The room inside, once covered head to toe in trophies, expensive liquors, and relatively expensive furniture for the locale, was a complete mess. Half of the bar was smashed with most of the expensive bottles destroyed, only a few remaining on the bar itself, the furniture was either burnt or seemingly torn apart, and the massive chandelier had been practically pulled off the ceiling and thrown halfway through a concrete wall.
Oh, it’s worse than I thought. I’m sorry ma.
The simple thought and apology were really all I could think of when I saw the state of the room.
As I was carried in, the bruiser carrying me threw me into the center of the room, on top of a broken glass table. Shaking from the already considerable amount of pain and adrenaline coursing through my body I looked up to see two people standing over me, neither of them being Larry.
The first was a small man, smaller than me by a considerable amount, roughly 4 feet tall and built more like an accountant than a criminal, he wore a small black suit, with a red undershirt. His face, a mixture of age and tiredness were a pair of blocky glasses you’d only see in a cartoon as a child. It wasn't difficult to discern that this man was the masked man from earlier, now having discarded it that he wasn't out in public. The second person was a woman, taller than me by a good few inches and wearing what I could only assume was war gear Wearing leather on most of her upper torso, padded pants, and openly carrying a baton clear as glass. She was blond, tall, and openly despised my existence as a human being - no, an insect you would scrape off your shoes while walking rather than care if you stepped on it. On the side of her neck sat a very open tattoo of the sun with a skull and crossbones over it, almost a funny tattoo if you didn’t know what it represented.
The Radical Sun Cartel. I’m done for here, she's going to rip my skin off and wear it as a cape, if she doesn’t decide to torture me to death first.
Not as “rad” as the name suggested, the Radical Sun Cartel was a mixture of old world cartels that combined during the invasion, it’d almost be endearing how humanity would set aside differences to fight a common enemy, if they didn’t work with such a brutal and violent methodology. With the strength of every surviving criminal enterprise of Mexico, Brazil, Argentina and every other small surviving country’s surviving gangs nearby added together, the cruelty of the worst cartels in existence at the time, and an almost full pass by their government of the Free Peoples Commercial Guild, so long as they pay taxes on everything from the drugs they smuggle to the people they traffic. It’s been rumored that the RSC was designed as a sub-group for the PCG to commit crimes in other countries without taking political backlash, and even though the ruse didn’t trick even the slowest of street merchants, it was a shield they could use when required to shrug off their actions in foreign countries. “It wasn’t us, the RSC is a criminal enterprise, we arrest their members all the time!” What they don’t mention is the fact that those same members serve in prisons with an open door policy where people who are ‘arrested’ can walk freely to and from the prison whenever they want.
As the man beside the woman backed up from my sorry body he pulled out a napkin from his back pocket and wiped down his neck, no tattoos revealed themselves but I had no doubt the man probably served them in some capacity.
He pocketed the napkin, before looking down at me.
“Do you understand why you are here?”
The question wasn’t the exact one I was expecting, more of a “How dare you make me lose thousands of dollars, now die!” before shooting me, but I could work with this. He seemed smart, what are the chances I can offer to pay him off? But I have also seen his face, which if he isn’t openly wearing their tattoos like the woman might be enough to fuck me.
Only one way to find out
“I was paid to throw a game” I stated. The response seemed to amuse him.
“Yes,” he said “you were paid to ‘throw a game’” he spoke, using air connotations with his fingers, “A ‘game’ you won, which has lost my dear sister here a good portion of her allowance for this trip. Surely you can understand, a… well, a young man like you would know why that would make her rather upset, yes?” As he was speaking his ‘Sister’ looked at him irritated, probably from mentioning she lost her ‘allowance’ over whatever it actually was.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
I looked up, seeing that he seemed rather disinterested in the situation as a whole.
I might just need to settle with the sister then, how much money would she have lost? ten grand? It might be difficult but I could easily work that out in a few hours… might make a few of my friends rather upset with me but I’d rather owe them cash then these people.
“I swear I never actually meant to win the game, when I figured out the guy was using a Twitch implant in a baseline match I figured he might have something for durability, I didn’t even realize he wasn’t in the know of the games real purpose until after I won!” At this point I was literally on my knees here, pride be damned, I had to get home, my mother needed me more than I needed a few measly grand. these people would gut me for fun, let alone if I cost them cash.
There was never the thought of defensive implants, I just needed to win the first round. They don’t know that though.
“If I'd known he was going to go down on the second hit like that, I would’ve just let him get up and knock me out, I swear I would have lost money on this as well, The Pitmaster was supposed to pay me a portion of the take afterwards!” This got a small chuckle from the girl, and my heart dropped. Rage doesn’t turn to amusement very easily for a lot of people, and from the look of the room and the yelling I heard earlier she wasn’t in a very amused mood. Meaning whatever I just said was so far off the mark even she thought it was funny.
I was never getting a portion of the take, Larry was just going to pay me some cash to fuck off. Or just remove me from the board entirely, bastard!
Craning my neck up at the woman now having relaxed the smallest bit after the ‘joke’ I made I turned my attention to her instead.
“Whatever you’ve lost, I promise I can do my best to make up for it. I can easily get my hands on five grand in the next hour, ten if you give me a day or two.” This got an even bigger laugh from the man who at this point had retreated to one of the bar stools still intact from whatever ordeal had transpired.
“Do you really think we care about the cash that you would’ve won us that much?” he stated, looking at me from the stool as he grabbed one of the loose bottles laying on top of it. He began opening the bottle as he spoke. “My sister bet around fifteen thousand on the match, not much but enough to irritate her, the reason we -” he poured the bottle into one of the glasses and took a drink before continuing “are angry, is because Larry owed us cash. He was supposed to pay us a certain amount of money from the sales of our merchandise at this establishment” as he said the word he spread his free hand to the ruined room and the entrance. “He was behind by around sixty grand in total” Fuck I cant make that up in a month, even if I fought a game like this every day. “As a bet, and in good faith, he said he had a massive influx of cash coming soon, that he could then use to pay off his outstanding debts to my company” As he finished speaking he took another drink from the glass and set it down, before standing back up and walking towards me.
“Quite frankly I don’t even blame you for winning the fight, your opponent would have been disqualified when he went to take his winnings regardless, you just got caught up in a bad mess of business you really shouldn’t have been a part of in the first place.”
Oh Thank Go-
“My sister on the other hand,” Please no “has not only lost her allowance but now our company is 60 thousand dollars short. And honestly with Larell dealt with we really have no way of paying that debt off without making some… unfortunate mess." At this he gestured to the destroyed room.
Still shaking I tried to come up with a plan, some form of idea that would help me pay back or work through this but I kept coming up empty. Fifteen grand, I can’t pay that off right away, not without making a deal with some gang that makes my situation even worse, even if I could, they lost sixty grand that Larry was going to pay them. And I definitely know I can't pay that off. Even if I drained the cash I have gathered for ma's treatment... I can't use that, I refuse to use that. “Please, sir, you have me here. I can’t pay off sixty grand, even given a year, I won’t try to lie to you both with some stupid idea you won't catch me at my bull-” I caught myself at the swear, he's a businessman, he probably hates swearing? ”At my lies, but I can still work to pay off the fifteen grand I owe your sister? Even if you leave me with a debt to pay, I can definitely work sixty grand after a year or two!” At this point I knew I was pathetic, they were going to kill me, but I have to get home right? I can’t leave my ma alone, even if they someday find an affordable cure for Ambrosia, if she woke up and was all alone? What then? Begging was better than putting her through losing two of the people she loved.
At this the man looked around, scoffed, then looked down at me once more.
“Quite frankly I have already… extracted the debt that Larrel owed me from his business, with interest, The fact of the matter is here son, you’re only here because my sister wanted to blow off some steam on the gutter rat who made her lose a bet. Nothing more and nothing less.” At this he took one last look behind the bar and walked towards the door, apparently deciding he’d had enough of the entire situation and leaving with a sigh.
“Do hurry up with your issue Lula, we have places to be and we wasted enough time here as it is”
‘Extracted’ the debt from Larry? The bar was smashed when I came in. From the angle that I was in the whole time I couldn’t see the floor of the bar, as the only opening is on both sides, not the front. One being a small gate, and the other the hole. A rather human sized hole. As I was thinking about what was probably Larry’s corpse behind the bar the girl smacked me across the head, which for a normal person would result in a broken hand and an angry me, just about sent me flying into the same bar that Larry was behind.
The crunch of wood and the pain of what was definitely a fractured skull was the only thing I could recognize through the daze I was now in. Only able to blurrily watch as the woman with the glass rod walked towards me.
When she was in front of me she looked down into my eyes, I think, at the very least her head was looking down on my slumped over form.
I could barely understand where I was when I tried to beg, only for the glass rod to hit me in the skull hard enough to shatter the wood under me, and send me into a quick dream.
I’m so sorry ma