Hogue and Bedford face some unwanted competition

“Nine hundred centrals.” Someone suddenly called out, in a loud but even voice, from one of the alleyways adjoining the square.

Stepping out into the open, the figure to whom the voice turned out to belong was a young male with a face which Druuna would have characterized as handsome but far too boyish for her tastes if not for the dual scars that ran horizontally beneath his eyes and the fact that his nose had been broken at least once. Auburn hair which remained wild-looking despite it being cut very short and his beaming blue eyes only added to his attractiveness, though little could be seen of his body due to the canvas-cloak which he had draped himself in.

“Hey!” Bedford spat out, “This only concerns this community!”
Hogue, despite not saying anything, didn’t appear in Druuna’s eyes as if he disagreed with Bedford’s sentiments, the old man involuntarily nodding his head in apparent agreement with what his brutish, foul-mouthed opponent had said.
“Does it now?” The stranger asked with a grin, before adding; “nine hundred centrals, to be given to Mrs. Jones here and now, plus four of these.”
Pulling his left arm from under the cloak, the man revealed four vials in his hands, equipped with needles under a transparent plastic cover. Druuna, along with everyone else, immediately recognized the vials as containing the serum that was the only known saviour from the sickness. What more, he had revealed to Druuna that he had hung around for long enough to know why she was being auctioned out in this primitive fashion.

“I may not be a gambling man,” the stranger spoke in conversational manner, “but I’m willing to bet all nine hundred of those bucks that I’ve offered that Mrs. Jones is now in a state where a foursome of these little beauties will matter more than all the money in the world.”
“Who are you, stranger?” Hogue spoke, eager to stall the man until he had managed to come up with a counter to his admittedly enticing offer.
“My mother named me Caliban,” the man replied, “which I suppose is a testament to her being a remarkable woman, and I’m a businessman.”
After saying this, Caliban dropped his gaze somewhat and quickly looked at Druuna with those pale eyes of his, with a gleam in them which Druuna interpreted as at least somewhat sympathetic to her predicament.

“A successful businessman, I’m guessing.” Hogue nodded at the serums, “Though you might not be the kind of businessman that respects the priests’ rules all that much.”
It was a referral to the illegality of dealing with the serum as a trade commodity, and Druuna half-expected the wily old man to begin rousing the crowd against the newcomer by painting him out to be a sinner.
Caliban was not flustered by Hogue’s hints anymore than he was by Bedford’s shotgun, and simply cracked his lips into a wide and friendly smile, while at the same throwing his cloak to reveal the large revolver which dangled just below his waist, the cord tied to the base of its butt being looped around his shoulder.
“I hope that you’re not about to denounce me as a sinner.” Caliban said warmly, “Because then I might have to shoot my way out of here, starting with you, and in the ruckus that that would cause this salacious piece of property,” here Caliban nodded at Druuna, “might run away.”

“I’ll take your offer!” Mrs. Jones had suddenly appeared, the woman who had led her inside to rest trailing after her.
“Ella,” Hogue gritted his teeth at the widow, “I’m handling this.”
“Shut your rotten trap, William Hogue, we all know that you’re nothing but a dirty old man! I said that I’m taking this man’s offer and I mean it.”
“Aw for fuck’s sake…” Bedford cursed under his breath.
“Lady,” Caliban smiled at Mrs. Jones, “I believe that we’ve just agreed to a deal.”

Giving Mrs. Jones a heavy-looking sack which had been slung from the belt around his waist, and the four vials, Caliban then looked at Druuna, his latest acquisition, while the crowd slowly began to disperse.