My name is Quentin Lorreno. I’m somewhat of a middleman in the criminal underworld. I mediate the crime families, I arrange diplomatic marriages, I keep things civil.
But above all I buy and sell cursed artifacts.
These dissonant pieces of the world can be as anything as a shrunken head that gives you bad vibes to things as dangerous as paintings that squeeze the life out of you once you look at them.
What my clients want with them, I don’t know. I don’t ask, and I don’t tell- for the most part.
So let’s talk about UFOs.
In recent times sightings have increased and I’m sure you, dear reader, have heard the commotion of the media and all the talk about them.
Whistleblowers, leaks, court cases- all the like.
Information about alien spacecraft, intelligent aliens coming to visit- hell, even asteroids carrying data from other worlds, other systems. But let me tell you one thing: the people you call ‘higher-ups’ and the ‘elites’ barely know a thing about UFOs, much less alien life.
But I know pieces of alien starcraft are highly desired. And the fact that recovered debris and a ship itself can fetch prices so high you’ll find yourself doubting your very eyes.
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The artifact was in the center of the man’s shop. A simple trader in the wet market, haggling with customers and overcharging tourists for the smallest things. “Excuse me,” I said, politely.
He turned to me and smiled, revealing a single gold tooth. “Ah, come my friend,” he cheered, beckoning me inside. I followed; so did my assistant- and expert, Aster. “What do you desire?” he paused, and added, “friend.”
I observed the small artifact in the center of his shop. It was round, and inscribed with symbols I neither understood nor truly comprehended.
“I want this,” I indicated. Despite the freezing rain of the wet market, the small spherical thing felt hot to the touch, and I drew back. “And where’d you find this?”
“Down river, sir,” he explained, vaguely gesturing to the roaring stream past the market. “My friend, the fishman found his nets. All fish in there, dead.”
I turned to my assistant. “Aster, can you verify?” She nodded, slipped a leather glove off her hands and reached out into the ether.
She was a Canary- that’s what we in the artifact business call those with heightened senses, those with powers of the interesting kind. She began to shiver and I laid out a hand on her shoulder as her eyes started to roll back- I feared for her every time she reached out.
“Yeah, it’s legitimate all right- not of this world.” She closed her eyes, sighing. “And he’s telling the truth.”
I nodded to the shopkeeper. “How much for the er, magic sphere?”
He thought, not entirely sure what to make of it. “Five hundred dollars?”
I could get a better deal. “Three hundred.”
“Four-fifty.”
That was acceptable. “Deal!” And I slid out my wallet and handed over cash. He seemed happy, and handed me the still-hot sphere. I nodded to him, and the two of us headed back out into the rain.