Henry ‘Hal’ Hayes was soaked through to his bones. He stood behind his kiosk at the usual haunt beneath a gun metal gray December sky. The docks were typically a bustling chaos of workers, hookers, and lurkers. Today, however, only the occasional cargo van passing by gave Hal’s eyes something to focus on. As much as he loved his workplace for other reasons, the scenery of gray sky mirrored by gray water, docks extending into the marina, and slow moving freight ships made it about as visually interesting as a brick wall.
It was only mid afternoon but, with how slow foot traffic was today, Hal started packing up his inventory to call it a day. On a typical day he’d work the docks well into the twilight hours, it was not even atypical for him to keep up the hustle until after midnight. But on those days, Hal brought home the proverbial bacon. Just as he was about to activate the travel mode of his magically enhanced sales kiosk, Hal heard the familiar roar of a motorcycle.
The other Van Helsing, Greg, was not Hal’s favorite customer. Still, encounters with the big man almost always resulted in hefty profit. His brother, Gabriel, on the other hand, was a much tougher customer when he was still alive. Instead of shrewdly haggling over price or even making unreasonable demands, Gabriel leaned on the threat of imminent violence to get the items or prices he wanted out of Hal. As difficult as it would be for any living creature to actually kill Hal, causing him pain wasn’t any different than it would be to any run of the mill human.
Big, dark, and broody Greg Van Helsing swung his leg over the seat of his motorcycle, dismounting before detaching his black leather travel bag.
“Hal,” Greg said/grunted in greeting.
“My favorite customer,” Hal said, putting on his game face - a very practiced smile. It appeared genuine and inviting and served to reliably lower his client’s defenses. He nodded toward his packed up kiosk. “You caught me just in time. What can I do for you today? Another batch of those cosmetic elixirs? I just got another shipment, this time they’re the variety packs. Bought too many, though. I could cut you a deal, if you’re interested?”
The burly man’s cheeks reddened momentarily, covered quickly by an intense glare. “No, I’m selling today. If you’re buying?”
“I’m always buying when it comes to long-time patrons like yourself. And you know well that I always pay the most for quality goods,” he lied with a smile. Hal had fleeced Greg Van Helsing, underpaying and overcharging him for a net win of tens of thousands of dollars over the years. “What have you brought me today?”
Greg began rifling through his bag, pulling out Monster Core after Monster Core and setting them on top of the kiosk. Though his company and conversational experience left much to be desired, not a one of Hal’s clients brought in more Monster Cores than Greg. And, due to the nature of the Cores and their need to be magically appraised, Hal mopped the floor with the other Van Helsing in negotiations for them. Greg did not have the patience to wait in line for hours at the ID station in the bizarre bazaar, leading to Hal purchasing Rank 3 Cores for Rank 1 prices on several occasions.
“These three,” Greg said, pointing out a groupage of Cores, “are just Rank 1. The rest are Rank 2.”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Hal swallowed his chagrin, the warm, practiced smile painting over it as though he were thrilled at the information provided. “You had them appraised? I’m surprised.”
“The money, Hal.”
Hal pulled his cash envelope from his jacket’s inner pocket and began counting out the hundred dollar bills. After a few hundred had been counted, Hal paused, frowning as though something had just occurred to him.
“Safe to assume you brought the corresponding documentation?” he asked slyly. The way he said it almost seemed to imply that, of course Greg had the certificates of authenticity, but that he had simply forgotten to provide them. Without the certificates, even if the Cores were what Greg claimed they were, he would be able to purchase them at a discount.
“No. Had them appraised by… alternative means.”
“Oh,” Hal replied, looking deeply apologetic. “Without the certificates, there’s no way for me to know for certain what Rank these Cores really are. Even if I take you at your word, I can’t resell them without first making the trip to the bazaar and having them appraised myself.” He paused, scratching thoughtfully at his chin. The Cores were as Greg said, Hal could sense the Rank of a Monster Core inherently, but with a small margin of error. “For my best customer, though, I’m willing to pay… let’s say $3,500?”
Greg’s expression darkened, and he did not reply.
“Alright, $4,000.”
Greg folded his arms and raised an eyebrow threateningly. “You buy Rank 1 cores for $500 even when the market’s flooded with them. Rank 2’s go for $1500. That’s four Rank 2, three Rank 1 on your counter. In case you’ve been hitting the pipe a little too hard today, that’s $7,500.”
“And $7,500 is exactly what I would offer you, if I could be sure of each Core’s Rank and provide a certificate of authenticity upon my own resale.”
“Tell you what,” Greg said, now truly beginning the process of haggling that Hal lived for. “I’ll take $6,500. That’s a $1,000 discount and all you’ve got to do is have them appraised yourself. If I offered you 1,000 bucks to go have some Cores appraised, you’d jump all over that. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re not wrong,” Hal conceded. “$6,500 would be a fair compromise if there was some way I could be certain about their Ranks. Don’t get me wrong, Greg, I do trust you. It’s just business, you understand. Because I appreciate your patronage, I’m willing to offer $4,000 and one variety pack of cosmetic elixirs. Final offer.”
Greg’s glower intensified, and then Hal saw it. Consideration, contemplation, and finally, resignation. Once the doors were open to trades, Hal knew he had this encounter in the bag. Nobody living, dead, or undead could keep up with the silver tongue of Hal Hayes when it came to commodity trading. No more than ten minutes later, Greg Van Helsing took off on his motorcycle, the proud owner of three variety packs of cosmetic elixirs, a box full of garlic extract, and $2,000 in cash.
Hal sucked the energy from one of the Rank 2 Cores, slurping its essence with immense satisfaction. For $2,000 and some crap he already had on hand, he’d have enough essence to sustain his life force for over a year. Despite the rough start, Hal had managed to have a fairly solid day and it was all thanks to Greg Van Helsing.
***
Weaving through traffic at breakneck speeds, Greg Van Helsing worked the numbers back through his mind. Hal had taken him to the cleaners. Again. He made a mental note to ask Mrs. Mayhew to come along for his next interaction with that slimy bastard. Whether she had any skill at negotiation, Greg had no idea. Her skill at seeing through and not having any nonsense whatsoever, Greg was certain would prove useful in dealing with Hal. Still, the trip had accomplished his goal.
Greg hadn’t needed money for some time, with the Mayhew’s letting him stay in one of their spare bedrooms free of charge and Peter making almost every meal for three, he barely had any expenses at all. Christmas was quickly approaching and Greg went to the docks this afternoon to liquify some assets so that he could purchase the Mayhew’s adequate presents. They were an odd couple, to be sure, but they had treated Greg well and he wanted to do something nice for them.
Though he wasn’t sure how Mrs. Mayhew would react, Greg was certain that one of the cosmetic elixir variety packs would make Peter squeal with joy.