Chapter 7: Monkey

Artemvian walked the busy metropolitan streets, trying his damndest to follow the GEEPEE-YES.

“More like GEEPEE-No.”  Artemvian complained, navigating through the busy intersections.

Atleast now, no one looked at Artemvian with that weird look they used to.

After buying a gun, Artemvian was heading home when he saw a peculiar shop.  A shop where people went in and came back out looking completely different.  The mage sat on a nearby bench, studying the store’s customers.  The people who went in were not the same as the people who came out.  Hair color, style, even length and cosmetic changes that changed the person’s facial structure: a variety of things happened there.

Artemvian was curious, but he wasn’t about to start spending his hard-earned doilies on something as vain as looks.

Well, he wanted to but somehow he was scared of that place.  Not scared as in ‘I’m creeped out by the ancient cursed burial grounds of a long-forgotten tribe of people’, no, definitely not that.  When the mage had taken a step forward, he realized most of the people who went into the storefront had been women.  Or men with a certain type of flair and aura about them.  Artemvian didn’t want to stick out like a sore-thumb, so he settled for the next best thing: clothes.

Luckily for Artemvian, there had been a clothing store right next to the makeover place.  He ditched the black leather jacket donated to him by the nameless thug on day one.  He bought a long coat that hung down to his thighs, filled with pockets and etched with trims of neon-purple that seemed to glow in the night.  The store clerk told him that it could be turned off from his phone, or from an ONN once he got it implemented.

He switched the jeans for black denim, which the store clerk told him were RAW.  How the hell were clothing raw?  That made no sense, they weren’t cooked in the first place.

Having no idea what raw denim was supposed to be, he bought them not only because they looked stylish but because the clerk told him they were selvedge and made of special fibers.  All in all, Artemvian looked like he belonged in this world, albeit leaning towards the darker side of things.  Still, he decided it was money well spent especially if it got people to stop judging him based on his looks.

Maybe he was vain after all.

During his musings, Artemvian found himself at the corner where he was supposed to wait.  Taking out a small plastic bag full of homemade potato chips, courtesy of Brant, the mage began to delicately pick out each one.  He looked absently at his phone, noting that his contacts were five minutes late.

“That’s five hundred Doilies.  One for every minute.”  Artemvian muttered to himself.  He was determined to get money for his time.  He wasn’t running a charity after all.

No sooner had he said the words then a white car came screeching down the street.

The ear splitting shriek of tires burning on asphalt caused Artemvian to frown in displeasure.  He carefully put a protective hand over the plastic bag.

The white car was being chased by another group of similar looking white cars, plus people on motorcycles.  Somehow, they had roused themselves up into a frenzy, judging by the look on their faces.  Ugly scowls and hollering whoops of excitement mixed with anger rang throughout the air.  The pedestrians quickly made themselves scarce, disappearing into the crowd.  Before everyone could disperse, gunshots rang in the air, accompanied by the flash of sparks on the white car’s exterior.

The damage was done, people began to scream and run, trampling over themselves.

Realizing that something was unnatural, Artemvian quickly spread out his mana sense, bouncing it off of the nearest panicked people and bringing it back into his body.

“A mage?”  Artemvian frowned, analyzing the foreign mana.

Someone was casting a spell and Artemvian had to admit that it was pretty impressive.  Whoever this mage was, he or she had cast a double-layered spell that had caused the supernatural frenzy in the chasers and emphasized panic in the pedestrians.  It wasn’t too hard, the human body relied on nearly identical engines when it came to fight or run –a rush of adrenaline spiked with energy to the muscles.  The underlying cause might be different but the bodily response was the same.

It was impressive that someone in this era could layer it, determining which people would be affected and which people wouldn’t.  It was nearly enough to pique Artemvian’s interest.

Nearly.

The white car screeched to a stop in front of Artemvian, spinning sideways and nearly turning over.  One of the tires had been shot.  The door opened and two young people stumbled out.

The first was a young man of oriental descent wearing a black suit.  He held a gun in one hand, eyes shaking as he looked left and right.  His black hair fell to his shoulders in a straight line, marred by a line of blood that fell near his scalp.  The young asian man finally spotted Artemvian and said, “Artemvian Moneti?”

“The one and only.”  Artevian nodded happily, taking a bite of his potato chip.

The young man was followed by an equally young woman who was also Asian but that was there the similarities ended.  She was a slim doe of a thing, her white dress hanging off of her skeletal frame like a robe.  Her eyes were almost too big for her face and glowed with electronic orange and blue lights –signs of cyber enhancements.  She had a row of metal beads that ran down the side of her nose and the opposite side of her forehead, matched by a steel-colored nose-stud.  Her hair was a mixture of orange, blue and pink –all in the neon hue.

“Kim! It’s dangerous!”  The young man went over to her protectively, but for now the car served as a shield.

“It’s fine.”  Despite her slight frame, Kim’s voice was deep, for a woman anyways.  She turned her eyes to Artemvian.  “Mr. Artemvian, I suppose?”

“The one and only.”  Artemvian said again, popping another chip into his mouth.

Kim grimaced.  “I’m sorry, I know this is highly irregular.  But we were chased on the way here.”

“Oh really?”  Artemvian quipped.  “Didn’t notice.”  Then he gave a pointed look at the biker gang.

The young bodyguard frowned but didn’t frown anyways.  But Artmevian did notice the veins popping out of his hands as the gun was gripped tighter.

“The condition of the contract still holds, Mr. Moneti.”  Kim continued, “This was well within the outlines of our contract.  I hope you will honor it.  You came very highly recommended by-”

“I don’t have a problem with you guys being chased,”  Artemvian cut her off, “But you two were five minutes late.”

“What?!”  The bodyguard interjected, his face in disbelief.

“Chang,”  Kim snapped and said another word in a foreign language.  She turned back to Artemvian.  “We are, but can we discuss that later?”  She looked back and saw the other cars edging closer and closer, the frenzied bikers speeding up with loud engine sounds.

“No.”  Artemvian doubled down.  “I want your word that five hundred doilies will be paid, no questions asked.”

“You’re really arguing over five hundred doilies for a two hundred thousand job?!”  Chang snarled, taking a step towards Artemvian.

Artemvian waved a dismissive hand towards him.  “Separatum.”  He hissed.

And the nose of Chang’s gun fell to the ground.

The metal weapon had been cut in half.

Chang stopped.

Because as soon as his weapon had been cut in half, Artemvian had taken out a handgun and rested the muzzle right on Chang’s forehead where the cut was.

The muzzle was the size of Chang’s forearm.

“Don’t point your gun at me ever again, young man.”  Artemvian said, his voice low.  “Because I’m just dying to try my new toy out.  Hate for it to be you.”

Chang nodded, his eyes wide with shock.

“Mr. Artemvian, I agree to your conditions.”  Kim said.  “But I’m afraid we just lost our chance for escape.”

She was right, the bikers were fanning out around them.  The cars were skidding to a stop, creating a blockade in the middle of the streets.

Artemvian met Chang’s eyes one more time, making sure the young man was cowed.

Chang nodded and held his hands up, backing away from the mage.

Artemvian nodded, satisfied.  Young men like Chang only responded to displays of power like this, one where there was a clear hierarchy based on strength.  It was typical of men who belonged in gangs.  It had been like that in Artemvian’s world as well.  Besides, Artemvian had seen a documentary before going to sleep last night called ‘Chimp Kingdom’, and he realized that men were a lot like chimps.

“Ooo-oo-Ah! Ah!”  Artemvian chittered, thinking of the documentary.

“Looks like we can go home early tonight, boys.”  A voice rang out, followed by a round of laughter.  “They hired an autistic monkey!”

People began to get out from the cars, each of them dressed in a suit just like Chang.  But really, it was two people that drew Artemvian’s eye.

A bald man with a long brown coat with black gloves.  He wore sunglasses but Artemvian could tell that the man had his guard up, looking up and down at Artemvian.

The second man had long black hair that fell past his shoulders but that wasn’t all.  He was dressed in a mage-robe, complete with the fashionable high collar that rose past his cheeks.  The man’s eyes were calm and almost bemused, and when he spoke next Artemvian realized it was this man that called him a monkey.  

“I heard that your father hired a mercenary.  Paid a pretty penny too.  Didn’t think he hired a monkey.”  The man had an easy smile on his face.  “Well, no mercenary can get you out of this one, Kim.”  He gestured at the ring of gang members around them.

“Mr. Moneti,”  Kim whispered.  “I hope that 500 doilies was worth it.”

Artemvian nodded.  “Well, that’s why I get the shiniest gold coins.”  He stepped in front of Kim and Chang.  “I’m their contracted hire, you can talk to me.”

“Oh?  The monkey knows how to talk?”  The man laughed, causing their onlookers to laugh again.  “Alright then.  You want to negotiate? Fine.  Turn back and run, and I promise not to shoot you in the back.”

Artemvian ignored him.  “Artemvian Delacreau Moneti, at your service.  I’m assuming you must be the ‘brains’ so to speak, judging by all the mana oozing out of you right now.”

The man stiffened and Artemvian smiled.  This man was the one responsible for the double-layered spell that had caused the panic in the pedestrians as well as the unusual fierceness in the other gang members.

“So, not a complete monkey.”  The man finally replied.  “You can call me Fornello.”

“He’s one of the Empaths in the Hammerhead gang.”  Chang whispered.

“Still around, Chang?”  Fornello said out loud.  “You really should have ran when you had the chance.  Really, the only reason why Thomas keeps you around is for moments like this.  So that you can just bend over and die like the pawn that you are, buying a few seconds for his precious daughter.”  He fixed his gaze on Kim.  “Kimberly Yu.”

“Come with us and I promise not to hurt you.”  Fornello finished.

Kim flinched and hid behind Artemvian.

Artemvian nodded.  “Let’s discuss negotiations.”

“Negotiations?”  Fornello spat.  “What negotiations?  The only one who needs to stay alive is Kim.  The rest of you are dead.  And you lost your chance the moment you decided to talk to me about mana, instead of turning tail and running as I suggested, monkey.”

Artemvian sighed.

“Call me monkey again.”  He said, looking weary.

Fornello snarled and took a step closer.  “Mon-”

Artemvian pointed his index finger at Fornello, palm up.  Then he flicked the finger upwards.

“Ke-, AAAaaaaaaahhhhhhhh-”  Fornello’s voice cut off as he was blasted off into the air, becoming nothing but a small speck in the horizon, disappearing behind the skyscrapers.

The Mage brought his index finger to his lips, blowing on it as a cowboy might.  

“Damn, I’m good.”