“Well for one, we can easily find a way to get that device out of your head and set you free.”
Coldblood turned his head to show vai the gaping gash in its side.
“How do you think I got this? If I still had the device in me, the government would have already apprehended me by now.”
Coldblood leaned forward.
“How about this? I want protection. I need a safe sanctuary from which I can operate.”
“Well I know your history, not your near past.”
Vai finally retreated his hand, watching him seriously in his eyes.
“Just choose an island in the Samoan archipelago, and it’s all yours. However, for that you will owe me a lot.”
A smile stretched across Coldblood’s scaly face.
He remembered, in his former life, talking often about how he always wanted to retire in Upolu. Though now his work was far from finished. It had just begun.
“Give me Upolu.” He grunted.
“How much money are we talking? I assure you that I have some connections to the best-fitting people to pay you off.”
“To give you Upolu, first you’d have to help us. Money is not what I want. I preffer favours.”
“Very well. So what is the first job then?”
“At this very moment, none. However, I’d like for you to accompany me as my bodyguard for the following weeks.”
“Then it is done.”
“Good.” Vai said, raising his hand once again.
Coldblood took Vai’s hand and shook it firmly.
“Tell me boy, do you know who I am?” he asked, taking his hand back.
“I think maybe, but I’m not sure. Enlighten me.”
“My identity is not vital for you yet. All that matters is this: if somebody asks you who you are working for, how will you answer.”
Coldblood thought for a moment.
The car continued going forward, now passing the neighbourhood where the Samoan embassy would have been located and instead going forward towards the rich sector of the city.
“Tell me boy, have you ever been in here?” Vai said, pointing to the classy buildings around him.
Nightingale follows, flapping her wings once to rise into the air before diving down to ram into Oni.
The police, who had been tailing then from a distance, take note of this.
Oni is tackled, falling to the ground.
NIghtingale’s wings morph, shifting into a mass of writing tendrils behind her. The shadows reach forward to ensnare Oni as she land on top of him.
He flips back up and slashes at the tendrils as they approach, trying to think quickly.
The shadows dissociate slightly as they’re knocked aside, but Oni only has moments before more move in to replace them.
“I’m willing to negotiate any time,” Nightingale quips, almost playfully.