෴Raz෴

෴Hex෴

෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴

Dark Revelation

෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴

  Nothing substantial had changed aside from the mood in the room. Somehow, the jolly, laughing, figure in a ridiculous outfit had been replaced with the image of a vengeful blacksmith ready to kill intruders. The assortment of heavy weapons directed at Raz and Hex did nothing to dispel that image.

  Brock paused after his pronouncement as though expecting a response, then continued. “I must say. You have much nerve, valking into my domain, vearing my stolen property.”

  Raz thought about the discussions he’d overheard between the speedster and guard, once he’d stolen the gloves.

  Of course they didn’t buy them either. They’re bad guys! It’s what they do. I really should have thought about that. This could be awkward.

  Hex glanced at Raz and then spoke up. “Brock, will you allow me to explain?”

  Brock touched the lens on one of his goggles. “Yes, please do.” he reached down and touched another control. “Do not lie to me. It vill not go vell for you.” His flat tone full of menace.

  [A field of some sort has sprung up around you.]

  A feeling like pressure rose around them. Pressing in, filling every gap and void with an invisible, but very tangible sensation.

  [It appears to be diagnostic or analytical in nature.]

  Lie detector fields? Well, clearly the guy has some cool toys. Lock down any external physiological signs of stress if you can.

  [That is not within my capabilities.]

  Raz thought fast and forced himself to relax as much as he could. Record procedural chain, of me, standing right right now, as relaxed as I can be. Save it, run it.

  He felt the chain kick in, subtly modulating his breathing and stance.

  [Warning, this chain will fail if you make any action other than standing right here.]

  She swallowed audibly. “Brock, we had no idea they were yours.”

  Brock looked at something on the desk. “Good. Vhat about you, funny man. Did you know those gloves were stolen?” he stood there twirling a finger in his long beard.

  Raz closed his eyes and took a deep breath before answering. “Yes. I did know they were stolen. I stole them.”

  Brock’s face went red with fury. “You dare!” he glared at them. His anger appeared tinged with confusion, as he studied Raz’s face.

  “But not from you!” Raz finished.

  The smaller man froze, an armored finger over a button. “Go on. You know they were stolen, but not from me? Tell me more.”

  “I was taken prisoner by a group of people that might have been the ones to steal them from you. While I was incarcerated there, I stole these gloves from them to use as weapons in my escape.”

  Brock sighed, looking upset at this, and tapped at controls on his desk for a moment before answering. “And I suppose you have simply come, out of the goodness of your heart, to return that vich vas taken from me?”

  Raz looked to Hex. She shrugged as if to say “This is your problem, deal with it.”

  “Honestly? No. I didn’t come to return them. I like them, and would prefer to keep them.” His gaze flicked to Hex and back at Brock. “If I had any idea they were connected to you, I’d have left them at home.”

  Brock burst into laughter anew. The laughter was darker, deeper than before, but laughter nonetheless. “Honesty. I like it, you are, how you say—” he muttered softly to himself, “blunt. Yes, blunt. I like that.”

  The smile flattened into another scowl. “But now you do know. Vhat vill you do with this vis—knowledge?”

  Raz rolled his eyes. “You’ve got us literally under the gun here, with a mantrap at our back. Obviously I’m going to return your property.”

  Brock started to nod in agreement but Raz kept talking.

  “Assuming you can prove they’re yours.” Raz realized he was clenching his fists and forced himself to relax.

  Hex tensed at this, looking askance at Raz.

  Brock laughed again, his thick German accent abruptly switched to a bad parody of a Jersey shore accent. “Well ain't you just a big swinging dickenballs. Solid brass ones on you.” He pointed around the room at the various weapons that had popped online and out of concealment. “You do know I could just turn the guns on and collect them from your corpses, right?"

  Raz kept his nerves in check, glad to have the procedural chain keeping him looking calm. Stay cool, this is just like a vendor playing hardball, just with more guns.

  Raz looked Brock in the eye. “Sure, you could do that. I mean, I can see at least two fatal flaws with that plan. But hey, do what you got to do.”

  Hex looked up at him with a clenched jaw. She didn’t say anything, but it was clear she wanted to.

  Brock cocked his head to the side, then pulled the round goggles off and rested them on his forehead. He looked at Hex while pointing at Raz. “The balls on this one?! Where’d you even find a guy with balls like that?”

  She shrugged, “I was playing pool, and he was around.”

  Brock chortled at this, then looked back at Raz. “Alright BB, why don’t you tell me, about my two fatal flaws.”

  Raz shrugged, hoping he wasn’t overplaying his nonchalance. “Why should I? Helping you fix the flaws in a plan that is directly against my own well being would be the height of stupidity. If you want something from me, make it worth my while at the very least.”

  Brock stroked his beard, appearing deep in thought. Raz could barely make out his self directed mutterings over the sounds in the shop. “Ja foocken brass balls indeed. Almost want to hear what he has to say. Hmm, right, that's a good point. I know it is! Ok, Look, we could just kill em and forget about it.” He shook his head with uncertainty. “But what if he’s right? I hate fatal flaws! He said two flaws, at least two! That’s even worse! How do we learn them? How do I get the answer?”

  Brock put an armored hand to his mouth and tugged at his mustache. “We could make a deal.”

  His prominent nose wrinkled as though the very idea was sour to him. “That kind of deal!? I hate making deals like that!”

  “So don’t make a deal then. But then I’ll never know!” His expression shifted to a sort of weary resignation. “Fine. So we make a deal.”

  Brock’s stopped gazing into the distance and his gaze snapped back to Raz and spoke up across the shop. “Alright then boy. Let’s make a deal.” He said this as though it was self explanatory.

  Raz looked to Hex. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’ve heard some things, but nothing like this.”

  “Do you have any thoughts about how to proceed?” he pressed her.

  “I’m serious, I have no idea! This was supposed to just be, we walk in, find out what he wants for one of those suits, and go home.” she hissed. She looked tense and irritated at how things were going.

  Raz decided to stick with his gut feeling. “What are you offering for this deal?”

  Brock rubbed his hands together with a poorly concealed glee. “Oh yes, what can I offer.”

  He looked at Raz with a manic gleam in his eyes. “For one flaw, I’ll guarantee you leave here alive.”

  Raz almost shook his head but managed to suppress the movement and maintain his procedural chain of false calm. “It’s funny you say that. I’m pretty sure you’ve just told me a third flaw in your plan.”

  Brock’s eyes widened to the point of looking as though they might pop from his head. “What?! No!” He slammed his fist down onto a particularly worn spot on the counter in front of him. “Fine. I’ll also offer…” He trailed off and glanced around the shop.

  After a few seconds of that he looked at Raz with another quizzical look. “So familiar. Bah! I don’t know what you want. Name your price for the information.”

  He takes this really seriously. I have a bad feeling this won't go well if I’ve overplayed my hand.

  Raz glanced at Hex again, but she was giving away nothing. Her expression had gone to a sort of all business neutral look.

  “Well, before we begin to negotiate, I think we need to come to the basic terms of our discussion.” He called out to Brock.

  That’s right, treat this like a high stakes vendor or client meeting. If I buy into his “agree or die” frame of reference I’ll have already lost.

  [This seems risky.]

  Life is full of risks. You got a better idea then spill it.

  Raz said nothing and just waited.

  [No, I do not have a better idea.]

  Finally Brock blinked first. He nodded slightly. “Fine, let’s discuss our basic terms.”

  Ok, push, but not too hard.

  “First, you admit that you’re not planning to kill us. As long as you’re even holding that over us, this discussion is dead in the water. We already told you we’re not the ones that stole from you. I saw your face when I told you. I think you know it wasn't either of us. So even if it turns out that I currently possess your stolen property, death threats are out of line.”

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  Brock scowled. “Even if I agree, What’s to stop me from just killing you later?”

  Be ready to establish Remote Access if we get the chance.

  Raz suppressed a smile and allowed himself a small shrug. “I guess that’s always a risk, but I’m confident that you’ll change your mind about that when you hear about the flaws.”

  Brock rubbed his eyes with the armored gloves, looking suspiciously at them. “Fine. You’re right. I know you’re not the ones who broke in, so I’m not going to kill ya, unless you give me a reason.”

  [That agreement did not enable remote access.]

  “Excellent, Why don’t you shut these defenses down, and let us all have a seat. I’m sure we can talk things out like reasonable people. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Brock walked over to the nearby wall and accessed a panel. From there he did something they couldn't see. A moment later the defenses slide back into their places of concealment. “Yes, that sounds reasonable. But don’t think those are the only defenses!”

  [Remote access established.]

  Gather any information that you can. Keep me updated on any signs of deception.

  [Target interface has some defenses.]

  Well watch yourself!

  [I’ll be careful.]

  Good, if you’re not, we’ll be dead.

  Raz couldn't help but notice all over again, just how oddly the short hairy man was dressed. He couldn't get over the incongruous nature of the outfit and his overall appearance.

  Brock took a seat at a table that had definitely not been there a moment before. “Alright then. Sit. Let’s talk.”

  They joined him at the table and sat down. As they did, Brock pressed a button on the table three times in quick sequence. A small robot rolled out of a concealed alcove bearing three large steins and a large pitcher full of a dark brown liquid.

  Brock said nothing as he filled all three mugs to the brims and took one of them for himself. He took a long pull, draining a full third of the liquid in a single draught.

  “I–I might have escalated things there, more than I should have.” He sounded far less threatening than he had just a moment before.

  Well that's promising, I didn’t expect him to chill out so much if we could change the context of the discussion.

  Hex took one of the giant mugs and took a sip. The tight pucker of her lips made it clear she wasn’t impressed, but she drank it without complaint.

  Brock noticed her grimace and laughed. “Ja! The fra—the ladies don’t seem to be fans of this brew.”

  Raz took the last mug and took a drink from it. The flavor held hints of smoke and wood, with heady overtures of honey and some kind of malted grain. He smiled and took a long pull from the stein.

  It doesn't taste very strongly alcoholic.

  Brock slapped the table, causing his drink to jump in the mug. “There’s a man that knows a good drink. Girls just don’t appreciate a good brew.”

  Hex spoke up. “It’s not bad, but what can I say. I like my drinks, a little more girly. By that I mean, has some flavor instead of tasting like someone used a whiskey barrel as a lat—”

  Raz nudged her leg to shut her up.

  He’s certainly proud of it. His own recipe? Come on babe, don’t piss him off about this!

  Send: He’s a brewer, don’t insult his drink!

  He talked over her. “This is an excellent brew. It reminds me of a stout blended with a dry mead.”

  Hex looked at him with a startled expression, but didn’t otherwise reply.

  Brock broke into a wide smile. “Exactly so! I started with a multi stage roast, then I used Buckwheat honey to cut the—” he stopped and waved his hands. “Perhaps we can discuss that later. Business first.” It was clear he was quite pleased to hear praise for the brew.

  Hex frowned and rolled her eyes. “Hey, Brock.”

  “Yes?”

  “If you two are about to buddy up and talk about home brewing or whatever, have you got a tv or a tablet with some internet I can chill with? Otherwise I’m gonna doze off. It’s been a long day for me.”

  Brock nodded and produced a mid sized tablet device. “Has internet, somevhat restricted,” he said with a shrug.

  She nodded and slumped over in the chair reading.

  Raz set the mug down with a soft clink. “Good brew. So, we’re discussing flaws in your plan to kill us because I’ve suggested that you should prove ownership of something you want returned.”

  “Yeah, Sorry about that. I’m a bit on edge due to recent events. I should not have overreacted like that.”

  “So, you seemed to put quite a bit of emphasis on the idea of making a deal. Care to explain?”

  The stocky man took another pull from the stein. This movement showed off his incredibly muscled arm even through the layer of leather. “No.” his tone carried a weight of finality.

  Damn, that guy is built! Mental note, do not arm wrestle or just plain wrestle this guy, period.

  “Ok, so we’re making a deal, here are the terms I want. First, however this interaction concludes, we’re both returned home, safe and sound, with no retaliatory actions from either party.”

  Brock nodded slowly. “Yes. I agree. You shall both be allowed to leave unharmed, at the end of our business. In exchange, you shall deal with me in good faith.”

  “That’s not what I said. I said, ‘we’re both returned home, safe and sound’, I’d like that distinction made.”

  “I hear you, I’ll honor the intent of the deal, I’m not some kind of lawyer.” he spit the word out like it was dirty.

  That seems too easy. What does a guy like this even want?

  “So we agree. We’ll deal with the spirit of the agreement rather than the letter. I think we can talk about the deal itself then, if that’s what you mean.” Raz said with a nod.

  “Jah.” the older man grunted.

  They both sat there in silence for a long moment. This time Raz broke first.

  “And if I present you with two flaws?”

  Brock lit a pipe. The pipe smoke had a smell that for some reason, reminded Raz of visiting his father at work, back when he was a boy. He sat there and puffed at it for long enough that Raz leaned back in his chair and took Hex’s hand under the table.

  She squeezed his hand, with no sign of being willing to let go. With her other hand she continued to navigate the device, seemingly engrossed in what she was reading.

  “What is that fool up to now?” She murmured to herself.

  Brock finally got his pipe going the way he wanted. “Assuming ve come to an overall deal, then I vill also deal in information. In that case, if you can present me with a flaw, I’ll give you a discount if you’re here to buy, I’ll even let you see the special stock. Two flaws, and I’ll flat out give you one of my, what is the vord, ‘factory seconds’ if you find there’s something that you can actually use. And if you come up vith more, I’ll—”

  Hex’s jaw dropped and she looked up from the news website when she heard this. “Free?!”

  Raz put a hand up to forestall him continuing. “I only said two.”

  Brock puffed at the pipe and shrugged. “True. But if you find more, it’ll be vorth more to me.”

  It seems weird that he cares so much about this. I was just trying to buy some time, but this seems really important to him for some reason.

  Brock blew a tiny smoke ring. “Of course, that isn’t the deal. That’s the sweetener on my side of the table, if we can reach the point of making a deal.”

  Ahh, classic bait and switch. Lay it on like it’s this amazing deal then reveal the real cost.

  Raz shrugged, making the motion big. “Well, what I was offering was the information. If you take it as a given that I’ll provide that, and but then you also want something else, we might struggle to do business.”

  Brock leaned back with the pipe. Staring at the ceiling, he reclined in his chair as though he had all the time in the world. Finally he sat up and looked them over. “That’s the problem isn’t it. You’re here. You came to me, probably from across die welt. That you need something from me is scarcely debatable.”

  Raz shook his head. “Need is a strong word. Perhaps we’re just interested in doing some business.”

  He rubbed his chin through the unruly beard. “Well, for the sake of discussion, let's say that you clearly need or at least vant something from me, or you vouldn’t be here. It matters not. I can afford to make my sweetener extravagant, because I don’t need anything from you.”

  Well, that's not great.

  Raz was about to speak when Brock continued. “But, you’ve piqued my curiosity. I don’t let go of questions easily. I vonder if you’re the sort I can deal in favors vith.”

  Raz flicked a glance at Hex and then back at the bearded man across the table. “Depending on what you want, I don’t see why not. I’ve heard that your normal way of doing business is more based on favors than other means of payment. But I’ll have some limitations on what I’m going to agree to ahead of time.”

  “That’s smart. If you’re going to deal in favors, you should be thinking about the vorst I could ask of you.”

  He leaned back and put his feet up on the table. “The last thing you vant, is to find yourself defaulting on a debt you owe me.”

  He smiled, but something about the smile looked menacing. “I’m a somewhat aggressive debt collector. You seem smart enough not to agree to anything you can’t or won't back up. But you and me, we’ve got an altogether different problem.”

  Raz had a bad feeling he knew exactly what the problem would be. I’m not powerful enough to be worth favors. I can’t do anything unique.

  “What problem would that be?” Raz asked.

  Brock let out a small sigh. ”You see, the thing is, I don’t think you have, or can do, anything I need or vant. More to the point, considering what my scans tell me, you either have extremely good control over the ebb and flow of your power, or you’re simply not powerful enough to be vorth it, for me to deal in favors with you.”

  He shook his head with obviously false regret, “Don’t take it personal, I just don’t think your favors are vorth enough to me to make such a deal.”

  Sounds a little personal.

  The hairy man put his feet back to the floor and leaned forward, as though eager to hear Raz’s reply.

  It’s just his opening salvo. Don’t buy into his frame. He’s trying, without knowing much about me, to devalue my side of the table, which means he might be unsure, and probably doesn’t want to be pushed. Those ‘factory seconds’ are probably trash, a way for me to ‘lose by winning’ if I get sucked into proving myself to him.

  Feeling put on the spot, Raz reflexively used one of his dad’s old sayings, “Well what I’ve always heard, is that life is basically transactional, people always want something. The only time they act like they don’t want something, it’s because they’re already getting what they actually want.”

  Brock tilted his head back and then to the side, looking at Raz as though trying to capture him from multiple angles. “Very curious. That sounds very much like something—Never mind. That’s long in the past.”

  Brock abruptly turned oblique to them and ignored them both. Raz watched as he mumbled unintelligible things as though he were talking to himself, but also answering himself. Enough time passed by with him muttering like a crazy person that Raz found Hex’s hand and squeezed it to get her to lean in toward him. He then leaned in and whispered into her ear. “Is it just me, or is this guy a solid 40 or so cards short of a full deck?”

  She smiled and suppressed a laugh. As she was about to reply, Brock sat up straight and looked over at them as though suddenly becoming aware of their presence again.

  “You vin. I must at least know this answer.” he broke off and muttered what sounded like ‘yes, I know!’ to no one in particular before continuing. “Did you ever know a man named Burke Owens?”

  Well shit, this guy’s batshit nuts. Is it a good or a bad thing to tell him? Wait, he has a hard time with unanswered questions!

  “Why do you ask?”

  The hairy man looked at him and tilted his head to the side in confusion. “I ask, because I vant to know!”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  The two of them verbally fencing for several minutes, each declarative from Brock met with a question from Raz. The tension in his movements and upper body rapidly increased toward a breaking point. Finally the strangely dressed man could bear it no longer.

  “Agcch! Enough of this! I need an answer! Vhat will you accept in exchange for a straight answer?”

  “You complete a commission for me. For free.”

  Brock burst into laughter. “Ach, good try. No, that is too high a price.”

  Raz thought back to some of the better lines salespeople had tried on him in the past. The one that felt right popped to mind. “Well, you know what they say. If the price seems too high, that can be a statement about your current position, rather than the value of the purchase.”

  I can’t believe I said that with a straight face. I was so pissed when that guy trying to sell me on outsourcing used it on me.

  The man got up from the table and walked off a few paces. His movements and body language looked as though he were talking to himself, although there was no sound. Just as Raz was getting worried he sat back down, with a cunning look in his eyes. “Ja. I vill agree to this, but any required materials vill still be upon your head! And, it vill be as I have time, no sooner, no rushing me.”

  Raz nodded. “Ok, I’ll agree to that. Yes, I know Burke Owens. I’m his son.”

  Brock studied him for a moment. “Yes, I suppose that’s vhat I see in you. You have your mother’s hair. Vhy do you color it?”

  Color it? What are you talking about?

  “You know my mother?”

  Brock shook his head. “No, I met her once or twice. I vould hardly say I know her. But her picture was there on his desk, every day. Your father though, him, I knew vell. I owe him quite a lot. Vithout a doubt, he helped me become the man I am today.”

   “He—he’s been dead for a long time.” Raz swallowed down the fresh burst of emotion with difficulty.

  Brock nodded, and blinked several times in rapid succession. “Yes. I know. I vas there the night Doktor Midnight killed him.”