Tristan Gets Some Visitors

Tristan was feeling frustrated. The dull craving for more of the **** hardly the source of it all, as test and attempt after test and attempt yielded little more than the substance being sugar and water.

It made no sense.

As Tristan heard the all too familiar sound of the basement door unlocking and people stomping in.

Finding the number of feet stomping down the stairs strange, the steps sounding unfamiliar in their chaotic clamber down the stairs. Tristan emerged from his makeshift home lab to see a bruised-faced Steve shoved in the room, a familiar biker behind him.

Followed by another, and then Vito.

“What the…” Tristan began stopping as Vito casually raised a flat palm towards Tristan as he looked around the room at the assorted trinkets and decorations. Nodding to one of his guys to make sure the basement apartment didn't have any other occupants. Waiting for a nod of affirmation before beginning to talk.

“I’m not here to answer questions. Just to reinforce our business relationship.” Vito began snapping his fingers and pointing up at the obscured camera in a corner. “Records straight onto a remote server I take it.”

Tristan nodded yes, an awkward chuckle erupting from Vito's mouth. “You see, this is what I like about you. You’re smart. Real smart.” Suddenly Vito's voice lost its amusement as his face turned dead serious. “I just hope you’re not too smart to think you’re above the order of things.” Vito pointed a finger sternly at Tristan, as Tristan shifted slightly, knowing better than to say anything.

“You schedule posting drops at the truck stop out of town. My guys get a nice scenic drive down the rec trails where the train tracks were pulled out. Stop for a piss in some bushes and grab your package.” Vito remarked circling the room and stopping to eyes the bruise on Steve’s face.

“We rarely ever meet, police have little chance of finding bread crumbs. We all make a decent penny.” Vito sat down on the couch, taking the tv remote he turned it on to frown as the tv advertised a lack of input signals.

“Yeah, well if I don’t get paid for the last batch I can’t afford the…” Tristan shut up as one of the goons Vito brought stepped forward, as if prompted into action without need for instruction.

As Tristan went silent Vito raised a hand and the guy returned to where he had been flanking the stairs.

“That’s good to hear.” Vito commented nodding his head. “Stevie, go get Tristan’s guests some snacks. We have some business to discuss. And don’t get smart, I’d hate for worse to happen to you, my nephew.” With a wave of his hand, Vito signalled for Steve to leave, the angry young man storming out.

“He’s a good kid that one. Loyal to you, that matters. Has to watch his mouth sometimes.” Vito remarked after hearing the door slam shut.

“Why are you here? We don’t talk, we don’t meet. We use your family ties and Steve to send messages.” Tristan remarked, feeling slightly emboldened by the evident signs Vito wasn’t here to just enforce market rules, but discuss.

“Tristan, what happened to my second last couriers?” Vito asked in response quite plainly.

The statement surprised Tristan whose face twisted in perplexity as Vito just looked at him. “They got the drop, they left the payment for the previous batch, and haven’t been back.” Tristan remarked, remembering the confrontation he had with the last courier, who literally scooped the last batch and ran as Tristan watched from nearby hiking trails.

“I have lost track of three, long term, reliable guys,” Vito stated shaking his head. “No money came back from who they retailed too. Follow-ups only found empty **** dens, my associates are debating whether we need to make a more visible approach to resume normal business.” Looking around the room Vito breathed deeply. “Losing retail is one thing though. I’m here to emphasize that we own your production.” With the wave of a finger Vito directed one of his men to go towards Tristan’s lab.

“Hey what’re..” Tristan found himself quickly thrown to the floor, the muscle-bound biker stepping past him to look at the set up.

“Just stay out of his way. We had to hop in a minivan out back of the peelers. He hates when we have to leave rides parked and strippers paid for lap dances we aren’t actually enjoying. But it's how we ensure any tails on us, didn’t follow. The girls all too happy to collect double for alibis. Triple if cops talk to them." Sighing deeply Vito then lamented. "Such a necessary cost."

“Best I can tell he’s just making some weird sugar pills.” The deep voice remarked returning to the room and heading back to his place by the door.

Vito looked closely at Tristan, he sensed something was up but had nothing to go on. “Look, I understand that you may be sharing our hard times. So I’ll do this. Find yourself some good, like real good hard to trace to you middlemen. Peddle your wares about town.” Vito glanced around the room. “Maybe get a better place with some of that money.”

“But…” Tristan tried to interject, only to have Vito hold out a hand with one finger raised high.

“Please. Just please don’t interrupt me. I’m trying to tell ya something and do ya a favour.” Vito cleared his throat glancing towards the stairs as he heard the door open.

The room sat still and silent waiting as Steve came down the stairs and opened a brown paper bag. Slowly setting up a spread of Chinese food across the coffee table Vito nodded approvingly gesturing for his men to eat.

“Don’t worry about the meth or opioid markets. Let us know who to sanction and you can take the whole market for a small fee. If you can. Just don’t be like Greggor there.” Vito remarked nodding to the brute he sent in to inspect Tristan’s lab. “Get caught and there’ll be too much heat for you to buy cold medicine. Honest waste of a chemistry Phd.”

“I don’t have any student debt though.” The muscle-bound guy Tristan now knew was named Greggor chimed in with a chuckle.

“Now Tristan, let’s talk how you’re going to operate in town. I want to steer you clear of other's mistakes.” Vito remarked grabbing a spring roll and biting a piece off of it.