Lie awake, and listen. The wind speaks in the branches. The house cries out in its sleep. These are the roads that chaos ride.

As soon as Eddy read the words of the letter, he felt a sense of resignation come over him. He'd just been exposed to a whole new aspect of the supernatural, a liminal dreamworld that hid aeons of secrets and hidden knowledge. So, naturally, now was the perfect time for the thing that he had been dreading to occur. Meursault, and it had to be Meursault, had decided to call on the debt that Eddy owed him. This debt was not just for the purchase (albeit a forcible purchase) of the rifles above market rate. It was also for the Zmangers who had died fighting the Parliament Street Gang at Stratford Bend and across the Borough. Sure, his rifles had turned the tide of the battle and led to a decisive Zmanger victory, but people had still died on both sides. Additionally, by deploying the Irmyle-Ellison 1347s so blatantly, the Zmangers had essentially taken credit for the heist at Wharf Five - taking the pressure off Eddy.

He could not refuse the summons, if he did so, nothing would stop the Zmangers from telling Blue Mitch exactly what Eddy had done to his goods. Then, there would be two gangs actively hunting him down. The noose would start closing in on him. Eddy nodded, certain in making the only decision that he could. He'd go home, clean himself up and change into more presentable clothing, and then he'd go and meet Meursault. He had no other choice. He doffed his cap at the cafe's proprietor and walked out the door - a grim smile on his face.

"Time to walk the plank…"

It was not long later that Eddy was in Zmanger territory. It didn't look all too different to any other gang's territory. East Borough was decrepit and filthy all over, so outsiders often found it hard to tell where each faction's turf began and ended. However, Eddy was an East Borough native. He knew the signs. The streets were still cobbled and filthy, the shops run-down but busy, but a keen eye would spot the signs of Zmanger hegemony in the neighbourhood. Signs and banners, a ribbon tied around a street lamp. Little flutters of grey and green - the colours of the gang. In alleyways, Eddy spotted brick walls scrawled with graffiti. The head of a mountain lion. The unofficial heraldry of the highlanders. Eddy passed by a pub named The Grey Lion. Even the shops showed their allegiance, in one way or the other. No doubt the owner was attempting to curry favour. Not that it would free him from his protection money payments.

As he walked, Eddy dwelled on the changes he was experiencing. After the day he'd had, he wasn't in the best condition, but he had noticed some alterations in the way he perceived the world. Normally, he was haunted by flashes of movement at the edges of his vision, or inaudible whispers taunting his ears. But, after Mr Voice had gifted him the memories of The Wood, things had changed. The hallucinations had not grown more frequent (thankfully), but now they were clearer somehow. More easily understood. Now he saw immaterial moths flitting around him, passing through walls, and glass, and people alike. When he looked at the man reading a newspaper outside of a dingy bar, he now saw roots twining through his eye sockets and out onto his face. Did he too forget his dreams? Eddy giggled. He wondered what Meursault would look like with a whorling bouquet of Lamier bursting from his throat. He choked down his giggle. People were strange, but that was fine. The world was strange too.

Soon Eddy came to Red Brick Alley, the heart of the Zmanger's operations in the Borough. It looked as one might imagine, the buildings made out of fired red bricks, squat and close together - built with all the lack of care you might expect in East Borough. Over time, the Zmangers had bought up properties along the alley, knocking through walls and turning the place into a huge labyrinthine complex. From the outside, there was no way of telling which parts were gang-affiliated and which were just regular houses. It would certainly end up being a nightmare for anyone foolhardy enough to try and assault the place, Eddy mused. The highlanders had arrived in East Borough and now they had dug in deep. In this neighbourhood, they were a fact. This alley was their citadel, and he had to walk through the gate.

To that end, Eddy approached a nondescript door along the alley that was flanked by two tall and lean men. They were leaning against the wall, but their eyes scanned the crowd passing through the alley. As he got nearer, Eddy smoothly put on his mask while simultaneously dropping his Veil. He'd got used to the manoeuvre from his time at the Embankment.

The guards spotted him quickly, hands straying inside their jackets. Eddy's eyes latched onto one of them. Hidden pocket. Revolver. He blinked. He wasn't aware that his power could tell him about the concealed items that other people had. It made sense though, a supernatural sense for hidden things meeting with supernatural vision. He wagered that such a skill would be of use in the future. Aside from that, however, he had to calm the guards.

Pitching his voice to avoid eavesdroppers, Eddy called out to them. "I'm here for a meeting. Meursault wants to meet me." Best to be direct with this lot. Niceties and superfluous words would be useless in front of them.

"Name?" One of the guards grunted the question out, accent thick despite having spoken only a single word.

"Barton." Eddy volunteered. The guard nodded at that before gesturing at Eddy with one palm facing him.

"Wait." Eddy nodded politely, making sure to maintain his distance. What a monosyllabic fellow. Monosyllabic. It was a word that he'd learnt recently and he was glad to find a context in which it could be used. It was apropos. Yes, that was also another word he'd come across. He had been reading a lot lately. It was only natural that his vocabulary would increase.

Meanwhile, the thug, seeing that Eddy was obeying his instructions, turned to knock on the door behind him. A panel slid open and a whispered conversation ensued. Eddy could not hear what was being said, but it at least seemed to satisfy the guard, because he was allowed to approach before being searched and blindfolded. They confiscated a knife from his boot but missed the thin blade hidden in the lining of his jacket. That made Eddy happy, he'd attempted to smuggle the knife through less out of need and more just to see if he could. His potion seemed to like it too - something in his soul relaxing. It felt good. It felt right.

He was blindfolded and then led through the maze-like Zmanger complex. Frankly, Eddy was not certain that the blindfold was necessary. From the number of twists and turns, he would definitely get lost even with the benefit of sight. Getting lost might even be enjoyable. In The Wood, everyone was lost.

Eventually, the cloth was lifted from his eyes, and Eddy found himself in front of a wooden door. His guide, a different thug, politely knocked on the door and said something rapidly in the language of the highlands. Eddy only recognised the word 'Barton'. He didn't know any words of the language. They didn't tend to teach it to outsiders. The door opened and Eddy was ushered into the room.

When he had stood before the door, Eddy had expected to enter the room in which he had met Meursault before. That room was sparse and barely decorated. The room of a lieutenant, but not a highly ranked one. This was not that room. The walls were panelled with dark wood, the floor covered by a fine Balamese rug depicting quetzals weaving amid geometric patterns. There were decorations on the walls, a portrait of a wide mountain landscape (did gangsters get homesick?). The taxidermied head of a mountain lion matched it on the other side of the room. To the side was a table flanked by two armchairs. Each chair was occupied by a Zmanger, both looking at Eddy with piercing eyes. They had been playing cards, by the looks of it. This was a much nicer office than the one that Eddy had visited previously. It seemed as if Meursault had moved up in the world. It couldn't have happened to a worse person.

However, whilst Eddy had briefly taken in the surroundings, his eyes had been fixed on one part of the room. At the end of the office was a large wooden desk. Solid and carved, it looked imposing. Behind it, of course, was Meursault - tall and lithe as ever, his shadowed eyes peering out at Eddy as he froze a little way into the room. Far enough into the room for the door to close behind him.

Meursault's deep voice boomed out into the room. "Mr Barton, how wonderful to see you again! You came so promptly!"

Eddy gritted his teeth. The smug bastard was flaunting the fact that he held his leash. He'd shouted 'come here' and Eddy had run his way as quickly as he could. What a good little dog. Bastard.

"The pleasure is mine, Meursault. I admire your new office," Eddy gestured to the portrait on the wall. "Is that a view of the highlands?"

Meursault nodded amicably. "Why, Eddy, yes it is. I think it's good to have a reminder of where we come from."

Prick.

The man continued. "The new office is lovely, isn't it? I have been showing my value lately. Your rifles aided admirably with that. I am truly grateful to you, Eddy." The men at the side shifted slightly as Meursault was speaking. Interesting. Was that discomfort that Eddy was picking up from them? It seemed as if Meursault's 'promotion' might not have been entirely uncontested. Had the play with the rifles allowed him to get rid of a higher-placed rival? How much blood was shed in the ensuing power struggle? How high up in the Zmangers was Meursault now? Surely Beyonders couldn't be that common. Next time he visited, would he see the highlander in a bigger office? He had to wonder.

In any case, Eddy responded to Meursault's 'compliment' with a smile; nodding as he did. He did not trust himself to speak. He really did have to rein in his emotions, but there was just something about Meursault that really aggravated him. The way he spoke, the way he needled at the fact that he had Eddy by the balls. 'It's good to have a reminder of where we come from'. Eddy wasn't stupid, he could read between the lines. Remember your place, street rat. We own you.

Despite his anger and shame, Eddy didn't react though. He stayed still, locking his facial muscles through sheer force of will in order to hide his anger. He couldn't afford to lose control. He may have been on the other side of the room from Meursault, keeping his distance, but that didn't mean he was safe. He had heard of the capabilities of a Hunter. As strong as a bear, as agile as a cat. Even disregarding the two thugs sitting in their armchairs, Meursault could easily vault over his desk, cross the distance between them in the blink of an eye, and stove in his chest in a single punch. Eddy might have the technical advantage of being Sequence 8, but he wasn't built for combat. Meursault, however, was his perfect counter, with sharp senses able to pierce Eddy's Veil and physical power great enough to simply ignore any flashy knife tricks he could pull. The predator to his prey - and Eddy had walked into his lair.

Meursault did not seem to pay much attention to the clear power dynamics at work in the room - instead leaning forward and resting his chin on clasped hands. The niceties had been observed, Meursault had decided it was time for business.

"I brought you here today Eddy because it is time for you to pay your debt."

"Twenty pounds?" Eddy replied, "I can get you the money. With interest, if you want."

Meursault laughed slightly. Of course, it would never be that easy. Eddy knew that.

"I'm sure we can find a way for you to pay back the value of our investment, Eddy. But, that's not the only debt you owe us, Eddy. We fought back the Parliament Street Gang at Stratford Bend, but we still lost a great deal to purchase that victory. Property damage, arson, injuries."

He was counting the list off on his fingers.

"Deaths, Eddy. We lost good men that day and in the days since. Of course, we're giving better than we get, but someone needs to take responsibility for our losses." It went unsaid, of course, that 'someone' was certainly Eddy.

He couldn't help but respond. "Blue Mitch was always going to go on a rampage. Some of your men were going to get hurt anyway, and some of your property damaged. I gave you the means to fight back reliably."

Meursault tutted at that (of course he did) before his tone became harsher. "I don't deal in hypotheticals, Eddy. Just in what is. Just in the facts. My men are dead, our businesses vandalised. You owe us, and I intend to collect. The only negotiation here is how you will make up the money."

"And how much is this debt?"

"Five hundred pounds."

Eddy almost choked, almost shouted out before he stopped himself. Bullshit. Absolute bullshit. There was no way on earth that the Parliament Street Gang had caused that amount of damage to the Zmangers. It wasn't like they had many businesses that had been destroyed. The Zmangers mainly funded themselves off protection rackets and drugs. No, Meursault was playing with him, taunting him, wanting him to bite back so that he could show him who the boss was. So that he could drag Eddy even further into his shadow. He untensed his jaw, forcing himself to slowly relax as Meursault watched on, smirking. For a moment there, he'd been on the verge of losing control. Meursault didn't know how close he was. If he'd turned into a rampager - eyes compounding and mandibles bursting from his jaw - then that would wipe the smirk off Meursault's face, wouldn't it? A daydream to savour later. Anyway, he wouldn't react. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

He let his mouth form into a savage grin, unable to stop it. "What an impressive number. It sounds like you're trying to have me work for you forever."

"I have confidence that you can pay back the amount."

"I'm flattered by your trust in my skills."

Meursault shifted at that comment. "And what, Edward Barton, are your skills, exactly? We never quite got around to having that conversation."

Eddy met his gaze. "I'm good at staying hidden. I'm good at hiding things. I can see in the dark. I'm good with a knife. Is that enough for you?"

The Zmanger lieutenant chuckled. "No need to be hostile, Eddy. That's quite an interesting set of skills. Good at hiding things, you said? Yes, I think we can make use of you indeed."

Eddy watched as the man visibly marshalled his thoughts. "Eddy, I believe we can start working on reducing your debt straight away. How does that sound to you?"

Eddy simply looked at him flatly, goading him wordlessly to continue. He had neither the time nor the patience for the man's grandstanding.

"We have an associate who usually takes care of importing exotic goods from Balam to our holdings here in Backlund. Usually, he is also in charge of getting the goods from their drop-off point to our own distribution centres. Unfortunately, he has had a run-in with Sivellaus Yard. An officer of the law, most likely on the payroll of another gang, has been investigating him."

Meursault waved a hand dismissively. Eddy could hear the scorn in his voice when he talked about the policeman. As much as he disliked it, Eddy couldn't help but agree. It figured that the law would only get involved after they had been bribed by other criminals. Pathetic.

"I doubt that much will come of it, but he is having to keep his head down for a bit. We can still get the goods onto the docks, but I need you to take over transport within the city. I'm sure your skill at hiding items will be tremendously useful here. You'll start tomorrow. I'll let someone else give you the details - including about your payment - on your way out. Of course, you may wish to forfeit a portion of your cut to speed up the repayment of your debt." How kind of them. A nod at one of the thugs had them leave the room - no doubt to find someone to draw up some notes for Eddy to read.

Eddy contemplated. The 'goods' were undoubtedly drugs. Of what type, Eddy had no clue, but the fact that they were from Balam meant that they were probably highly expensive (and highly illegal). That meant that his cut would be quite high. This had the potential to make a good start on reducing his debt - which, of course, was the attitude that Meursault wanted him to have. The thought of skipping town did cross Eddy's mind, but Backlund was his home and he wasn't going to give it up in fear of the gangs. In any case, why in the name of the Goddess would he refuse the opportunity to become a smuggler for the Zmagners? Meursault was practically handing him the means for his own progression, and he didn't even know it! He'd race through Sequence 8 with this job! It was perfect for the 'profit by your secrets' principle that he'd formulated.

Yes, he'd smuggle for the Zmangers, he'd run their drugs, pay back his debt bit by bit, and all the while he'd get stronger and more experienced. And, when it was time, he'd love to see how Meursault was going to stop him from leaving the gang. A Hunter was dangerous to him now, but Eddy was crafty - Eddy was sneaky. Besides, what use would a mere Sequence 9 be against a Sequence 7, or a Sequence 6? Only time would tell how far Eddy would rise. Who knew what powers he would have at his fingertips by then?

He smiled at the thought and nodded firmly at Meursault. His mind was made up.

"I look forward to working with you."

AN: Lamiers are a type of flower that grows in moss. They look a bit like nettles, but with a small purple flower. After I had added it in, I found out that it's actually the favoured food of an awful lot of moth species. Coincidences can be freaky sometimes. You might be able to tell that Eddy isn't entirely mentally stable in this chapter (bear in mind this is happening on the same day as last chapter). So, please forgive him. Anyway, Eddy now has had his confrontation with Big M (as his friends call him) and knows what he has to do. Yes, the £500 debt is ridiculously exorbitant (Meursault pulled that number out of his arse), but I'm certain that Meursault would never let a useful Beyonder out of his grasp. Don't worry, I'm sure Eddy will find a way to turn this to his advantage.