Malcolm Tent
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Wish upon the Stars chapter 614
🕑 Added 2024-04-29 21:02:36 +0000 UTCDamned Souls was louder than the name implied. Or maybe it was just louder than the name led me to infer. I’d kind of assumed that the name spoke of a hallowed place full of dread whispers, but it was probably my mistake. I’d been in enough bars to know what they were like, and this one wasn’t much different.
A pool table, a series of booths, what looked like a card game going on in the back. Nothing groundbreaking or mindblowing. Just a place for people to get drunk and be stupid.
Abel, or rather ‘Kyle’ had figured out the trick to this place pretty much immediately. Which was to say there was no trick, in order to fit in with all the drunk people doing dumb shit, he just did the same thing they were doing. He downed a pint of the terrible beer (I was nursing mine, which I think made it worse), slammed his hand down on the table, and howled “Who thinks they can beat me at bloody knuckles?”
“No gloves.” Growled a huge bear of a man as he sat down at the circular table we’d taken up position at in the middle of the room. “And what’s the bet?”
Abel grinned wildly. “F-ranked chit per punch. Before you swing, you put some in the pot, whoever gives first loses, winner takes it all. I’m Kyle by the way. Best to get the introductions out of the way before I humiliate you so badly you try to kill me.”
The man barked a laugh. “Griff.” He said simply. “We using abilities in this littler game? Or are we keeping it simple?”
“Your call.” Said Abel lazily. “I can do either, though abilities or Skills might be a bit destructive.”
Griff nodded thoughtfully. “How about this? No abilities or non-physical Skills. One inch of wind up for the punch so we don’t break the furniture.”
Having no idea what exact physical Skills Abel had I couldn’t comment, but he seemed fine with it. Stripping off his gloves, he held out a fist. It stunned me to see how rock steady his hand was handing there in the air. Not a single tremble, like it was anchored to the world with a deadbolt or something.
Griff smiled wolfishly, set a chit down on the table, then raised his hand and place it in front of Abel’s. “You ready?” Asked the wild looking giant, dark eyes gleaming under heavy brows and teeth glinting from behind his thick brown beard. His long hair was well taken care of and brushed, but still styled to give the appearance of being unkempt.
When Abel nodded, Griff MOVED. It was hard to describe, sort of like a line of dominos. First his heel picoted, then the motion rolled up his leg, along his hip, through his back, then up to his shoulder and down his arm.
By the time the force found his fist and propelled it forward, it felt like some kind of unstoppable tsunami of power, slamming his fist into Abel’s hard enough that the one inch of movement shattered the sound barrier, creating a small sonic boom that blew my hair around.
Abel’s fist remained rock steady, not even twitching, but I saw a ripple of force travel along his arm and down his body, and the floor creaked under his feet as he smiled cheerfully. “Ouch.” He said wryly. “That one had some kick.” He reached into a pocket and tossed an F-ranked chit onto the table. “My turn?”
Griff nodded, obviously trying not to look impressed and failing. “You’ve got some training.” He said with respect.
Abel shrugged. “Just a bit. Not a lot of work for someone of my talents here. All the street gangs around town are just looking for big flashy abilities with lots of firepower. Not a lot of people respect what discipline and training gets you.”
As he finished talking, something happened and Abel BLURRED forward. As opposed to the rolling buildup of power Griff had used, Abel’s whole body just sort of shifted an inch forward, the full momentum of his entire form focused on his hand as it smashed into Griff’s knuckles hard enough to crack a mountain in half.
The bigger man grimaced, breathing out through gritted teeth pulled back in an expression the uninitiated might call a smile. “Ah, I suppose we didn’t mention Paths. Why do I get the feeling you picked bloody knuckles on purpose.”
My mentor just shrugged. “Who can say? Be pretty stupid for my to bang knuckles with a peak E-ranker if I hadn’t though.”
Griff barked out another laugh. “Oh, I like you. Too many people out there mistake power for strength, but just as many mistake stupidity for bravery. We’ve got plenty of both in the Horned Lords, but not many like you. I assume this is an audition?”
“Your turn to stake.” Said Abel helpfully. “And yeah, something like that. Word around town is the Horned Lords are moving up in the world. But I saw a few of your boys out and about and I wasn’t impressed. Upward mobility is valuable, but not if it slams you into a rock wall. How high do you think the Horned Lords could take someone like me.”
It was shocking to see Abel do his thing. I knew for a fact he didn’t give a shit about mobility or advantages, but every single bit of body language stank of naked ambition. It was like he was a completely different person. And I supposed he was. He was Kyle, and Kyle was willing to do anything to get ahead.
Griff’s eyes roved over the rest of us as he set down another chit and took another punch. Abel took this one just as easily, though as I activated my Eye of Revelation I was able to pick up slight tells of how much this was straining him.
Not from Abel himself mind you, but from Mel, who was tense and staring worriedly at her boyfriend.
“I thought you might be looking for work.” Said Griff as his expression took on a predatory edge. “And we do have some openings. As for your question…that depends. If you want the Horned Lords to carry you, you’ve gotta be willing to work for it. Changes are coming to Tricorn, some obvious, some not so much. There’s a lot of work for someone like you, provided you can be…flexible.”
I had a sinking feeling this situation was a lot more complex than we’d assumed. This sounded less like rabble rousing and more like recruitment. Which was concerning, because where the hell would they be DOING that recruiting. There were S-rankers here, surely they would know all about it. If someone was trying to turn people before the war.
Then again…maybe they did. Mom had sent us out to look around, maybe this was why. Thinking it through, completely stomping out any traces of the enemy was useful, but this conclave was a big obvious target. They WOULD try something, and better to know which door they would be using when they tried to break in.
Of course, I might just be making assumptions, but it felt like the right answer. If you were going to get attacked, making sure you knew who and where seemed like an important aspect of weathering the storm.
It was also possible that this was some kind of lower level testing to help us gain renown and grow, like how assassins guilds would use steadily increasing levels of assassin to take someone out. Hell, it was probably a bit of all of that, mixed in with a bunch of reasons I couldn’t imagine.
Callie was on the same page, and we traded a few mental observations before she cleared her throat. “That’s all well and good. But my brother here tends to think with his fists.” She gestured to Abel. “Seems risky doing that sort of thing under the nose of…other residents nearby. How do we know this isn’t some kind of trap.”
Classic espionage ‘How do we know you’re not a spy?’ is the first question most spies will ask you, because what spy would bring up spying if they were a spy themselves? Unfortunately, it’s also the first question most non spies will ask you, because how do they know you aren’t a spy is a valid concern.
Griff’s eyes focused on her, seeming to drill down into her soul. “I don’t recall asking you for your opinion, girlie. How about you let the menfolk talk and you just stand there looking pretty. You’re real good at it.”
I felt a flash of rage, but I choked it down. Callie could handle herself, and in fact, she NEEDED to do so in this instance. If she came across as a damsel needing to be watched over, it would give far too many of these assholes ideas.
Callie smiled coldly, and Griff’s face blanked in surprise as the front two legs of his chair fell into its own shadow. From behind, a braided cable of shadows flushed up and wound itself around the big man, binding him tightly. I expected him to break out, but Callie was damned good at what she did.
The cable had yanked Griff’s arms up and around into an awkward position where he couldn’t exert much strength, something similar to a full nelson hold. The cable also wrapped around his neck, and every time he yanked it tightened around his throat.
He hung there, suspected off the table by his throat and upper body, and Callie drew her dagger. She pushed it into a shadow she made in her cupped hand, and Griif’s eyes widened in terror as the point emerged from the shadow of his head, slowly inching toward his eye, stopping a fraction of an inch from his cornea.
“Oh gosh.” She said with exaggerated ditziness. “Did I interrupt you? I’m so sorry. I can be so rude sometimes. I didn’t realize this was a private conversation, I should probably just stay out of it. How about I just dissolve that rope around your neck and let you finish your game.”
I expected him to panic, but instead he just chuckled. Within a blink his hair caught fire, the flash of light banishing Callie’s weaker shadows. The rope was too strong for that, but the small shadow she’d been using to maneuver her dagger was banished and the blade went with it. Griff grunted and strained and the braided rope tore apart.
He was still laughing as he stood, rubbing his neck. “Well damn, girl. Put me right in my place didn’t you? Good. I don’t stand for cowards or wilting violets in my gang, woman or man. If you can’t stick up for yourself you ain’t got no place among the Horned Lords. The rest of your little clique as gutsy as you two?”
Callie narrowed her eyes, deciding if she trusted his whole ‘I was just testing you’ thing. Finally, she nodded. “Every one. But I’m guessing you’re not going to take our word for that.”
“Smart as well as tough.” He said approvingly. “Ain’t no free lunch.” He paused. “Actually, that’s not really true, once you’re in the gang we have prime rib lunch days on wednesday. Those are free. But that’s only for gang members. You want in, you’ve got to prove yourselves.”
Abel swept up the pile of coins, getting a glare from Griff, which he countered with a grin. “You didn’t punch, that’s a forfeit. Should have spent more time on the game and less time baiting my sister.” The big bearded man sighed but nodded, a few F-rank chits was literal chump change anyway. “So what are we doing?”
“A few days ago I got a suggestion that I should send out some of my boys to rattle some cages.” He said lackadaisically. “One of my teams never came back, I sent them to raid some restaurant and they just stayed there.”
Abel nodded slowly. “You think they got caught.” He said, not letting on our involvement at all. “So you want us to what? Go break them out of whatever jail they’re in?”
They weren’t in jail, but it was important for us to figure out how much Griff knew. The gang leader laughed cheerfully at that, but shook his head. “Nah, nothing quite so complicated.” He said with a jovial smile. “I want you to kill them and bring me their heads.”
Comments
thaughton2
What a delightful tone shift.
