16

“What does he want?”

“I dunno Ruf, he just said he wanted a sit down.”

“But what did he say exactly?”

“Just that he’s heard some things, and now he wants a sit down.”

“Fuck sake." Rufi slumped back in the carriage as it bounced through the East End towards the Workman’s Quarter.

“And he wanted to meet at the factory?” Chuch asked.

“He said the factory,” Pauli said.

“Not the club?”

“Not the club.”

“I don’t like it Ruf,” Chuch said, flicking his tongue across his teeth.

“Bobby Fish ain’t to be played with,” Mikkel said, getting a dark look from Chuch. "If he wants to meet then we meet."

“You think I don’t know that?” Rufi asked, flicking his smoke out of the window and lighting another.

“Don’t worry, if it comes to it, I’ve always wanted to plug one of those old Fim fucks,” Chuch growled, a wicked leer on his face.

“Oh please Chuchy,” Mikkel said dismissively. “The last thing we need is a war with the Firm.”

“You think I’m worried about them?” Chuch growled.

“Naa… I wasn’t sayin’ that,” Mikkel said. “Just that… we don’t need the aggro right now. Ain’t that right, Ruf?”

“Wouldn’t be no aggro,” Chuch said, his voice flat and inflectionless.

“Mik’s right,” Rufi said. “We’re s'posed to be handling this. Not starting wars. You sure he didn’t say anything else?” Rufi asked Pauli.

“The message was very clear,” Pauli said. “But I think we can guess what might have upset him.” Pauli’s eyes rolled over to Mikkel.

“Don’t put this on me!” Mikkel snapped. “Last thing I fuckin’ need is a demon like Bobby Fish on my back.”

“You scared?” Chuch mocked.

“No. But I ain’t suicidal either. You might wanna go tusslin’ with every fuckin’ bent nosed Face in place but I’m happy counting my gold and keeping my scales clean.”

Chuch muttered something in Kittei which Mikkel chose to ignore.

“Shit!” Rufi rested his head back. “Bobby fucking Fish. Of all the people we could have pissed off, it had to be him.”

“Bobby’s a business man,” Pauli said. “He’s not above reason. And remember, you’re acting with the full authority of the Kings on this. If we have stepped on his toes, he might just have to swallow that.”

“You think Bobby Fish is swallowing anything?” Mikkel said. “This is the same Bobby Fish that beat three hitmen to death with bare hands in a cell in BlackWater. The same Bobby Fish that took on a fuckin’ Troll with only a butcher’s knife.”

“That’s bullshit,” Chuch spat. “All them old stories from back in the day are bullshit.”

“No way, I heard it from the old boys. The reckon Bobby had to be part Kith the way he threw down. Ain’t no badder Human in the city.” Mikkel said.

Chuch snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Still just a fuckin’ Human,” he growled.

The carriage pulled up to a small factory on a narrow lane. The factory stood alone at the end of the lane. Rufi rubbed his face and blinked heavily, dispelling the nagging need for sleep, and opened the carriage door. The lane was teeming with industry, even in the constant drizzle, men and women worked tirelessly. They rolled heavy barrels towards the warehouse while others came the other way with heavily wrapped pallets, loading them onto carriages and sending them back out. The procession was seemingly never ending. Foul smells emanated from the factory. Many of the men and women working had wraps around their noses to try and ward off the pungent odours of rendering fat. Rufi hopped out, and the other three Goblins followed. They walked towards the factory’s door, but their entrance was barred by four heavies in dark long coats.

“I’m here to see Bobby,” Rufi said to them.

“You are,” one of the men replied. “They’re not.”

“Just you,” another said.

“That’s not gonna happen,” Chuch growled.

“Bobby wants to talk to you. Yer mates can wait out here,” the man said, ignoring Chuch.

Rufi shrugged as if he wasn’t bothered and looked over his shoulder.

“You lot wait here,” he said.

“Rufi,” Chuch warned.

“Wait here, Chuch. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Rufi turned back to the men and they opened the factory door for him. Three of the men remained outside, and one followed Rufi in. The factory was dim, busy, and full of powerful odours that stung Rufi's nostrils. Dozens of neat rows of candles hung from the ceiling of varying sizes, shapes, and colours. Inside the warehouse, the staff were almost all women. They worked in lines, studiously dipping wicks, measuring, and trimming candles to size. It was surprisingly quiet. Few looked up at the arrival of the well dressed Goblin. Working for Bobby Fish long enough had probably taught them to not take notice of anything that wasn’t to do with their work. The thug patted down Rufi and relieved him of his various weapons.

“Leave off ‘im, Tel,” a rough voice growled from down the cramped hallway.

Rufi looked up and saw a hulking figure shambling towards him. Bobby Fish was built like a battering ram. He had thick, rounded shoulders, almost no neck, and a head that looked like it could smash through a wall. His thin, receding hair had been meticulously combed back and might have once been blonde but had darkened a few shades over the years. His forehead was tall with a thick brow that was littered with thin scars. He had thick eyebrows and small, dark eyes that couldn’t have looked friendly if he had tried. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and his stubble was coming through white. A small smile spread across his thick lips. He was hefty across the chest, arms, and legs, and his hands were massive for a Human. They looked like frying pans with sausages around the rim. He wore a simple, beige workman’s shirt with a stained and greying apron around his waist.

“We ain’t gotta worry about Sam’Sun Chaw’Drak’s nephew doin’ anythin’ silly, do we?” he said, eyeing Ridley in a way that would look friendly on anyone else, on Bobby Fish it looked more like a mocking invitation to disagree.

“‘Corse not, Bobby,” Rufi replied. “It’s good to see you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Bobby turned away and began walking the way he had come, waving for Rufi to follow him. Bobby wasn’t particularly tall, but his presence was massive. He swallowed the entire space with his shambling gait, his massive arms swinging as he walked.

“Ever seen a Chandler’s factory before?” he asked Rufi over his shoulder.

“No, can’t say I have.”

“Fuckin’ melted gold this is,” Bobby said, waving a hand at the dripping rows of candles.

“Really?” Rufi said as he followed behind. “I would have thought with all the Glowstones people wouldn’t be in for candles as much nowadays.”

“Naa, you think them wot are livin’ ‘and to mouth in the boroughs can afford to keep replacing Glowstones in every room? We sell these a dozen for half a gold.” He grabbed a thin white candle from a stack. “These ‘ere are fuckin’ ‘orrible. They stink something awful coz of the rendered Mang wyrm fat we use. But you can get two dozen for half a coin and when yore poor as fuck, you can’t really be too discernin’, can ya?”

“I guess not.,” Rufi said.

“But these ‘ere,” he pointed to a half filled crate of fine, amber coloured candles. “These are made from Feetle Beeswax. Rarer than a virgin on Osterly lane. Only find ‘em ‘round the shores of Glowery Lake in the Elvish Forests. These here sell for a gold a piece. All the fancy fucks at them underground restaurants buy ‘em up by the dozen.”

Rufi pulled an impressed face.

“Mr Drummon, the new shipment of a Hornbeetle fat has come in,” a young lady in a pristine white apron said to Bobby as they passed.

“Thank you Sandra, I’ll conclude this little bit of business and come ‘round toot sweet.”

“Yes Mr Drummon.” She gave a little curtsy and disappeared into the gloom.

“Drummon?” Rufi said.

“What? Did you think me surname was Fish? Don’t be fuckin’ soft lad,” Bobby grunted, chortling and shaking his head. "Come on, let's have a chat."

He kicked open a door and led Rufi into his shabby little office, that was really just a store room with a desk in it. Bobby pulled off his apron and threw it to one side, sitting himself down in a large comfy chair, and smoothing back his hair. He took a deep breath and snorted. Rufi sat down in the chair opposite him.

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“Cuppa?” Bobby said, and then without waiting heaved himself back out of his chair and began pouring boiling water from a tin pot on the side. He tossed a pair of teabags into each chipped cup, humming to himself.

Rufi watched him intently. He didn't like how quick the big man moved. He didn't like how small this room was. And he hated the fact that he couldn't see what Bobby's hands were doing. But a big part of being a villain in Valderia was keeping your nerve, even if that meant you ended up with a hole in you.

Bobby turned and Rufi braced himself. In his hands were two steaming cups of tea.

"Sugar?" he asked.

"Just milk," Rufi replied.

Bobby set the cup down in front of Rufi and then reached behind him. He picked up a small milk jug and came around the desk to pour it. He reached across Rufi, close enough that Rufi could smell the sweat and congealed fat off of him. Close for Bobby to stick a blade in him.

"Just a splash?" Bobby asked him, a nasty leer on his face.

Rufi nodded. His eyes never leaving Bobby's hands. He couldn't see the other hand furthest from him, Bobby's body was in the way. Rufi's knuckles whitened around the arms of his chair, read to throw himself backwards. Bobby tipped the little milk jug and poured a splash of milk into Rufi's tea and then ambled back around to his side of the desk without a word. Rufi let go of the breath he had been holding. his hands relaxed and the chair's arms creaked as he released them.

Bobby settled back down and smiled at him over the rim of his cup. It was a mocking little smile without a hint of warmth. He sipped his tea, never taking his eyes from Rufi, and then smacked his lips.

"Nothing beats a lovely cuppa, does it?" he asked.

Rufi licked his lips and then picked. uphis own cup and took a sip.

"Always hits the spot," Rufi replied casually.

“Corr, that’s a nice suit you got on there,” Bobby said to him abruptly. “Bet it’s proper expensive.”

“Nothing I can’t afford,” Rufi replied.

“I bet. Business good over yore side?”

“I do alright.”

“How much did it cost?”

“Eight gold.”

Bobby whistled through his teeth and then leaned forward and set his cup down.

“See me, I could never wear nuffin’ that tasty. Not in my line of work. Wot with all the blood, and the slicing, and all the holes, I’d do me nut just tryna keep the wardrobe full. You had any holes put in yore shirts recently, Rufi?”

Rufi swallowed his scalding hot tea, the taste suddenly bitter in his mouth, and his heart fluttered for a moment but he kept his face still.

“Listen Bobby…”

“‘Old on,” Bobby said, raising one of his massive hands. “Let me tell you first wot I’ve ‘eard. I always find discourse is easier when both parties knows whre the other party is comin' from.” Bobby leaned back in his chair and picked up his cup again. “I’ve ‘eard, you and yore little mob, ‘ave been runnin’ all over town, knocking down dealers and stealing their product. Now me, I couldn’t give a shit about it. I don’t deal drugs. Fuckin' filthy trade that one. But I do collect protection money. So imagine my shock when one of these fuckin’ little skeezy, scumbag, drug dealin’ cunts that pays me protection comes to and tells me some big fuckin’ Goblins knocked him over and nicked ‘is Burn. Well, as you can imagine, I’m all a flutter about it. Goblins? Knockin’ over dealers out East? Surely not. So I says to 'im who was these big fuck off Goblins then? And then he tells me these weren’t just any Goblins. They were proper Faces around the place, real Villains. Now my interest is more than piqued. He tells me, the Goblin wot robbed him, was some fancy suit wearing prick by the name o' Chaw’Drak. Correct me if I’m wrong, Rufi, but the only two Chaw’Draks in Valderia that would be up to some sort of Villainy would you and yore Uncle. Now, I don’t see Sam’Sun sticking up some low life’s and nickin’ their Burn, so me deduction skills led me to yore door. But then the tail twists again. Coz it turns out, you’ve not only knocked them over, but you’ve gone and killed one of ‘em and put two more on death’s door. Cut ‘em all to fuckin’ pieces and put ‘em through the brickwork as far as I’m led to understand. And I’m thinkin’, surely not. Surely, Ruf’Gar Chaw’Drak, nephew of Sam’Sun Chaw’Drak, who is renowned around Valderia as bein’ a creature who respects and upholds the Accords, surely ‘is nephew ain’t gone and done something this fuckin’ cowboy over a couple squares of Burn. So I think to meself, well Bobby, you got two options. You either grab your butcher’s knife and Talia, that’s me favourite oneshot, and you get to work, or you call Rufi in for a friendly fuckin’ chat and a cup of tea.” Bobby downed the rest of his tea and sighed. Quicker than Rufi could blink, a oneshot appeared in Bobby’s meaty fist, pointing directly at Rufi’s belly. Rufi blinked but didn’t move a muscle. He looked slowly down at the oneshot and then at Bobby. “So now Rufi, you've had your cuppa, so why don’t you tell me wot the fuck is goin’ on before I put a hole in you, stuff two separate halves of your body in a vat of rendering fat and turn you into a couple hundred fuckin’ candles some cunt will use when they’re havin’ a late night shit in the outhouse.”

Rufi swallowed. His throat had gone completely dry.

“It weren’t like that Bobby,” Rufi said.

“No?”

“No. Firstly, we didn’t kill that boy. His mate’s oneshot misfired and he killed him accidentally.”

Bobby tutted sympathetically.

"That's the thing with these little crossbows ain't it. Got a mind of their own, sometimes Talia here goes. offfor no reason at all." His finger curled tighter around the oneshot's trigger. "But you was there nickin’ their Burn?”

“No… well yes, but not like that.”

“You’re makin’ my ass ache here. What do you mean, not like that?”

“We were taking the Bad Batch off the streets.”

“What?”

“The Burn that’s been causing all of the overdoses.”

“What? I thought that was just a bunch of fuckin’ junkies OD’ing.”

“No, it’s a tainted strain. The stuff’s everywhere and we’re getting it off the streets to stop the deaths. Those dealers were selling the Bad Batch, that’s why we were there,” Rufi said, his heart hammering in his chest.

“What the fuck ‘as that got to do with you? Yore lot don’t even sell Burn.”

“The Kings had a meeting. They decided that the Bad Batch needed to be taken off the streets. There’s been too many high-profile OD’s and the heat is starting to affect everyone’s business. So they put that on my uncle, who put it on me. That’s what I was doing there.”

“The Kings?” Bobby breathed the word and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Yeah, I’m acting with their authority.”

“Shit on their fuckin’ authority,” Bobby snarled. “I don’t work for the Kings.”

“Delilah was there,” Rufi said. “She agreed to it. She was already supposed to have moved on getting the Bad batch off the streets in the East.”

“I don’t fuckin’ work for Delilah,” Bobby growled. “I love ‘er like a little sister, but I also wouldn’t take orders from my little sister.”

“I’m just following orders, Bobby. It wasn’t my intention to step on any toes.”

“Well you fuckin’ ‘ave. I can’t ‘ave those what pay me protection being clipped in my own fuckin’ manor. Can’t be ‘avin’ that at all. People will start to talk. And the second they think you can’t protect ‘em is the second they start gettin’ late on payments. Then I’d ‘ave to remind ‘em why they pay me in the first fuckin’ place. Much easier to just sort out the one problem and save meself future headache.” Bobby raised the oneshot.

“Wait, Bobby, I swear to you it’s all above board. I’m not spinning you a story. The Four Kings all agreed, Delilah agreed, she should have already cleared the streets. I don’t know why no one has told you, but if I had known that, I would have come to you first. I didn’t know those dealers were under your protection.”

Bobby’s lip curled, and he thought for a moment before lowering the oneshot slightly.

“I don’t know what was agreed or wasn’t but I can tell you this: Delilah ain’t made any moves to get Burn off the streets. If she ‘ad I would ‘ave ‘eard about it.”

“I’ll take that up with her,” Rufi said.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Bobby snorted derisively. He looked at Rufi again and then placed the oneshot down on the desk. “So all of this is some fuckin’ game being played at the Table?”

“Yeah,” Rufi said, relaxing only slightly. “Believe me, I ain’t happy about it either.”

“Sounds like the Kings ‘ave taken a big old shit on yore plate and asked you tuck in, mate.”

“Yeah, it feels like that.”

Bobby sighed and pulled open a drawer underhis desk. He pulled something out and Rufi flinched. It was a bottle of whisky. He plonked two glasses down on the table and poured them a measure each despite Rufi's protests.

“Come on, don’t be a woman about it, I wasn’t gonna shoot you.” Bobby said, pushing the glass towards Rufi.

“You weren’t?”

“I’m fairly certain I wasn’t.”

Rufi downed the whisky and exhaled deeply.

“Listen, I don’t like this fuckin’ drug game. It’s a dirty business. I’ve always said it. I can’t stand these fuckin’ junkies and not to mention the jumped up little turds slingin’ the shit. But if you think anyone is just gonna give up their Burn coz it’s killin’ creatures, yore off yore trolley, mate. That shit’s addictive, and not just for the junkies sellin’ it. These dealers are crawlin’ out of the wood work, tearin’ chunks off each other over a fuckin’ street corner in the arse end of nowhere. They’re as lowlife as the addicts. Problem is, there’s a lot of gold in the Burn game and it’s givin’ too much power to fuckin’ nobodies who ain’t done a bit of work in their lives. Now they’re strutting around with piles of gold like their real Villains.” Bobby sniffed and looked down into his empty glass. “I wouldn’t mind seeing a couple of them end up getting shot accidentally.”

Rufi looked at Bobby curiously.

“You have anybody in particular in mind? Someone higher up on the food chain?”

Bobby sniffed and poured himself another glass.

“‘Ow about the cunt that supplies all these other little cunts around ‘ere, including the cunts you robbed?”

Rufi chose his words carefully.

“That could be a problem that I’d be interested in taking care of.”

Bobby nodded.

“‘Is name’s Cameron Haney.”

“I’ve heard of him. Took a big step up recently.”

“Yeah, if you wanna call it that.”

“You know where I can find him? I’ve heard he’s out by Dowrey Manor but that information seems to be old.”

"Yeah, he’s moved on to a bigger warehouse now. He’s runs a breaker’s yard on the Landlord’s side of the river now. Reckon ‘e must ‘ave cut some sort of deal with that prick Bill. It’s down by Lacey’s Square where the river’s the widest. He moves product into the city from the little dock there and then shifts it up river.”

“Is he heavy?”

“Naa, he’s just some little cunt from the manor. But with the amount of gold I ‘eard ‘e’s makin’, he could definitely afford some serious muscle. I can’t see ‘im ‘andin’ over his Burn peacefully.”

“Not a problem,” Rufi said.

Bobby nodded and scratched the stubble on his cheek.

“Well I think that’s our discourse concluded. Say hello to your uncle for me.”

Rufi downed the rest of his whiskey and stood to go.

“And Rufi, if you kill anyone else under my protection,” Bobby said. “The next time you won’t see me. Understand?”

"Understood."

Rufi walked back out of the factory with his guts churning. He exited the factory and took a deep breath through his nose. He was drenched in sweat. He took another steadying breath and then made a beeline for his carriage. He hopped in and spoke before the others could begin questioning him.

“Put together a crew. I need a dozen ready to get their claws wet. I want ‘em armed and heavy.”

“Fuck that, I’ll go do Bobby right now,” Chuch said, a blade appearing in his hand.

“What? No, not for Bobby. That’s sorted. I found out where Cameron Haney is holed up and where he’s moving the Bad Batch from.”

“Who?” Chuch said, disappointment in his voice.

“Cameron Haney, he’s wholesaling the Bad Batch,” Pauli explained. “Where is he?”

“Landlord’s side of the river. Down at a breaker’s yard on the waterfront. By the sound of it, he considers himself a bit of a Villain, and he’s got a bag of goons with him.”

“We’re just gonna roll into Bill’s territory heavy?” Mikkel asked. “Remember what happened last time we did that?”

“Fuck Bill,” Chuch snarled.

“Yeah,” Rufi said, remembering all too well the Landlord’s hospitality. “Fuck Bill. He was there at the Table, he knows we’re supposed to be getting this shit off the street. Instead, he’s fuckin’ renting space to one of the biggest distributors. Fuck him.”

“Nice,” Chuch said, a wicked grin on his face. “So we knock on the door and boost the lot?”

“Exactly. Pauli, get me eyes on the warehouse. I want as much info as we can get. Chuch, you round us up some troops. Make sure their tusks are red, I don’t want any rookies on this one.”

“No problem.”

The carriage began trundling back down South and Rufi leaned back in his seat. Armed robbery of a big time drug dealer wasn’t on his list of things to do today, but it was just another bit of crap to add to his ever growing pile.

Shit, he was tired.