Chapter 6: Gangs (2)

Riley brought Artemvian to a room upstairs.  Unlike the homey decor that lent an lived-in air of a well-run bar that screamed ‘local favorite’, the decor upstairs was the opposite.  The place was spotless to a fault and almost everything seemed untouched.  It kind of reminded Artemvian of what he felt when he first entered the hotel room he was living in now.  Everything was cold steel and sharp angles, even the couch that Artemvian sat on was uncomfortable.

“I thought the chairs back home were uncomfortable,”  Artemvian made idle conversation, sitting on the couch next to Riley.  Riley was swiping left on her tablet, her brows narrowed in concentration.  “But this beats the cake.”

“And trust me, that’s not metaphorical.  Once, I experimented with golem creation and menial kitchen tasks.  The result was not pretty.”

“I have two possible cases that you might be able to take.”  Riley ignored him, handing him a tablet.

“Tough crowd.”  Artemvian complained, taking the sleek metal computer.

Working the tablet was remarkably similar to working a phone.  So Artemvian swiped left and right, playing with the juxtaposition of the screen change while looking at Riley.  “I assume you’ll explain?”

“First, some background information.”  The Broker settled on the other side of the couch.  “Right now, Nero City is in the middle of a war.”

“I didn’t see any screaming women and starving children.”

“Not funny.”

“Sorry.”

“The war is not the type of war that you’re expecting, though bouts of violence are not exactly unheard of.  I’m talking about a war that’s happening beneath the surface, a war that’s played through all the channels available to powerful men.”  Riley started counting off on her fingers.  “I’m talking about a war that’s played by politicians, corporations, powerful illegal organizations and other players that haven’t even made themselves known yet.”

Artemvian understood what Riley was talking about immediately.  “It’s a war through cat’s paws.  That’s why you were willing to give me a chance.”

“You were lucky to find me when you did, right now, this is a seller’s market.”  Riley fired off.  “Mercenaries, gangs, security companies; everyone is looking to hire and good help is hard to find.”

“Because the more replaceable you are, the better.”  Artemvian muttered.  “Not officially tied to your organization means it’s easy to cut ties when it can be traced back to you.  Then there’s always the possibility you can use this and that excuse to lower their pay.”

“Yes.  A seller’s market it may be, but only if you’ve proven yourself to be reliable, strong and smart enough to not ask too many questions.”

“Interesting.”  The mage took the tablet, waving it in front of his face.  “And you’re telling me this because you don’t want me to get a big head, just for taking down a werewolf.”

“A Freak.”

“Whatever, a freak.”  Artemvian acquiesced.  It seemed the regular denizens of Nero City referred to the supernatural denizens as ‘Freaks’.  Freaks could be anyone from a failed experiment or a half-breed, atleast from what Artemvian could gather anyways.  It was difficult to assume what they classified as a Freak when the people in question didn’t have complete knowledge of the supernatural world.

“I’m telling you this, because this job is a level above the Bounty hunt.”  Riley met his eyes, and Artemvian saw the sincerity behind them.  “I don’t trust people easily, Mr. Moneti, but I saw what you were capable of.  And I don’t want to waste time trying to gauge your talents.”

“Decisive with good instincts.  You’ll make it far as a Mercenary Broker just yet.”

“There are two potential clients that I have connections with.  They’ve both asked for someone who has a proven track record and won’t ask too many questions.  In particular, they’ve asked for someone well versed in combat.”

Artemvian thought about the implications of Riley offering these jobs for him.  “You’re going out on a limb here, you’re going to have to ask them to trust you, vouching for me with your reputation on the line.”

She shrugged.  “Like I said, I have a feeling about you.”

The mage nodded calmly, looking at the digital files more seriously.  It was a big deal for a Mercenary Broker to put their reputation on the line for one of their mercenaries.  Of course, it happened with every transaction –but in this line of business, there was the general understanding that the Client was making a decision too.  They were saying ‘yes’ to the particular type of good offered by the Broker and rarely would they blame the Broker if a mercenary turned out to be poor.

But this was a different case entirely.  Riley would have to fight against her own clients, recommending Artemvian and asking them to go out on a limb, just as she was doing.  She was putting a lot at risk here, just to help out Artemvian.

Well, at least this would be his line of thinking in his old world.  Yet, things wouldn’t be too different here.  No matter where you went, people were the same.  Greedy, self-absorbed and always thinking themselves to be a bit smarter than they actually were.  Riley didn’t strike him as the type for charity, so there had to be another angle here.

Artemvian didn’t believe in charity.

“What’s your cut?”  He snorted, laying the tablet down on the table.

“High enough to take the risk.”  Riley smiled as she answered, figuring out the direction of Artemvian’s own thoughts.  “But I meant what I said, no matter the money, I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think you’re hiding a lot more than your showing.”

Artemvian nodded.  At least she was honest about it.  You could always believe a person if they were getting something out of the deal.  “Ok, I glanced over the jobs.  One was working for a gang leader and the other for a pharmaceutical company.”

“Yes.  To be more specific, the gang leader, Thomas Yu, is just in charge of a division for the Hammerhead Gang.  It’s an escort job.  He wants to make sure the goods are safely transported to the East side Docks.”

“And this job with the pharmaceutical… it looks like they just want to meet with me?”  Artemvian frowned.

“It’s the same pharmaceutical company which bought the body from your bounty.  Heard they paid a hefty sum.  Maybe they’re running some experiments on the Freak and want to hear from you what John Doe was capable of.”  Riley finished, “They’re called Whodorf Industries.”

Artemvian nodded grimly.  He didn’t voice it to Riley, but he had a feeling that the Pharmaceutical company –whatever they were– might be suspicious of something.  The body he brought back was John Doe, there was no doubt about it.  But Artemvian had made sure to eradicate the Lycan Spirit within John Doe’s body, which meant that there would be no magical residue of the Werewolf left.  He had been thorough with the procedure, doing it just as he had been taught.

Artemvian wasn’t sure how advanced the science of this world was, but his instincts screamed that this Whodorf Industries wasn’t made of chumps.  They definitely suspected him of tampering with the body somehow.

Worst case scenario, they had a mage who was of similar skill to Artemvian and simply wanted to get some payback.

“Guess the choice is laid out for me then.”  Artemvian muttered.

“Huh?”

“I said I’ll take the Hammerhead job.”

“Excellent choice.”  Riley took the tablet and her eye lit up, a sign that she was using her ONN.  “Working with Corporations is nice.  Good pay, and always clean aftercare –meaning that there’s no chance of revenge from a rival faction or anything.  But they always try to get their money’s worth and this request smells fishy in that aspect.  They’re paying too much just for a face-to-face.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”  It wasn’t what he had been thinking at all.

“Ok, I’ve sent a message through the Deepweb to the Hammerheads.  I’ll let you know as soon as something comes back.”

“What’s the Deepweb?”

“Mmm… imagine a secret underground community, where people can put out personal bounties or look for items that’s forbidden by the government.”

“A blackmarket of sorts.”  Artemvain answered.

“Exactly.”  Riley said.  “A lot of mercenaries are listed on the Deepweb.  Which I’ve been meaning to ask you about, after this job, how about registering on the Deepweb?”

“I can?”  Artemvian pointed to himself.  “But I don’t have an identity yet.”

“From this job, you’ll end up with about 108,000 doilies.  To make a fake identity, it costs around sixty to 80,000 doilies.”

“That’s considerably cheaper than I'd expected.”

“Because it’s a fake one, not a real one.”

Artemvian narrowed his eyes.  “You can buy a real identity?

Riley grimaced.  “Yes.  But expect to pay millions for that.  I’ve literally never heard of anyone else than a higher-up at the Deep Divers taking on those kinds of jobs.  And it’s not creating a new one, you take over the identity of the deceased who should be around your age.”

Artemvian grew pale.  “Infantile deaths.”

The Broker didn’t answer.

He shook his head, putting the ugly thought out of his mind.  Even for the mage-assassin, this wasn't a thought which he could just shrug off, especially in everyday conversation.  “If this job is likely to see combat, I will need to prepare.”

“What do you need?”

“I want a gun.”  Artemvian blurted.

“A gun?  What for?  You can literally shoot fire out of your hands.”

“I want a gun.”  He pouted.  “It looks nice.”

Riley rolled her eyes, muttering something that suspiciously sounded a lot like ‘boys’.  Her ONN flashed again.  “Ok, I’ve sent a location to your phone.  It’s a little out of the way for you, so take a cab.  I’ve also sent a message to the store owner, but just in case, tell him your name and that I sent you.  He should set you up.”

“Perfect.”  The mage said giddily.

“Oh wait.”  Riley’s ONN flashed again.  “Thomas Yu just replied.”

Artemvian folded his arm and leaned back, waiting.

Riley frowned.  “He’s asking if you can do the job tomorrow.  What kind of unprofessional…”

“He’s a gang boss, not a nobleman.”  Artemvian interjected.

“Even then, there’s such a thing as courtesy in our line of work.”  Riley complained, then hesitated.  “He’s offering a bonus of 50,000 Doilies if you do the job tomorrow.”

Artemvian raised an eyebrow, all languid felinity of a predator, lounging and watching the mice bicker with each other.  “Only 50,000?”

Riley looked surprised then smiled in the same way.  “Let’s see if we can raise that a little bit.”

In the end, Riley managed to bring the bonus up to 86,000 doilies, which raised the total to 194,000 doilies.  Almost double what had been promised before.  But before Artemvian could give his affirmation, Riley stopped him.

“Artemvian, you know what this means right?  The fact that he changed the schedule last minute and is willing to pay extra money?”

“An escort mission is always bound to change schedules.  Something’s always going to go wrong.”  Artemvian said softly.  “Whoever Thomas Yu’s rival is, they’re onto his plans and this isn’t a discreet meeting anymore.  It’ll be an open escort job, fire flying everywhere.”

“You sure you’re up for it?”  Riley chewed on her lower lip.  “It’s not too late to back out.”

“Oh I can’t do that.”  Artemvian got up from the couch, stretching.  “Without the Fairy Godmother, how will Cinderella ever get home on time?  Now, let me go get that gun before the clock strikes twelve…”

***

The gun store that Riley recommended was called Steel & Watch.

And walking in through the double-sided doors, Artemvian almost burned the man to a crisp out of reflex.

“Ack!”  Artemvian yelped out, seeing the store owner.

The storeowner was a stocky man.  He wore a well-mussed leather apron with thick arms covered by gloves.  There was a glass cylinder over one eye which constantly flashes whenever the man turned his head, strange numbers that made no sense to Artemvian flashing across the surface.  But that wasn’t what alerted Artemvian, the man’s face was that of a wolf.

“John?!”  Artemvian said comically, for no one’s benefit but his own.  “John Doe?  Back from the dead?”

“...You that Artem fellow?”  The man reached out his hand uneasily.  His voice was a throaty growl, almost like the beast whose head he had adopted.  “Kerog Watch.  Riley told me you’re looking for a gun.”

“Straight to business, eh?  No sandwich and chips around here I guess.”

The wolf-man snorted.  “Riley told me you were a weird one.  Now I see why.  C’mon then, we can skip the front and get to the good part.”

Artemvian had already been amazed by the front of the store.  Guns lined the numerous shelves and Artemvian could not take his eyes off of them.  Guns that fit in the palm of his hand, guns larger than his torso, guns with similar looking glass cyclings on them with long mouths that no doubt belched fire over long distances.  Looking at the tools brought a similar feeling that Artemvian had felt when looking at the Motorcycle: one of longing.

“There’re so many toys in this world.”  Artemvian whispered.

“You coming?”

Artemvian followed Kerog to the back.  Unlike the front, this place did not have the guns within easy each or locked behind bars of metal.  The guns here were placed in individual glass containers or showcased in metal briefcases spread often.  Kerog walked towards the corner without hesitation, leading Artemvian towards the place where the guns were smallest.

“Riley told me you’re looking for something you can protect yourself with.  The ones out front are for the enthusiasts.  People like you?  You want something hi-tech, with that cutting edge technology.  Or else you’ll never keep up.  Best to have spent money on a gun than to end up dead in an alley with a bank account full of 0’s.  You understand me?”

“I understand ya.”  Artemvian mimicked Kerog’s strange accent, managing the growl.

Kerog looked wide-eyed at Artemvian then went back to the guns.  “Crazy ass motherfucker…”

“My recommendations is this one.”  Kerog took a gun from a briefcase and gave it to Artemvian.  “AAA-89, came out 10 years ago, but this is the latest edition.”

“What’s so special about it?”

“Automatic Aim Assistant, hollow rounds that burst upon impact.  Now these babies don’t pack a heavy punch, you can see how small it is.  But the Automatic Aim Assistant is programmed to aim around armor and calculate movement on the fly.  Plus the hollow round bursts explode into tiny shrapnel, not lethal mind you, but annoying as hell when it blows up near your face.  It’s rough but nothing better for when you need something quick, more for using a quick escape than standing your ground.”

Most of what the man said went over Artemvian’s head.  But he did understand one thing.

“So this is a coward’s weapon?”

Kerog looked at Artemvian like the mage had three heads.

“I do not want it then.”  He was still imitating Kerog’s accent.  Artem put a hand on his chin, pretending to think.  Then like a delighted baby, pointed at one of the guns behind the glass display.  

“I want that one!”