Chapter 2 - First Tastes

The morning light in Ravenor's cramped living room felt like an unwelcome spotlight. I woke on a threadbare couch, every inch of my body stiff. My mind still churned from the alleyway and that thug's abrupt surrender—had it all been a dream?

I sat up, wincing at an ache in my ribs. The room smelled faintly of old coffee and stale cigarettes, but at least I was indoors, safe from last night's nightmares. I rubbed my eyes, half-expecting Ravenor to loom over me with that eerie grin, but he was nowhere to be seen.

A cheap wooden table sat in the corner, cluttered with papers, takeout cartons, and a single black notebook. Against the wall, a scuffed dresser held a small mirror. In that dull reflection, I looked like hell—disheveled hair, faint bruises under my eyes, and the weight of a thousand bad decisions slumped on my shoulders.

"Alright," I muttered. "Time to figure out what the hell I've gotten into."

A door at the far end of the room creaked open. Ravenor emerged, wearing the same long coat as if it were his second skin. He carried a mug in one hand and studied me with unsettling calm.

"Morning, Sorin," he said, stepping closer. "Or afternoon, really. You slept like the dead."

I cleared my throat, masking my unease. "Yeah, well…short night, right?"

He offered me the mug—black coffee, no cream or sugar. I mumbled thanks and took a gulp. It was bitter, almost burnt, but somehow suited the bleakness of my new reality. Ravenor watched me drink, his gaze sharp.

"You said last night you wanted out," he began, leaning against the wall. "No more cowering, no more letting scum push you around."

My voice came out scratchy. "I…meant it." A dull memory flashed through my mind of how easily he shut down that thug. "But I still don't understand. It looked like you waved some cash and the guy just…fucked off."

Ravenor's lips curved. "Money was part of it. People are shaped by subconscious cues—posture, tone, eye contact. When I matched his stance, he felt we shared the same mindset. That's Mirroring, and it's subtle but potent. If you do it right, the other person can't figure out why they suddenly see you as less of an opponent, more of a…comrade."

I shivered. "So you trick them into trusting you?"

"In a sense." He paused, swirling his own coffee. "Trust, compliance, even fear—they're all emotions you can nudge. Yesterday was child's play: a low-intellect thug, easily manipulated."

I stiffened at the memory. "He still could've brained me if you hadn't shown up."

Ravenor let out a low laugh. "Don't worry, we'll move you up from surviving morons to handling bigger threats. But first…" He set his mug down with a thud. "We start with basics. Active Listening, Mirroring, Positive Reinforcement, that sort of thing. You practice on simpler targets before you escalate."

A knot formed in my gut. "So we're just…gonna manipulate people for fun?"

He cocked his head. "Fun, survival, control—call it what you will. Did you forget you're drowning in debt with no way to pay it off?"

The truth landed like a punch. "Fine," I muttered. "What now?"

"Put on your shoes and follow me. We'll do a simple exercise." His lips twitched into a half-smile. "Think of it as orientation."

I downed the last of my coffee, grabbed my jacket, and tried to steady the jitters twisting in my stomach. Ravenor led me out of his dingy place and into the street. The city assaulted my senses: horns blaring, sidewalks teeming with people who looked preoccupied or pissed off, neon signs flickering overhead in garish pinks and blues.

"Stick close," Ravenor said, weaving through the crowd. "First exercise: Mirroring someone without letting them notice."

A dozen questions collided in my head, but I didn't voice them. I forced myself to keep up. After a few blocks, we ducked into a little corner store. Rows of dusty shelves displayed cheap snacks, soda, and a suspicious herbal remedy section. Behind the counter stood a tired-looking clerk scrolling on his phone.

"Buy something," Ravenor murmured. "A small item. While you do, mirror his body language—if he leans, you lean; if he crosses his arms, you cross yours. Then reinforce him positively if he does something helpful."

"Reinforce…like praising a dog?" I asked, my lip curling in distaste.

He smirked. "Humans aren't that different."

I sighed and approached the counter, half-expecting the clerk to snap at me for loitering. He glanced up, disinterested. "Help you?"

I looked at the rack of candy bars. "Um, yeah, can I get—uh…" My voice was shaky. God, Sorin, get a grip. "Let me have this chocolate bar."

He tapped at the register. "Dollar fifty."

I fished out two crumpled bills. As I handed them over, the clerk exhaled, slouched forward, and rested his elbows on the glass counter. Following Ravenor's instructions, I mimicked the movement—slowly leaning my elbows down. Don't make it obvious. Don't fucking stare. My chest constricted with awkwardness.

"Long day?" I offered quietly. "I feel you, man."

He lifted his gaze, blinking. "Yeah, it's been bullshit. My boss has me covering extra shifts."

I tried to keep my voice empathetic. "That sucks. But hey, I appreciate you sticking it out. People like me would starve if these stores weren't open."

He let out a faint laugh and handed me my change. "Guess so."

"Thanks," I said, giving him a small nod. "Seriously—thanks for still being here so late. You're doing a good thing."

He frowned a moment, but his posture softened. "Heh. Yeah, I guess."

I took the candy bar and stepped aside. Ravenor waited by the door, arms folded. Outside, he beckoned me across the street, out of the clerk's earshot.

"Well?" I asked, feeling weirdly self-conscious. "I just…kind of copied his movements and said some nice shit."

Ravenor's eyes gleamed. "You saw how he warmed to you the moment you matched his posture, right? Subtle shift. Then you gave him a dose of Positive Reinforcement—thanking him for staying open and acknowledging his shitty day. Looked like it took him off-guard."

I thought back. The clerk's shoulders had indeed relaxed, and he'd almost smiled. "But so what? That's just being polite."

"It's polite with intent," Ravenor said. "That's how it starts. You practice manipulation in harmless ways until it's second nature. Soon, you won't need to think about it."

"Fine," I muttered. "But this is just small-time—like a harmless fucking social trick."

Ravenor's grin turned sharper. "When it matters—say, convincing a landlord not to evict your broke ass—these minor tactics pave the way. Trust me, you'll see results."

I exhaled, letting my gaze wander to the bustling street. "Is this how you handled that thug last night too? Mirroring?"

He nodded. "Among other things. I mirrored his tension, then I anchored a simple idea—'I have better shit to do than kill this loser.' He subconsciously felt he'd be wasting time messing with you."

The term "anchored" rattled in my mind. Part of me felt sick—like I was betraying people by messing with their heads. But a louder voice reminded me: Dying in a gutter isn't exactly better.

"Come on," Ravenor said, tapping my shoulder. "We'll try one more scenario." He steered me along the sidewalk until we reached a beat-up kiosk selling newspapers, cheap cigarettes, and random knickknacks.

An older woman wearing a puffy coat rummaged through postcards. Ravenor's eyes flicked to me. "Get her to buy a trinket for you."

I balked. "Why the hell would she do that?"

He smirked. "Positive reinforcement, a sprinkle of pity, maybe some social proof: 'Others are getting these—don't miss out.' We're testing your nerve here, Sorin. Show me you can push a stranger's impulse."

My stomach clenched. That felt worse than the clerk scenario—this was direct. But I squared my shoulders. If I was serious about taking control of my life, I had to learn the ropes.

Swallowing my fear, I approached the woman. "Excuse me?" She glanced over, mildly curious. "Could I trouble you for a moment?"

She hesitated. "Uh… sure?"

I forced a nervous grin, raising the candy bar in my hand. "I know this is random, but I'm collecting these local postcards for my mom, and I, uh, ran short on cash after buying a snack. Could you possibly help me buy one? She's sick, and it'd mean a lot to send her something."

The woman blinked, uncertain. I felt my pulse hammering. Keep calm. Empathy, positivity, maybe mild social proof.

"I saw a few folks looking at these postcards earlier," I continued, nodding at the kiosk. "They're popular, might sell out soon. It's just a couple bucks, but I'm strapped. I'd owe you big time."

Her gaze shifted to the postcards, then back to me. "Well… alright. Sure. It's not too much, right?"

My stomach flipped with adrenaline. "Thank you. Really, you have no idea how grateful I am. Your kindness is…amazing."

She handed the kiosk vendor a couple of dollars, picking a card that featured a rundown skyline, then passed it to me. "Hope your mom appreciates it."

I managed a bright grin. "She will. You're sweet. Thanks again."

As she left, the kiosk vendor shot me an annoyed glance—probably suspecting I'd hustled her. I didn't care. A weird rush of triumph and guilt coursed through me. I actually made a random stranger buy something for me. Even though it was just a cheap postcard, the power behind it felt… intoxicating.

Stepping back to Ravenor, I held up my prize. "See? She fell for it."

He offered a curt nod. "You played pity, introduced some scarcity—'might sell out soon'—and praised her decency. Well done, Sorin. You're picking this up quickly."

My throat felt dry. "I'm not proud, but… if it works…"

Ravenor's gaze settled on me, cold but impressed. "It sure as hell works. And this is only Tier 1 stuff: Active Listening, Mirroring, Positive Reinforcement, mild Scarcity. Imagine what you could do once you learn real, bone-chilling manipulation."

I clutched the postcard, mind whirling with a mix of exhilaration and dread. "Let's… go," I managed. "I've seen enough for one day."

Ravenor just smiled that ominous smile. "Don't fool yourself, Sorin. We're only getting started."

Then he turned and guided me back into the city's haze, leaving me to wonder just how far I'd sink once I discovered the true depths of this dark art.