Editing Getting the Band Together (section)

=='''A Few Days Later'''==

A few days later, it was an afternoon when Reggy and Wrecker were taking a break in the bar and chatting with Lucky when two guys entered. They were dressed in casual clothes with an urban chic, but were clearly gang members. Tattoos with the numbers 43 on their necks were telling. Their haircuts were overly detailed, as if it was someone’s hobby to cut them. They wandered to the bar and took seats, looking at Lucky.

"What can I get ya guys?" he asked.

One said, "Tequila, a couple shots each." They collected the shots, taking one each quickly.

The tall one said, "You’ve been getting pretty good business lately, friend. Where did the Reapers go?"

Lucky shrugged, "No idea. They cleared out of here and out of their place over in Dani. I don’t miss them."

Tall guy said, "Without the Reapers around, there sure has been an upturn in crime, don’t you think? Like at the show nights?"

Wrecker and Reggy looked at each other, a small smile on their faces.

Wrecker stood and joined Lucky at the bar. "Lucky, double Old Crow, and a frosty." He sipped the whiskey before looking at the Hispanic gang member. "Yeah, we had some trouble on Saturday. What about it?"

The man shrugged, "Shit happens. Could happen again, maybe even worse. Might be more than just tires."

Wrecker nodded, "And what will it cost to keep you from hassling our customers?" He finished his whiskey, and Lucky poured another.

He drank the other tequila, "10% of the profits on show night. Or next time it’s windows."

Wrecker said, "You know, we could do this differently, but it really depends on your interest in doing nothing for pocket change or doing something for big money."

Wrecker took the tequila bottle and poured each of them another shot, holding the glasses while pouring, letting a tiny slip of rice paper slide into the glass and dissolve before passing them over, talking over the handwork.

"What kind of work?"

Wrecker leaned over the bar, pulling out a small wood box. Opening it, he pulled a medications bottle out and poured the contents on the table. A tablespoon of white powder. Wrecker took a driver's license out of the box and started cutting lines in the powder. Laying the card down face up, he leaned over with a straw and drew in a pair of lines.

The two became very interested and eagerly inhaled the drugs that had been in the Blind Reapers' hiding hole. The first of the two, Juan, inhaled without looking, but the second looked at the card, picking it up. He read, "Nick Haskin, he’s a Reaper.... How did you get this?"

Wrecker said, "I got it after I drilled a hole in his forehead. Keep it. I have others. Lots of others. It is important that you consider just how angry you want to make me, Juan."

"How do you know my name?"

"Ya see," Wrecker said, "That’s something else you should think about. Now, I have a lot of this powder. It used to belong to the Reapers. I’d like to unload it. 10k a kilo. Pure stuff. You stomp on it carefully, it could retail for 35k easily. Or, you let my partner and I do the mix, you take the packets, and we want 17k a kilo. Sell it for what you want."

Juan, starting to feel a slight bit disoriented from the LSD in the tequila, said, "The Reapers always bundled it for us. We paid them out of profits."

"You ever short them?"

"Hell no. Those guys are animals," Juan answered.

"They *were* animals," Wrecker smiled at Juan’s wide eyes.

From the table, Reggy cast the Anatomics cantrip, causing Juan’s companion to start yawning repeatedly, uncontrollably.

Juan nodded at the inevitable, "Ok. Deal."

"Lay off our customers, or your ID will join my collection. Savvy?"

Juan nodded.

Wrecker looked to Lucky, who brought a leather zippered bag out from behind the bar, opening it to reveal bundles and packaged packets. Wrecker pulled out a pewter coin pressing with an X marking, its unnaturally warm. The packets were sealed like sugar packets with Norse runes on them.

"Hold on to the coin. If you get hassled by the police, show them the coin. The fix is in. Now don’t screw me. If you want more, you know where we are."

The two left as the acid started kicking in.

Lucky asked, "What’s with the coin?"

Wrecker answered, "It’s a tracker. Lets us know where Juan is. We’ll follow him and learn about their processes. In the meantime, they’ll leave our customers alone."

Lucky nodded, "Smart. Diabolical but smart. What happens if they get pinched and show the coin to the cops?"

Reggy, coming up, said, "Then we see how well Juan can dance. The cops have never heard of us."

Lucky went on, "Then what happens if they don’t pay off the fronted stuff?"

Reggy knocked on the bar, and Lucky poured the beer the knock ordered. "Well then, Lucky, think of it as evolution in action."

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==='''The Acid Trip'''===

Juan and his companion, Gustov, stumbled out of the Ugly Ferret, the world around them shifting and warping. The neon sign above the bar flickered, its letters melting like wax. Juan clutched the pewter coin, its surface pulsing with an otherworldly glow in his vision.

“What the hell did they give us?” Gustov slurred, his voice echoing as if from a great distance.

Juan’s vision blurred, and he saw the faces of the Blind Reapers staring at him from the shadows. Their eyes were hollow, their mouths twisted in silent screams. He shook his head, trying to clear the hallucination, but it only grew more vivid.

“We need to get out of here,” Juan muttered, stumbling toward their car. But the vehicle seemed to stretch and distort, its doors sliding out of reach.

"It’s going to cost us a lot to get out of their way. Mano, this didn’t work out. But I think if we didn’t take the bag, they would have killed us right there. Fuckers gave us acid. Homicidal fuckers."

As they drove away, the city streets twisted into a labyrinth, the buildings leaning inward as if to crush them. Juan gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. The coin in his pocket hummed softly, a reminder that the SBG was always watching.

Gustov mumbled, "They own us...."

Juan growled, "There are only three of them. How hard could they be to kill?"

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==='''Next Steps '''===

Back at the Ugly Ferret, Wrecker and Reggy watched the security feed, their expressions calm but calculating. The screen showed Juan and Gustov stumbling into their car and driving off, their movements erratic and unsteady.

“Think they’ll stick to the deal?” Reggy asked, leaning back in his chair and lighting a cigar.

Wrecker smirked. “For now. The acid will keep them paranoid for a while. And if they try anything stupid, we’ll know.” He tapped the monitor, where a small blinking dot represented the pewter coin’s signal.

Lucky, who had been quietly polishing glasses behind the bar, spoke up. “You two are playing a dangerous game. Those guys aren’t just small-time thugs. They’ve got connections.”

Reggy shrugged. “So do we. And ours are a lot scarier.”

Wrecker chuckled, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Besides, Lucky, this is just the beginning. Once the Forty Threes realize how much money they can make working with us instead of against us, they’ll fall in line.”

Lucky shook his head, muttering under his breath. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Wrecker looks at Reggy who shrugs.  

He says, “About half the time.  The other half, well, its been said that ''Adventurer Abounds''.  Besides, its all in the reflexes.  Hey, Lucky, close up.  Join us in the garage.  Its time we tell you some stuff that will make you dig in or freak out.  Either way, bring a bottle Old Crow when you come back.  You'll need it.
 

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