Chương 79: Night

I reached out to that job of just "standing around." The post requesting it was written by an individual named "Slim Dickens." Obviously a fake name, but it was the one he went with. Reaching out to him about the job privately, he sent me a phone number saying it was "a great pizza place," and that I "should order some from there." These people were addicted to plausible deniability. Was fine by me, I know my phone was probably tapped anyway. Dialing the number, it took two rings before I heard another voice.

Scratchy, older.

"This Harry?" They said.

"Yep. This Slim?"

"You got it. I was there at the vote, so I'm familiar with you. Funny, I put that ad up before the vote, too. My phone might have an extra ear on it so I'll keep it a little vague. You and four other fellas are gonna be some spare physical labor for an olive oil deal."

"Olive oil?"

"Yeah. Olive oil. That is actually part of the deal. Perfectly legal to import." I felt like questioning that wasn't going to get me anywhere, so I just gave a hum of approval.

"Alright. I can technically supply a second person with Charlie, you saw him."

"No can do. Kid's a bitch, I could see it in his eyes." Well, Chris wasn't gonna like that, but maybe he'd enjoy having the excuse.

"I'll let him know. How much this gonna pay?"

"You're paid for your time. Hundred bucks for every hour you're there. Shouldn't be there for longer than five."

"And if we are?" A chuckle on the other end. Almost like a hyena's.

"Then it's gonna be a big waste o' money!"

"Okay. Time and place?"

"Two in the morning, today. Warehouse by the river. Used to be for lumber, got condemned due to foundation issues." Lumber. No, there was no way. That easily? Couldn't be. And the time... I was hoping I'd be able to get some time for the research on Shivvy to finish so I'd have him come along. Or at least some time to get some rest. But this was someone who was considered influential enough to vote on me and Chris getting in. I needed this first impression.

"Alright, I'll do it."

"Good to hear. I'm gonna send you a message to this pizza joint to try out before you get here, alright?"

"Sounds good. See you then." With that, he hung up. About a minute later, I was sent the address. That was the warehouse I'd be working at. Janitors were lucky, they didn't have to know what mess was going to be right in front of them at any given moment when they picked up a mop. Meanwhile, I knew exactly the kind of shit I was due to encounter when I explained my drastic decision to Tancred. I couldn't find him in the cafe or in the meeting room, which sent me down to the admin office.

It was an entire garden of suited men and women at cubicles, typing away at all sorts of things. As one moved away from a copy machine, I tapped their arm and asked where Tancred's office was. He pointed me towards a hallway that turned a corner, and that I should knock first. He then asked how I didn't even know where the office was, and there was no good answer. Never had to be in it before. Following that hallway down led to a door that, plainly, had "Abichail Tancred" in a bronze placard on it.

Disregarding the staffer's suggestion, I just opened the door. The office felt almost out of time. The walls were richly wooden, something you'd think would be in the 70s. Three of the walls were lined with bookshelves, the only spaces being for certificates and documents relevant to various accolades. One wall, the right one, had this transparent container mounted on it. Inside were a bunch of different ribbons and medals. It smelled of dryer sheets and a hint of tobacco.

Places are alive, and this one was haggard. An old workhorse given new reins to help plow a new field. Heavily worn in by the resident of it: Tancred. He sat at a wide oak desk, typing away at a computer. His sunglasses sat on his forehead as his almost doll-black irises focused on the screen. The clacking of the door turned his attention to me, and he tipped his sunglasses back over his eyes.

"It's late, what the Hell are you doing up?"

"Ended up getting a work offer for the undercover thing. Security job at a warehouse."

"... And? What's so pertinent about it?"

"It's tonight. 2 AM." He stared at me for a few moments before letting out a disappointed exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"And you already said yes, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Was too big of an opportunity for a first impression." He began reaching out to a phone on the desk.

"Alright, let me get Chris' attentio-""You can't." His hand hovered over the phone.

"And why exactly not?"

"Guy only wanted me. Didn't think Chris was cut out for it. Good news is that might be useful, still."

"Oh good, you're actually coming up with solutions instead of dangling the problems over me." He leaned away from the phone, templing his fingers together.

"Shoot." Nothing that wasn't backhanded from this asshole.

"Chris and any of the others, if they want to, might luck out if they're willing to try and drop in if things go hot."

"Why would they go hot?"

"I don't know. He said he wanted muscle, for importing olive oil, which I imagine is code."

"Probably not."

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Oh there's a whole family of cartels who deal in olive oil. Ever seen Godfather? Based on a guy who dealt in the olive oil trade."

"No, I don't really watch movies. But I don't think it's actually olive oil." He shrugged.

"Well, shit, you might have and you might just not remember-""Could you not fucking pull this on me when I'm trying to get a job done, here?" Tancred sighed, sitting up.

"Fine, fine. Too goddamn antsy, I swear to God." This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Maybe it's because you were telling Sam and Casney about what you wrote in that letter. Have you considered that?" His face scrunched up in confusion.

"Kid. You do understand that's all on record, right? Sam was helping me research all of that for a while. She knew before I wrote the letter. Same with Casney. We're trying to figure out how you work, so of course we're investigating your background!" He threw his hands up in the air.

"We can't exactly interview you when you can't remember even a speck of your life."

"Then why not tell me about it normally?"

"Because you are habitual to overreacting, Leo. Did you forget that? You lash out, you aggress, you get violent quite often! Shit, your most enthusiastic reaction to something still put a goddamn hole in the sky! We're still researching the atmospheric impacts of that!" My body turned a little, right shoulder pointing towards Tancred. Just some kind of instinct to blade my stance.

"You ever think it's because you guys actively withhold information from me until the last fucking minute?"

"Yeah, sure, I'll concede it comes a bit too late. Unfortunately, I couldn't request all of you anklebiters be put on fucking Lexapro so that I could converse with you normally!" WHAM My hand gripped the edge of the oak counter, fingers digging into it. He didn't flinch this time.

"Yeah. You had the opportunity to unfuck my head from the start but you said no. You wanted me to be walking around like a bomb."

"And where the Hell did you get that stupid idea from?" he asked, chin resting in the palm of his left hand.

"Casney told me. Said you could've given the greenlight for rectifying what's going on with my brain instead of putting me on the team. You rather risked me go crazy than let me live normally." Tancred stared at me, before his sunglasses came off and he sat them in the pocket of his jacket. Last time he intentionally took them off was when he was about to fight me.

"Is that what that ancient fatuous reprobate told you? Let me guess, he said that since your powers relate to your brain, there might be some chemical solutions, right?" I said nothing in response. I returned his own glare. That seemed to be enough for him.

"Yeah, moron, I could've easily given the greenlight to put you on a bunch of SSRIs. Throw in some Ritalin too! Shit we could get you on a Valproate tap! You know what'd happen with that, tough guy?" A calloused finger tapped his own forehead.

"Chemical lobotomy. You'd be so burnt out on all of that shit you'd turn into a zombie. You'd be 'normal' but it wouldn't cure you of your powers. One missed dosage and the rubber band snap would set off tornado sirens." My grip on the desk tightened, splinters flaring up.

"Casney probably told you this whole thing about how he's honest, too. Because he is honest. He does tell the truth. But he doesn't tell you about second or third-order effects because he wants to leave you in the dark. It's a real noble outlook from that piece of shit, right? Convince you of something good so that you walk straight in to Hell?" He stood up from his desk, walking around it and slapping my hand off from where I was gripping. There was no resistance, I was too tense in my neck at this point.

Fighting to not let my brain tap out. He then planted a finger on my chest, eyes boring into me.

"I am a scumbag, lying pile of human detritus. I have never, ever, in my fucking life, lied to get you hurt. To lead you somewhere you couldn't move past. You can review every lie you yourself uncovered. You can think of the ripple effects me being honest would have wrought every goddamn time. It may not look like it's for your good, but if it's not for your good, it's for fucking everyone's good, Leo."

"I-""I can't afford the luxury of keeping your feelings and your fragile little heart nice and comfy because you're too unstable. Every move I make is a lot more calculated than you think and it's all to make sure everything is in everyone's best interests-" I had enough.

"When is it ever going to be about my best fucking interests, Tancred?" I belted out, prompting him to step back.

"I'm barely holding my shit together for this, but every single person that's supposed to be supporting me is either lying to or torturing me. You, Sam, everyone! How the Hell am I supposed to interact when the guy everyone's so scared of letting snap is kept at tension all the time? What do you want me to do?" Still taken aback, Tancred adjusted his posture. After a slow, deep breath, he spoke.

"Your job, Leo. You do your job. We could argue this all goddamn night. We're never going to agree on this. But you need to understand I am not just acting for the sake of one sad little boy. At the minimum, I'm dealing with forty-five thousand people in just this city I need to make sure can safely go to bed at night." He stepped forward again, putting a finger on my sternum for a second time.

"And that's not including the second-order effect of the additional eight goddamn million people in the entire state, or the over three hundred million people in the entire country. You are one guy. You are also an adult man. If you can't depend on yourself, why the fuck should anyone depend on you to be stable?" Our glares locked together. It just felt like I could grab him and squeeze until everything came out of his mouth. But I inhaled.

"You're such fucking scum."

"I'm the patina that protects your sheen, asshole. Now if you want to do this mook gig, do it. But if anything happens, you report it on your earpiece first if it's available. We figure it out from there. You said warehouse, right? Walls should be thin enough for your earpiece to reach out. So no excuses. Now get out of my fucking office." My fist clenched, but I just couldn't deck him. Felt like day one again. Just embarrassing.

Storming out, I rushed to my room, grabbed my backpack and earpiece, and didn't even bother with the tunnel exit. Just went out the front door. It was late enough, no one would notice. Just had to building-hop for a while to avoid any obvious trails. I took a few breaks just to kill time before the rendesvouz. Needed a justification for the backpack. Landing by a corner store that was still open, I grabbed a bunch of drinks and snack items, piling them all into my bag after buying them.

Should be a decent enough excuse. From there, I had made it to the warehouse. It sat on the river's edge, a lower floor fused with the bank below. Knocking on the heavy, rusted door, it opened part way, a chain keeping it from opening all the way. One of the men from the vote. Thick beard. Flat cap. Narrow legs but a broad set of shoulders.

"You Slim?" I asked.

"You got it. C'mon." He shut the door, followed by the clinking and rattling of the chains before it swung open, the interior's lights giving me barely any view initially. It was only when I followed him in that I got a clearer view. Concrete and ruddy metal shaped the entire thing. The floor took this almost U-shape, as the center gave way to a ramp leading down to the water. There were relics of different lumber equipment everywhere, mostly just frames and tables.

I couldn't exactly piece together how it all worked in conjunction back when it was used for its intended purpose. Maybe they shaped the logs and distributed them along river current? Wasn't something I could guess. Also in the warehouse were four other men. All gruff, labor-minded people. The youngest of them still looked like he was in his thirties. They looked at me like the fish out of water I was. The youngest one spoke first.

"Sup with the bag? You got homework or something?" I shook my head, opening it up and procuring a bottle of water.

"My power means I gotta be fed all the time. I got extra though," I said, tossing the bottle over to that same man, prompting a grin from him.

"Well, shit. I won't say no. You got any honeybuns in there?" Slim spoke up.

"Alright, enough flirting. Fellas'll be here soon, so put on your best spooky mug." While the others got ready and in their apparent tough-guy stances, I spoke out a question.

"So what actually is it? You said olive oil, but I feel like that's not really what you're getting." Slim shook his head.

"Oh no, there's olive oil among the things we're grabbing. That shit can go for fifty bucks a half-liter. But yeah no, we're also getting some more questionable things. Mostly tools of the trade."

"Tools of the trade? What, guns?" He hummed for a few moments in thought.

"Well, yeah. That's a part of it. You'll see what it's all gonna be when they get here. For now just be gargoyles. Stand still and look scary." As we all stood and waited, a boat arrived some two hours later. Pulling up along the ramp, I could see a set of different crates along the back, and in the boat itself were eight men. Each one armed. The boat's driver spoke up.

"Have your boys help haul the cargo, Slim." Slim gave us a look, and I took the lead on it. Each crate might have been driftwood to me as I lifted each one up, to the amusement of the others. Planting them on the concrete floor, Slim took to opening them with a prybar. The first was, in fact, a vast array of glass bottles of what I assumed to be olive oil.

"Alright, got the oil. And the real goods are in crate number two, right?" Slim asked the boat driver.

"Should be." Opening the second crate, was... metal. Shiny, smooth, silvery metal. Actually might have been silver. Slim let out a cheerful "Jackpot." My face scrunched in confusion. Why the Hell would they need silv- BWOK SPLSH My gaze snapped to the boat. There was no longer a boat. Just two halves of a boat. Blood filling the water. Climbing out of the crimson waters, was that portly, bearded man from before. Hidalgo.

"Big Balls warned me about you, Slim. Guess he was fuckin' right."