Negotiations and Getting A Ride

“Absolutely not.”

‘Deja vu,’ Moira thought, standing at attention in her father’s office. Said patriarch was sitting at his desk looking over forms of some kind when Moira had come inside to discuss how the talk with Callie had gone. Upon entering, Moira became instantly aware of how tired and old her father was looking. Despite being only 50, he looked easily ten or even twenty years older than that. His hair was getting greyer with each day, going from salt and pepper to just gray. The wrinkles in his face were growing deeper and more numerous, and Moira could honestly not remember the last time she saw her father give a genuine smile.

Part of her wanted to reach out and comfort her father. To sooth his stress and talk to him as father and daughter. But that ship had sailed when her mom died and obsession with one criminal ruled her father’s life.

So all she could do was stand at attention and address her commander as a good soldier would.

As it turns out, he wasn’t exactly a fan of letting another prisoner loose.

“Moira, I was willing to agree with releasing Newman. Naoto provided evidence that he was not involved with The Scarlet Hand nearly as much as we initially thought, and that he would be of use to getting us to Alfheim. It made sense, and it was an easy fix. However, we know for a fact that Callie Anders has committed a myriad of crimes while working for Lifthrasir. She cannot be released.”

“But we need to get the information that she has,” Moira said in a careful tone.

“And what information is that?”

Moira cleared her throat and stood up a bit straighter. “After showing her the papers and telling us she would need to come along on the hunt, she explained that the papers are billing sheets for different guilds in The Scarlet Hand’s employ. She wouldn’t say where the guilds are or what they are called, but said that what has most likely happened is that Lifthrasir is doing something at those various guilds in an attempt to do… something. She wasn’t made privy to his plans, but whatever the plans were, she assured us that they would be something to shake up the Abyss as we know it.”

“And how does she know that?” her father asked, placing an arm on his desk before resting his head in his hand.

“She claimed that Lif had mentioned having a major plan that had been in the works for decades, but wasn’t quite ready yet. Hence why she was never given any details. However, she did say that if he were backed up into a corner, knowing Lif, he would probably do everything he can to put that plan in motion.”

“And you trust her in not knowing anything?” Lord Brighton asked with a sligh. “Should I go through her rap sheet? Because if so, lying would not even break the top 20 of terrible things she has done.”

“I don’t trust her in that regard, no,” Moira said. “But I do trust that she is eager to see her former boss punished for leaving her to die. She grew quite emotional upon learning that he was free while the rest of them were imprisoned, and if she does know anything about his plot, I assume she will tell us if we have trouble in catching him.”

“And how do you know she won’t betray you?” he asked, his voice beginning to get a bit louder. “Anyone who would work with that snake should be locked up forever in the deepest p-”

“Father, with all due respect, I think your hatred for Lifthrasir is clouding your judgment,” Moira said, trying to remain as neutral as possible. “Yes, she worked alongside an awful criminal and committed a myriad of crimes. But we should allow her to find a path to redemption. To turn her life around and serve the Lady. And I believe that her helping us will not only do that, but allow us to have the best chance to capture Lifthrasir.”

Her father stared at her with an odd expression she could not place. Surprise perhaps? Shock? Guilt? Sadness? A complex swirl of emotions came from him as she explained her idea, all of which had replaced any ounce of rage that had been lying within him. Slowly he stood from his desk and walked over to one of the windows. Moira watched as his posture went from tall and strong to bogged down and slumped, and for a moment she could feel her heart ache for her father. This obsession had eaten away at him for years, and she was one of the very few people who he would ever show any signs of his exhaustion to.

“You know, honey, you remind me a lot of your mother,” her father said softly. “She… she was very much for criminal redemption. She believed everyone had some good in them and that they deserved a second chance.” Her father sighed, placing a hand against the window. Moira walked up a bit closer, and she swore she could hear slight hitches in her father’s breath. “She… she and I never saw eye to eye on that. And when she died I… I had thought her ideas died with her. I suppose you inherited more from her than just her powers.”

Moira looked away, her own posture relaxing as she rubbed her arm. “I… I guess so.”

Her father turned, and for the first time in years, she saw a small smile grace the corner of his lips. “You’re going to make a fantastic Warden, I just know it.” A slight shimmer of tears rested in the corners of his eyes before being wiped away, and along with them her father was once again replaced by Commander Brighton. “Permission granted, Moira. As long as you are certain that you and your squad can handle a possible betrayal, you are fine to take Callie along on your…” His voice trailed off as he looked over to his office door. “Speaking of, where did Newman and the others go?”

“John… had a similar reaction to you when Callie made her demands. He’s firmly against making any deals with her, and mentioned something about being burned by making too many poor deals in the past.”

“Based on his testimony, if he is being honest about everything, I can see why,” her father said, walking back over to his desk and pulling a paper out. “He made a lot of deals in his short time in the Abyss, and many of them have been poor. He claimed to make deals with Lifthrasir, the Norse jotun Surtr, and that witch Wentworth. I can’t imagine he is eager to make any more deals.”

“Not to mention the information about Callie came from another deal he made,” Moira added. “But from our research, isn’t part of being a runic mage all about making deals with gods?”

“Indeed. He needs to simply improve about making the correct deals,” Lord Brighton said. “Perhaps when Lifthrasir is arrested, he can join up with the Order. We can help monitor and act as an in-between for more of his wheeling and dealing. Ensure that whatever deals he does make will be best for the Order and him, and have a powerful mage on our side as well.”

“I… don’t think he is keen on joining us,” Moira said, her mind flashing to the look of horror on John’s face whenever he was stuck in his flashbacks.

“Give him time,” her father said. “He will see the light and join us soon enough. Now, where did you say he was headed off to?”

“He and Naoto left while I was still negotiating with Callie. He needed to take a walk, and Naoto suggested they go visit someone about a vehicle for going to these different locations.”

Lord Brighton raised an eyebrow at first, but as the thought settled into his mind, his eyes went wide. “She wouldn’t be… They hate us. There is no way they will let us use their vehicles.”

“They do have the best vehicles around,” Moira said with a shrug. “Plus, as long as they don’t know we are involved, who knows.” Moira gave her father a small smile.

“They might even say yes.”

Springfield was like an onion. Or an ogre. It had layers to it, especially the downtown area. For example, there was the uptown downtown area, the kind of place where you could go into some hipster cafe and buy an overpriced coffee that will taste so good it will kinda ruin other coffees for you for at least a few days. The kind of place where goth and alt chicks go and make nerds like old John yearn for that slight drop of confidence that would let him talk to them. Then there was historic downtown, where every shop and apartment there had like 50+ years of history that dated to some old person that was probably a smidge racist, but you tried to ignore that while getting pizza from an actual stone brick oven. Then there were the seedier parts of downtown, where bars and red light stores littered the streets alluring those with too much money to either drink their problems away or pay someone to make them feel less alone for one night only, even if that feeling was as fake as the prostitute’s orgasm.

Then there was downtown downtown. The seediest part. The place Salty Spitoon members would try to avoid. The place where, a month ago, John wouldn’t go unless he was carrying a gun and a small army at his back.

But that was also before John spent a while in hell. So, honestly? Place wasn’t that scary any more. Plus, John had magic powers, and if someone tried to kill him, he could probably fry them six ways to Sunday. Not lethally, of course. John wasn’t insane.

‘Said the man walking with his imaginary father.’

‘Shut up, Dad,’ John thought to no one. He wasn’t going to acknowledge his dad being there, instead choosing to focus on Naoto. The detective was dressed more casually than days previous, having foregone the uniform for a more casual appearance. Which in this part of town, was probably for the best.

Plus, she was wearing a pair of shorts that hugged her ass perfectly, a blue button up that was almost too small around the chest, and a hoodie that had the logo of some local business on it that hid the guns she had on her person. Two out of those three clothing choices **** John to do a double take when he first saw them, and if he didn’t have the morning session with Talia and Mavis, he probably would have popped a stiffie at the sight of her.

Aw hell, he couldn’t lie to himself. He did get a boner when he saw her.

Plus, focusing on how hot she was helped John avoid focusing on other things. Things like his dad walking on the other side of the street. Or the random whispers he could hear in the back of his mind that he couldn’t differentiate between his own thoughts or the whispers of the gods whose power drummed through his body. Or the fact that Callie had the gall to demand her freedom and to work with them to hunt down Lif. Afterall, John had to make some pretty bad deals already. He made the deal with Lif that fucked him over, he made the deal with Surtr that got him in hot water, hell, he had to make a deal with goddamn rat satan just to kick off this manhunt into something that could be completed sooner rather than later! Granted, some of those deals were rather hard to say no to. After all, dealing with gods was rather fickle, especially when they have such a… powerful presence. The kind of presence that makes you want to agree to anything they say if they promise not to vaporize you.

‘Still probably should have continued to ignore the Horned Rat,’ John thought to himself. As he did, he swore he could hear a whispering chuckle in the back of his head.

‘I also should have probably brought Mavis and Talia. But they wanted to stay with Moira and hash things out with Callie.’

“So, where are we going?” Sigmund asked, having been fitted with a set of jeans and a sleeveless shirt to make him look less like an undead Nordic warrior. Now he just looked like some really buff guy with Norse tattoos that almost glowed.

“I’ve got a couple contacts in this area who owe me a big favor. They also happen to be the best mechanics around, so hopefully said favor will result in you guys getting some transportation to go after Lifthrasir.”

“Wait, you guys?” John asked, quickening his step to walk next to Naoto. “You aren’t joining us on the manhunt?”

She shook her head. “Unfortunately, I don’t know. I still have duties here. Cases that have to be dealt with, criminals to punish, so on and so forth. I’ll ask my supervisor, but I might have to stay here.”

“But what about the coded book?” John asked.

“I photo copied all the pages and will see if I can translate them. If you guys get any clues, feel free to give me a call and share them. Plus, if I stay here, I can have a couple of codebreakers on the **** help me out with breaking his code,” Naoto said, a slight smile appearing on her face as she spoke. “Don’t worry. If you guys need some more help, I can head to you all. Especially if you find Lif and need help arresting him. I can easily make the argument to use more police equipment if it comes to arresting him.”

“Hopefully we will go to his first location and find him there,” Sigmund said as he shot a scowl down a darkened alleyway. “I don’t know what he would be planning, but knowing the crimes he has already committed, it cannot be anything good.”

“We’ll miss you if you can’t come,” John remarked as they rounded a corner.

“As will I,” Naoto said, giving John a rather warm smile. “You’re a good guy, John. When you catch Lif, if you’d like, I can talk to my chief about getting you some training and having you join the ****.”

“Ehhh, I never really saw myself as a cop,” John said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Maybe a detective then?” Naoto pondered. “Just think about it. You aren’t going to be hunting Lif forever, and should think of what you want to do with your talents.”

John was just about to offer a witty retort (or at least it was witty in his head) when Naoto held out a hand to stop him in his tracks. John looked forward to see… honestly, kinda a shithole of a mechanics shop. Now to be fair, that was the norm for the area with everything looking like The Day After Tomorrow was yesterday. But still, that did not subtract from the fact that it looked like the mechanics shop had seen better days. Busted in windows with metal grids behind them to dissuade intruders, a car that was more rust than car sitting in an alleyway next to the shop, peeling paint that was probably full of lead, a neon sign reading “Goldsmith’s Garage” that had half of its letters gone. Hell, even the neon “open” sign was missing the “n” so it was just a dim “ope”.

“Best mechanics around?” John asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t let its appearance fool you,” Naoto said. “The shitty exterior keeps most mundanes away. And the ones that do come by are usually friends of the owners and they still don’t know a damn thing about the Abyssal nature of it.”

John looked up at the neon name of the shop, noting that there was some small print at the bottom of the sign that said “Best Dawi around!”

“Who’s dawi?” John asked.

“Not who is Dawi. Who are the Dawi.”

“What?”

Naoto gave John a smirk and opened the door, crossing the threshold with John left standing there dumbfounded. He looked over to Sigmund with a questioning glance.

“Do you understand her?”

Sigmund nodded.

“Are you going to tell me what she meant?”

Sigmund shook his head. “Go follow her. I’ll stay out here and keep guard.”

“Helpful,” John deadpanned before walking into the mechanics shop. Instantly the smell of metal and oil filled his nose, as well as the noise of some random AC/DC song in the background. Naoto was standing next to a small desk that was covered in papers, random tools, and a tiny silver desk bell. The rest of the room had a couple of rather crappy looking chairs, some magazines, a door that led deeper into the shop, and a few dozen tires on a display while also being chained to the wall. ‘Probably to discourage shoplifters,’ John pondered as he walked over to Naoto, resting his own arm on the desk while looking around for someone that worked here.

“He just went into the back to tell his niece I’m here,” Naoto said vaguely.

“Who went in the back? Whose niece? And still I ask, who are the dawi?!” John asked, his voice getting louder and louder as he grew more and more confused.

“Tha’s Dawi with a capital D there, lad!” a loud gruff voice yelled out, causing John to turn and look through the door that just opened up. Standing there with a fat stogie in one hand and a wrench that looked like it weighed around 50 lbs in the other was a rather short and stout individual. He looked far older than anyone John had met previously, with a balding head that held only a few white hairs left on top of it. What was left of his hair was left to the sides of his head and a thick white beard, with three golden caps on the ends of his mustache and beard that seemed to keep it from being too long. His face was a maze of wrinkles and scars, including a long one that was near his right eye. Speaking of, while his left eye was of a blue that reminded John of the sky on a clear day, his other was a milky white that betrayed its lack of use. Atop his scalp was a pair of silver and bronze goggles, with the left one having a slight crack in the glass near where his scar was. He had a rather wide nose, blackened with soot and who knows what.

Clothing wise the man was a fusion between a blacksmith and a mechanic, with some heavy duty leather gloves, steel-toed boots, and a pair of brown overalls partially covered by an oil stained apron. Neither of these last two pieces of clothing did much to hide the man’s chest, though, which was rather hairy yet absolutely yoked with muscle. John actually wondered who would be the stronger between Sigmund and this mysterious dwarf.

Oh yeah. The man was also only about four and half feet tall.

He walked over to the counter, putting the cigar back into his mouth as he gave Naoto a smile. “Lass! Good ta see ya again. It’s been far tew long. Been staying aroun’ those Order jackarses far tew much if ya ask me.”

Naoto gave the man a smile like what John would give to his mom. “Hey Gurrak. It’s good to see you again too.”

The dwarf chuckled and pulled Naoto in for a hug. “Ah, it’s always a good day when you darken my doorstep. But now who’s this stickbone of a lad you brought in here?” he asked, turning to look at John.

John cleared his throat and offered his hand. “Nice to meet you. My name is John Newman. Naoto and I have been working on a case together.”

The dwarf looked at his hand, his expression going from one of warmth to ice cold in a matter of seconds. In fact, the change in tone was so drastic that John could feel an icy shudder trail down his spine. Slowly the dwarf looked up in John’s eyes. “Newman? What’s yer bloodline there, boy?”

“I… I’m sorry?”

“Yer bloodline,” Gurrak said. “Yer father. His father. His father’s father. So on and so forth.”

‘Huh. Never thought I managed to make magic dwarfs angry with me.’

‘Shut the fuck up, Dad.’

“My… My father was a man by the name of Manuel Vigil. My mom had me abandon his name when he ran out on us.”

The dwarf’s gaze softened, but only a bit. “Ah, I see. And yer mother’s bloodline?”

“My mom is Brenda Newman. My grandpa on her side of the family was David John Newman. And I think my great grandfather was named Kenneth?” John said slowly, though in his head he was going through possible runes to cast if things got ugly with the dwarf.

However, it would prove unnecessary as Naoto quickly stepped in to interject, “For what it’s worth, Gurrak, he’s a late bloomer. I doubt any of his family is in any of the grudge books.”

Instantly Gurrak’s gaze softened, turning back to Naoto and giving her a slight nod. “Aye, you do have a point. There is a Freeman in the book, but it sounds like they are from a different family.” The dwarf then turned to look at John with the same warmth he had been giving Naoto. “Sorry there, lad. Thought you were part of a family that did a great disservice to my kin. Earned a grudge in the Dammaz Kron, they did.”

John looked confused, crossing his arms. “The… Dammaz Kron? Grudge? What are you talking about?”

The dwarf’s eyes went a bit wide as he took a puff on his cigar. “You don’t know about the Dawi’s grudges?” He gave a slight chuckle. “An’ here I though’ that was the ONLY thing people knew about us!”

“As I said, he’s a late bloomer,” Naoto said.

“Well, lad, you best take a seat.” Gurrak said.