~can’t read my~

~can’t read my~

~no he can’t read my poker face~

~she’s got me like nobody~

I shake Annie, coiled up and pressed in next to me.

“Annie.”

She mumbles and stirs.

“Annie,” I try again harder. “I think your phone’s ringing.”

Annie opens bleary eyes, the soft morning light complementary on her sleepy face.

You know, the more time I spend around this chick, the more I suspect that even dying of cholera, she would likely still be beautiful.

And that’s some bullshit.

Annie sits up, reaching for her phone where it lays on the floor.

“Yeah, Beanie, what’s up?” she says, picking the call.

Annie frowns as a nervous sounding voice on the other end rattles a string of unintelligible (to me, at least) sentences.

“Wait, Beanie, hold up,” Annie says, worry driving away the vestiges of her sleep. “What are you saying? What happened to Keisha?”

Wait, Keisha, I know that name from Annie’s bio when I [Observe]d her yesterday.

According to it, Keisha is Annie’s sister in all but blood, and they’d met when they were both living with a woman named Mama G who took in young runaway girls off the streets.

Beanie answers Annie’s question, but the words are still unintelligible to me since I’m not close enough to hear.

While I can’t hear Beanie’s side of the conversation though, I most certainly can hear Annie’s.

“What do you mean she got into it with Big Ray? Not even Keisha’s that reckless,” Annie says, sounding scared but also like she hopes that all of this is just a misunderstanding.

Beanie says some more stuff I don’t catch.

“God, she and that old man,” Annie groans, looking like she’s resisting a strong urge to pull on her hair in frustration. “Look, Beanie, I’ll be right there, okay? Do nothing!”

Beanie says something short, likely expressing agreement, and Annie cuts the call.

“Argh!” she groans. “That girl is just so… ugh!”

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Keisha got herself in trouble. Again,” she says as though that explains anything.

“How can I help?” I ask.

Annie looks at me, then shakes her head. “No, you’ve done too much for me already as it is. I can’t ask you for anymore.”

“You’re not asking for anything, Annie,” I say. “I’m offering. Besides, what am I going to do here while you’re gone helping your sister with her Ample Ray situation? Fill out a resume?”

Annie stares at me, a complicated expression on her face.

Finally, she says; “Fine, you can come, but, Eugene, Big Ray’s dangerous. He practically runs Keisha’s neighbourhood. Drugs, girls, guns, he does it all. He’s not someone we can afford to piss off.”

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“Sure,” I say, “but isn’t it already too late for that, cause it sounds like Keisha’s pissed him off already.”

Annie sighs. “All the more reason for us to be careful,” she says and begins to undress.

Right as she lifts her sleeping shirt high enough to expose some underboob though, she pauses, and her eyes meet mine as she remembers that yeah, I’m still here.

Annie hesitates, looking like she’s trying to gauge whether I want to watch her strip or not.

I suspect she will; strip in front of me that is, if she decides that I want to see her do it.

Just like I’m pretty sure that, if I’d asked for it last night, she would have had sex with me.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” I say, and walk into the living room, where I glue my face to the window.

Yes, Annie would have sex with me if I asked for it, and yes, I certainly wouldn’t mind “hitting that” as the boys say, but, even I can clearly see, that if I make any sexual requests of Annie, it would ruin something in our burgeoning relationship.

I’m not sure what that something is exactly, but I do know that it’s worth a little… okay, fine, a lot of blue balls.

—❈—

We ride the bus from one crappy neighbourhood to another.

Early morning in Gotham is no quieter than late night had been. In fact, if anything, it’s louder, as a city with a population in the millions wakes.

The smell worsens too; garbage, people, smoke, and pee. God, so much pee.

Maybe it’s cause I’m still in the bad parts of the city? After all, I doubt the Bruce Wayne’s of Gotham live and work in the same congested, pee-reeking semi-garbage dumps that the rest of us do.

Oh, shit. I said ‘the rest of us.’

Less than a day here and I’m already considering myself a member of Gotham society.

Annie calls Beanie before we reach his neighbourhood, and when we do, he’s waiting for us.

I observe the boy. Not [Observe] observe, just observe.

Though now that I’ve thought about it… [Observe].

Hugo “Beanie” Ryan is fifteen, white, and a level. 7 [Peddler].

His Dad’s dead, Mom works way too much for way too little, and Beanie (who’s called that cause he’s worn a beanie everyday of his life since he was eight), figured a good way to help out would be to make something of an entrepreneur of himself.

He doesn’t sell anything seriously bad. Yet. But he has made a bit of a name for himself, in school and around his neighbourhood, as the go-to guy for the ‘cool’, party drugs that teenagers usually go for.

Beanie’s getting greedy though. Greedy and stupid, because he’s starting to skim a little off the top. And DaShonte, his supplier, is starting to notice.

This wouldn’t be much of a problem on its own; DaShonte’s a pretty chill dude with a soft spot for kids. The problem is that, like everyone in this neighbourhood, DaShonte works for Big Ray, and Big Ray keeps his business on a very short leash.

“Who’s he?” Beanie asks, eyeing me curiously.

“That’s Eugene,” Annie says. “He’s a… friend.”

“A friend, huh?” Beanie asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Real mature, Bean.” Annie rolls her eyes.

“Hey,” I say with a small wave, then hold out a hand to shake.

Beanie takes it.

“You should stop stealing from DaShonte,” I say. “He’s noticed.”

Beanie stills, his skin breaking out in goosebumps.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says pulling his hand from mine.

Annie’s eyes widen. “You’re stealing from DaShonte?” she asks in that loud quiet way people do when they’re angry but also trying to be discreet. “Are you stupid?”

“Oh, come on, Annie,” Beanie says in typical teenage fashion. “It’s DaShonte, he likes me.”

“DaShonte isn’t the problem, Bean,” Annie says. “Big Ray is.”

“Yeah, that guy will kill you,” I say confidently.

[Observe] hadn’t so much as said it outright, but it had implied it well enough; when Beanie gets caught—and he will be—he’s gonna die.

“Look, we need the money, okay?” Beanie says. “Landlord upped the rent, and everything costs way more now cause of that invasion last year, and my Mom’s shit boss won’t give her a raise. It’s not like I wanna do this shit. I don’t got a choice.”

Annie opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. I get it.

It’s all well and good telling a person not to take risks, but when the alternative is a slow death, the chance of a quick one suddenly doesn’t seem so bad.

Alert!

You have received a quest!

Quest [Help the Ryans Out] received!

The Ryans are having a tough time financially. Help the family improve its financial circumstances by getting Beanie’s Mom, Maggie Ryan a well-paying job.

Rewards: $10,000. EXP 10,000.

Accept: Y || N

How the hell am I gonna accomplish that one? I wonder, accepting the quest all the same.

I may have no idea how I’m going to go about it, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to give up on those rewards.

“Look, let’s just go see if we can get Keisha back from Big Ray,” Beanie says, and begins to walk away.

Annie and I share a look.

I shrug and we follow.