The restaurant turned out to be one of those hole in the wall places that barely had the wherewithal to put out plastic chairs, but serves food that could bring a Michelin rated chef to tears. Unfortunately, Adrian didn't really have the time to savor his Linguine con le Vongole served with a glass of Tuscan Pinot Grigio, as he was too busy listening to the leader of the NS-42s' complaints.
"If you think for one second that I'm going to let you poach on my territory and get away with it, you have another thing coming. You will give me back what is mine, or it will be war!" The shaven-headed and tattooed man growled, a little too loudly. Adrian noticed an unusual twitching in his left arm, under the sleeve of his coat.
[It doesn't look like some kind of hidden weapon. Honestly, it seems alive. No matter though, I doubt he has the balls to try anything here.]
They were occupying two sides of the only wooden table in the cramped restaurant, with their respective retinues taking up the rest of the available seating. It was a little strange to see the contrast between the black suited and intimidating members of the Ortegas, led by the bull-like Vance and the flashily dressed NS-42 crew, who looked like they were ready to shoot a rap video.
"Oi, fucker! I'm talking to you!"
Adrian realized that he'd zoned out again.
"Yes, yes...Marcus, was it? I understand your concerns, and I am truly sorry that such an unfortunate event took place. It is really quite a shame."
A vein appeared on the other man's forehead, pulsing intensely. "Listen here, you-"
Adrian got tired of playing nice. "No, you listen." He demanded intensely, allowing a bit of his own anger to leak into his voice. "I don't care if you are some kind of big shot downtown, to me, you are nothing more than a jumped-up street tough with more pride than sense. You and your gang were the ones that lost the item, the two who stole it merely came to me for protection. So believe me when I say, that I don't owe you anything."
Marcus refused to back down. "That doesn't change the fact that you have something that rightfully belongs to me!"
"No, I have something you want." Adrian replied with a smile. "Something you would give quite a bit for, unless I miss my guess."
The gang leader hesitated, an iron will quenching the fires of anger in his eyes. "You are offering me a trade."
"Indeed."
There was a few moments of silence, while Marcus frowned in deep thought, before finally he spoke again. "What do you want for it?"
Adrian laughed. "Ah, that's much better. Isn't so much easier once we get to the heart of the matter?"
"Cut to the chase, brat."
"Right, right. First, I made a little promise to your thieves, that they would be able to enjoy their lives without fear of reprisal from the NS-42s. While I personally don't care much about what happens to them, I do take my promises seriously."
Marcus gritted his teeth. "No deal! They can't be let to get away with this or it will ruin our credibility. We'll be swamped with people..." He trailed off, a look of realization on his face. "You said they would be protected from the NS-42s, right?"
"That's correct." The younger man answered, his smile growing a little wider.
The gang leader nodded. "Alright, I can work with that. What else do you want?"
"I really do appreciate intelligent business partners. It makes things so much easier. Payment for the item in question can be made in a number of currencies, depending on what it is worth to you. A man of your standing must have a wealth of resources at your disposal. Tell me, what do you think a relic of the Old Dark is worth?"
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Marcus felt chilled to the bone.
[How the hell does he know that?]
The Ortegas' representative continued to smile, evidently enjoying his shock.
"What? Do you think you are the only ones with access to old knowledge? How droll?"
The kid was mocking him again, trying to rile him up. Marcus couldn't tell if it was part of some kind of plan, or merely the product of some sadistic pleasure. Regardless, he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of losing his cool any further.
He forced himself to respond calmly. "So, what do you want? Drugs? Money? Territory?"
The youth shrugged, "I guess you could pay that way, assuming you had enough to buy a priceless item dating back to the time before man was the preeminent creature on this planet. However, I usually deal in more esoteric currency."
Marcus felt the chill return with a vengeance. He'd heard rumors of this kind of thing. Of people or creatures who traded in the immaterial. Beings who can take your memories, dreams, life, and even your soul if you aren't careful. Every instinct he'd honed over years told him to cut his losses and leave. Whatever bargain he struck would be far too costly.
But...
He was so close to possessing the strength he longed for. The power to take revenge on his enemy. To give up now, after all the years of struggle and hardship, it was simply too much.
Marcus examined the kid's face. His expression was one of amusement, although something about it seemed off. Something about his eyes didn't quite seem human. Staring into those dark pits only made him feel colder.
"Alright, you win. What do you want from me?"
"I'll give two options. One, you can simply owe me a favor. At some point in the future I would contact you with the stipulations, and you will be bound to uphold your end of the bargain."
Marcus blanched. That kind of thing was rather uncommon in the criminal underworld, for the simple fact that it required both parties to trust that they would follow through. Although, he figured that a deal like this would probably be a bit more binding than the average bargain between street gangs.
The, as of yet, unnamed young man continued. "I see that's a bit too much for you. So how about we institute a payment plan of sorts."
"What do you mean?"
"Simple. I happen to be new in town, and I'm looking to corner this particular market, but I'm finding myself short on clients. If you would be so kind as to point some in my direction..." He trailed off with a predatory smile.
[...So that's his game. Fine, I can think of a few folks that are desperate enough to deal with this thing.]
"How many?"
The youth paused, before answering, "Let's say five a month for the next year. Sound fair?" He offered his hand to shake.
Marcus trembled for a second, as a momentary slice of conscience troubled him. Finally he reached out and accepted the bargain, feeling a buzz of energy as he did so.
He was still reeling from the effect when the youth stood and motioned for his retinue to start heading out. "Good doing business with you. I hope that this will be the start of a long and fruitful relationship."
"Wait, what about my side of the deal? Where's the artifact?"
Turning, the young man gave Marcus a wry grin. "Why, its already been delivered. Contact your people if you don't believe me."
Once he'd left, the gang leader hurriedly took out his phone and dialed the number for his second in command.
"It's funny, I was just about to call you. What's up, boss?" Came the reply.
"Why?" Marcus growled.
"Some weird guy just dropped off a package for you. Its a shame you weren't here to see it, the dude was wearing an old fashioned suit and a sort of clown mask." His subordinate laughed. "He was a fucking nut, let me tell you. Anyway, we're about ready to head out and stick it to those Ortega bastards! Right guys?!"
An audible cheer could be heard through the phone.
"Stop, we aren't doing that anymore."
"Eh, what do you mean, boss? We've already got everything set up."
Marcus frowned in the direction of the door, "I don't know what happened, but the Ortegas are under new management, and so we're going to put our plans on hold for the moment."
"What, really?"
"Tell the guys that they are off-limits for the time being. We need to gather more information."
There was a pause. "So that's it? You're really going to let them get away with stealing from you?"
"I didn't say that, but we have to be patient. Only once we are good and ready will we make our move against them." The gang leader said before hanging up, trusting that his men would follow his instructions. While he was doing so, he realized that his left sleeve was twitching in an increasingly noticeable manner. It only did that when he was particularly agitated.
[No matter. Now that I have the artifact, nothing can stop me from getting my revenge. Once I'm done, I'll make that smug asshole regret ever crossing me.]
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Adrian settled back into the passenger seat of the SUV while feeling quite pleased with himself. The deal had gone more smoothly than he'd anticipated. From the way Vance had described them, he halfway expected the gang to attack as soon as they arrived. To his surprise, they turned out to be reasonable business partners. Although, it was a little disconcerting how much their leader seemed to know.
[I'll need to expand my information gathering. If even a low level street tough like that knows something about the supernatural side of the city, then I can't let my guard down.]
All of a sudden the Hall nudged his mind, pointing him in the direction of an alleyway nearby. He turned to the driver, a middle-aged and balding man that held himself in a way that suggested military experience. "You can let me out here."
The man looked at him as if he were crazy. "We're still in the bad part of town. I let a rich kid like you out here, and the next time I'll see you will be in the morgue."
Vance interrupted from the backseat. "Do what he says, Hank. Trust me, he can take care of himself."
The driver shrugged as he started to pull over. "Whatever you say, just don't come crying to me when some meth-head stabs you for your wallet."
Adrian stepped out of the vehicle, and then waited until it was out of sight before he started walking. Despite being the 'bad part of town,' there was surprisingly little of note. Sure the buildings seemed a bit older, and most of the storefronts had bars on their windows, but overall, it was pretty tame.
The alley itself appeared empty of anything of interest. After scanning the length of it, he was about to give up and summon the Gate, when he heard a faint noise.
He froze, investigating his surroundings more closely. After a few moments he noticed a small lump laying underneath a pile of moldy cardboard. Carefully, he nudged enough of the soggy material out of the way to reveal its contents.
[Oh? What do we have here?]
For a second, he thought he'd found a dead woman, at least until he noticed some shallow breathing. Despite these obvious signs of life, she looked more like a drowned corpse than anything. Her skin had a grayish-blue tint, and was covered in a thin layer of something slimy. When he pulled a discarded newspaper away from her face, he realized that she wasn't human.
Sea-green hair framed a face that was beautiful, in an alien way. Instead of ears, she had two fish-like fins on either side of her head. As he watched, her eyelids flickered, revealing a pair of oversized, inky orbs which seemed to devour the light. Judging from her appearance, she was sick or injured, and on the brink of death.
[Only one thing to do.]
Adrian kneeled down to the woman's head and asked, "So, do you want me to save you?"