Chapter Twenty-One - The Job

"You have a job for me?" Sharp asked.

This was dangerous. The first job came in and we needed it. It was a bit of desperation but came at a relatively low level of risk. This next job? We didn't know the level of danger, but from what I knew of these two girls, it wouldn't be entirely safe.

And Sharp didn't need the work.

We had a nest egg right now that could theoretically last us a couple of years if Sharp was very careful about her spending, and two simple jobs that, while they didn't pay super well, did bring in enough income to keep us going for a long time.

I didn't have too much more time to debate with myself as Jenny leaned to the side and hummed while twisting her pint. "So, the job isn't anything too complicated. We need someone to check out the area around South Boston. Specifically, Back Bay."

Back Bay was its own sort of district, sandwiched between South Boston and Central. Though both of those had expanded so much into it that the area's unique identity had been erased. It was still geographically relevant, but not culturally.

"Check out how?" Sharp asked. "I've been picking up work as a courier lately, and maybe that'll have me going around that area."

"A courier, huh?" Jenny asked. "That's alright work. But yeah, you heard about that big cult blowout a couple of days ago?"

"Yeah," Sharp said. She wisely didn't mention that we were right next to the epicentre of that whole mess. "I heard about it. A bunch of weird people chanting about Him attacked the Riveters, right?"

Jenny nodded. "That's the gist of it. So, turns out the cult really pissed off the Riveters something fierce, and now they're being put down, hard. They called in favours from the Iron Workers to chill things out between them."

"Oh, that's big," Sharp said. I glanced up to her, and she caught the moment and explained. "The Iron Workers are the second biggest gang in South Boston, right? They're a union, I think?"

"Yeah," Jenny said. "And the Riveters aren't union at all. They get paid to scab all the time, and generally they don't get along too well. You're either in one camp or the other, and it can get pretty ugly. Plus the Iron Workers have a stick up their asses."

"Jenny," Alyssa warned.

"What? It's true," Jenny said. She reached over and stole one of Sharp's fries. The girl gasped at the theft, but Jenny ignored her. "Anyway. We don't see the two getting along all that often, but sometimes they agree about some shit long enough to put their differences aside. This is one of those times."

Sharp nodded while she subtly pulled her plate of fries away. "Yeah, I can see that," she said. "Anyway, neither want anything to do with the weirdos."

"I'll be honest I don't want anything to do with them either," Sharp said.

"Nah, that's fair," Jenny replied. She waved the stolen fry around in a little circle. "The thing is, the cult's right on the edge of Back Bay, right? That's also where the Mutes are."

"The Mutes?" Sharp asked.

That was one I knew about, if only by rumour. The Mutes were a smaller gang out near Central Boston. They had a community of mutated humanoids, supposedly escapees from some labs in Cambridge, but also people affected by experimental drugs or mutated by drinking water from the river running through the centre of the city.

The gang was noteworthy for two things. Their mutations, which made them... somewhat less than desirable to look upon and very rarely had positive benefits, and their natural affinity with magic.

It wasn't a secret that more than one Eidolon had picked a mutated person to be a warlock, and with their general physical dysfunctions keeping them out of the public eye, the Mutes had developed their own magical prowess.

They also spoke mostly in sign, or on occasion telepathically. Not that they were all actually mute. It was just another way the gang kept themselves separate from the rest of the city.

"They're a bunch of weirdos that live out under Central," Jenny said. "Honestly? Not the worst folk around? Bit weird lookin' but a damn sight more polite than some others you'll meet."

"Okay," Sharp said. "So what's the job then?"

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Jenny gestured vaguely. "We wanna know what's going on. Taking out cultists is always great work. Decent pay, you get to keep most of what you find, and no one is too pissed if one of them gets their head shot in."

"I don't think..." Sharp began.

"Not asking for you to fight 'em. Asking for you to check in on the Mutes and ask them what's going on."

"Why don't you do it?" Sharp asked.

"Bitch, I'm busy," Jenny said.

"And we're a known factor," Alyssa said. "Jenny and I have both done merc work, our faces and records are on the Mercnet, and the Mutes are fairly security-conscious. Also, as a courier, you'll be able to go places where others cannot, just because your job allows you a certain level of casual access without raising suspicions."

I frowned as best I could. They hadn't known about Sharp's job before we sat down. That entire thing was a post-hoc addition.

"I suppose," Sharp said.

"Look, we'll give you a hundred bucks to snoop around and listen to rumours for a few hours. Use it to buy yourself some local snacks and talk about the weather with some strangers. It ain't a big deal," Jenny said.

"Tell them, that you're not going to be exclusively selling them the information. Then demand five times as much."

"F-five times as much?" Sharp asked.

"Five bigs ones?" Jenny asked. "Girl, you nuts? I'm a little busy, but if I'm gonna lose five hundred I'll find the time to do it myself. Merc rep or no. We're doing you a favour here."

"Five hundred is a little excessive," Alyssa agreed. "But maybe I can sweeten the deal."

"Y-you can?" Sharp asked. She tensed up as the girl across from us leaned forwards, then she pulled back and revealed a small phone.

Alyssa nodded. "I have some old standardised magic texts. They're from one of the universities in Cambridge. These are crash-courses on the basics of spellwork. Pirated, of course. But the principles are sound enough and with a... lot of practice you might be able to summon a flame or create a small gust of wind. You could buy the textbooks outright, but they're extremely expensive, and the pirated versions usually have magically-enforced DRM that I'm certain a novice would never be able to break."

"And you have them broken?" Sharp asked.

"I do," Alyssa said. "Does that tempt you more?"

"Ah, you are very tempting," Sharp agreed. She looked down at me, questioningly.

I considered it. On the one hand... paw? On the one paw, it was putting us at a bit of a risk. On the other, we might well have to deliver in that area regardless. A slight detour for a few more dollars while also getting some questions asked? That was maybe worthwhile.

Being a courier wasn't something Sharp could do long-term. Information brokering? That was a much better job in the longer run. And the texts were admittedly very tempting.

We could now afford to buy them outright, but legal channels sometimes raised suspicions.

"I can't promise anything," Sharp said at least. "But I guess if I have deliveries in the area I can stop and ask around a little. I'm a bit curious about that cult too. Do you, uh, know anything about it?"

Jenny shook her head, but Alyssa scowled and nodded. "A little. There was a maelstrom in the magic of the city. Boston Two often feels like... a shore with many rocky outcroppings and treacherous waves, but there's a pattern and a flow that you can grow used to. Over the last couple of weeks, there has been a shift. As though a tide is receding before a great swell. I thought nothing of it, but I suspect that this shift is centred around the northern end of South Boston, which..."

"Is where the cult is," Sharp finished. She shivered. "That's creepy. Weird murder cults are bad, but magical ones feel like they'd be way worse."

"You got that right," Jenny said. "The only kind of cult that's acceptable is a cult of personality, and then only when I'm in the middle of it."

Sharp giggled, and soon the conversation turned to lighter things. Talks of shows and celebrities and local gossip that I only followed with one ear.

This could be a big mess we were skirting around, but it might also be a great opportunity. I just hoped that chasing this wouldn't take time away from growing in other ways.

***