Volume 1 - Chapter 20

Bleeker Building, Part 2

I nodded at Jason's admission of recklessness. At least he was self-aware of his flaws.

"Alright, I get it.” I said, “we all have our strengths. If we team up, I can try to keep you out of too much trouble."

Jason laughed. "Sounds like a plan. But for now, maybe we should split up and try to gain some more experience."

His thinking made plenty of sense to me. We were both pretty green still. "Yeah, good idea. Maybe we can meet back up once we're about to hit level three?"

"For sure!" Jason agreed. "Any idea where though? This place is a maze."

I thought for a moment. "Well, do you know where Emma's Kitchen is? We can meet up either there or back here at 7 p.m.”

Jason snapped his fingers. "The restaurant you told me about near O'Malley's with fried steaks and the lady with the crazy twang accent?”

“Yeah,” I laughed, having told him how I liked her dialogue speech since I was from Texas. “That’s the one.”

“Cool, cool. I think I remember how to get there.”

I nodded. “Good luck.”

“Good luck to you, bro!” he said, “see you at the kitchen.”

We each turned to leave, but a new thought occurred to me. If we were trying to find the most profitable path to mission success, there had to be a better way to see that information. I wondered if he already knew.

"Hey, do you know if there's any way to see how much experience we'll get from doing missions and stuff? Would be useful to plan this whole thing out."

He shrugged. "Not sure, but maybe there's a talent for that. Seems like there would be one for items and weapons too. Like being able to know about them since it doesn't give me any stat information.”

I felt better knowing I wasn’t the only one in the dark when it came to stats.

"Good point. We'll have to look out for talents like that." I stretched my arms over my head, yawning. "Alright man, I'm gonna get going then. Try not to get yourself killed before we meet up again."

Jason grinned. "No promises! Later bro."

With that, we parted ways. I had a lot of ground to cover if I wanted to hit level two and then three anytime soon.

Standing in The Green Yards, I pulled up my screens and read through the summaries of my two current missions.

The one from Samuel Donovan was much further along than I realized. After having learned what I needed from Officer Packley's evidence folders, Jason, and from the affiliations summaries, I had satisfied certain perimeters I wasn’t previously aware of.

I read over the last bit of Donovan's request. He still wanted specifics on The Cortez Family patrol at The Bleeker Building.

He needed to know how many members were assigned there and what the security rotation looked like.

It was no small feat, but less difficult than I had originally anticipated. I knew where The Bleeker Building was, and if nothing had changed, I knew a spot where I could spy on them without the NPCs noticing.

Based on what Jason told me, officer Mackson was corrupt. The authority figure was seen taking bribes from vampires. That meant he was no good in my book, and I wouldn't believe anything he told me if I had to talk with the police again.

That part of the information retrieval was already complete. The other half was still in progress. I needed to head back across the district.

I'd spotted Stalvek Dyomin entering The Bleeker Building recently and not leaving for at least three hours. I also knew that unless he’d leveled up again and used that new point for Awareness, then he only had one point in this talent.

Donovan and The Green Fists could use that information for whatever plans of attack they might have. At least, I assumed that was their intention.

They still needed the real nitty-gritty details on The Cortez Family security setup. A casual observation from the street wasn’t going to cut it.

I would have to stakeout the place for a long while, and this time I would bring something to drink and snack on.

I headed back down Whitaker Street towards Gregg's Bodega, the little convenience store I had stumbled upon the day before.

If I was going to stake out The Bleeker Building for hours, I'd need supplies. Dying of heat exhaustion or dehydration would be quite embarrassing.

The bells jingled as I pushed open the door. The cashier, an older man with a thick mustache, glanced up from his magazine.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Back again, eh?"

I offered a polite nod as I scanned the cold drink coolers along the wall. My eyes landed on a neon green beverage called Zappy! Citrus Exploddy! I grabbed two of the tall glass bottles.

Next I moved to the snack aisle, snatching a couple packages of beef jerky from the hanging racks. Protein, sugar, and caffeine. That should get me through the stakeout.

At the counter, it was an easy transaction. "Twenty cents," he stated gruffly.

I dug into my wallet, retrieving two dimes. After handing over the coins, I was left with two dollars and fifty five cents. Not much, but it would have to do. Hopefully I would figure out a way to earn more money real soon.

Outside, I ripped open one of the jerky packs, tearing off a chunk with my teeth as I made my way down the cracked sidewalk. The Zappy! drinks sloshed around in the brown paper bag.

I cut down an alley, the shadows getting smaller in the late morning sun. Peeking out, I spotted the looming form of The Bleeker Building across the street. Rusted fire escapes clung to its crumbling brick facade like bent claws.

A couple of thugs in plain clothes loitered by the entrance, their faces a gallery of sneers and twisted scars. The perfect picture of mafia muscle.

I hung back in the alley, keeping to the shadows as I moved closer. An old dumpster reeked of rotting garbage, but it provided good cover to watch from.

Settling in behind the dumpster, I cracked open one of the Zappy! drinks. The sickly sweet citrus flavor exploded over my tongue as I took a swig. I'd need the caffeine boost to stay alert.

Leaning back against the filthy bricks, I watched and waited, noting every car that passed and every person who approached or left The Bleeker Building.

I was in for a long stakeout, but Samuel Donovan needed these details on The Cortez Family's operations. I needed the experience.

I took another pull from the Zappy! as I started sweating. My eyes never left the entrance of that decaying deathtrap across the street.

The stench of rot from a nearby dumpster filled my nostrils as I peered through a gap in the twisted metal.

Across the street, The Bleeker Building loomed, its facade crumbling and decrepit. It was the entrance I focused on, watching the comings and goings with rapt attention.

Two Cortez thugs in tattered trench coats stood guard, their bulky frames and unkempt appearances intimidating.

A fancy car pulled up, the glossy black metalwork lovingly taken care of. It was one of the sickest, meanest looking roadsters I had ever seen, with chrome exhausts sparkling in the sun.

A third man emerged, his face a twisted mask of scars under the brim of a low hat. A few words were exchanged before he joined the other two at the entrance. They moved as a three man unit, being a well-oiled machine of intimidation.

I made a note. Some top dog in The Cortez Family had arrived. The vehicle had extra protection, along with all the regular guards patrolled in packs of three.

Over the next couple hours, the pattern became clear. Four distinct groups, each with three members, patrolled different sections of the property in timed rotations.

If one needed a break, the other two remained, ensuring at least two were always present. A minimum of eight thugs maintained a watchful eye over The Bleeker at any given time.

The groups switched off every sixty minutes, the fresh cycle strutting out with their trench coats flapping. I lost count of how many different gang members I observed, their gruff faces and bulging weapons all bleeding together into one terrifying image of brutality.

But I managed to log their patterns, mapping out their routes and timing the changeovers with careful precision. Donovan would have everything he needed to plan whatever move he intended.

As the afternoon dragged on, my stomach rumbled. I’d eaten the last bites of jerky an hour earlier. I reached for the second Zappy! hoping the sweet, tangy liquid would quiet my stomach for a while longer.

Another patrol shift started up, and three new men emerged from the building's shadowed interior. They took up their positions with the same cold efficiency as the others before them.

I committed their faces to memory, the jagged scar across one man's cheek, the wiry build of another. They seemed to be coiled tight as a spring.

Finally, after way too much time, my mission screen flashed and I received a notification.

Mission Progress: The Bleeker Building - Learn more about The Bleeker Building and The Cortez Family Security Detail

+100 XP

You have 1,600 XP total

You need 900 more XP to reach level 2

“Awesome,” I whispered to myself.

Satisfied, I pushed away from the dumpster, wincing at the creak of my stiff joints. I had what I needed. Donovan would get his intel, whether he intended to use it for attack or just general planning.

My role was complete. I double-checked my notes one last time before I slipped away. All the necessary parts of the mission had been fulfilled.

Leaving my vantage point behind the dumpster, I had my notes in hand detailing The Cortez Family's security rotations at The Bleeker Building.

I turned and hurried back down the dingy alleyway, my boots kicking up stray bits of trash. It was only 3:44 p.m., and if I was lucky, I could get to Donovan's office before it closed for the evening.

Emerging onto Whitaker Street, I picked up the pace, practically jogging down the cracked sidewalk. The few pedestrians wandering about in this heat shrank back as I rushed past, no doubt curious of my urgency.

I cut across a side street, in a rush to get several blocks down to Donovan’s office.

In such a hurry, I failed to notice the looming figure step out from a shadowed area until I nearly slammed into him.

I halted with a grunt, stumbling back a few steps before regaining my balance.

A pair of icy blue eyes bore into me from under the brim of a low hat.

"Well, well..." a familiar voice grated out. "If it isn't the little rat from before."

Stalvek Dyomin straightened to his full, intimidating height, hands shoved into the pockets of his flashy coat. I froze, that penetrating gaze pinning me in place like a terrified insect.

"Fancy meeting you out here again," he continued, taking a step forward. "Up to no good, I assume?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My tongue felt thick and useless as Stalvek closed the distance between us.

That's when I noticed the four hulking shapes detaching themselves from the shadows around him, slowly forming a semicircle that hemmed me in against the grimy brickwork.

It had to be some type of illusion or spell. How else could he have hired muscle made of shadow?

The big goons looked just like the men guarding The Bleeker Building, only it was obvious they weren't human. Their forms were void of any flesh, and I immediately considered it must be some type of talent.

"You know," Stalvek said, his voice a lazy drawl as he casually withdrew a switchblade from his coat. "I did try to warn you before so I don't feel bad about what I'm going to do to you. This city... it has a way of chewing up little snoops like you."

The blade glinted in the streetlight as he popped it open with a casual flick of his wrist. My heart pounded in my ears, breath coming in ragged gasps.

This wasn't good. I knew he couldn't kill me, but I was cornered and outnumbered, with no weapons or abilities to defend myself.

Stalvek took another deliberate step closer, the thugs following suit like an expanding bubble of menace. Their forms grew larger and more intimidating, threatening to suffocate me in shadow.

His razor-sharp knife hovered an inch from my face.

"So..." that icy gaze bored into me again. "What should we do with you? What should we do… with… you?"