A Congregation of the Wicked
Justin was the first to enter. Everyone followed behind him in single file.
Just as the view from the outside was, so was the inside—very dim. Pole lamps hanging down were of some ancient novelty, burning incandescent bulbs overhead and setting the main aisle and the deep, shadowy alcoves in yellow-orange fuzz. The Kaiser either had a taste for the old things, or this was all he could get his hands on. Various thugs, assassins and lesser drug lords were gathered around the establishment, some at tables gambling or drinking their wits away at the nearby bar, or both. At the farthest corner, the only things visible were orange embers briefly flaring red in an opium den, a fragrant smoke lingering all throughout the ambiance. Other younger and impressionable kids no older than Chris simply milled about waiting to jump at the prospect of fulfilling some kind of solemn oath they took in their recent pasts.
Justin knew why they were here: their proclaimed Kaiser had promised them a better life in return for services rendered. They could increase their own standing in the world, maybe chance getting back a shot at THI somehow.
All eyes were on them as they walked further in, the expressions on the many occupants' faces indiscernible. But Justin wouldn't let looks alone bar him from his mission to acquire a firearm. Of the many hard faces in the room, Justin instantly spotted quite a few 'well-knowns', even those tucked back in the dark recesses. The mug-shots digitally-encoded to those criminal records were still fresh in memory and coming back to life like it was ten years ago; those of Sergei's self-proclaimed High Bolshevik Party: Gregor Antonov, the political architect of Sergei's micro-revolution and right-hand man; and Konstantin Yurenev, leader of their armed forces, the elite of which were right here among the room, Sergei's dreaded Red Guard. So many watchful eyes were glued to them amid the near-silent periphery, the lion's den.
They traversed down the main aisle, many tables and chairs and villainous types seated in them just mere inches off to either side. It was common knowledge that people of these types wouldn't just let anyone in on a whim. Justin didn't dare jinx himself by the fact that he was miraculously granted passage. Even Chris knew entering meant you had something to offer—a strong and able body, knowledge in electronics or explosives or safe-cracking. Something of worth as long as it fit within the faction's designs. A cardinal, yet unspoken rule among the sub-villains was to make sure your presence never outlived your usefulness, which made Chris start to wonder…
What is it we have to offer?
Then, he remembered what Justin said to the guards outside: that he could give them their city.
What could he possibly mean by that? How does someone like Justin give away the city they work for?
And then his doubts began to stir. Terror ran through Chris. He tried to hide it from leaving his eyes and reaching the many faces all around, forcing a tunnel-vision down the narrow aisle they walked. As they progressed even deeper, Chris whispered, "Ken, what exactly is Justin giving in exchange for a gun?"
Looking around the joint slowly so as to not exude fear, "I honestly don't know." Ken said. "He better have something up his sleeve, or—"
"—Or what?" Chris' eyes were stricken with panic.
"…Never mind. Don't worry about that. Just play along and back him up in whatever he says."
Chris inhaled a deep, calming breath. "Okay."
"Don't let them scare you. It's not you the attention's on."
"Right." Chris said.
They followed Justin's trail into another pair of armed guards, this time at the end of the corridor. They were halted at this final checkpoint.
"Came to see the Kaiser." Justin said in his stationary position.
One guard pointed a weapon at Justin's center mass while another frisked him.
"No need for that." a voice said from beyond. "Let him pass. I want to make introductions."
The personal sentries of the Kaiser stepped aside with faces of stone and made a hole for Justin, and Justin alone. Bill, Ken and Chris tried to follow but they were halted. It was of no use to protest, either. They were in uncharted, sovereign territory now. They were totally at their mercy, outnumbered and most certainly outgunned.
Justin paced a few more steps deeper in and found himself at the foot of a proverbial throne of sorts. Raised a meter off the ground and stretching from wall to wall was a massive shelf made of solid, blonde wood. Past translucent draperies, Justin could make out the silhouettes of people further beyond, though the light was too dim to clearly see who they were or what they were doing.
A lone male figure rose up and made his way towards the edge and parted the curtains away, stepping out onto the wood loft beneath him with bare feet.
There he was himself, Segei in the flesh, dressed in worn-out and loose-fitting jeans and an unbuttoned Parka. He had a long, flowing dark head of hair, swept back and splayed out like a damaged mane. The eyes were equally dark, seeming to absorb the ambient light of the room. Justin squinted as he looked onward at who was undoubtedly him. But Justin knew what he was up against. He knew Sergei had the brains to match the brawn and the cunning. This meant Sergei was not above negotiation. He would hear Justin out as long as Justin had something formidable to offer in return. Justin looked onward at him with no expression.
He then hopped down to the floor and approached Justin, stopping nearly at arm's length away. The two appeared to all as nearly equal in physicality. The same height and same build.
"Please, accept my apologies for the redundant security measures. You can never be too careful about protection around here." He extended an outstretched palm as well as a genuine smile across his face as if obliged to welcome travel-weary guests. "Well, I take it you know who I am. Who are you?"
Justin took the Kaiser's hand and shook powerfully once. "Name's Reid."
"Reid…" he said to himself, thinking. "Not the Reid that nearly dispatched two of my men recently?"
"Possibly. Who are your men?"
"Paulie, Jaggo!" Sergei ordered with a shout over his shoulder.
Within seconds, the pair rushed forth and approached his side with submissive gazes directed at Sergei's black eyes. One was an aging man, an eye concealed behind a patch. The other was much younger then Jaggo, tall and extremely built with muscle. He dwarfed everyone in the room.
It was the same two men that Justin had fought to protect Chris from nights ago.
"Recognize this man?!" Sergei barked.
The larger one nodded with shame in his eyes. "Aye, boss. We met him once."
"Sit back down." They complied hurriedly as he leveled his gaze back to Justin. "Quality help is hard to come by."
"Looks like you've widened your recruitment standards a bit over the years." Reid said.
Sergei smiled, though nothing suggested he felt the sting of Justin's jab. "Well, it doesn't matter who you are on Traxus Nine. Everyone needs to survive somehow, especially those who wish not to live a life of servitude in those factories."
Justin gave a pre-meditated nod in reply, but deep down he knew that unfortunately for those youths in this place it was the only perceivable choice for them, the best they had going. Criminally-skilled merchants of terror and destruction now united under the banner of the most skilled and destructive man of criminal legends.
"And I'm sure they weighed their options carefully."
"You must be one hell of a fighter, Reid. I could use a man like you in my army." Sergei looked to the periphery and said, "Bring out the varmint."
No sooner had Sergei looked back to Justin, two men began to drag someone into the room from another. The one in their grasp had already sustained a serious amount of injuries and did not appear to struggle against his captors. Chris winced, and Bill averted his sights to somewhere else in the room. They placed him off to the side of Sergei and Justin, and he simply knelt on the floor, unable to hold a steady gaze at anyone. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth, and pooled on the floor. Only a moan was heard.
Sergei looked at Justin while pointing to the ground. "Coincidentally, we have a new opening, Reid."
Sergei withdrew a pistol and shot the man in the head.
The blast rang out in the small room as the victim crashed to the floor, motionless.
Justin wasn't fazed and held his sight at Sergei, though the others were frozen in shock. Bill had his eyes closed and mumbled prayers. Chris' eyes went wide. Ken was petrified where he stood, unable to run away as he'd wished.
"This one was treacherous, though I do admire his will power. Never talked, not once. Never gave away the identities of those he colluded with."
"I'm willing to consider joining you," Justin began, "but I came to talk business for now."
Sergei took a step back and leaned up against the face of the loft. Before looking Justin in the eyes again, he reached into the tattered pocket of his jeans and retrieved a brightly-colored, Braeburn apple imported from New Zealand—almost half the galaxy's distance away. Despite the undoubtedly long journey to his hands, its surface looked remarkably fresh as if it were just handpicked by him from some nearby orchard. Despite the man's infamy, he certainly had connections somewhere on and off-world.
He wiped it on his sleeve with long, slow strokes. He smiled inwardly, the sound of his voice signaling intrigue. "What sort of business?"
Justin was blunt.
"I need weapons for a little problem I've got."
"What sort of weapons do you need to eradicate this problem?"
"A light order. A shotgun and a frag grenade."
Sergei lightly scratched at one of his sharp cheekbones. "A shotgun is light, Reid, but a frag grenade?"
"It's just a contingency. You'll probably get it back."
"And what if I don't get it back?"
"Then it means I'm probably dead, which'll make little difference to you either way."
"Well, yes, it will make somewhat of a difference because I'll have loaned out two weapons with nothing to show for it. I need some kind of return. What is this little problem of yours anyway?"
"Pests."
"Pests?"
"Pests."
…Kaiser Sergei burst into laughter, and soon all the criminals joined. The entire room was alive with it. Ken and Bill and Chris glanced around nervously.
Sergei's face was pointed straight up as the joyous notes belted from within, reverberating a slight amount against the sheet metal ceiling. His laugh was so uncontrollable that those jet-black eyes had almost disappeared behind their lids. Amidst the uproar, someone emerged from a shadowy alcove and crept up to Chris—immediately started petting his hair. They got one full stroke before Chris pivoted and threw the hardest punch he could muster into the subject's ribs, but it only staggered them slightly. Ken stepped forth and shielded the boy and almost regretted he did when a half-dozen other degenerates rose from their seats, their chair legs abruptly sliding back with a cacophony of ear-lancing groans. The room soon quieted down as their leader stopped laughing and settled into light, sporadic chuckles, which in turn drove Chris and Ken's antagonizers back to their chairs.
"I've got the occasional pest problem too!" Sergei said, pointing to the dead man at their feet. He then sighed merrily and took a full bite out of his apple. "You got spiders or something?"
"Actually, yes." Justin replied.
Sergei was momentarily brow-beaten by this response, his head cocked to one side studying Justin. The next instant, he replied, "Well, they must be poisonous…and very aggressive!"
Everyone laughed yet again and Justin patiently, impassively waited for the idiocy to settle.
"I thought you were serious there for a second, Reid." Sergei smiled once at Justin before staring off into space. He prodded his tongue about his lower teeth to remove a morsel of apple skin trapped there, then nodded to men unseen in the distance of the gloomy establishment. All humor in his voice was gone and his face was level again. "Go ahead and take care of your little ordeal. Afterwards, you will enlist in my army and fight when I call upon you. And you will use the weapons I give to you now."
"No."
Sergei pulled the savory apple away from his mouth before he bit down. His brow then raised. "...No?"
"That's not the deal I had in mind."
"Mister Reid, it's not wise to say no to a man of my stature."
"I can do better than fire a gun for you. I'll smuggle you the best items you can get your hands on. City Seventeen is only miles away. You can fight your wars with a supply line that I provide."
"I could have my soldiers infiltrate the city and do that anyway. My common practice is to eliminate the middleman if you get my meaning. You don't want to join my army, so why would I need you? Much less, help you with your pest problem."
"Because I have access to the good stuff. I'm a time-trusted employee, ten years running. You send in your minions to the cities, they get a morsel here and there and not much else. Everyone in there knows who your guys are and who they're really working for...it's obvious. How do you plan to get your boys in there and get enough gear to make a dent in your enemies? All it takes is one self-righteous line-worker to tip off the Admin, then security goes on overdrive."
"We'll be covert." Sergei smiled.
"Gonna send in a dozen men to steal without getting noticed? They might not get busted the first time, but you won't acquire enough the first time either. You'll need to send them in again, and again. How do they plan to make ties with the workers at Shipping & Receiving? It would take you months, years even. You don't have the kind of pull that I do. I don't have to cause any racket just to get things. And if you decide to storm the city, THI will starve us all out...you know that. Why risk it? You'll just be making more enemies that way, so let me do your dirty work for you. I can keep you up and running without tipping anybody off to what's really going on, and when you're finally ready to coordinate your final retribution you can do it with confidence. Everybody wins except your enemies."
"Hmm." Sergei raised his head a little higher, mulling over Justin's proposition with a free hand on his chin, his gang ready to pounce at the snap of his finger should he decide against it. "What sort of supplies do you offer?"
"Well, you are building up your army again."
"You could say that."
"When you take back what is yours, you'll need food to do it. You'll need munitions, parts for vehicles, fuel, and water."
"Of course."
"Then City Seventeen has everything you need. I'll put in the orders to ramp up the drop-shipments. I'll do it slowly in intervals at first so there's no suspicion."
The Kaiser thought about the proposal. The air grew still and quiet with a myriad of guns locked and cocked and ready to be drawn in Justin's direction, every occupant in the room just waiting for the fateful decision.
"…Done." Sergei announced, raising his hands briefly. "I shouldn't have to remind you that the consequences of not fulfilling your end of the bargain would be dreadful."
"I know what everyone in here is capable of."
"I know." Sergei smiled, admirably. "I had that feeling about you. You do your homework. I like that. Shows initiative for what needs doing." Sergei stood straighter, his back now off the support of the sturdy wood. "Excellent, it's settled." he spoke louder. "My men will furnish you one shotgun and one grenade…on your way out of course. Two nights from now, we will call upon you to give us aid."
"Works for me."
"Are you sure you don't want to elevate yourself from consultant status and join us? We'll be taking this whole world and the THI by storm and I could really use you."
"Fighters rise and fall all the time. Why so interested in just one?"
"A man that can fight battles and who knows logistics? You already know that answer. How about it, Reid? You'd get a high position, very high indeed."
"I'll think about it."
Kaiser Sergei reached out his hand again, palm facing up. "My men will see you to the door."
Justin ignored the esteemed gesture and spun around, instantly strolling to the exit at his own pace. Bill, Ken and Chris hurriedly preceded him as he marched their way. The guards parted the doors in front and the group was soon met with the light of the muted day.
The ambiance of Traxus IX was never a welcome sight, but now it was practically a little slice of heaven compared to the stark scene and tension of Sergei's lair.
They all walked over to the Mongoose while Justin stayed behind to receive his weapons. With one guard's rifle trained on him, Justin was handed what he needed. Satisfied, he departed the doorstep with a care-free stride. He racked the barrel of the shotgun and held it there as he marched, inspected down the length of it. The action was smooth, almost frictionless in his grip. The black powder coated steel of the weapon was stout and the dense but stock felt reassuring in his hands. The fragmentation grenade he stowed in his pocket was a UNSC standard-issue M9 HE-DP. He'd used many of them before. In his mind, the retaking of the igloo would be a walk in the park. He took the driver's seat of the Mongoose.
The others hurried their pace the closer they got to the Mongoose.
"I've never seen anyone die like that before." Chris said as Justin approached. "Are you really gonna do what you said back there?"
"What?"
"You're not going to supply them, are you?"
"Shut the fuck up, kid, and let me think." Justin fired up the Mongoose and pointed the cowling of it due home. "Let's just concentrate on getting the igloo back."