Chapter 17: Chapter 17: Honest People

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The sun hadn't set yet but the bar in front of them was packed with people. All types of people were going inside, some of them looked like they belonged to the richer side of town. Jacked even recognized a few nobles going inside. “Fisters,” the sign on top of the bar said. It had a moving image of a fist going back and forth.

“You think we can sell more here?” Amihan questioned.

“Do you know why you two couldn’t sell anything earlier? It was because you couldn’t relate to the folks over there and the same goes for them,” Jacked said.

“And you’re saying that we can find people more like us in there?” She pointed at the bar.

“Not me and Dumog, but you might.”

The double doors of the bar busted open. Two men who worked there carried a person by their arms and legs. His face was beaten in but he was still alive. They threw him out on the sidewalk, next to them.

“You’ll understand what I mean when we get inside,” they followed Jacked in.

 

Inside was very spacious, a lot of floor space. The tables were bolted onto the floor and had rubber on its rounded edges. There were no chairs in sight. Even the flooring was made with a softer wood and had a bit of spring to it. A guy was knocked out to the ground and bounced a little as he landed.

“They seem friendly,” Dumog said, looking around.

“Don’t look at their eyes, they might take it as an invitation,” Jacked whispered.

Jacked set Amihan’s box on top of a table in the middle of the room. Then he stood on top of it and raised his hands to grab everyone’s attention. The whole bar went quiet.

“Do you like gambling!?” He shouted.

“Yeah!” They shout back.

“Do you like a challenge!?”

“Yeah!”

“A one on one fist fight. If you beat her,” he pointed at Amihan. “You get a free messaging stone. But if you lose, you have to pay 200 Gold and you still get a brand new messaging stone.”

They whispered among themselves for a few moments. A man with glasses approached their table. From the way that he was dressed, he looked like a merchant.

“Heh, I’d like a free stone,” he removed his glasses and placed them on the table.

“Okay, you have to show that you can pay first. If you lose,” Jacked said.

“If I lose,” he grinned and showed that he had money.

“We have our first challenger folks!” Jacked announced.

They cheered and raised their mugs of beer. The Straw Hat Boys and the Beefcake Boys were also in the bar, a few of them have bruises and marks on their faces already. Jacked waved at them and smiled.

“Hey, are you sure we can do this? I won’t get in trouble for this right?” Amihan asked.

“You’re fine as long as you don’t kill anyone.”

Amihan and the merchant squared up on the space next to the table. There were already markings on the floor that made it clear that they had to contain the fight within its boundaries. They touch fists, signaling that they were both ready to fight.

The merchant threw the first punch, a left jab. Based on his stance and form, he has experience in fighting. Amihan effortlessly dodged it, going low. She came back up, punching him in the gut. It threw him out of bounds. Amihan won.

He bent over on all fours and threw up. The floor sucked all of the liquid up, leaving no trace of it. After struggling to stand back up, he pointed at Amihan and grinned.

“Damn, you’re strong,” he said. He tossed her the money and fell on the floor.

The two workers from earlier came to pick him up. Before they could toss him outside, Amihan ran after them. She slipped a messaging stone and his glasses in his jacket’s pocket.

When she came back to her table, Dumog and Jacked were gone. A crowd replaced them, they wanted to challenge her. She sighed and accepted the next fighter.

 

“Are you sure she’s going to be okay?” Dumog asked his master.

“She’ll be fine. We should worry about killing someone by accident.”

They walked to their next destination. The homeless camp. An empty plot of land where the homeless can set up tents and other makeshift shelters they can make to rest in. This was the temporary solution of the town for their homeless problem, they did it over 40 years ago.

There were many reasons why one would end up there. And the homeless problem that started years ago was a result of another, yet to be resolved problem, drugs. Many speculated that the nobles were the root of it, profiting off of them. Which is why they kept this part of the town.

Several of the addicts were doing it out in the open. Even though just a few feet away, a Townguard sat and drank on the job. The rest of the civilians walking by continued on like it was a normal occurrence. It became a normal thing for them after several years of this happening.

“I’m guessing this is where I can find people similar to me?” Dumog asked, disappointed.

“Oh, don’t take it personally. Here follow me, we should do it father in,” he motioned Dumog to follow him.

Jacked took a wooden crate and told Dumog to stand on top of it, he followed.

“Remember that guy earlier, the one in front of the store?”

“Yeah, the one who didn’t want to be tracked by the empire,” he answered.

“If they ask any questions, just repeat what I said to him. If it’s a question that you don’t know how to answer, then just make something up and add ‘100% guarantee’ at the end of the sentence.”

“Are you sure we can really do this? The shop owner didn’t say that we had to sell all of the units.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll be happier if we sell all of them in one day,” Jacked gave him a thumbs up and walked away. “Is the Empire tracking you down and spying on you? Then buy a new messaging stone here to keep your private conversations private,” Jacked announced.

Dumog was swarmed in an instant. He had to keep the box above his head to keep them from snatching it away. Several hands with money in them pressed against his face.

“Now where do I set up shop?” Jacked whispered to himself.

 

Jacked walked around the Pleasure District. The sun was setting so the customers were starting to go there. They were either lonely men or married men with families and reputations to maintain. He had found his targets. He stopped and sat on the corner of the street, the entrance to the Pleasure District.

“Hey, buddy, you look like you need a backup messaging stone,” he asked a man with a dark jacket and hat on.

“Now why would I need one?” He asked.

“I don’t know, there could be a number of things. You might lose your current one or someone snooping around yours while you sleep.”

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“You accusing me of something? Fuck off!” He walked away. He stopped before turning at the corner into the district. “How much are you selling it for?”

“200 each. And don’t worry, no receipts.”

The man bought one and briskly walked away.

“Pleasure doing business with you!” He grinned.

 

Jacked sold all of his units two hours later. His last customer was a plump man that he recognized. He owned the family restaurant that he ran with his wife. Of course, he wasn’t with her that night.

He walked back to the homeless camp and found Dumog sitting on the curb with his head down. His head and jacket soaked.

“You good?” Jacked asked him.

“Yeah, sold all of it quickly. They got mad and violent when I told them that I was out. Someone threw a piss bottle at me.” he cried.

“I can smell it from here. Come one, let’s see how Amihan’s holding up.”

 

In front of Fisters Bar was a pile of unconscious bodies. They closed the shop early, and all of the lights were turned off. Amihan sat on the steps leading to the bar. She had a busted lip and a bloody nose.

“Seems like you treated your customers well,” Jacked chuckled.

“Sold out,” she showed her empty box and smiled in front of them for the first time. Her teeth glistened with blood.

“That’s new, are you sure they didn’t hit your head too hard?” Dumog asked.

She threw the box at his face and started walking.

“Looks like this was our best job yet. Some people got hurt but we didn’t have to kill anything!” Jacked clapped.

 

Back at the iStone store, the owner was slack-jawed and tearing up. He only sold 10 units that day.

“This isn’t a joke right?” He asked them.

“Nope, here’s the money to prove it,” Jacked handed him the bag full of Gold.

“Wow, in all my years in retail I haven’t seen sales like this in one day. Let me calculate your cut. Give me a second,” he ran to the counter.

“Hey, are you not going to tell him how we managed to sell all of it and to whom we sold it to?” Dumog whispered.

“He’ll be happier not knowing.”

“Alright, here’s your pay and have these as well,” he gave them all a messaging stone each. “I’ll be sure to write a positive review to the Job Center. Hell, I might even hire you all to work here in my shop.”

“Hahaha, that’s a great offer. But I’m sorry to say that we decline.”

“Shame, if you need more work you guys know where to go,” he waved them goodbye.

Outside the store, most shops in the district were closing up. Honest people cleaning up and throwing out their trash neatly on the sidewalk for the collectors to pick up later. Dumog wondered what his life would be like if he were to have a store like them. He didn’t think he would like it being stuck in one place working with only profit in mind. Though he guessed that maybe they liked working and serving people, hoping that they made their day better. Seeing the store owner happy did make him feel satisfied.

“Come on, let’s go home. You need to shower.”

 

***

 

A week later, the iStone store owner expected to have a slow day. It was far from it. All kinds of people were at his store, there was even a line outside on the sidewalk. But they weren’t there to buy anything from him.

“Why would my husband buy a spare messaging stone from you!?” A woman screamed in his face.

“I don’t know ma’am, we aren’t responsible for whatever the customer uses it for,” he tried to calm her down.

“Your employee came to my house and nearly gave me a heart attack!” An old lady yelled.

“Yeah, they came to my house and threatened me,” a man screamed from the back of the crowd.

“She broke my buddy’s leg while he was drunk, now he can’t walk no more!”

“He wouldn’t cheat on me!”

“My guy got arrested after buying from you.”

“Calm down everyone,” he was sweating and didn’t know what to do.

Someone threw a messaging stone at the glass window outside, shattering it and hurting some of the ones inside. A siren came a few moments later and it wasn’t the Townguards.

“Move people, make way for the Empire,” a deep voice commanded.

Two tall men walked into the store, glass crunching under their boots. A few of them ran when they saw the armor they wore and the emblem they carried. Soldiers of the Empire, Organized Crime Division.

“Thank goodness. I don’t know what’s happening here, sir. It was all suddenly chaotic,” the store owner sighed.

“Sir, you are under arrest for suspicion of drug trafficking. Come with us peacefully for questioning and you won’t get hurt,” the soldier said.

“What, what? I haven’t done anything like that!” He screamed.

“Sir, we’ll give you 5 seconds to put your hands behind your head. Any sudden movements and we will use force,” the soldier whipped a baton out.

The store owner complied. They cuffed his arms and dragged him outside. A wagon attached to two Griffons waited for him. His neighbors and fellow shop owners watched him get in, his reputation now tainted.

“All right, send the boys in to raid the shop. Turn it upside down, look for anything that could help us in our investigation. Get the people out of there and secure the whole block,” the soldier ordered.

Several armored men with sledgehammers went inside his shop. They started breaking the floors and walls, breaking everything and destroying some of his products. The shop owner couldn’t watch. He cried inside the wagon alone.

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