kaz swept the remaining cards away in annoyance. He was about to take a gulp from the whiskey bottle when she spoke again.

"I know the merchers are cruel men. I know firsthand, Kaz." She set down three cards. somehow Inej had gotten ahold of the jack of diamonds. He almost laughed. Of course. If there was anyone in the world who could have seen around his sleight of hand and done a number on him, it was the Wraith.

"Let's go on a heist," she said.

The fog in Kaz's mind seemed to ebb away. For the first time in weeks, his head space was clear, beautifully, blissfully clear - save for the diabolical plans in formation.

____

Inej watched Kaz find Jesper at his post. At two and a half bells after midnight, Jesper looked exhausted from filling in as the role of a barker.

"Jesper."

"Yeah, boss?"

"We're on a job. I need you." It was Kaz's version of an apology.

"Not the painting?'

"Three."

"Three DeKappels, boss?"

"Three hundred thousand kruge if we’re lucky."

Jesper's smile could have lit all of the Stave. "Does this mean I'm off the door?"

"Better than that. You're on Geldstraat, tonight."

Inej crept around the gutter of the Crow Club and hopped to the ground of the back entrance where she waited for Kaz and Jesper. "Three paintings?" she asked them indignantly.

"You must not know me very well," said Kaz. "When you steal one thing, it’s an endeavor. When you steal two, it’s because you want to. When you steal three it’s just to show you can."

She shot him a disapproving glare. Typical Kaz, withholding the full extent of his thoughts and revealing it only when it pleased him. "And you don't suppose selling three DeKappels would be conspicuous?"

"Oh, Inej," said Jesper, “Ketterdam sees me every day. You think she can’t handle conspicuous?”

"No," Inej responded, "it seems I am the only one who cares for our safety."

"You doubt my ability to lift three paintings in one night?" Kaz asked.

"No," she said again. Why was she reluctant? Was it that the DeKappels were Ravkan? That they were landscapes of home? Was she really that partial to art? Or that she just wasn't eager to steal? Inej pulled her hood over her hair. "I doubt whether your ego could handle it."

Jesper snorted. "His ego is just as expansive as his greed."

"Infinite," conceded Inej.

"Never underestimate the overconfidence of men," said Kaz as they climbed into a rowboat. "With the right amount of zeal and cheating, we can easily accomplish this."

"With the right amount of cheating, we can accomplish anything," Jesper snorted.

"And the locks?" Inej inquired, ignoring the arrogance of her companions.

"Leave that to me," said Kaz.

"No Grisha for the job, or am I the only watch?" asked Jesper. "I hear there's one at the House of White Rose. No demo either, so my ravishing looks must be enough."

"Not this again,” muttered Kaz. “A Ravkan Heartrender at the White Rose, but we won't need her, not for this job."

They moved quickly over the waters, the dust and grime of the Barrel vanishing as they grew closer to the wealthy districts. Kaz explained the plan in his usual fashion - disclosing the least amount of information in the most infuriating way. They tied the boat to a miraculously clean dock.

Inej dismounted, the package strapped to her back incongruously throwing off her balance in a way that was perceptible only to her acrobat mind. The first house was on the left, daffodils sprouting merrily in the front yard. She followed Kaz to a window on the bottom floor, trusting his ample knowledge of the security in all of Ketterdam. She saw Kaz direct Jesper to the same gazebo she'd been in last night, to keep a trusted eye on the street and a steady hand on his gun.

Kaz's delicate gloved hands reached out and slid over the intricate lock at the side entrance of the mansion. "Fabrikator made," he said.

Inej glaced worriedly at him. She knew better than to doubt his skill, but Fabrikator locks required more than just ability to crack. They contained magic. This explained the quick trip he had taken before they'd gone to rescue Jesper from his post.

Something like a stamp appeared in Kaz's palm. "Fabrikator locks are just complicated latches. Extremely easy to pick, if not for the pulley system that lifts the latch. Nothing but a Fabrikator enchanted insignia can budge that pulley."

"Where did you get one?"

"I know every official locksmith and every undercover lock pick in this city. The hard part wasn't finding the insignia - it was determining which of these idiots weren't selling counterfeit ones without even being aware of it."

"Well, did you tell them they were fakes?"

"Of course not."

Kaz's hands passed over the lock on the door. Inej heard a cranking sound, then saw the flash of metal picks in his hands as the door popped open.

She was in and out in under three minutes, her package one-third lighter. Together, they carefully carried the sheet-wrapped painting to the boat.

The process was repeated at the gardenia house, the only difference being the size of the painting.

At the tulip decorated house, Kaz didn't unlock a side door. He left her in front of an obviously unlocked second floor window. "This is Jan Van Eck's house. The man is more prudish than the rest, so his painting is already hung up to be kissed in his office. It's the room to the right of this one. Enter through this window; it appears he doesn't know it's unlocked. Use the insignia to open the office door, then use the picks to finesse the lock. It's very simple, I've taught you this one already. Like I said, never underestimate the overconfidence of men."

Inej nodded, though she found one flaw with Kaz's words. "He's in his office," she pointed out. "I can hear him moving."

"I know," Kaz said. "He's so devoted to his piousness he's not yet asleep like a good little mercher. In ten minutes, you'll hear him leave. At that moment, you'll have exactly four minutes before he renters his office. Be at the barge with Jesper by then."

Inej breathed out. "Okay."

"If all goes well, send Jesper to bed and meet me in my office. We need to fence these as soon as possible."

She raised her eyes to meet his coal-black ones, grim as ever. "No mourners."

"No funerals."

#six of crows #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #nina zenik #wylan van eck #crooked kingdom

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