Chapter 15 Cutting Deals

  How much did I know about Sharpy? Not enough to feel comfortable, that was for sure. She was the kind of cape whose power didn’t fit neatly into a category, which made her even more dangerous. Her ability to create sharp, superheated blasts that could cut through almost anything explained the warning shot she’d unleashed a quarter inch at my feet. If that had been aimed at my head, this conversation would’ve ended before it began.

  Sharpy stayed perched on the iron railings, staring down at me like a bird of prey deciding whether I was worth the effort. Her leather jacket and jagged-toothed mask added to her feral demeanor. “I have a reputation to keep,” she began, her voice steady and deliberate. “But just as it happens… there’s a job I’ve been hired to work on.”

  I caught the subtle shift in her tone. She was testing the waters, not just trying to intimidate me anymore. I saw my opening. “You need more hands,” I remarked, folding my arms. "Is that it?"

  She tilted her head, and for a moment, I thought she was going to blast me again. Instead, she leaned back slightly, considering my words. “What makes you think I’d trust you? I am conflicted on how to treat you, Cape Killer... On one hand, you are new. On the other hand, you're a murderer, and the job I am talking about needs murderers.”

  “I don’t expect you to, but I am willing to listen,” I said, keeping my tone calm but firm. “But I don’t trust you either. So, we’re even. Look, I’m good at what I do, and you know it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be talking to me right now. If you want this job to go smoother, I can help. If not, I’ll walk away, and we’ll see which of us regrets it more.”

  This random encounter was becoming more and more interesting.

  She jumped down from her perch and landed lightly in front of me, the iron beneath her creaking slightly. Up close, the faint heat radiating off her was almost palpable. “The job’s not for amateurs,” she warned, her voice low and serious. “But if you can handle it, maybe you’re not as green as you look.”

  I smirked behind my mask. “You’ll see.”

  Sharpy handed me a card, black with streaks of red slashing across its surface. It looked as sharp as her persona, with no text, just a number printed in glossy red at the center. I got a better look at her gun, it looked like a power-tech, a term referring to technology created with superpowers.

  “This Friday. The docks,” she said, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. “If you want to know more, then give me a call.”

  I accepted the card, holding it between two fingers as if it might cut me. For a moment, I considered asking more questions, but Sharpy didn’t seem like the type to entertain idle curiosity.

  Before I could say anything, she leapt into the air, her feet kicking off invisible platforms of energy. With each step, a blast erupted beneath her, sharp and searing, propelling her higher. She didn’t just move, instead, she skated through the air, bounding effortlessly between her own blasts like it was second nature.

  I stood there, watching as she disappeared into the night sky, her fiery trails cutting through the darkness.

  “Dramatic,” I muttered under my breath, slipping the card into my pocket.

  The docks, huh? That gave me three days to prepare. Not a lot of time, but more than enough to do some digging. I didn’t like walking into things blind, especially not when it involved someone like Sharpy and a job as risky as this sounded.

  I headed home, my mind already racing with possibilities. The docks were a hotspot for all kinds of shady activity: smuggling, arms deals, gang disputes. Whatever this courier shipment was, it had to be worth a lot for Sharpy to risk her reputation on it.

  Once home, I tossed the card onto the table and stared at it for a while, the glossy red number catching the dim light of the overhead bulb.

  This was a big step. Bigger than I’d intended to take so soon. But if I were to carve out a place for myself in this city, I couldn’t afford to hesitate.

  “Alright,” I said to myself, grabbing my notebook and map. “More work.”

  First, I’d need to figure out what kind of operation I was walking into. The docks weren’t under any one gang’s control, it was more of a neutral zone, loosely monitored by Seamark. Admittedly, Seamark had the biggest stake on the docks, thus explaining their policing of the area. This job might attract more than just Sharpy and her crew.

  Second, I needed to be ready for anything. Sharpy might have accepted me for now, but trust in this business was a fragile thing.

  And third… I needed to make sure this job wouldn’t blow up in my face. Literally or figuratively.

  Just as I was about to go, my phone buzzed. A text from BunnyBlade, or Bunny, as I preferred to call him, lit up the screen.

  ‘The leader of Pride agreed to meet you in the next fifteen minutes. If you don’t appear within the allotted time, he will think very lowly of you. I suggest you go there now, I'll send you a GPS location. Good luck on your endeavors.’

  I raised an eyebrow. That was… disappointing. The last time I pitched myself, I caught Crow off guard, dropped by his club, and delivered my spiel before he could blink. It had been my way of setting the tone: I was the one who dictated the terms, or at least pretended to.

  This, though? I’d lost the initiative. What changed?

  I scrolled down to Bunny’s follow-up note: ‘An abandoned factory west of the Marked Cemetery.’

  I stared at the words for a moment. Ominous didn’t even begin to cover it. Of course, it had to be a cliché meeting spot: isolated, surrounded by tombstones, and just screaming ‘trap.’ I sighed, closing the notebook I’d been working on and grabbing my gear. “Fifteen minutes,” I muttered. “Really cutting it close, huh, Bunny?”

  I took the bus to the cemetery. How? I phased through the compartment because I didn’t want to be seen in costume. Yeah, it sounded stupid, but it was more convenient than you’d think. No ticket, no awkward stares, and no questions. Still, I had to sprint for the last stretch since fifteen minutes wasn’t a lot of time to make it across the city.

  When I finally arrived, the scene felt like something out of a crime drama... only grittier. The first thing that caught my eye was the lineup of sleek, expensive cars. Well-dressed guards stood around, their sharp suits a stark contrast to the bloodied bags being dragged across the ground. And then, at the center of it all, was the man I could only assume was “Royal.”

  He was decked out like a monarch, dressed in finery that screamed wealth and status. His Venetian mask obscured most of his face, leaving only his sharp blue eyes and a sliver of his dark skin visible. Even in the dim light of the vehicles, his presence was commanding, almost suffocating.

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  The blood, the bodies, the cold efficiency... it all felt unreal. Like a scene staged for effect, except this wasn’t theater. This was the real deal.

  Then, his head turned sharply in my direction. His eyes found me, locked on with pinpoint precision. My stomach dropped.

  There was no way he should have seen me. I’d stayed in the shadows, well out of the light, outside of anyone’s natural line of sight. But he saw me anyway.

  Goddamn telepaths.

  I revealed myself, stepping out of the shadows with deliberate calm. The guards didn’t flinch or tense, and they stepped aside as if on cue, giving me a clear path to their leader. No hesitation, no questioning looks, just smooth, silent efficiency. That told me all I needed to know about their professionalism and about who they were protecting.

  Royal. The leader of the Pride. The man himself, speaking to me directly. Fancy.

  I decided to lean into the theatrics, bowing slightly and saying, “It is of my utmost pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”

  Royal didn’t react to the title the way I’d hoped. Instead, he shrugged, his voice low and smooth, but with an edge that cut through the air like a knife. “No, this isn’t to your pleasure, but more to mine. You are nervous. You are new to this, but you have ambitions. While I am only reading your surface thoughts, I see enough. You should train your mental defenses.”

  Great. A telepath and a critic. This night kept getting better.

  If I were to be honest, the boss of Pride scared me most among the bosses of Markend's major gangs.

  Royal’s piercing gaze didn’t waver as he continued, “I see that you’ve already had dealings with Crow. That simplifies things. It means you know how this game works, or at least, you think you do. Let’s test that. Tell me, what do you know of Sunstrider?”

  Sunstrider. Of course, this would come up. I forced myself to maintain composure, though the memories of that time flickered at the edges of my mind. I had to choose my words carefully here.

  “Dead,” I said cautiously, “That's what I think of him. Well, he paid for it... him being dead? That's on him.”

  Royal tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable behind that Venetian mask. “Paid for it? A vague answer. Perhaps deliberate, perhaps not. Let’s dispense with the games. You killed him. Why?”

  The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. The guards didn’t move, but I felt the weight of their silent presence. This wasn’t just a casual conversation anymore. It was a test, and I had to pass.

  “I killed him because I had to,” I answered, keeping my tone measured. And then I waited. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long. "If I didn't, it would be me who'd end up dead."

  Royal tilted his head slightly with a sharp and unrelenting gaze. “I have to thank you for that,” he said smoothly, as if we were discussing a minor favor rather than an assassination. “The bastard killed a few of my people behind closed doors. He was a serial killer, a monster, and... most unforgivably... a pretender.”

  And you were not? I kept my thoughts in check and scolded myself.

  His voice dropped slightly, carrying a weight of simmering disdain. “I would have done him in a long time ago if he weren’t a member of the Vanguard. That damned status gave him immunity he didn’t deserve.”

  I resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny. Vanguard. The word carried weight in the city, a group of capes whose influence extended far beyond what most dared to challenge. Sunstrider, being one of the,m explained why killing him felt more like stepping on a landmine than a feather.

  Royal’s gaze didn’t waver. “As thanks for cleaning up that particular mess, I’ll extend this offer to you, one time, and one time only. Join my ranks and have a seat at the table.”

  The words hung in the air, heavy with implications. A seat at the table. That meant influence, power, and inevitably... responsibility.

  It sounded tempting. Too tempting. But as much as the idea of aligning with a major gang appealed to the part of me that craved security, one detail stuck out like a sore thumb.

  “I appreciate the offer,” I said slowly, carefully weighing my words. “But with all due respect… I neither have blue eyes nor dark skin. I don’t exactly fit the Pride’s aesthetic, do I?”

  Royal’s smirk widened, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “A fair observation,” he admitted, his tone as silky as ever. “The Pride is a family, yes, but it is also a philosophy. Bloodlines are less important than loyalty. If you prove your worth to me, your origins won’t matter.”

  He leaned forward slightly, the light catching the sharp angles of his mask. “You’ve already made an impression. The question is whether you’re prepared to take the next step, or if you prefer to remain a shadow.”

  It was a challenge, plain and simple. One I couldn’t dismiss outright, but I also couldn’t jump into blindly. A seat at the table wasn’t just a reward, it was a collar.

  "Unfortunately, my ambition isn’t with the Pride,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me.

  Why had I jumped into this mess in the first place? To get rich? If that was all I wanted, I could’ve slugged my way through college despite how miserable high school had been. I could’ve landed a decent job, built something stable, and lived without the constant threat of people trying to kill me.

  To use my powers? Sure, there was discrimination to deal with, but if I’d gone through the SRC and signed up for the Watch program, I could’ve used my abilities in the light of day. Fame, respect, maybe even a girlfriend who got the whole cape thing... hell, that life didn’t sound too bad in hindsight.

  But here I was, standing before the leader of the Pride, turning down a chance at power and influence. Maybe it was pride of my own, or maybe I had no idea what the hell I was doing.

  “I have a dream,” I continued, my tone softening just enough to add weight to the words. “A very vague and not-yet-understood dream, but a dream nonetheless. One day, I want to become a giant myself.”

  I didn’t know if the honesty would land or if I’d just dug my own grave. Still, I prepared for the worst. Various theses, related literature, and studies on my powers suggested that intangibility could resist even telepaths. I was ready to sink into the earth at the first sign of an onslaught, to cut my losses and run.

  But then Royal laughed. It was a deep, pleasant laugh that echoed across the abandoned factory like the toll of a bell. It wasn’t mocking, but genuine, as if he’d found my response amusing in a way I couldn’t quite grasp.

  “You’re ambitious,” he said, his eyes gleaming behind the mask. “I like that. Too many people lack the vision to think beyond the crumbs they’re given. But ambition without strategy is like a blade without a hilt, it cuts its wielder just as easily as its enemies.”

  I didn’t respond right away, unsure if this was praise, a warning, or both. Royal took a step closer, his presence almost suffocating as the guards around us remained perfectly still, their guns slung but not forgotten.

  “Dreams are dangerous things,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “They make you reckless, foolish, but also powerful. Very well, young dreamer. If you choose not to sit at my table, then so be it. But remember this: even giants need allies.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was an offer, a veiled threat, or just his way of bidding farewell. I could tell he was speaking from experience, though...

  Royal’s tone shifted, taking on an almost conversational air as he continued, “I like your gumption. Makes me want you even more. However, that’s a story for another time.”

  He didn’t miss a beat, his words flowing seamlessly into a new proposition. “I have a job for you: a shipment on the docks, a crew already in waiting. The mission is fairly simple, and the payment is just as good.”

  Simple? Nothing about my life had been simple since the moment I decided to step into this world. And yet, here I was, considering it. Why did I have a feeling I was about to step into a real shitty situation this time?

  “What’s the catch?” I asked, folding my arms to feign confidence.

  Royal’s smile widened just enough to be unsettling. “No catch, young dreamer. Just a test of your abilities and your resolve. You’ll meet the crew at Pier 17 this Friday at midnight. Your task is to ensure the shipment arrives at its destination without interference.”

  “Interference?” I echoed, narrowing my eyes.

  “You’re a smart one,” he replied with a chuckle. “Let’s just say there are… competing interests. But I have faith you’ll handle it.”

  Faith, huh? That word carried weight, and not the kind that made me feel secure.

  “And the payment?” I asked, masking my apprehension with curiosity.

  “600,000 marks,” he said smoothly, as if the amount was nothing to him. “Half upfront, half upon completion. Consider it an investment in a promising asset.”

  An asset. That was how he saw me, another piece on his board, to be used and discarded as needed. But 600,000 marks was nothing to scoff at, especially with my plans.

  I hesitated, running the possibilities through my mind. Saying yes meant taking on another dangerous job with unknown variables. Saying no might close a door I couldn’t afford to shut.

  “I’ll take it,” I said finally, my voice steady despite the churn of unease in my gut.

  Royal’s smile widened, and he clapped his hands together. “Excellent. I’ll have someone deliver the details to your contact. Don’t disappoint me, young dreamer.”

  He turned and gestured for his guards to follow, the conversation clearly over. As they began dragging the remaining bodies into a van, I stood there, watching the scene like a bystander in someone else’s nightmare.

  This wasn’t just a job. It was a test, just like he said. And if I failed? Well, I wasn’t sticking around to find out. That wasn't the issue, though. Sharpy would be in this job too, no way it wasn't just a meagre coincidence.