Chapter 90: Getting a warehouse (Patreon)

James was very tempted to rub his chin with a tentacle, but staying stoic was probably better for his reputation.

"And you say this warehouse has only recently come into your possession?"

The sleazy salesman who had brought them here made one of the fakest smiles James had ever seen.

"Why yes! Why, my poor uncle died of a tragic Sickler attack, and I wound up inheriting this magnificent building. Does it not fit each of your wishes?"

James hummed as he appreciated the irony of the situation.

After arranging things with Techlord and calling Guy, James had returned to the block as the day began as himself rather than Silhouette and had asked around to see if anyone knew of an abandoned warehouse or hangar or maybe one of either for sale. The peddlers of the Block had been surprisingly friendly, and it's only after a few interactions that James realized they probably - correctly - assumed he was related to Silhouette in one way or another, and after his little display the other day they didn't want to make a new enemy. Many were annoyed by the new competition his shop presented, but at the same time were very eager to try and sell their wares to him in hopes his "boss" would notice them and take them under his wing. There were also those that sold foods or cosmetic trinkets that fought to install their stalls next to his shop, hoping to attract his customers for a quick gift or snack.

A few hours of talking with strangers later and James had accepted a meeting with the worst caricature of a salesman he had ever seen on behalf of Silhouette. The man reminded him immensely of Barry, with his short yet broad stature, but whereas Barry looked healthy and even somewhat toned the man before him's width was born of fat rather than bones. He had a thick mustache and oiled-back short hair, all of which was black, and wore a red vest and dark blue pants. His otherwise fair skin was incredibly red around his nose and cheeks, but for once James was inclined to believe this wasn't from some inhuman genes but something much simpler.

The warehouse itself was nothing remarkable for either better or worse, it was decrepit and James seriously doubted the roof wouldn't collapse in a few years, but it had all its walls and for now, it looked stable enough to be usable. A good night spend infusing stuff with the help of Solvent and a few upgrades and modifications from Techlord should be more than enough to solve all of the problems related to the stability and durability of the building. It did stand out from other buildings in one way obvious to the eye, though. It was covered in countless graffiti, hundreds of names and symbols covering one another in an admittedly breathtaking way, as though this was the collective memory of the slums. Four of those stood out from the rest, ones that had apparently been left alone and unaltered: a crowned feminine figure on a throne of cogs and gears, a yellow flower surrounded by green vines with red thorns and a swarm of blue bees, a white four-pronged star surrounded by crescent moons with a small colorful sphere in the hollowness of each one, and finally the simplest design, a simple word in blood red capital letters, Natrashka.

"It has quite the interesting look, I must say."

"Oh, yes! My dearest uncle got it from his father, who got it from his aunt, who got it from her cousin, who won it in a game of cards. Throughout the years, it has been a family tradition to let the local artists express themselves to give it some charm. Why, some of those date back from before the days of the Empress and the rest!"

"It is certainly unique."

"Oh yes, quite unique! You won't see any other warehouse like this one, believe me!"

"Which is quite interesting, since as far as I know the Blood Angels still occupied the property not so long ago. Was your uncle one of them, perhaps?"

The salesman gulped, and James almost felt sorry for him. How could he have known he would be trying to sell this Angels' warehouse to someone who had already raided it once? For indeed, this warehouse was the very one James and the ratlings had broken into to steal money and weapons not so long ago, despite it feeling like ages. The ratlings didn't even know how to talk back then.

"Well, why, yes! Yes! He was an Angel, though a simple lieutenant, and he chose to lend his warehouse to the gang to store... To store..."

"Their vehicles?"

"Yes! Their cars! They didn't see much use this side of the city, of course, but whenever they needed to teach someone a lesson they'd hop in and vroom! They would go knock some sense into brutish thugs! Why, they even had a helicopter parked here every now and then! Just ask around, one passed by a few months ago."

"How intriguing, mister... Froko, was it?"

"Yes indeed! It's from my great-grandfather's side of the family, he had a few amphibian powers without any apparent mutation!"

"Well, mister Froko, the problem I have here is this warehouse wasn't used to store vehicles, but Red Dust and the money from its sales. So, I assume you're lying to me, and here comes the great question: are you trying to trick me into buying a property currently used by the Blood Angels, or are you just trying to make a quick buck selling an abandoned place to what you think is an unsuspecting fool?"

"Why, mister Silhouette, how could you think such a thing! I assure you, I-"

"Let me cut to the point, here."

James illustrated his point by forming a tentacle ending in a blade and placing it on the small overweight man's jugular faster than he had the time to react.

"Either you answer my questions, or we'll see how well a frog can croak without its throat. Am I making myself clear?"

"Y-Yes, sir!"

"Good, let's try again. Are the Blood Angels still here?"

"No! They-They left the place some weeks ago!"

"Good, we're making progress then. So, did you just try to scam me into paying for a building that no one has claimed, or is there anything more to this situation?"

"Just-Just trying to get some easy money, sir!"

"Are you sure? Are you certain that none of the local groups asked you to pull this little stunt and justify a feud or disgrace me and mine?"

"Nothing! No one! The place is abandoned, I acted on my own, I swear!"

The man was sweating bullets as James did his best to try and read him. The man hadn't seemed like a manipulative mastermind and it had been pretty easy to guess what had gone through his head so far, but for all he knew all of that could have been a trick to lower his guard and catch him by surprise with this final lie to tempt him into taking a warehouse still used by others. Taking over someone else's operations and their base was something James had learned to do, but he had only targeted small groups to avoid repercussions, if it turned out the Angels were still here and decided to send out one of their more elite members...

"Tell me, are you important? Would anyone miss you, mister Froko?"

"Why yes! Very important! The most important there is! In truth, I work for the Union! The country! Tons of people would know if I disappeared! Important people! Powerful people! Why, Sunburn himself would come!"

"I see. Well then, let's visit the place."

James formed more tentacles to seize the man and keep him restrained before he approached the warehouse's closest entrance, a metal door on the side, and simply knocked and waited. The seconds passed by and a minute went by without any response, so James decided to open the door himself. It was unlocked, and the inside of the warehouse was only lit by the small windows placed near the top of the walls. True to the salesman's words it appeared unoccupied, with only a few crates of scraps and trash left compared to his last visit. No signs of food or drinks nearby, which meant nothing living and sapient had come by recently.

"It appears you spoke the truth, no one has claimed this place."

"See? It's not like gangs keep the same places for long, at least outside of the Black Block and whatever it is they have going on in the center. Without a big fist nearby, everyone is fighting over anything. Why bother securing and upgrading a building when you could just go to the next one, eh? No-Not that your plan is bad, of course!"

"I see. So this is why you assumed you could pull off this sort of scam. I am not familiar with the local customs, and so would have fallen for the trap without realizing it, correct?"

"Y-Yes, a new face in town is a new wallet to target, you know? So, will you let me go now?"

James spread his shadow to close the door before forming tendrils that began to investigate every nook and cranny of the room for any possible hidden spy or camera or microphone, all the while staying silent as Froko sweated profusely.

"You're letting me go, right?"

Nothing in the remaining crates. No fake walls. No one hanging down from the ceiling. No one in the street looking through a window, windows which were all quickly getting smothered by darkness and robbed the warehouse's interior of light.

"Mister Froko, you have done nothing today to make me like you. For all I know, you could be a spy or bait sent by another group to undermine mine. Why should I let you go?"

At this point, even the reddest part of the salesman's face was paler than snow.

"I beg you! Please! I'll do anything!"

Tentacles emerged from Froko's shadow and slithered up his form, pulsing and throbbing as they constricted him and raised his face to James' featureless head, pain slowly emerging from his joints.

"And what could you even do? Everything I heard from your very mouth today about you, mister Froko, leads me to believe you are not even racketing. You have nothing, you know no one, and you have lied to my face multiple times."

"I-I'll be your spy! You could send me to another gang and I'll tell you everything I hear!"

"With your poor performance today, I doubt you'd last a minute, even among the more dull-minded thugs that roam these streets."

"I-I can work for you! Like those guys in your shop! I remember them selling useless junk to people before, now they're loyal and effective, right?!"

"I chose Barry and Larry because I sensed potential in them. I also know I can trust them both to handle finances and keep secrets. You have none of that."

"I... I... I-I have a contact in the good city!"

"More lies, truly?"

"It's true! I'm from there! My brother and I have a scrapyard on the other end of the city, to avoid competing with the Junkland. Didn't work, so I thought I'd get so easy money fooling the slummers before going back home! I've been doing it for years!"

"You are awfully plump for someone in these parts, I'll admit. Let's say I bite, what then? You want to sneak me through the security?"

"It could work! O-Or, I could sneak your products through, and set up a new shop for you to sell your merchandise to the good people of the city! People who actually have money!"

In the salesman's eyes, the entity known as Silhouette pondered for a moment before, at long last, all the tentacles that had grasped onto him let him go and let his body fall to the ground.

"I am giving you a week to make some arrangements. Do not try to fool me, I'll find you."

"Th-Thank you for your generosity! I won't let you down!"

"You better not. Now go and work."

"Yes sir!"

The salesman ran away as fast as he could, before stopping out of breath a few steps past the door, before resuming his run and finally leaving the warehouse behind, happy to live one more day and cursing himself for trying to interact with the latest face on the Block, blissfully unaware of the black mark on his back between his shoulder blades.

James, on the other hand, was already calling someone with the phone he had kept stored within himself.

"Techlord? I have a place. It will need a lot of alterations though."

"Great, more work."

"Come on now, how are you supposed to improve if you don't push your limits? Besides, with the shield done, you should have some time now."

"Time I wanted to use to work on my suit, but yes."

"Say, would establishing an outpost in the Junkland help alleviate your work?"

"Absolutely not. I'd have to sort through the junk to find what's usable myself, your guys and rats have no idea of what could explode in their faces."

"So, we'd need a team of scavengers already experienced with the area."

"And some guns to deal with all the beasties around. Sicklers breed a lot."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for your hard work, Techlord."

"Just give me a week off when the troubles are over and we'll call it even, boss."

The teen hung up before James could respond, and he only had one thing in mind.

Troubles are never over, Sam.