Chapter 17: Selling Gold

We continued playing, each turn of the card a subtle test of wit and patience. It was just Old Maid, but Chris had a habit of intimidating and reading their counterparts when playing card games. Chris glanced up from his hand, eyes flicking to my suitcase. His expression was inscrutable, but I could sense a growing curiosity. “So, what is in the suitcase?”

“It is just gold,” I said, my tone casual as if this were an everyday conversation. In a place like this, maybe it was.

Chris raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Are you selling?” he asked with the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “There is always a market for gold, especially in the era of walled worlds.”

“Yeah, I could use the cash,” I replied calmly. This was the moment of truth. Would he take the bait? I’d like to appear as non-threatening as much as possible, without compromising my usefulness as a client and possible friend.

But the era of walled worlds, huh? He wasn’t wrong about that. Pretty much, the World Order had every planet under its grip as if covered by an iron curtain… but for Chris to openly say such provocative things, he might be more antagonistic to the government than I thought.

Chris nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. “If you don’t mind,” he said, gesturing to one of the staff members who approached my suitcase, “my good fella here wants to check your… luggage. Or if it is as you said, then your gold.”

“That’s fine with me,” I said, leaning back in my chair and watching as the staff member knelt down, unzipping the suitcase with practiced efficiency.

The clinking sound of the gold bars echoed through the room, and for a moment, the entire club seemed to hold its breath. The staff member looked up at Chris, nodding in confirmation.

Chris’s eyes lit up with a predatory gleam. “Well, well, Mr. Nobody, you certainly know how to make an entrance,” he said, leaning forward. “We might have a deal here.”

I felt a surge of relief, but I kept my expression neutral. “I’m glad we’re on the same page,” I said, watching as the dealer shuffled the cards for another round.

Chris seemed to grow weary of the card game and proposed a different idea. “I got tired of playing cards, so how about a drink?” he suggested, his tone casual, but his eyes were still as sharp as ever.

“Sure,” I replied, curious about where this would lead.

Chris snapped his fingers, and the dealer, who had been overseeing our game, left to join the other staff members standing guard around the room. Steph, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, rose gracefully and made her way to the bar. She picked up two glasses and a bottle of wine that looked incredibly expensive.

As Steph poured the wine, Chris leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on me. “Any affiliations?” he asked, his tone as smooth as the wine Steph was pouring.

“None,” I answered, keeping my voice steady and my expression neutral. I knew that any sign of weakness could be exploited.

Chris nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer. “How about joining my place?” he continued, swirling the wine in his glass. “We have rather generous employee benefits.”

I took a sip of the wine, the rich taste filling my mouth as I considered his offer. “I plan on staying as an independent for a long time,” I replied, choosing my words carefully.

Chris smiled with a hint of admiration in his eyes. “I respect that,” he said, raising his glass in a toast. “To independence, then.”

“To independence,” I echoed, clinking my glass against his.

Back in the game, Chris was portrayed as a criminal mastermind who avoided the spotlight with a careful precision that bordered on paranoia. In the early stages of the storyline, he appeared to be nothing more than a wealthy mogul in the entertainment industry, the kind of man who attended charity galas and cut ribbons at new theaters. But as the plot thickened, it became clear that his wealth was tainted, his empire built on the backs of ruined lives and bloody deals. He didn’t shy away from getting his hands dirty, and his reputation for ruthlessness was well-earned.

Yet, for all his ruthlessness, Chris had one glaring weakness—his wife, Stephanie. She was the only one who could temper his icy demeanor, the only one who could make him pause before unleashing the full force of his wrath. Insults toward her weren’t just taken personally; they were met with terrifying retribution. Entire organizations had been wiped off the map because someone dared to slight her. I knew better than to even mention her name.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Chris asked, his tone deceptively casual, but his eyes sharp, probing for any hint of a lie.

I knew I couldn’t afford to be too honest here. Telling him I was unemployed or ran a hotdog stand would make me look weak, insignificant—a nobody. Yes, I had wanted to appear as a ‘nobody’, but too much of something wouldn’t always be good for me. I needed to present myself as someone worth his time, someone who could play in his world, even if I was only pretending.

“I am a thief,” I said, my voice steady. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. It was enough to paint a picture of someone with skills and connections, someone who could procure valuable items like the gold in that suitcase.

I stole the gold from Lois’s safety deposit box, so in a way, I wasn’t lying. If Chris decided to scrutinize my claim, and even put me through a lie detection test, I could probably pass as an accomplished thief. I needed him to believe that I was more than just a random stranger trying to make a quick buck. I needed him to see me as a potential ally—or at the very least, a competent adversary. This way, I could secure future dealings with him.

Better yet: avoid any possibility of a confrontation with him.

Chris leaned back, considering my words, the weight of the silence pressing down on us. “A thief, huh?” he finally said, his tone laced with a mix of skepticism and intrigue. “I’d like to hear more about your… endeavors.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Oh, please, you were just suspicious of me! I inwardly sighed, realizing I had to either weave a believable tale or demonstrate my abilities. I couldn’t exactly confess that I stole the gold from Lois or, worse, from the Ebony Knight. That kind of reputation would bring me more trouble than I could handle.

“I’d rather not,” I replied, attempting to play it cool.

Chris didn’t seem content with my answer. “Please regale my wife with your tales,” he insisted with a slight challenge in his voice. “Someone with your ability must have pretty daring stories.”

“Yes, please!” Steph added, her eyes sparkling with interest.

He was basically trying to pry into how I managed to steal the gold. I took a deep breath and tried to think of a way out.

“I’d rather not. I would go so far as to say my tales are nothing great and would only inflict sleep-inducing boredom,” I said, deflecting their curiosity. “But if you’re so eager to see a demonstration, then how about this?”

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a watch and held it up for Chris to see.

“That’s my… watch…” he said, checking his wrist, where he found his wristwatch missing.

“As you can see, my power set is designed for thievery,” I explained as I returned the watch. “Just like how I snuck into your little club undetected, I could most likely do the same at other establishments and facilities.”

Chris’s eyes widened, and I could tell he was impressed. Steph, on the other hand, looked at me with a mix of awe and amusement. I had managed to deflect their prying questions, at least for now, and perhaps gained a bit more of their respect—or fear.

I sipped on the wine in small gulps, while carefully prying my mask open, just exposing my mouth.

Chris leaned forward, eyes twinkling with amusement and a hint of cunning. “How much for the gold?” he asked, his voice a smooth blend of curiosity and calculated interest.

I met his gaze, allowing a small smile to play on my lips as I set the glass of wine back on the desk. “You quote the price,” I replied, maintaining a tone of deference. “Consider it a gesture of goodwill and a show of respect from someone like me, just a humble freelancer who is accosting someone higher in the pecking order.”

Just then, the door opened, and more of Chris’s staff entered the room, carrying a weighing scale. They set it up with practiced efficiency, the metallic clink of weights punctuating the air.

Chris laughed, a sound that echoed around the room. “I like your humility,” he said, his tone that of amusement. “Then I will treat you accordingly.”

The staff moved with swift precision, placing the gold bars on the scale one by one. I watched as the numbers climbed, my heart pounding in my chest despite my calm exterior. This was the moment of truth. How much was Chris willing to pay for my hard-earned loot?

As the final gold bar settled on the scale, Chris’s eyes flicked to the numbers, his expression unreadable. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he considered the weight of the gold before him.

“You know,” he began, his voice low and thoughtful, “there’s a certain value in trust. Especially in our line of work.”

I nodded, understanding the unspoken implications of his words. Trust was a commodity more valuable than gold in our world, and Chris was making it clear that he valued my willingness to be straightforward with him.

He named a figure, one that made my breath catch in my throat. It was more than I had anticipated, a generous sum that spoke volumes about his intentions. He was not just buying my gold; he was buying my loyalty, my future services, and perhaps, my silence.

The staff began packing up the gold. Aligning myself with Chris could open doors I never even knew existed. “Here’s to a profitable partnership,” Chris said, raising his glass in a toast.

Unfortunately, I had no plans of aligning myself with Dead Whore or any other gangs. As Chris raised his glass, I carefully weighed my words, searching for a diplomatic way to decline his unspoken offer without inciting his ire.

I lifted my glass, meeting his gaze steadily. “To profitable partnerships,” I echoed, the wine shimmering in the dim light as I took a sip, while carefully prying my blank mask the same way I did beforehand. The taste was rich and smooth, a stark contrast to the undercurrents of danger that swirled around us.

Setting my glass down, I leaned back, adopting a more casual posture. “I appreciate the offer,” I began, choosing my words with care. “But as much as I value the opportunity to work with someone of your… stature, I find that my talents are best utilized when I remain untethered.”

Chris arched an eyebrow with a flicker of surprise crossing his features. “Untethered, you say?” he mused, his voice soft but laced with an edge of steel. “That’s a bold choice in our world.”

He must have thought I came to him with the intent of joining his gang… and it was reasonable he wanted me, since a superhuman were a very valuable resource in this world and the other worlds.

I nodded, maintaining my composure despite the tension in the air. “It’s a risk, I know. But it’s one I’m willing to take. I’ve found that independence allows me the flexibility to adapt to any situation. It’s what keeps me… efficient.”

He studied me for a moment, his gaze penetrating. I could feel the weight of his scrutiny, the calculation behind his eyes as he assessed the implications of my words. Finally, he nodded, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I admire your conviction,” he said, lifting his glass once more. “To solo life, I guess.” He sounded pretty disappointed as he gulped on his glass in a single mouthful.

As the evening wore on, the tension in the room gradually dissipated, replaced by a more relaxed atmosphere. Chris regaled me with stories of his exploits, each tale more outrageous than the last. Steph laughed and chimed in with her own anecdotes, her presence a calming influence on the room.

I listened, a silent observer, absorbing the details of their world even as I remained an outsider. The more I learned, the more I realized how precarious my position was. Chris was a formidable figure, and his generosity came with strings attached.

As the night drew to a close, Chris rose from his chair, signaling the end of our meeting. “It’s been a pleasure,” he said, extending a hand. “I look forward to seeing what the future holds for us.”

I shook his hand, the weight of his grip a reminder of the power he wielded. “Likewise,” I replied, meeting his gaze one last time before turning to leave.

Chris lingered a moment longer as I turned to leave, his gaze searching my face. Then, as though struck by a sudden thought, he asked, “Just my curiosity, if we fight one-on-one in a death match, who do you think will win?”

It was a strange question, but I answered nonetheless, injecting a dose of false bravado into my tone. “Of course, it will be me,” I replied, my voice steady despite the weight of his inquiry.

Chris’s eyebrows lifted in amusement. “I like your honesty! Such bravado of youth!” He chuckled, the sound rich and resonant.

In truth, my confidence wasn’t entirely misplaced. Chris’s abilities, as I had observed, revolved around puppetry and electricity. While the latter could pose a threat, I had a few tricks up my sleeve that could neutralize his powers quickly. In a direct confrontation, I was confident I could put him down within a few moves, faster than I would have taken out someone like Ivory.

But I kept these thoughts to myself, unwilling to reveal too much. His perception of me as arrogant and ignorant might serve me better in the long run. Better to let him underestimate me, to think I was just another cocky upstart trying to make a name for myself in his world.

“How did he know I was younger than him?” I wondered, but quickly dismissed the thought. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. What mattered was that I had navigated this meeting without drawing too much attention to myself, without raising suspicions that could lead to complications.

Chris’s laughter faded, and he offered a parting nod. “Until next time, Mr. Nobody,” he said, his tone laden with implications I couldn’t quite decipher.

I nodded in return, offering a polite smile before stepping out of the room, the weight of his gaze following me. The hallway was cool and quiet. I walked with measured steps, each one taking me further away from the dangers that lurked within Chris’s world, and back into the uncertain safety of my own.

Tucked in my hoodie’s right pocket was a check.

I’ve left the gold with Chris, achieving what I intended to do by coming here. Well, not quite. I still needed to turn the check into hard cold cash.