—
Chapter Sixteen
Prognosis
—
“Thanks again for this.” The inhuman hand smashed into the bag. “You know how hard it is for me to go out and about like this, so I really appreciate it.”
The assassin touched the brim of his hat in reply. “Think nothing of it, master Odgu. We must all look out for one another, after all.”
“I told you, the whole master thing is getting really old.” Odgu groaned, finally finding the styrofoam container he was searching for as his fingerless limb drew it out. “It’s just easier to call me Odgu. Less hassle that way.”
“It comes with the position.” The assassin said, his face suddenly darkening. “You accepted it, which means you must accept the title as well.”
“Oh, very well.” Odgu huffed, ignoring the threatening undertones the message had carried. “You want to be like that about it, then whatever. But I’m only here because of getting Rikuto back.”
“Because of Pakka, you mean.”
There was a long pause as the vertical oval-shaped pupils housed inside the red eyes of Odgu stared with a dangerous air towards their ominous target. “How well could you see if I broke your glasses?”
“Not at all.” He replied, producing a small cloth from his shirt pocket to clean them with. “That’s the point of these, you know — helping people see things they normally would be unable to.”
Odgu growled out an exceptionally weary sigh, throwing the bag on the floor as he cradled the styrofoam container in his arm. “Okay, okay, fine, you can stop beating around the bush. If Know was still alive I’m sure he would’ve told you about it, or maybe he already did. Well, whatever. It’s not like it’s a massive secret or anything.”
“When did it happen?”
“Years ago.” Odgu flipped the lid open, revealing the samosa inside. “I don’t know how long exactly, since I kind of had to relearn how to measure time. Or perhaps I mean learn it for the first time; there’s an uncertainty about a lot of things that gets in the way now and then.”
“Nobody’s come looking for you?” He inquired. “If it’s been years, surely someone would have tried to hunt you down during that time.”
“It would be easier if I knew for sure I was or wasn’t ever somebody else.” A large piece of samosa was smashed into the inhuman mouth. “I only remember waking up in an alley, with the… Remains of whoever I was before splattered about me like some kind of horrible art piece. It took me a while to find this apartment that he or I apparently obtained, and I’ve lived here ever since, making just enough to get by.”
“Is that why the carpet’s so… Organic?” The assassin poked the crab grass growing out of the floor with his shoe.
“I like it that way.” Odgu grumbled, setting the styrofoam container aside. “Since you’re still here, want to watch something? I can only get so many stations with this outdated antenna, and the lonicera japonica definitely doesn’t help its signal.”
“No, I have another stop to make.” The assassin sighed, checking his watch. “Good to see you, though. I saw Ren on the bus the other day.”
“Ren Fukushi?” Odgu sounded mildly interested as he sunk into his customized seat. “Did he sit next to anybody, anyone that might be connected with things?”
The assassin had turned to the door, and now stood with his hand on the knob, looking back towards the leader of the Pangolins with an ominous side eye. “Did you know Rikuto dispersed his private collection of valuable artworks across Tokyo, so they would be even harder to locate?”
“Yes, and I know about Ren’s seeming to have made off with each and every one of them,” Odgu replied. “save the marble tiger. But that one’s massive; it would take ten of them just to slide it around.”
“Well, it’s the one he hasn’t got his hands on.” The assassin replied. “Tell me, where is that one located?”
Odgu was silent in reply. His inhuman hands touched together in contemplation, and for a moment the sounds of Tokyo pierced the thick walls.
“Be seeing you later, then.” The assassin tapped the brim of his hat and closed the door. Wearily, Odgu pressed a button on the remote at his side, and glared into the television screen for a moment as he felt about for another bite of samosa. However, it was not meant to last, as with a violent start he jumped up, grabbed an old felt hat, threw on a trenchcoat, and barely had time to scoop up a throw pillow in his arms before flying out the door.
—
“If you’re going to smoke do it somewhere away from the mic, please.”
The visibly offended Shou trudged off to enjoy his cancerous delicacies elsewhere. Race climbed back up to where Ren was sitting, taking a seat next to him and staring out at the boats coming to and from the wreckage.
“How many died?”
“Six.” She sighed, leaning forwards on her knees after a long pause in which Ren said nothing. “Might be seven tomorrow; copilot’s in rough shape. Four died in the fall and two more when the plane hit the water.”
“Ren?” Her head turned towards him, eyeing his tired gaze as it stared out across the sea. “We saved lives here. Without Rook, nobody would have survived.”
“Without Rook and you, nobody would’ve attacked the plane.” Ren replied, refusing to break his vision from the horizon.“This tragedy is because of us and I’m responsible for the six people who died here.”
“Nobody knows what hit the plane.” Race retorted, laying a hand on Ren’s knee, which he turned away from. “There’s no way to know this wasn’t just some random accident. And you can’t go blaming yourself for what this group did just because some of us happened to exist there.”
“Then what do I do?” Ren’s gaze suddenly rounded on Race, twisted brows framing the reddened lids hiding underneath. “How do I know some other major attack won’t be next? There’s no telling what this group will do, where they will strike or how. What assurance do I have that everything’s going to be okay until Saturday?”
“I think you already know.” Race answered.
“There’s too much risk.” Ren brushed some of his silver hair out of his line of sight, glancing back at the shore. “I don’t want to gamble on what that thing might do when it’s out. If you aren’t specific enough-”
“Ren.” A hand was laid on his knee. “They already know where Corey goes to school. You think Tone can handle whatever might occur alone?”
The sun reflected sharply off the surface of the water. Ren closed his eyes in retaliation, unwilling to verbally admit that deep down, he knew Race was right.
—
“What if he died or something?”
“Kohaku,” Fred groaned, sending an exceptionally weary glare in her direction. “Just cut the crab please.”
“Wait,” Kohaku dropped her knife, struggling out of her gloves and sending one hand down the inside of her rubber uniform. “I’m gonna have to use that. Cut… the… Right!” She returned the notebook to her pants pocket and started putting her gloves back on. “Y’know, cuz it sounds like cut the cra-”
Fred’s sharp throat-clearing sound cut her off as he quickly turned his attentions to the counter. “Nani ka hitsuyōdesu ka?”
“English is fine, thanks.” The old man that approached waved Fred off, blinking repeatedly as he eyed the glass in front of him. “I’ve just been low on snow crab and wondered if you had any at this time of night.”
“We’re all sold out of that one.” Fred gestured to the glass he leaned on. “But I can offer you some king crab, brought in fresh as of today.”
“No, thanks,” The old man smiled, adjusting his grip on the long fabric case tucked under his arm. “I’ve just been doing some thinking. That young man that works here, I forget his name-”
“Ren, you mean?” Fred’s face did not show the level of concern that his hands did as they rested against the glass countertop. Kohaku made a note of the change, slowly resting her hand on the large knife on the cutting board.
“First time I’ve ever seen him take the bus.” The old man continued, seemingly unaware of the shift in tone. “He was there a few days ago, and I’ve been trying to place where I had seen him ever since. Well, I just remembered that he worked here, and I just wanted to let you know.”
Fred nodded with a blink and his typical small smile, refusing to let his true reaction to the inquiry be shown. “Well, I’d better get going; hopefully they’ll be back in stock soon. Goodnight Fred, and you too, ma’am.” With his liver spot-riddled skin glowing in the warmth of his smile, the old man trudged off, running a finger alongside his long moustache as he went.
“I’ve never seen that man shop here in my life.” Fred frowned. “He’s never ordered anything at this counter and he would have no idea who Ren is. Take care of locking up tonight, would you?”
“What?” Kohaku turned towards Fred as he slipped out of the rubber overalls with surprising dexterity and threw on his coat. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know what Ren’s up against here.” Fred felt for his keys. “But I’m not sitting around and letting the net get drawn in any closer to him. There’s an opportunity to do good here, Kohaku, and it’s worth the risk no matter what. I’m gonna go see the boss and let him know what he’s up against.”
“Wait!” Kohaku retorted, setting the knife back down on the counter and rounding on Fred. “I, I… I was there with them monday night. There were men with guns, wooden masks and stuff. One of them could fly and they captured a little kid. You could really get hurt, Fred. Don’t go out there alone.”
Fred looked back at her in silence for what felt like an hour.
“Close up.” He slipped out of the counter loop and quickly strode off, leaving Kohaku all alone in the almost completely empty store. Her saddened brows never cleared enough to draw her attention to the small stand of sunglasses, which hid the perfectly round pair aside them.
—
“I’m sure he’ll apologize profusely in person when the opportunity arises. Now c’mon, we’ve got work to do.”
“I worked so hard on these.” Corey looked towards Tone with a pitiful expression, holding the ruined artwork in his hands. “They were due tomorrow, too.”
“Look, I’ll find a way to whip something else up for you to take.” Tone crouched down and laid a hand on Corey’s shoulder. “Okay? Now we’ve got some work that needs doing, and you’re the only one who can do it.”
“Why am I the only one?” Corey inquired, dropping his backpack in the middle of the room.
“It’s Wild Mask policy never to wear another member’s mask. And since that one’s yours, it’s up to you to fulfill that responsibility.” Tone patted his shoulder, standing back up as he did so. “Go ahead and change, and then we’ll get started.”
“That’s not true.” Rook said as soon as the restroom door had closed. “There’s no such rule in place about mask usage between members.”
“Would you prefer I have insulted his intelligence by reminding him the only other people here are ones that physically can’t wear it?” Tone grumbled, slumping into the computer chair. “Kid’s going to have enough of a time dealing with the plane crash after he hears about it; I don’t need to be the one to make things harder for him right now.”
“Why weren’t you ever the leader on any of the missions?”
Tone turned his head towards Rook with a puzzled air. “Because Wild always chose someone else for it. Is that a problem?”
“I don’t know, I just… It always seemed like you were much more accustomed to that sort of thing than Ren ever was.” Rook’s eyes glanced down at the pillow his mask rested upon. “You’re always so much more prepared than Ren is. You’ve always got backup plans, you’re able to strategize better… I just don’t understand-”
“I know.” Tone spoke solemnly, slowly rising from the chair he had collapsed into. “No doubt you also noticed me falling into line and backing Ren up when he was undoubtedly in the wrong, or completely ceding my objections just to help him save face in front of others. And that’s because he’s in charge; I give him my loyalty whether or not I think he’s deserving of it.”
“Sure, perhaps I could be better at some of the things he’s doing. But he’s the one in the position. Wild had him set up as deputy leader for his own reasons, and that was his decision on the matter. But I don’t follow Ren because of Wild’s decision making; I’m following him because he’s the one in charge.”
“Still.” Rook sighed, oblivious to the restroom door opening as he spoke. “Everyone knows you’re deputy leader; I think it’s high time he properly announced it.”
“Perhaps when there’s less going on. You ready?” Tone said, forcing the focus onto the newly-returned Corey, adorned in his royal robes of sweat pants and oversized purple hoodie. “Won’t be too much longer til Ren gets back, and we should probably make some progress before he does.”
“Yeah.” Corey dropped the pile of his school clothes next to the wall without the slightest attempt at cleanliness, trudging over to the computer chair with a sad glance at his finger painting. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Now, try to determine what’s about to happen in the next fifteen seconds.” Tone tried to restrain his grin as his hand crept towards a cup of water. “We’ll see if you can predict it or not.”
“This mask feels so weird.” Corey adjusted the smooth mask over his eyes with some uncertainty. “It’s like it’d fall off at any point. How do you guys keep these things on your faces all the time?”
“…Sorry.” Corey lifted the mask and looked away ashamedly. “I forget sometimes.”
Tone relented from trying to discreetly acquire the water and relapsed into a casual shrug. “I forget it too half the time, don’t worry about it. It’s something in the way the masks operate, from what I understand; only people can remove them once they’re in place.”
“I think mine’s stuck.” Rook commented, causing the room to fall into a dead silence as both Corey and Tone united together to glare at him in disappointment.
“…Anyway,” Corey returned the mask to his head as Tone tapped his chin. “You were able to predict events fairly easily, but it seemed like the mask could tell the user just about anything. How about-”
“A PLANE CRASH??” Corey suddenly blurted out, ripping the mask off his face as he spoke. “Rook, you didn’t tell me you were in a PLANE CRASH!!”
“Ren said not to-” Rook began, but paused under the angry scowl of Tone. “Uh… That is, he wanted to be the one to tell you about that. Everyone’s okay, except for I think about six people and pretty much anyone making a living off of fishing off the coast there, and a lot of families are traumatized now, and they have to de-pollute the water-”
“Stop. Talking.” Tone gripped his forehead with a growl. “Yes, there was a plane crash. The authorities are unclear what exactly caused it, although some eyewitness reports claim a fast-moving object-”
“Him!!” Corey interrupted once more, having returned the mask to his face. “The flying guy who attacked you at the train station! He- his name is Hawk.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Tone grinned, pulling a loose piece of paper out from under the computer monitor and scribbling down what Corey had relayed. “Tell me, where did this guy- hold up, that’s Ren now. Surely he’d like to hear this all in person.”
The door slowly crawled open, and Ren escorted Race inside with a furtive glance down the hall. “Busy day today. Lots of people trying to talk to Race about, um… Ah, I see you’re testing things out?”
“Why does he have a VR headset on?” Race pointed at the smooth mask Corey wore. “I thought you didn’t like those things.”
“It’s that one mask I was telling you about.” Tone jabbed a thumb towards Corey. “He just found out about the crash on his own, and even figured out who was responsible for it.”
“Good.” Ren’s jaw clenched as he spoke. “Tomorrow I’m going to visit someone I haven’t had to deal with in a long time… Before I do that, I want a list of all the individuals involved, where they get their finances from, why Koi Blood was involved-”
“What?” Rook almost managed to move from the shock. “Koi Blood’s involved? But I thought that he- Oisim, I mean, didn’t he-”
“Oisim’s meeting with them all right now.” Corey said, lifting the mask above his eyes for a moment. “Something there is… Making things fuzzy, I… I can’t really make out intent. Nothing bad’s going to happen, I think… Can’t really see all that’s going on at the moment. But I know what the cause of the disturbance is.”
“They’ve got one of the Demon eyes.”
Tone caught Ren’s impulsive glance towards his bedroom door. The tense air in the room grew more and more strained for a moment, finally clearing with Tone crossing his arms. “What do we do, boss?”
Ren’s darkened face slowly cleared into a sinister grin. “Tomorrow we’re going to scare the pants off these Pangolins. And then…”
—
“Insane! Absolutely insane!”
“Collateral.” Oisim scowled, his muscular hands folding atop his desk with a powerful air. “I do not count six deaths as so great a crime.”
“Oh, of course you’d condone it!” Odgu snarled, slamming one of his inhuman hands on the desk. “This is a direct defiance of my orders here. Now either you stepped out of line and ordered him to do it, or he got smart and thought causing an international incident was a good way to spend his time. Well?”
“Get your hand off of my desk, little man.” Oisim growled, his face becoming ferocious as he spoke. “Now. Or I will remind you what happens to those who raise their voices around me.”
“OH, AM I TOO LOUD FOR YOU, BALD MAN?!” Odgu screeched, the trenchcoat atop his body fluttering violent as he spoke. “Then get down from your mighty throne and I’ll rearrange your SKULL a little! THAT should fix your hearing!!”
The inhuman limb was carving a gash into the wood, and at the sight of it Oisim’s face scowled even further, his suit tightened, and the veins in his head began to pop out. Just before the situation could turn horribly violent, the door opened, and in stepped the stranger from before, with a few massive gashes across his body all traveling in the same direction.
“I surely hope you weren’t talking about me behind my back.” His teeth shone in the limited light. “Odgu, Pakka. Where’s Usul? Is he not back from his-”
“Hawk, YOU IDIOT.” Odgu snapped, darting across the floor with impressive speed and sticking his arm in the general direction of the stranger’s face. “Because of you, an ENTIRE SEAPORT is now CLOSED, six people are DEAD, and you’ve given every member of the Pangolins great justification in the cause of removing you PERMANENTLY from the group. Well?? What have you to say for your behavior?”
“I suppose I’d have to rescind the eye, in that case…” Hawk replied, lifting his mask up enough to reveal the rest of his grey face, with the deep twisting wounds scrawled across his whole body, all originating from his right eye socket, which glowed with a furious orange light that swirled out like smoke from the socket it sat in. “Care to try removing it?”
“You’re a pretentious cadaver, you are.” Odgu continued, unfazed by the performance. “There are six people dead — DEAD, you moron — and sooner or later people are going to get suspicious of your antics and start looking into things. This saturday is our last chance to get the remaining eye before we have to acquire that demon mask, and YOU are the key to that. YOU are our heaviest hitter, and our most important asset — but so help me, I’ll wipe you off the face of Tokyo myself if you cross me again!” Odgu had to restrain himself to stop from lunging at Hawk as he spoke.
“Your orders are to acquire the demon mask. It’s being held here,” He shoved a roll of paper into Hawk’s tightened fist, the glowing smile of the recipient shrinking throughout the dressing-down until it vanished entirely. “If you kill anyone else — ANYONE AT ALL — I’ll have Usul rip that precious little bead out of your head before you know what’s happened. And don’t think he can’t, big man.”
“Yes sir.” Hawk’s smile did not return. There was no fear or respect present in either his voice or his face, but both still radiated danger in all directions.
“Then get out.” Odgu waved him off and stalked towards the desk again. “I trust you and your master have concocted a plan together?”
“Yes.” Oisim frowned almost perpetually, it seemed. “There will be an effort made to eliminate all the key members of the Wild Masks on saturday. To ensure an efficient execution of the operation, we will require Hawk, Pakka, and- and him.”
Odgu turned towards the door. In the place of Hawk the assassin now stood, smoke curling out from under his brim menacingly. “Good to see you back so soon.” Odgu hobbled over and gratefully shook the assassin’s hand, which he seemed used to, as it did not move him at all. “I trust that everything went well?”
“Almost.” The assassin glanced at his watch. “I was tailed out of the grocery store by that Fred character, but I popped his tire before he left the parking lot, and that seemed to slow him down.” The round sunglasses set themselves towards Oisim. “He mentioned coming to see you.”
“Hmph.” Oisim slowly stood, resting his fingertips atop the desk. “Then we had better depart. He will likely keep going until he arrives. Through the factory way; we will reconvene Saturday morning at the hotel. Our plans will be set then. Farewell.” He did not raise his eyelids until everyone, Odgu leaning on Pakka’s hand, had departed out the back.
“We are alone.”
A roaring fire burst into existence atop Oisim’s desk. He lowered himself back into his seat and folded his arms as the figure in the flames slowly became more and more apparent. Two dark eyes glared down at the seated figure, and the scowling face of an old man with a balding head and sharp, pointed beard and moustache were seen thrust forward on their respective neck like a furious chicken.
“̷O̷̷i̷̷s̷̷i̷̷m̷, ̷y̷̷o̷̷u̷ ̷f̷̷o̷̷o̷̷l̷!” The figure in the flames was barely discernable. “W̷̷e̷ ̷m̷̷us̷̷t̷ ̷g̷̷e̷̷t̷ ̷t̷̷h̷a̷̷t̷ ̷e̷̷y̷̷e̷ ̷b̷a̷̷c̷̷k̷ ̷i̷̷m̷̷m̷̷e̷̷d̷̷i̷a̷̷t̷̷e̷̷l̷̷y̷; ̷w̷̷h̷̷y̷ ̷w̷a̷̷s̷̷t̷̷e̷ ̷t̷̷i̷̷m̷̷e̷ ̷w̷̷i̷̷t̷̷h̷ ̷e̷̷l̷̷i̷̷m̷̷i̷̷n̷a̷̷t̷̷i̷̷n̷̷g̷ ̷t̷̷h̷̷e̷̷s̷̷e̷ ̷W̷̷i̷̷l̷̷d̷ ̷M̷a̷̷s̷̷k̷̷s̷? ̷T̷̷h̷̷e̷̷y̷ a̷̷r̷̷e̷ ̷i̷̷n̷̷s̷̷i̷̷g̷̷n̷̷i̷̷f̷̷i̷̷c̷a̷̷n̷̷t̷ - ̷N̷̷o̷̷t̷̷h̷̷i̷̷n̷̷g̷!!”
“That nothing killed you once before, Rikuto.” Oisim murmured, not bothering to look up at him. “No group is better equipped to stop our plans than they are. They have the demon mask itself; do you realize how much more powerful they would be if they acquired one of the eyes as well?”
“̷A̷̷l̷̷l̷ ̷t̷̷he ̷m̷̷o̷re̷ ̷r̷̷e̷as̷̷o̷̷n̷ ̷w̷̷h̷̷y̷ ̷we̷ ̷m̷̷us̷̷t̷ ̷g̷̷et̷ ̷i̷̷t̷ ̷fi̷̷r̷̷st̷!!” Rikuto retorted, his upper body becoming visible, hands folded behind his back. “H̷̷ow ̷w̷̷i̷̷ll̷ y̷̷o̷̷u̷ ̷s̷̷to̷̷p̷ ̷t̷̷he̷̷m̷ ̷o̷̷n̷̷c̷̷e̷ t̷̷h̷̷ey̷ a̷̷re̷ a̷̷t̷ y̷̷o̷̷u̷̷r ̷f̷̷ro̷̷nt̷ ̷d̷̷oo̷̷r? ̷We̷ ̷m̷̷us̷̷t̷ g̷̷e̷t ̷t̷̷he̷ ̷ot̷̷h̷̷er e̷̷y̷̷e̷ an̷̷d t̷̷h̷̷e̷ ̷ma̷̷s̷̷k ̷— ̷I̷ c̷an̷ b̷̷e ̷r̷̷es̷̷t̷̷o̷̷r̷̷e̷d̷, a̷n̷̷d-”
“And then Tone can split you right down the middle in a single move.” Oisim glared up at the flaming figure. “No, they must be eliminated first. Now, while they are overconfident, secure in their ability… Now, while the iron is hot.”
—
“Tone.”
Tone paused just before the mouthwash tipped out of the bottle he held, lowering it from the funnel his other hand steadied. “Yeah?”
The senior member of the Wild Masks sighed internally as Ren very softly closed the restroom door and looked back over his shoulder with a furtive air. “I want your actual opinion about this. You know what I alluded to earlier.”
“Correct.” Tone pulled the straw out from between his mask and his face just enough to allow it to leave his mouth. “I don’t approve, not even a tiny bit.”
“But it’s the only way to be sure.” Ren protested, taking his fingers off the handle of the door as he spoke. “There’s no other way we can be certain these attacks will stop. You heard the same Hawk person who attacked you before tell you nothing would happen just yesterday, and now six people-”
“Ren, stop trying to convince me.” Tone turned back towards the mirror, readjusting the straw and lifting the bottle of mouthwash towards the funnel again. “I know your mind is made up, and you know I will not be compromising on the issue. So let’s not waste time debating it.”
Ren’s despondent glance downwards was met with an extremely dramatic eye roll from Tone, who removed the straw from behind his mask and laid it next to the faucet along with the bottle of mouthwash. “What’s the number one rule we abide by?”
“To not look in my bedroom.” Ren tried and failed to hide a smile. “I’m definitely plotting something nefarious in there and it’s not just a giant mess.”
“We don’t kill unless we have no other choice.” Tone continued, undeterred by the attempt at humor. “If you decide there’s no other way, then I’ll support whatever course of action you take. Before that happens, however, I retain my opinion on the matter.”
“Whatever made you so… Y’know,” Ren rubbed his forearm, leaning slightly against the wall as his eyes tried to find the word floating somewhere in the ether. “Hard-boiled, I guess?”
Tone finally let a nasal exhale escape his lungs, eyeing the floor for a brief moment. “Keep what you have, don’t keep what you don’t. My old man’s words.” He picked the straw and bottle back up, carefully balancing the funnel with one finger. “To live you have to be willing to let things go. Otherwise you end up surrounding yourself with expired waste.”
He sniffed at the air. “No offense, ablutophobe.”
Ren’s smile disappeared into a flat glare as Tone tried to hide the very obvious grin he was wearing under his mask. “I have to gaslight myself into thinking this is as good as brushing my teeth would be, if you don’t mind.”
“Don’t drown yourself.” Ren lightly punched his shoulder in reply and exited the restroom, slowly closing the door behind him. Tone stared into the eyes which looked back at him through the mirror as the room grew still.
“…Where the hope our souls shall have no blight…”
—
Fred felt his sore fingers as he walked from the bus station. It had not been easy for someone as out of shape as he was to quickly scale the back of a bus, hold on for dear life until the assassin exited it, and then take the kind of fall necessary to hide him from the driver’s view, but it had been worth it. His joints ached from inaction, but he reminded them they would get the chance to rest later.
Outside of the metal shed the assassin entered was a very large bouncer, and assuredly he would not simply let Fred walk in as if it was nothing. But he had to get in; Ren’s safety was counting on him informing Oisim about developments, and this was the direct route to the only office he had ever seen him use. Assuredly it lead into the rest of the factory sitting a ways behind it, despite the heavy wood surrounding it on either sides making it appear abandoned.
“Is he in?” Fred asked the silhouette as he approached, who jolted and turned towards him suddenly. “Need to talk to him about someone I saw at the market. I assume that character that just entered was his private security, although I didn’t get a very good look at him outside of his back and hat.”
“You here to see Oisim?” The figure replied.
“Yeah; I figure you’ve gotta frisk me and whatnot, but do make it quick; it’s serious.” Fred held his arms out, waiting for the silhouette’s inspection. In reply, the burly figure walked over and stood only two feet from the senior fishmonger, resting one hand on his shoulder.
“Friend, I’d have to do more than that. Any other day there’d be questions to have answered, like how you managed to get all the way out here without being noticed, how you knew Oisim was out here in the first place, and a whole bunch of other questions. Then I’d need to have you thoroughly screened, cleared by my boss, and only then could you talk to Oisim about whatever’s troubling you.”
“But tonight?” The shining grin reappeared, the only identifiable feature in the black silhouette. “I’m just in such a bad mood.”
—