At the dock of the Huysman Harbour Company...
"I've checked the terrain, everyone is off, nobody is here," an employee shouted to his colleague, who was standing at the gate of the dock. His voice was rough, he had smoked in his live and while has stopped with it, he still was regretting the choice he made. A stubble beard showed that he hasn't shaved for a few days, but he was determent to make it smooth again, tomorrow.
That's great, so nobody would get hurt or drown with the misty weather of tonight.
Police work, security guard or bodyguard, three professions with a lot of similarities, who diverted themselves with the reasons of their work.
The police are like watch dogs, loyal to the law of their owner, the government. While doing that, the diversity of personalities was immense and resulted that every watch dog got still his own will to decide. The working place and the salary, weren't that important for these folks. Protection and service, their ideals for justice, these were the forces for working as a police officer.
Security guards were more like henchmen, at least that's the way they see themselves. Following orders from a manager to protect property or information. They care about the money and the salary and they even acted as consumers, if another corporation offered them a better salary, then they will transfer. However, they were also aware of the protection they gave to others, helping them to navigate through a dangerous fabric or guiding them on a vast and busy building place. It was still one of their core values together with the reason of a good paying job, unless bodyguards, who they despised.
Bodyguards are only protecting the property, they were completely aware of the danger that the job carried, but they didn't care about their own safety, only that of the property. Living dolls, whose safety can be sacrificed, that's how security guards looked to this overly serious kind of people. They secured the safety of just one person, obeying him without a single thought and they didn't care about anyone else. How more you got of them, how more of an asshole you must be, because he needed them to keep your self-made enemies away.
"Okay, take cup of coffee and enjoy the mystical atmosphere around the dock. The mist is thick tonight, so keep an eye out!", the colleague shouted back. They weren't just colleagues, employees of the same company, they were partners or even friends.
The guard switch the radio to another channel, not a main channel, though. It was one of the advantages a security guard had over the police, they don't have to follow the law of the country in some regards. They weren't bound to it and due to that, their kind listened almost all the time to pirates on the radio. They didn't hijack people or vehicles, the only things they stole were band widths, which were used by the police for communication through their walkie-talkies.
Some people would call them nuisances, others would claim that they could cost lives under the right circumstances, disturbing the signal during an emergency. However, at average, these radio channels were Easter eggs for the police, it would be fine if they found one, a group of amateurs who were playing their old, enjoyable and odd songs on the air.
Security and the police have both the same energy source. Some people called it life blood, others gave it the name of human oil or black gold, but it was resembling their essence, their life force: coffee.
"Bernard, should we bet on the soccer match of tomorrow?", his colleague asked. His friend was dressed more in winter clothes and was already wearing a scarf around his neck. He wasn't used to the cold rainy weather and climate, like his partner was.
"You are wasting your money, you know that Joey," Bernard commented like a teacher, when he was returning to his cozy seat in the small building. He took a newspaper and was continually switching between the gate and the latest reports from around the world.
"It's good to take some risks," the colleague joked, while still meaning what he said.
"Then it would be one-sided, if it happened that it will be tie, then you get 20 euros, okay?", he proceeded with his bet.
Bernard, who didn't understand the reason for his friend's offer, murmured a little bit to himself and decided:
"All right, but no complains if it turns out that Ajax wins."
Why would he offer me a deal which will turn out negative for him? However, he is and remains a weird, but enjoyable guy.
His eyes were reading articles about all kind of events, a cat who was rescued from the tree by a police man, celebrities who got scandals to solve or the discovery of a new specie on the floor of the ocean. Stories about events that could happen to yourself or things who weren't mundane, whose had an extremely small chance to see.
But to Bernard, it didn't happen and he was happy with his normal life, even at work, it was quiet and peaceful. His eyes stared to the outside, the wasn't nothing strange going on. The mist was thick, but at least he knew nobody was wondering on the dock.
There are some weird shapes above the dock, it looks like someone is walking there.
As foggy as it was, he thought that he saw a silhouette on the dock. He could be fired if someone gets hurt or even worse, drown. He still cared about the lives of others; he was a security guard partly for that reason. He grabbed without noticing his flash light and decided to go outside, the harsh bundle of light was widening his view just a little bit.
"What's up? Have you seen something?", his colleague asked with a thick accent, you sure could hear that he wasn't born in this country, but his grammar and vocabulary were perfectly fine.
His question got cancelled by the mist and never reached the target. However, while it got muted out by the fog, a shock was going through Bernard's body.
What am I seeing here, is this true? Isn't it just another one of them?
The silhouette got more detailed, it appeared to be girl, probably a teenager. As a matter of fact, he started to worry, because she was way of the grid, normally she would fall into the water. A wave of goose bumps started to form when he didn't see her anymore, has she drowned?
Why am I continuing reacting to this, they are all the same, there are no differences, aren't they?
"It seemed you have seen something, your whole body looks like if it's frozen," his friend yelled at him and this time, the mist was letting the message through.
"You're right, I shall check the dock, want to be sure," he replied, while walking to the dock itself. Himself was completely sure of what he just saw, while his comrade was shrouded in mystery about the event that Bernard just witnessed.
I am still divided about it; must I believe it or not. Could the therapist be in the wrong? Could it be true all the time?
In a luxurious apartment in the neighbourhood...
There's nothing special on television tonight.
The screen changed to black, due to the cause of her pressing the on and off button on the remote controller. She had zapped through the channels, but even the channels who were famous for airing crazy conspiracy theories at this time of the night, seemed to have a break.
Well, as long as I get paid for the job, I will put myself together and will continue to endure the suffer of the boredom of reality. Mom's teaching seemed to be true, life sucks somethings, especially when you are working.
She plumped on the luxurious bench, her brown wild hair was swarming all over the handrail, while her stale expression of boredom was forming on her face. Eyes as brown of the leather of the high-quality bench, were looking to the ceiling, trying to wonder off to another universe.
What kind of superpower should I have? I like these unique ones, these who are getting a lot of explanation about what sets them apart, what their limits are and how they could be used in combat. I really would like a be a superhero, or at least a crime fighting job.
However, her job was babysitting, or it was better to state that she looked after the kids, while the parents were working or had some other things to do. She knew that she couldn't complain, tonight's client was a returning one and a loyal payer too. She liked the stable income, which she got from him and got befriended with the child at the point at which bedtime was for herself the end of the world, the time when boredom began.
I have nothing to read, he got books, but the language is unfamiliar to me and his television got no extra features, such as playing videos.
The sound of the comforting doorbell made her curious, her client would be back at two o'clock, but the clock at the wall told her that it was just eleven.
I don't hear Stefana crying, so it couldn't be one of the neighbours who wanted to complain about her. For the post or packages is it almost cruelly late and even collectors for funds won't ring the bell this late.
The thing which she knew for sure, was the fact that there was somebody before the door, someone where she could talk with. With this certainty, which was the simplest thing a person could figure out by themselves, she headed to door for a little chat, between her and a total stranger.
"Who's there?", she asked with her most intimidating voice, she coughed due to the shaping of her own voice.
"Sorry to bother you," a voice replied straight out of heaven.
I can't imagine it, I thought I would never encounter this trope by myself, but as it sounds now, it maybe could happen.
Is this the dream prince on the white horse from the fairy tales that I know? Is this the charming vampire who will ambush me to suck my blood and will turn me into a vampire too, with all the awesome superpowers? Or is this a famous actor who incidentally got lost in the street of this neighbourhood and just wanted to ask the way to his hotel? How should I look like if I was a famous model?
Whether these assumptions were true or not, her cheeks were turning red of these thoughts.
Stay focused, maybe this is a trap or horrible prank from a television show. Could it be a secret agency from the government who will kidnap me for human experiments? Or will it be an alien who will abduct me and bring me to the end of the universe?
She shook her head, clapped her cheeks and tried to stay focused. She looked around her for items to defend herself with and opened the door a bit, while her other hand held an umbrella which she had found. For a short moment, their eyes met.
At least he got the face of a vampire, but he's definitely not one. These creatures will bite me automatically, this is disappointing.
The pale skinny face she encountered broke almost all her fantasies, the slender body wasn't as masculine as she had imagined and these facts about the person before her shattered her dreams about the prince of her dreams.
"Can you tell me if this is the right building? I just arrived in less than a day and I am exactly not very good at navigating."
That was the sentence that the person wanted to convey, so he had simplified the question to almost elementary school level English. He seemed to be unsure if everyone could speak English here.
"Sure, do you have a map or an address, something to give me a clue about your destination?", she responded in an astonished fashion. She was still divided about the stranger, she knew that it was unadvised to open the door this late, but the person seemed to be acting normal and his voice was sweet as heck.
It seemed to be funny, such a face and such a lovely voice, everyone would want to have sex with him, only because of his voice.
The man seemed to be surprised by the amount of fluency with which she spoke and answered that he had an address and a key to navigate with. With the information and the kindness of the person, she had the bravery and the confidence to open the door completely.
"Thanks, is this the Rosenveldtstraat? An acquaintance of mine told me the general way, but I have some difficulties with the confusing street names," the man explained, while he was sunken in the letters of the paper he held in his left hand.
She was neatly brought up and so, she looked the man in the eyes.
I don't know what's going on with me, but I can divert my eyes anymore from him.
Her eyes were stuck and captivated by the blackness of the gentleman's eyes. She stared and started to wonder if there was another universe in his head. The deep ingrained holes of his skull almost hypnotized her.
"Eh…"
She didn't know what to say to this entity before her and her face obtained a new awkward expression that she never had before. Her silence drove the attention to her and now, the man was staring at her.
"Even here, it isn't different," the entity murmured with disappointment, while he let his head rest for a bit.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. However, you've got the correct street, which number do you have?"
Stay nice and smile, otherwise you could be eaten and if that was the case, Stefana could be in danger too. I am maybe not a superhero, but at least I can protect her from him, this nice gentle person.
Her consciousness noticed the contradiction in her logic and punished her by letting her body thrilled like if she was on the south pole. Instead of speaking, the man gave her his piece of paper. While she was reading it, she didn't let her eyes of his face for a long time and smiled as hard as she could.
"I see, you're the new one on the second floor, take the stairs and you will encounter door number 14 at your left side, that's yours," she explained to the man and stood calm, while adrenaline was added to her blood stream.
Have I done the right thing? Won't he get angry or furious and go completely berserk, tearing me into bits?
"Thanks for the help," the pale faced man said with a neutral stand and took as told the stairs.
She herself closed the door quickly and failed to prevent the slam. She held her hand by her chest, the descending tempo of her heartbeat calmed her.
What's going on with him? He gave such a nice and gentle impression. No, I have chosen the wrong words, behaved and handsome, these are right. My heart only started to beat faster when my brain commands it, it felt like if the stressed and relaxed states of my being were fighting for domination over my own body.
After two minutes of processing the experience she just witnessed, her mind decided to chill with a glass of soda and plumped her body on the bench, again.
On a wet street where you could have a private and secretive conversation...
"Did you get that strange Victorian pocket watch, which I have ordered?"
In the deepest of the night, at the time where the temperature was on her lowest, a meet up between two people began. A meet up for information about a specific object. The street was almost empty, the last cat wandered back to his warming home, while the mist was shrouding the place up with ominous fog that made the two people unrecognizable from far away.
"Look, I could afford it with less money that I had expected, so here is the rest of your money back," the dealer said.
The tall man was an odd creature, he was dressed like if he was going to fly to a destination where people would go to for the heat and the bright shining sun. Instead, the man was wearing that outfit in this cold environment of the streets and didn't seem to tremble. He gave the suit case to the other person, who first took it with both hands, to immediately dropped it afterwards. The impact that the case made with the ground resulted in the unlocking of the lock. Paper money was coming out of the case and was partly becoming wet by the fog. A quick scan exposed a budget above the two million bucks.
"Take that for yourself, I only want that pocket watch, money doesn't matter to me," the client said with disgust. His English was reasonable, while still getting some pronunciations wrong. The dealer couldn't tell where his client came from, but the client's skin gave him the impression of Asia, East Asia to be precise.
The pampered rich boy stereotype was suiting him perfectly, the man was however dressed in a more street thug outfit, blue ragged jeans, a pair of gym shoes and the most recognizable black hoodie you could ever find.
"Do you have it or not?", he snarled, eager for the information. The impatience from his eyes, arrived at the brain and the control room of the dealer.
This is going to be a pain in the ass, I don't like where this conversation is heading to.
As a dealer, as a merchant, you needed patience and formality, especially in the more exclusive branches of the industry. Waiting for the time to strike, the right moment to buy the product you want. The price of you target behaved like a rollercoaster, it can go up, descend in lightning fast speed or if you were unlucky, being stable for almost a month.
Don't lose your prey, purchase it on the lowest point and try to sell it at his highest point in the market, by predicting the demand of that object.
That was the motto of Yvan Dravok, who got antique seller as his profession. He would be considering himself more as a rarity seller, everything that was seldom, was his target and his product to sell. And because of that, he sold much more than just only antique, collectors' items or limited editions were also ware at his stall if he had one.
"I don't have it yet, it's currently shipping from Indonesia to here. It will take a day or two, so I will call you when it has arrived," Yvan said with a calm voice and got annoyed by the fact, that this was the only matter where his client wanted to talk about, he could better spend his time at home.
How impatience is this guy? He said that was going to live here for a few months, so why is he getting irritated about waiting for two days?
These questions arrived in his head at the same time as the information of his skin, who told that a round iron object was pointing him in the stomach. A rapid observation made it obvious that the client had putted a smirky expression on his face.
"What unfortunate, it's very clear that you don't wear a bullet vest under your cloths, it's just a thin blouse. That piece of clothing wouldn't stop a shot from a gun, isn't it?", stated the client, who was bowing a little bit forward to Yvan. His head was close to him and he was pressing the loop against Yvan's belly. The gun itself wasn't loaded, the client knew that, but the man from Hawaii couldn't be aware of that fact.
Yvan watched the situation, like a calculated coach at the side lines of a football field and shook his head, disappointing as hell.
What is he doing? He did seem like an idiot, but he also behaves now as one.
"Bad pose for pointing a gun at someone," he commented and hit the intimidator with his bare hand on the back, without being noticed by the guy. His head was so close to Yvan's one that his sight didn't cover the hands of Dravok, who could easily punch the guy.
Due to the additional damage of the humid asphalt, the intimidator let loose of the gun, which get picked up by Yvan. The rich boy started to smile a bit; the dealer doesn't know that it isn't loaded. The boy was sure that Yvan was going to shoot.
However, like how a butler will hold a plate for the quest, he was holding the gun in the same fashion in the palm of his right hand, while his eyes were closed.
No way, don't let that be true. He's kidding, he's bluffing it, faking it. Why are the men of these days such cowards?
Dravok's expression started to communicate to the client, that Yvan was pissed off. The anger of him was booming to the intimidator like a pair of red laser beams.
"Do you call yourself a real man?", he questioned the man, while his eyes were demanding a reasonable answer. He grabbed the guy by the jacket and pulled him from the ground with just his left hand. Fear started to rise by the client, the dealer was much stronger than he had anticipated.
"What do you mean with a real man?", the client stuttered while being frightened to the last bone of his whole body. As a result, he was thrown back at the ground.
"I already know the answer, a real man would had brought a loaded one to a fight and he won't hesitate if he had to shoot," Yvan responded calmly, his voice was completely respectless to the man before him, who was just a pussy, a miserable fool.
He saw the eyes of the man, questioning himself how he could know that the gun wasn't loaded. Yvan was genuine in that aspect towards the client and explained why.
"It didn't weight as much as it must be. You didn't know that I sold guns and firearms before I started this business, did you?"
Yvan's voice was in the category of bass, it wasn't good for clear communication, however, it was ultimately effective for intimidating scumbags like the one before him.
To raise the threat, he threw the gun away like a small little stone, and it landed twenty-five meters from them, if not further.
"Let's do some old-fashioned punishing, have you ever felt a bare fist before?", he stated with a faked interest and an almost psychopathic smile on his face.
"It seemed you have never heard the cracking of your own bones, when a fist has touched your weak and pathetic flesh. No, you haven't."
From the scumbag's perspective, the clenched fist flied to his face in a rapid fashion, almost recklessly. His vision became black for a small amount of time, which after it recovered and immediately registered the next punch.
Why are these kinds of people such fragile? He isn't the exception of only withstanding two bare punches in his branch of people. Even a simple-minded office worker needed at least four hits to be unconscious.
Yvan looked with a calm face to the coward's face, the eyes were closed, he didn't seem to breath anymore.
No, that could be true, I won't let that happen.
His vast hand moved to the wrist of the scumbag, while sweat began to appear on his face. He felt a stable and constant pulse of the blood.
For her sake, I couldn't let that happen.
The scumbag got the right clothes for this kind of weather and so, Yvan just left him behind. He didn't worry about the coward anymore; whose body was warm enough to lay on the ground for an undetermined period of time.
The rich boy type, awakened after a whole hour and founded himself completely alone. He was clear in his mind and was blaming himself for this stupid act.
"I think I can't work in this state, my manager won't like this and I agree with him," he murmured, while he was looking for his way back to his hotel.
"Damn, I can't remember it anymore. However, it can't matter anymore, I have lost."
The man stood up with great difficulty and started to walking lamb to a place where he could stay after this disgraceful night.
In an abandoned warehouse...
"We don't do hero stuff. I must painfully admit, but let the police handle your request," a tall slender man said through the phone, when the man asked him and his crew to find the man's daughter. The crew behind him started to grump, they all didn't like the authorities and it was their trademark. It was the thing that held the group together, their ethnicities and religious believes were all over the spectrum, but all of them had the grudge. The voice of the man in question sounded like a that of a high class one, someone from the old guard.
"Even the boss would say that it would be the right way to deal with a lost child and we all know how full of hatred he is against them," the slender man reacted. His hair was long and extremely obscure coloured, with the contrasting yellow and purple. His jeans had endured a lot of fights and was getting ruffled at the edge. His leather jacket was started the decline in condition, but there wasn't any logo on it, like biker gangs did.
"In that case, excuse me," the man apologized to them. The whole crew agreed on that fact with him, if it was about the same message.
"I lied against you all, she is in fact not my daughter. I made a false excuse at first, because I want you to kidnap her."
The group started to get interested in his offer, while still being uncomfortable about the job. Let's say, it wasn't in their field of profession, you don't steal a girl in the same way you do with jewellery or electronics.
"First, how much do you want to pay us for taking this job? Second, isn't it better to let another gang handle this? We aren't kidnappers, just burglars with a well-known grudge against the cops."
"Unfortunate, they are already busy with a job. They don't have the time for her. However, I am willing to pay almost any budget that you want," the man replied, and he sent a picture as a link to give a description of her. Of course, it was a photo where the girl didn't notice that the picture was taken, she was just walking around the warehouses.
Why does he exactly need this girl? I must admit that she looks pretty, but I am curious about his reasons. And yes, I know that he probably won't spoil the reason, but still.
And what does he mean with that Angle's Rescue is already busy with a job?
It was a well-known rivalry between these two gangs, which was in the essential amateur versus professional.
The burglars called themselves The Rotters, which was a derived from the city itself and their reasoning. They broke into house and stole almost everything what was worth money and the effort to do it. They gave the police a headache through no correlation between the break-ins, they did it almost completely random. All their members had low paid jobs with the minimum wage and were doing the burglaries as a side job. They worked as individuals on small break-ins and worked together on the bigger cash piles of companies.
This was the reason why Angel's Rescue despised them, because they didn't do it as professionals, as their main job. Angle's Rescue's members were fully working in the underworld of the city and held pride for their professionality. They were being paid great by their clients and so, they had some professional tools to work with.
Both gangs were equal in number and fights always resulted surprisingly in tie. The down-to-earth mentality of the Dutch also remains in them and due to that, they choose both independently to not interfere with the other on purpose. However, the accidental meetings were ending always in a fight, physical or vocal.
I am a bit low on money, so I won't hesitate to take the job, even if it isn't our profession. But how are the others thinking about this offer?
He turned his face to the crowd, some of them wore their work outfits or their regular shirts, a few were dressed in leather clothes, bought a long time ago. The majority of them were looking excited and they seemed to like a slightly different job.
"Take a step forward if you want to take part in this job and like always, the boss or myself won't force you to participate," he commanded with a clear voice, a rather high voice for a man. An assumed 80 percent of the members took the step, the remaining 20 were respected for their choice.
"I am wondering how much of you will take this job," the man reacted with eager.
"So, what is your offer for the payment?"
Don't go too fast, old man, you have maybe a rich filled bank account, but that won't make us immediately servants to you. Let's see how much you are willing to pay by yourself.
"Answer that question by yourself first," the rebellious looking sub-leader bounced the question back to him.
"You want me to submit a budget? Let's say one million euros," the man answered without thinking. He was from a generation older than most of the Rotters and due to that fact, they didn't like him. Elders can behave in such absurd ways, stuck in the old time of their mind, stuck to the old standards.
So that's your perspective, well, maybe there will be a big surprise for you coming.
"It's not our profession, so the risk would be high if we take the job. One and a half million and we will do it," the leader offered with great confidence.
"Seems legit," the man responded neglectful. Like always with their kind, money didn't matter to them.
"Then we have a deal."
"Deal. I will give you the information where you can find her normally," and the man broke the phone line without any farewell, the lack of respect was bothering the whole group.
"That was a weird offer, even for his class," one of the members remarked, when the man had left the building, which was abandoned, due to the bankruptcy of a company.
"Does that matter to you? It doesn't, you and others have taken the job, just like I did," the leader replied and started to head towards his members. He held his hands in his pocket and had an almost calm and relaxing attitude towards the problem.
Okay, it's inventory time. Let's look how we are going doing this job.
"I don't know what is going on with that girl, what he wants from her, but let's do it with care. Are there strong people who can constrain themselves? He hasn't requested it, but I prefer to deliver her unharmed to the client, so you must hold yourself in for this job."
There were few hands who rose up, most of the members were not particularly strong. However, they were handy with tools and could use them skilfully.
"Alright, let's proceed to the next part, any voluntary drivers here?", he spoke with care, while he looked to the participants, to the one who volunteered enthusiastically. The subleader took a deep sigh and shook his head.
"Nope, not you Garry, we all know how you drive. We need normal drivers, not careless ones."
The member withdrew his hand disappointed and took a step back. It wasn't going to be job suited to his style of working.
"At last, maybe it will sound as a contradiction, but are there members who can calm a girl?", the leader requested. A lot of hands started to rise.
Shit, I forget to mention one thing.
"Without chemicals, just by talking," he added to his request.
As foreseen, all the hands were going down. This wasn't a normal request from him, but he had a soft heart for woman, while still being practical. If they could calm her down in the van, then the victim would be more predictable and she will be less eager to escape.
"It will not be that difficult, have a nice face and a calming voice is enough. If you have experience with or have children by yourself, then you will get priority for this," he gave as explanation. He knew for a fact that they got some fathers in their group, which made it only riskier for them.
He was trying to get some volunteers, because for this job, nobody held his hand high.
Come on guys, we aren't that evil, like these overly confident kidnappers.
"Remco, why are you asking that last request?", one voice came from the crowd. It was a long-lasting member of the group and was one of the only people, who used the real name of their sub-leader, especially when it became ambiguous and or questionable.
"Because we aren't that bad, we aren't evil. Yes, I know, we all have a grudge to the police, these bastards didn't treat us well, but that doesn't mean that humanity as a whole is against us," he started to speak, for two seconds he closed his eyes, while having a calm and peaceful smile on his face.
Thanks Fred, I am grateful that you took the lead in that question. I wouldn't give this speech without an extra push from you guys.
"The police treated us bad, so we will do the same with them, that's how respect works. But a girl who is unaware what is going to happen to her, don't deserve the same treatment as these police officers. And think to the practical side of my request, if we are decent to her, then it would be more likely that she will be less hostile to us, even when she is kidnapped."
Some of them agreed with his argument, but the most haven't thought about the question how far they want to go with going against the order and the status quo.
"So, I will ask it again, any volunteers?"
The response was decent and so it was decided. They will have multiple vehicles patrolling the area, so that she couldn't escape and as a distraction.
"Tomorrow, I will report this conversation after dinner, after I am finished with my work. In the evening, we will act," the sub-leader ended the discussion and ordered everyone to go to their home.
"Sevenear, do you think it was odd, due to the fact that this deal was set over the phone?", one of the veterans of the Rotters and a good friend of Remco was questioning for his opinion.
"Of course, he really like to keep himself a secret, but that make us in this situation stronger," he responded.
If you do it anonymous, then you will get certain pros and cons, that's how it works. In this case, we got them too.