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Chapter 3: Riley's Joint
🕑 Added 2024-08-21 05:39:59 +0000 UTC“Listen, I don’t know how you heard about this place.” Riley picked up the wineglass and closed one eye, holding it up to the light. “But this isn’t the place you’re looking for. If you want to roleplay, the Braindive bar is down the street.”
Artemvian smiled easily. “I’m pretty sure the sign outside said Riley’s Joint. And since I’m looking for Riley’s Joint…” He shrugged.
Riley looked down at him all the warmth of an ice cube. Artemvian thought it was cute, the same way a grandfather might look at his pouting granddaughter. Realizing that Artemvian wasn’t leaving, Riley sighed out, giving up any pretense of kicking the man out.
“Do you even know where you are?” She gestured around her. “This isn’t just a regular bar. It’s-”
“Not a Braindive bar, for one .” Artemvian quipped. “I’m new in town. A couple of bandits tried to shake me down but I managed to shake hands and make merry with them. The fellows were nice enough to point me in the right direction.”
She snorted. Despite being somewhat dainty-looking, Riley had a good snort. “Yeah? Then what type of place is this?”
“Besides a seedy bar that serves good wine?” Artemvian’s nose didn’t betray him. The whole place was steeped in the scent of wine and high quality ones at that. He knew he got it right when Riley raised an eyebrow out of pleasant surprise in combination with a barely noticeable upwards tick on her mouth –dare he call it? A smile.
Bar owners always loved it when you complimented their alcohol.
“It’s a shady place where shady people like me come to make some shady coins doing shady things.” Artemvian finished. “Mercenary work. And you must be the Broker of this fine establishment.”
Riley stared at him, seemingly perplexed then nodded as if making up her mind. “Fine. I’ll play along. So you’re new in town then?”
“Yup.”
“Name?”
“Artemvian Delacreau Moneti. And you are, Miss?...” He trailed off.
“Just call me Riley. Tell me what you’re looking for.”
Riley thought he’d contemplate for a long time. More than thinking about it, she thought he would have no idea what he was looking for. This man wasn’t the first who came into Riley’s Joint, looking for a job without an idea of what being part of this shop’s clientele exactly entailed. Being a Mercenary of this brokerage was no easy feat. If he was just looking for some easy quick cash, she promised herself that she’d kick him out.
“A new clean identity. Nothing that can be traced back to anywhere.” Artemvian said immediately.
Now that managed to catch Riley’s interest. “You need a new identity? What for?”
Artemvian felt the shift in Riley’s attitude. He smiled slyly, bringing a hand to his lips and miming a zipper. “Need to know only.”
She frowned. “I don’t even know who you are yet or even what you’re capable of. I can’t just help you get a new identity.”
“I’m fine with doing a few jobs. I do have some time.” Artemvian replied, then added. “But I do feel the need to mention that I have no place to stay tonight. So it would be nice to make quick cash.”
In the end, Artemvian said something that Riley had expected all along: quick cash. But she didn’t want to kick him out just yet. An individual who was looking for a new identity by doing mercenary work wasn’t someone to turn away based on how much of a smartass they were. Besides, Riley’s instinct told her that this man’s confidence wasn’t exactly unwarranted.
He sauntered in, without even the slightest hint of fear. He’d even ignored the other guests in the Joint, despite the obvious dangerous air that was leaking out of them. People who lived in the underbelly of Nero City gave off a certain air, and most civilians steered clear of them. It was a subconscious thing; most people wouldn’t know why –but the subtle body language and air of a killer was something that drove regular people away. Yet, this man didn’t even flinch.
So of course, he piqued her interest.
“What’s your specialty?” She asked, her professional curiosity getting the better of her.
“Um… killing things?” Artemvian answered hopefully.
Riley rolled her eyes. “Don’t play jokes with me. Are you a Empath? A Special? A Freak? You don’t look like a Freak.”
“I,” Artemvian said in a grand voice, sitting up taller “Am a Mage.”
“...Ok. So what kind of mage are you?”
It was Artemvian’s turn to ask. “What do you mean, what kind of mage?”
“Are you an Elementalist? An Empath? A Biomancer? Spatial?” Riley waved her hand. “You know. One of the six branches of magic. Which branch do you belong to?” She narrowed her eyes. “...You are a mage right? Just because you can use a little bit of mana doesn’t mean you can call yourself one.”
“No no! I truly am a Mage.” Artemvian said hurriedly. The woman changed moods at the drop of a hat.
Whatever Riley was saying, Artemvian could barely make sense of it. What did she mean by Elementalist? Or an Empath? Or Biomancer? Mages were just… Mages. There were no different types of mages. Sure, a mage might be better at one spell than another but no one bothered to call themselves something else, like a Elementalist. Just because you were good at fire spells didn’t make you a different type of mage than someone who used Spatial Magic.
While Artemvian was thinking, Riley snapped her finger. “Hey. Show me something.”
What could Artemvian do to convince her? “...I’m an Elementalist.” He said finally. “What kind of proof do you want?”
“What element?”
“All of them.”
“I’m getting real tired of your jokes, Artemvian.”
“...Fine. Fire then.” Just how pathetic were the Mages of this world that they were not only limited to a single area but limited by elements?
“Ok. Show me some fire then.”
Artemvian had a flash of himself burning down Riley’s Joint and pointing a finger at Riley, laughing and saying ‘I told you I was a mage!’. But it wouldn’t do to burn down a building on his first day in a new world out of spite. Especially petty spite. By the blasted hells, he was supposed to have the mind of a nintey something year old.
So Artemvian simply compiled, raising his hand and coating it in fire.
The fire whooshed to life instantaneously and immediately, all the patrons had their eyes glued to the Mage. Every pair of eyes were wide with shock and surprise, looking at their table mates as if asking, ‘is this real?’.
The fire crackled and Riley could feel the heat rolling off of it in waves. She took a step back at the conflagration and almost grabbed the fire extinguisher to put it out. Any second now, Artemvian should have been screaming. But no, he just sat there like before, his lips fixed in a pout.
“Put it out.” Riley muttered.
“What?”
“I said put it out!”
Artemvian compiled, muttering under his breath. “‘Show me proof’ she says. Then I show her proof and not even two seconds later, she tells me to put it out. It’s like telling a dog to sit, wait then sit again.”
Riley ignored him and went on with her business.
Artemvian watched, transfixed, as Riley’s eye lit up in an artificial blue, somehue that he’d never seen before. The light formed a shape of semi-circles layered on top of each other, smallest to largest. The shapes moved in a rhythmic pattern for a brief second, superimposed in the air right in front of her eyeballs. Then they abruptly disappeared. All his complaints disappeared at the casual display of this world's technology.
“What was that? That thing with your eye?”
“First time seeing one huh?” Riley tapped the side of her own temples. “Then again, it's only been out for a year. It’s called an ‘ONN’,” she pronounced it as ‘on’, “Online Neural Network. Allows you to tap into the internet. Kind of like a phone in your head.”
“A phone?” Artemvian reached into his pocket and brought out the ‘phone’ that the thug had kindly donated to him. “Like this?”
Riley frowned. She found that she was doing that a lot whenever Artemvian opened his mouth. It was either confusion or annoyance. “Yes… a phone. Don’t tell me it’s your first time seeing one?”
“Can you show me how to use it?” He asked.
Either the mercenary-to-be was taking his role as a monster hunter stuck in some fantasy world too seriously or he really was clueless about a phone.
“...That phone belongs to someone else. It’s not worth the time to crack it. Here, I’ll give you a burner phone.” She reached underneath the counter and brought out a similar looking phone. A flat rectangular surface that lit up once she powered it on.
Riley spent the next few minutes explaining how to use the phone and its features as the person she called walked through the curtains by the doorway which led to the back of the bar.
Brant was a tanned young man with smooth hair that was combed back, all slick and shiny. He was dressed similar to the woman, except without the sleeveless tunic. There was a set of sunglasses resting on the top of his head, though unlike Artemvian’s they were joined together in one large reflective surface, not two rectangles. He sported a goatee and intelligent gray eyes which looked at Artem in surprise.
“Boss, the Bounty Files you asked for.” He walked behind the bar next to Riley. “Nice to meet you sir. I’m Brant.” The young man smiled easily, reaching out for a handshake.
Artemvian shook Brant’s hand with gusto. “Finally, something I’m familiar with. A handshake.”
Brant frowned as Artemvian continued to shake Brant’s hand. “Uh…”
“Ignore him.” Riley picked out a single page from the folder and laid it out in front of Artemvian.
“A John Doe. There’s a bounty out on his head for 10,000 doilies. 15,000 if you can bring the corpse back intact. 20,000 if you can capture him alive.”
Artemvian whistled. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that seems like it’s a lot of coin. You said his name was John Doe?”
“No, that’s just what we call him.”
‘Isn’t that literally what a name is? What you call people?’ But he didn’t voice this out loud. Riley’s face was too serious and he didn’t want to ruin the Broker’s concentration.
“No one knows who he is and where he came from. But he’s been caught on a dozen different surveillance footage, kidnapping and murdering kids.”
“Jesus.” Brant swore. “Kids.”
“Agreed.” Artemvian muttered, looking at the photos of John Doe. “...Is this guy a Werewolf?”
Riley and Brant shared a look. It was Brant who answered Artemvian. “A what?”
“A Werewolf. Probably the carrier kind. Definitely not a Hexenwulf. No, right here, see?” The two looked at where Artemvian was pointing. “Huge red angry bite scar, obviously from a Werewolf. See how his clothes are always ripped up in the photos? That’s from the size difference when he transforms.”
“...Boss?” Brant sounded nervous.
“He’s a Werewolf. I’m sure of it. I’ve hunted them loads of times.” Artemvian rolled his eyes. “How often are the murders happening? One to two times a month, correct?”
Riley took the paper and read over it. “Once a month.”
“I’ll bet you anything it correlates to the lunar cycle.”
She gave the paper back to Artemvian. “So what’re you saying? This guy is a Werewolf Cosplayer? Or some genetic experiment designed to imitate a Werewolf? Or maybe a Freak managed to get powers similar to one?”
It was Artemvian’s turn to be confused. But he did understand enough to know that Riley wasn’t even in the same universe about what he was talking about. What Artemvian was talking about was in the realm of the arcane and supernatural. Yet, what Riley was talking about seemed to be rooted on the science of this world.
And to be frank, Artemvian wasn’t sure which one the man might be.
And that piqued Artemvian’s curiosity to abnormal levels, causing the man to practically salivate at the thought of figuring out what John Doe’s true identity was.
After Artemvian had retired as a Wetboy, he had been a Librarian and Scholar. There, he sated the lifelong passion of learning –something borne from never being able to go to school or attend the Mage Academy. In that library, he learned and studied, theorized and discussed. But in his layer years, Artemvian had burnt out. Quite frankly, he was too old and the type of knowledge he wanted to get was no longer possible. His body simply wouldn’t be able to make the journey anymore.
And it wasn’t like Artemvian wanted to trade his soul for immortality. Hell, even hell had seemed interesting.
And for the first time since coming to this world, Artemvian grew genuinely interested in something.
“You up for this?” Riley asked.
Artemvian grinned. “Let’s see what this big bad wolf is all about.”
***
After Artemvian left, Riley took a moment to take a deep breath.
“Boss you ok?”
“Brant.”
“Yeah?”
“Have you ever seen a Fire Elementalist light his own hand on fire before?”
Brant shook his head, “Nope. Theoretically it’s possible. But I’ve never heard of a Fire Elementalist with the control necessary to withstand their own flames, much less be near them. That would require an application of mana beyond what they teach at the Academy. You’d have to be a High Elementalist for something like that.”
Riley shook her head. “No. No way. He probably suckered me. He’s probably a Special.”
