Settling In Chapter 2
Bettie's Buns, which was a name I was still trying to not outright laugh at, was every bit as good a sandwich shop as Chubster claimed. A nice little hole in the wall place in what Chubster told me used to be a hot spot ten years ago. There was a sad charm to the area. Despite the city's decline in the intervening years, and several other establishments not making it, Bettie's somehow did. There were more vacant businesses on this street than open ones, yet, like Bettie's, those that remained open were holding strong.
True to his word, Chubster introduced me to the manager Betty - or so they claimed - and they happily informed me that not only did they bake their own breads for their sandwiches, but also used solely non GMO veggies in all their products.
A marketing gimmick she told me conspiratorially, but one that was keeping her afloat and appealed to the working class that normally frequented her place. It helped that most of what she used came from gardens and greenhouses ran by locals looking to make a bit extra. I'd never even heard of anything like it before. Especially from something inner city like this.
That was something that appealed to me greatly. Not just the gimmick, though a few ideas were spinning around in that vein within my mind, but the fresh veggies. I didn't really consider myself a health nut, but I really liked that fresh taste. Especially on my sandwich, and Betty delivered. Even better, Betty didn't so much as bat an eye at me when I walked in with Chubster. True, she wouldn't meet my eyes, but it was hard to take that personally when she was being as friendly as she was.
Walking out the door, I turned to my large companion once I was clear, continuing the conversation we were having. "It's nothing against Betty, Chubster. But once you have a po' boy from Mother's, there is just no substitute."
Nodding in understanding, Chubster asked, "But, it was still good?"
"Of course it was," I replied easily. "I wouldn't have said so if it wasn't. There is quite a lot about this shop I like and I have a preference for places that put in the work to make a quality product. What were you going to do for the rest of the day?"
"The usual," Chubster said. "I like my life uncomplicated. Brockton Bay is not the most forgiving of cities to be a cape in, Gambit. How about you? Plans for the day?"
Taking out and opening my notebook, I replied, "Yes. Today is looking like an information day. Explore the city and perhaps find people to suit the projects I have going forward. Speaking of, you would happen to know who the local freelance information dealers are, would you?"
"Sorry," Chubster said, shaking his head. "I try to stay out of that as long as it does not spill onto my area. There are capes in this city who do not like people talking about them. Upsetting Lung or Kaiser is something a person only does once."
Nodding to his point, I sighed. "Someone said something similar before I moved here. That informants were usually hunted down. Ah-well. Thanks again for your suggestions on who to hire for fixing up a house. Have a good day, Chubster."
"You too, Gambit, and you're welcome."
Walking toward the open street, I started my main plan for the day; routines. Or more specifically, establishing my routines. Important, since it was looking like finding decent guys in the know wasn't going to pan out. So, if I couldn't find them, I would make myself available for them to find. A daytime routine that was little used, but typical, and later I would establish myself in the nightlife. That way enterprising brokers would know how to find me if they had something to sell. Word would eventually get around, and I was patient. Guilds were not built in a day, after all.
With this in mind, I walked down the street, looking around and taking note of the graffiti. Old tags proclaimed this area was once ABB but now sported fresh E88 markings. Which meant the Azn Bad Boys and Empire Eighty-Eight. The two big dogs fighting over the city, according to Uber and Leet.
This area was still obviously in dispute. I kind of felt bad for Chubster, as his apartment looked like it was in the middle of this border region. That had to make it rough on him when the fighting started.
Seeing a small convenience store ahead, I crossed the street and headed inside. The guy behind the register barely even looked at me before hiding behind his newspaper.
What I was looking for was on a small rickety carousel. Road maps of Brockton Bay. Taking a moment to go through them and picking one that covered just the city, walked up to the register.
The cashier was a young guy, maybe a bit older than me, if that. Nervous as he rang me up and mumbled the price. I paid without comment and watched him make change as quickly as he could with shaking hands. Once done, he went back behind his paper, never having looked at me once.
Thanking him as pleasantly as I could, I took my map and left. That was telling in more ways than one. Either this area was just that rough, or it was because I was a cape, and he was expecting trouble.
Back outside, I shook my head. Maybe I was a bit spoiled after my success in New Orleans, but the cashier's reaction was hard to swallow. That capes generated that kind of reaction was going to mean I had a hard hill to climb in order to establish a comfortable neutral ground here to work out of.
Opening my new map, I quickly marked this location. I had a feeling my new map was going to be well marked with notes before the day was done. My gut was screaming that this wasn't going to be an isolated incident.
Heading down the street, I decided to work an outward spiral to start off with. Unless I found people openly wearing gang colors. Then I would backtrack, mark the location, and move on. Places like that tended to be hard points for that local area and the last thing I wanted was problems with the local entranced hardliners. Just as I finished I heard someone call out to me.
"Gambit!"
Looking up from the map showed that the origin of the high pitched squeal calling my name was rushing toward me. A vaguely familiar girl rushed down the street, complete with flying pigtails and a huge smile.
"Ah, Angela," I said, smiling warmly once I recognized her. "How are you ma petite?"
"Great," she exclaimed far too loudly for being right in front of me. "I thought you went back home?"
"I did, but I liked it here so much, I came back," I answered, looking over her shoulder at the girl cautiously approaching her more exuberant friend. "Did you get your badge?"
"I did," Angela shouted excitedly. "Thank you so much for that. It put me over the top. That was good since Mom's refused to take me anywhere since then to sell more."
Nodding at the expected outcome, I looked again to the other girl who finally caught up. "And who is this?"
Turning around, Angela seemed to realize she left her friend behind when she spotted me. Determined to make it up to the girl, she put her arms around them. "This is my best friend, Marcy. I told you all about her, remember?"
"Ah, so you did. Your partner in all things camping, nature, and crime, if I remember right. Bonjour, Marcy," I said, greeting the stunned girl.
Marcy, for her part, just stared at me seemingly frightened.
"Hey," Angela tried to whisper. "Don't be like that. I told you, she's awesome and she helped me."
"No need for that, Angela," I lightly reprimanded. "I've been told I take some getting used. No need to chide your friend for feeling the way she does."
"Sorry, Marcy," Angela muttered sheepishly. That earned a small smile from the other girl.
Seeing things were fine between them now, I asked, "What are you two up to in this part of town?"
"We live, like, two blocks that way," Angela answered, pointing down the street. "Marcy's mom has to work today so she's staying with me. That's great but it kinda sucks for Marcy."
"Oh?"
Angela nodded sadly. "Yeah, her mom's super busy so she never had a chance to set up anywhere and my mom won't take us to the mall."
"A stall is a large investment in time," I nodded, seeing the safe issue to bring up that wouldn't hurt anyone's feelings. "Have you tried calling your scoutmaster to see if they would be able to help you try to door to door sales?"
"He's busy too," Marcy mumbled bravely, finally speaking up.
"Which sucks because this is our last weekend for it," Angela said, sympathetically hugging her friend. "And that means Marcy won't get her badge this year."
Humming to myself, I pulled my pocket watch free. Taking a moment to rub my thumb over the familiar Dead Man's Hand engraving on the cover before opening it.
"Well, I have a few hours free," I stated. "And I was planning on exploring this part of the city anyways."
"Whoa, really?" Angela asked looking like Christmas had come early.
In contrast, Marcy seemed even sadder. "Mom locked the house. I won't be able to get my stuff…"
"Hush, ma chère, you let Gambit take care of the details. Lead the way."
Perking up, Marcy turned to Angela. Wide smiles that were so infectious they made me smile. Before long we arrived at their houses, which were next to each other. I bet that was nice, to have your best friend live right next to you like that.
Angela waved at us bolting for her house, while Marcy took me to hers. After making sure there wasn't an electrical alarm, I pulled my picks and set to work.
"How did you do that?" Marcy asked in wonder.
"Practice," I replied as the door swung open. "Lots of practice. Natural talent will only get you so far in life. Only with practice does good, become great."
"Can you teach us?" I was mildly disturbed at the effectiveness of the puppy dog look I was receiving. Then again, Angela had that down too, which made me wonder if they practiced it. I wouldn't put it past the pair.
"Not today," I replied. "We already have something to take care of today. Get ready, and don't forget to lock the door behind you when you leave. I'll wait for you outside."
"Okay!" Marcy said, rushing into the house.
Chuckling at her excitement, I set up to wait by the street, looking over my map and the area around us. There were lots of homes in this area and if all else failed, I bet Chubster would buy some. He wasn't too far from here. If not, he might at least let us work his building. Hopefully he didn't ask for a cut but I couldn't say that it wouldn't be unreasonable if he did. I had enough on me to cover it though, so I wasn't too worried.
Angela was the first back, dragging a little red wagon and dressed in her scout clothes, looking fairly smart. Once Marcy joined us, similarly attired, we loaded the wagon and set off down the street. Looking over the photocopied map section of the area they were supposed to work, and comparing it to mine, I found us the shortest route and we got started.
Angela worked the even side of the street, and Marcy worked the odds. I stayed by the street keeping an eye on both and guarded the wagon of cookies while they pitched. Of course, some people weren't home at this time of day, and some weren't interested, but that was how this type of thing worked. The girls never let either discourage them, always keeping a friendly look about them and obviously just happy to be getting a chance to ply their trade.
For my part while they did that, I kept an eye on the graffiti and looking for other more subtle signs of gang occupation. Taking notes on my map of what tags I identified and those I didn't, which I would research later. I didn't see anyone openly wearing colors, which was nice, but didn't necessarily mean anything either. Thankfully, this area wasn't too bad. Most of the people we encountered seemed friendly enough, but as our first hour came to a close, we encountered someone who wasn't.
I didn't hear what was said, but heard the shout and slamming door on Marcy's side. Looking at the small girl showed her looking stunned. Compete with watery eyes and a slightly quivering lip.
Oh hell no.
Angela had already finished her side and was waiting by me, seeing the same thing I did. Before she could move to comfort her friend, I told her to guard the wagon. Then I started over.
Placing one hand on the girl's shoulder earned her hurt expression turned up at me. Giving her a playful wink, I reached over with the other and knocked loudly.
"Who the fuck is it now?" a gruff, hateful voice shouted.
Putting on my best, cheery voice I replied, "Avon calling."
"The fuck," the man inside mumbled as heavy footsteps came closer. "The fuck do you want?"
Not missing a beat and keeping my cheery voice strong, I replied, "We're having a special today on concealer. Perhaps you would like some for that black eye?"
"What black eye?" he shouted, opening the door aggressively.
"The one you're going to have if you don't apologize to this little girl and buy her cookies," I said emotionlessly, doing my best to drill holes through him with my eyes.
He was a big man. Thick arms and thighs that spoke of someone who worked out a great deal or worked a job that put muscle on him. Easily outweighed me by a hundred pounds. The kind of man you would think chewed steel, and shit nails. Definitely the kind of guy you didn't want putting hands on you. It was therefore very satisfying to see his anger leave him. His eyes went wide and he began to tremble under my gaze. When he visibly gulped, I had to squash my smile at his reaction.
My, that was an interesting shade of pale on a such a swarthy guy.
"Hello, sir," Marcy greeted him again in a voice so sugary I could feel my teeth ache. Which was impressive and showed the girl had a vicious streak as well as a bit of spine once her shock wore off.
"My name is Marcy and I'm with the Girl Scouts. Today I am selling a variety of cookies. We have Thin Mint, Peanut Butter, and Shortbread like usual but this year we are also selling Lemonades, Caramel deLites, and gluten free Trios which are peanut butter oatmeal cookies with chocolate chips. They are only five dollars a box. Would you like a box of your own, sir?"
Big Man's eyes darted to the waif, then back to me. In his eyes I could clearly see he understood there was only answer I would accept.
Licking his lips, he nodded, pulling out his wallet. "Er, okay. Sorry about...what I said. Yeah, I… Just any of those you mentioned sound fine."
"Oh, have you tried the Lemonades?" Marcy asked all innocently with a wide smile on her face even as her eyes danced in suppressed mirth. "I love those. I also really like the Caramel deLites. If you haven't had them before, they are very good."
Once again Big Man's eyes darted to me. Seeing my expression unchanged, he dry swallowed saying, "Sure kid, that's fine. I like caramel."
"Thank you sir!" Marcy happily chirped, rushing off to the wagon to get his order. Big Man looked back at me, still seeing my expression unchanged and started to sweat.
"Um, so…"
I said nothing. Just stared.
By the time Marcy came back with his change, which he looked a little shocked to get, and his cookies, his composure was looking a little ragged.
"Thank you again, sir and I hope you have a nice day!"
Once again, Marcy flounced away, a very happy girl scout. Big Man looked at me, seeming uncertain what to do. After a moment, he asked, "Can I go now? Please?"
I nodded slowly. "Do be more polite in the future. I find it tends to lead to less...hazardous ends, no?"
"Y-yes ma'am."
"So polite now," I mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. "Enjoy your cookies."
I turned around, walking back to the girls without a backward glance. Even without it, I could almost hear the man sighing in relief that I left.
The girls were practically insensible in a giggle fit when I reached them, Marcy having told Angela about her little prank on the rude man.
Looking at me with eyes shining in mirth, Angela gushed, "That was stone cool! I wish one of mine had done that."
"He was a meanie, and deserved it," Marcy grouched. Or, it would have been a grouch if she wasn't holding her sides having trouble keeping in her laughter. "You should have seen it, Angela. When he opened that door and saw Gambit standing there, I thought he was going to pee himself!"
Allowing my own chuckles to join their squeals of laughter, I said, "Well, sitting around here making fun of Big Man isn't going to sell cookies and I have to be somewhere in a few hours. So, who wants to go see a very large man with a snacking problem?"
Immediately both girl's hands shot up screaming, "I do!"
"Excellent," I said, smiling. Opening my map, I plotted the best course that would also allow us to hit a some houses along the way. Making sure I had the right streets memorized, I grabbed the handle of the still mostly full wagon, and started walking. "Alright. Let's go get Marcy her badge."