Chapter Eleven

                I am now thoroughly convinced that Dr. Ains, our head of medicine, is a former interrogator for some clandestine government agency.  Never before had I been grilled over every possible thought process I had, and it is an experience I wouldn’t want to repeat.  We were just going over background information to prepare for the paper, we hadn’t even written a sentence yet!  For forty hours, each and every decision was scrutinized. 

                In the end, only a slightly sanitized report was compiled.  Since I wasn’t sure Dr. Ains even knew I was from a different world, I had to fudge my story a little bit on what prompted me to bring in an earthbrand to help with diagnosis.  Luckily for me, Harold had unwittingly provided me an out when he talked about the stronger earthbrands going crazy and saying they, “brought home the coal with them.”  Not only did this ensure my own secret was safe, but also greatly increased the chance of an academic journal accepting the paper.  Would you take an author who claimed to be from another world seriously, or would you pat them on the shoulder and hand them a tin foil hat?  Luckily he agreed that after he got copious notes about the procedure, I could have a week off.

                I had finally gotten to the point where book and newspaper research just wouldn’t help me anymore.  It was incredibly difficult, but I believed I had put together at least a general outline of the Malias family organization structure.  At the bottom was the street level dealers, both drugs and guns.  They would report up through a chain of command, ultimately culminating in one or, most likely, two individuals in charge of each operation.  Now, in order to get your product somewhere, be it drugs, guns, or illegally distilled alcohol, you need someone in charge of your distribution network.  Preferably this is all that person does, since every organization depends on its supply lines.  When those get cut, you are in trouble.  Defending your supply lines and stockpiles from others likely fell to yet another person.  So while I knew the twin heads of the Malias family, if I truly wanted to take them out of business completely I would need to take out at least four others, five if I could find out who had replaced Leo as the organization’s treasurer.  Time to get some names and descriptions to go along with my hypothetical model.

                First up was to find a base of operations in a seedier area of town, one that couldn’t be traced back to me.  As luck would have it, seedier areas of town also tended to have a lot of abandoned buildings.  I just had to find one to suit my needs.  As many spy novels would have you believe, it is amazing what you can do if you just look like you belong or are in a hurry.  So I packed a rather worn backpack with some secondhand clothes from the Goodwill store and left my apartment late in the afternoon.  As I started getting into the shadier areas, I stepped down an empty alley and quickly changed.  Looking the part is only partly clothes, the rest would have to be done by acting.  I didn’t want to attract attention, so no eye contact.  Slightly hunched over, as if years of oppression in life had permanently bent my spine, and a quick shuffle out of anyone’s way.  The hardest part was the fact that I was rather clean shaven to appear professional at work.  It would take at least a month to grow a convincing beard, time I didn’t really have.  Planning for this, I had stopped behind a mechanic’s shop on my way to pick up a few oily rags.  Scrubbing some onto my face, neck, and the back of my hands would partially help.  To complete my look, I put on a jacket with the hood up to shade my face.  This would also make it harder to see that instead of a glazed look in my eyes, I was actively searching my peripherals for a place that would suit my needs. 

                Not just any abandoned building would do if I wanted to get the information I needed.  Several that I passed were obviously occupied, even though they were clearly condemned.  After several hours of searching I hit what I hoped was paydirt.  What used to be a deli, boarded up tight.  Walking around the building, I found a back door that was shut with nothing more than a padlock, and even better noticed that the previous owners had a walk in cooler sticking out of the back of the building.  Perfect, those things were practically soundproof as it is, and a little on the spot modification would guarantee I wouldn’t be disturbed. 

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

                Inspecting the lock, it appeared to be of fairly sturdy construction.  Normally I would need some rather hefty bolt cutters to get through it, but I was always taught to work smarter, not harder.  While the lock was rather substantial, the thin strip of metal behind it holding the door shut was nowhere near the same league.  Conjuring ice a little at a time behind it, I only had to wait until the weak hinges popped off and voila, I was in.

                The first order of business was a quick walkthrough, although the low light made this rather difficult.  A thick layer of dust covered a kitchen long ago stripped of anything valuable and not bolted to the floor.  Empty cupboards and a metal prep table greeted me.  Excellent, nothing blocking access to the walk in.  Stepping through the kitchen into the former dining room, I could hardly make out anything.  From the odd shapes, it appeared that they left the tables and chairs behind.  Again a thick layer of dust confirmed that nobody had been this way in a very long time.

                Stepping back through the kitchen, I finally opened up the walk in cooler.  Fighting me the whole way, I had to really muscle the door open.  Dodging the dust falling like snowflakes, I surveyed the interior.  A completely empty metal box with a drain on the floor that had accumulated a rather impressive amount of mold, I just knew it would be perfect.  The phosphorescence had long ago faded from the interior safety handle but that didn’t bother me, these were always located in the same spot.  If you couldn’t find the only thing sticking out of a wall at waist height you probably need to rethink some of your life choices.

                Walking back outside, I closed the door to make it seem like I had never been there and decided to get the lay of the neighborhood.  Walking around in the rapidly approaching dark didn’t seem like the best time, so I headed for home.  Time to start working on a list of what I needed.

                First off, I had plenty of chairs to secure my interviewees to.  I would need something to secure them with, but my first thoughts of rope or zip ties went right out the window.  What would happen to someone who had a very fine control of fire that decided to heat up the zip ties until the plastic was almost melting, then break free when I was distracted?  No, that wouldn’t do at all, it would have to be something metal.  Handcuffs would raise entirely too much suspicion, even if I went with the fluffy love cuff variety.  You generally only need one pair of those, not multiple, and I didn’t want to stand out.  Hmm, perhaps a big spool of electrical wire.  Not only could I cut it down to the size I needed with relative ease, but it is something inconspicuous.  As I was walking away from the wire section, I had an epiphany.  Earthbrands can manipulate metals.  If I came across one, the wire wouldn’t hold them very long.  I guess I was going to have to get some Para cord to supplement the wire.  In addition to the restraints, I would also need coarse grit sandpaper, a hammer, some nails, and wirecutters.  A set of pliers wouldn’t go wrong, especially since I wanted it to seem like I was buying these for a home project.  Oh, don’t forget the screwdriver as a makeshift lock for the walk in.  Mustn’t forget that.

                That would cover some of the messier aspects, but I would need a few more things to keep everything quiet.  A bolt of heavy cloth and scissors to cut it.  Pay for it all in cash and get it from a store you never frequent, and it is practically untraceable.  Of course, I wasn’t too worried given the horrid state of forensics in this world.  I doubt they were even advanced enough to match tool marks.