"Here's what we'll do," says Ben. "We're not gonna let 'em know we're interested in sellin'. We'll let 'em think we want to use the feathers. We'll ask their advice and just maybe we can get some idea of how valuable these things are. Sound like a plan?"
"If you think you could get away with it. Personally I don't think I have enough knowledge of the occult to pull something like that off. I mean, they'll probably ask what ritual we're gonna use the feathers for, and then what'll we say?"
"No no no," says Ben shaking his head, "you don't quite understand what I'm sayin'. We're gonna ask them what rituals we should perform. Look, we have to assume that these feathers are very rare and that most people have never even seen one. Which means it wouldn't be unusual if two guys, who only dabble in the occult, didn't know what to do with 'em. Like I said before, we ask their advice and based on their reaction we should know whether or not these feathers are worth something. It's as simple as that."
"OK. I suppose that could work. But I don't even dabble in the occult, so I hope you know enough to make them think you are. All I know is what I've seen in movies, and that's not much. In fact I don't think I can remember a single useful fact... oh wait... I remember, from Warlock, that you need fat from a boy who wasn't christened in order to make a flying potion. Maybe we should ask them if feathers from a fallen angel is good for that too?" KK snickers.
"I doubt we'll find any flying potions. I suspect they deal in items and spells that produce a less tangible effect, things like good luck charms, curses, and divination's. Let's just hope this place is the real thing or, at the very least, that they think they're the real thing."
KK nods in agreement and continues to follow Ben around the plaza.
Seems as if Ben really has a better grasp on that occult stuff. Must
be all the weird shit that happens here.
At the moment there are only four people in the store. The first is a slavic man of around 30, clean shaven, with a red tattoo of an upside-down ankh on his left cheek. He is dressed neatly but in clothes that are loose fitting and easy to move in. He is wearing a cutlass at one hip, and a glance at his thickly muscled wrists indicates that he has a good idea of how to use it.
The second man is African, also around 30. Tall and lean, well muscled, clean-shaven, with close cropped black hair, with several spiky earrings in his left ear. He is dressed in a thick jacket, leather pants, and sturdy boots. His nose is oddly misshapen, apparently from many breaks. He wears a red fanny pack with a white cross on it. There is a cutlass hanging by his side. When Ben and KK enter his eyes go over both thoroughly, top to bottom and back again to top. He remains close to the third man in the shop.
The third man is older, around 60. Dressed impeccably with short white hair, he moves with elegance and grace. Of the three, only he appears unarmed, and only he pays Ben and KK absolutely no attention when they enter the store. Instead, he continues to peruse the book section, occasionally pulling out a volume, flipping through it idly, and chuckling occasionally and shaking his head.
The fourth person in the store is easily recognized by Ben, for he has seen her before today. It is none other than Elvira, the folk singer from Wilma's!
"Can I help you big, strong boys?" she asks in her most seductive voice, leaning over the counter and displaying her undeniably ample cleavage.
KK looks at Ben and clearly expects him to take charge.
"All right," says Ben, "I'll talk with her, but if she starts singing I can't be held responsible for my actions."
Ben turns back towards Elvira and slowly makes his way up to the counter. "I need to talk with someone about different kinds of rituals and components thereof," he says while staring directly down the front of her dress. "I don't suppose there's a resident expert on hand?"
"You're starin' at her hooters, honey," responds Elvira, jiggling just a bit and leaning further over the counter. "Now tell Elvira what you're looking for... Some sort of spell that keeps you safe while you explore some dark, damp, scary caverns perhaps? Don't be afraid of the dark now. Tell Elvira, honey... She'll tell you what you need to know."
Ben nearly sprains an eyeball when he attempts to nod in KK's direction without looking away from those hypnotic breasts. "My friend and I came across some rather exotic material. We want to know what kind of spells or items it would be best used for."
"Go ahead and show her a feather," he says to KK.
With his right hand KK meticuluously removes a few feathers from his right coat-pocket, and with his left hand he goes on to remove everyone but the biggest. This one feather he places between his right thumb and index finger, and then offers it to Elvira.
Elvira takes the feather and holds it up to the light, then twirls it between thumb and forefinger. She sniffs it, then takes a very small nibble from one end. Then she leans WAY over the counter and holds it up for KK to take back. Through some miracle of physics, balance, and fashion design, everything stays in place... barely.
"Mmmmm... VERY nice, sweetie," she says rather breathlessly. "Interested in showing me more? Maybe we could go work some voodoo with it. Or maybe I could just use it to find out where you're ticklish?" She leans back and adjusts her...*AHEM*... equipment.
"Now just where did you get that sweetie? Have you been a naughty boy? C'mon, tell Elvira. Elvira is interested in your deepest... your darkest... your biggest secrets. Tell Elvira all about it, honey. Where did you get the feather? If you tell Elvira, then Elvira will show you some very interesting things you can do with it."
KK notices that he is sweating like he's just walking out of a sauna. "Uhm... ehh... if you can tell me who it's from, I'll tell you where it came from," he replies, glancing at Ben for support. The whole situation has begun to feel very awkward. KK really doesn't like it when people try to play games with him. Or when they're succeeding. So in an effort to keep his eyes away from Elvira's "equipment", he studies the feather he just got back, twirling it in much the same way as Elvira did. Ticklish, huh?
Ben finally manages to tear his eyes away from Elvira's wondrous cleavage. "I think I've played enough games for today. Let's cut the act and get down to business. How we acquired the feathers is of no importance. We should concern ourselves with what we plan to do with them. What can you tell us about the feathers and their possible uses?"
"Oooh honey," exhales Elvira, turning her gaze away from KK (to his obvious relief), "If you don't know what you have, and how to use it, then what's it worth to you to have Elvira show you?"
"Look," says Ben, getting a bit agitated, "I phoned before we came in and specifically asked if there would be anyone here who could answer our questions. I don't recall any mention of a consulting fee. So, why don't you tell us exactly how much you feel you should be compensated for doing your job."
As Ben's agitation rises, so to does the agitation of the two men with cutlasses, who keep an eye on him from their positions by the door and by the old man respectively. The old man himself ignores Ben completely.
Elvira puffs out her lips in a very sexy pout. "Oh sweetie, don't give yourself a stroke. What you have there is..."
Elvira leans waaaaaay over the counter this time.
"... a chicken feather."
Ben waves KK silent. "Let me see if I understand this correctly," he says turning back to Elvira. "You tapped into that vast library of knowledge you have on this particular subject matter and concluded that we gave you A CHICKEN FEATHER!? Ya know, you almost had me fooled. For a brief moment, I was ready to believe you actually knew what the hell you were talking about. You think I'd come in here with chicken feathers? Do I look like some kind of fucking practical joker? For your information, these feathers did not come from a chicken nor did they come from any other earthly creature. Now, is there anyone in this store who, when it come to the occult, knows the difference between their ass and a hole in the ground?"
Elvira smiles sympathetically.
"Hard to face the facts, isn't it handsome?" she says. "You've been taken. What, did some huckster with a good line convince you it was a feather from a roc or a griffin or something? Believe you me sweetie, Elvira sees it all the time. Ninety percent of the stuff in this store is junk for rubes..."
"Ninety-five," mutters the old man to himself, smiling slightly as he turns the page on the book he is reading.
"...so we know our fakes here, oh yes we do. You can't walk in the dark..." Elvira does the 'secret cave' trick with her cleavage again, "... unless you can recognize the light." She reaches up with one hand to caress one of the creamy mounds of flesh erupting from her dark, gothic outfit.
KK notices that he is sweating again. Eager to put the fleshy mounds back where they belong, out of his vision that is, KK quietly steps closer to Ben so as to not miss anything important. And since there must be something wrong with the air-condition in the store, KK also pulls out his fan and proceeds to create some wind.
"Of course, you aren't going to believe me," Elvira continues. "You'd rather believe that I don't know what I'm talking about than that some smooth talking hustler got away with some of your hard-won American dollars." She shrugs. The effect is dramatic.
"You do what you want honey, but you've got yourself a chicken feather there. No more, no less."
"You are mistaken," insists Ben. "There was no hustler or middle man of any sort. My associate and I plucked the feathers from their source. This is how I know they are real. Yet you dismiss me out of hand. This is how I know that, like ninety-five percent of your merchandise, you are fake." Ben turns away from Elvira and walks over to the old man. He stops a good six to eight feet short, well out of arms reach. "How about you grandpa? Are you for real? How would you like to look at our chicken feathers? How would you like to mock us and call us fools? How would you like to piss away the opportunity of a life time?"
The pair with the cutlasses tense even more (KK notices that despite the fanning, the temperature of the room continues to rise along with the level of tension) and the one closest to the old man actually draws his weapon, though he refrains from waving it in Ben's direction.
For his part the old man seems for a moment not to hear, continuing to peruse his book. Then, with great solemnity, he closes it and tucks it under his arm. Turning to face Ben, he examines the hulking thug for the first time, raising a single, snow white eyebrow at the bullet hole in Ben's lapel.
"Young man," he begins politely in a gentleman's Oxford accent, "when you refer to 'the opportunity of a lifetime' that I may choose to 'piss away', as you so colorfully put it, are you referring to the opportunity to look at these feathers of yours, or the opportunity to mock you and call you a fool?"
Behind the counter, Elvira issues a low, throaty chuckle.
Ben cracks a rare smile. "I'm talkin' about the feathers, old man. Take the time to examine them closely and I don't think you'll be disappointed."
Taking this as his cue, KK dutifully holds out his feather so that the closest bodyguard can bring it safely to the old guy. The closest bodyguard makes no move to take the feather. In fact, neither of the guys with the cutlasses make a move to take the feather. Instead, the closest bodyguard moves to a point where he is within easy striking range of both Ben and KK, though at the moment he still refrains from actually waving his cutlass at them, while the other one (the one near the door) moves into the doorway to block any attempt at retreat.
The old man ignores both of them as though they were no more than furniture. He reaches out an elegantly manicured hand and takes the feather from KK, twirling it between two fingers, but barely glancing at it. Rather, his gaze falls with interest and intensity on KK himself.
"Most interesting," he says quietly, "if you would be so kind as to tell me the circumstances under which you acquired this item, young man?"
This man seems trustworthy; KK is certain that he would never betray any sort of confidence or trust. "Well, I was in a hotel corridor when suddenly the heavens opened up above me, and this fried angel came down with a bunch of feathers. And that's one of 'em. I think his name was Michael..." KK starts out, equally quiet so that Elvira won't be able to listen in on it. Then he reaches into his coat for the passport, freezes as he considers the bodyguard, and proceeds to show the inside of his coat while carefully removing the passport from the pocket.
Somethin' ain't right. Ben takes in the scene. The bodyguard blocking the exit, the old man staring a little to hard at KK, and KK himself becoming way too glib. Somethin' definitely aint right.
Ben steps forward, interposing himself between KK and the old man. "Shut the hell up and let me handle this," he says to KK. "And you," pointing a finger at the old man, "if you've got any questions, ask me."
At Ben's harsh words the guy by the door hauls his cutlass free of its scabbard and the guy near the old man brings his up to the guard position. Elvira dives behind the front desk.
The old man, however, ignores all of this. He focuses a gaze on Ben which is suddenly so devoid of any human emotion as to seem completely reptilian in nature. Still, his words continue to be unfailingly polite, still delivered in a clipped Oxford accent. "Pardon me, young man," he says, "but it is impolite to interrupt a conversation in progress. Civility is the mark of a true gentleman." He turns back to KK. "Would it be permissible for me to examine that document?" he says politely, indicating the passport.
"Uh... sure," KK says, only slightly confounded at Ben's behaviour. "But it's not much to look at." Following this statement he takes half a step around Ben to hand the passport to the elderly gentleman.
"I don't think we're going to be able to do business, old man." Ben heads for the exit, with or without KK.
"A pity," replies the old man, shrugging. He makes no move to take the proffered passport, instead merely raising an eyebrow in KK's direction and looking both wise and patient.
"Oh, you think? Does that mean you're interested in pieces of dead angels? We're willing to sell, you know..." KK goes on while putting the passport back into his inside coat-pocket. "But it looks like we're off to find another buyer right now, so unless you give me some way to contact you I might not be able to get back to you later on," he adds as he's about to follow Ben out of the store.
The old man reaches into his pocket and pulls out an expensive looking leather wallet. Inside, KK notices that there are not too many bills. However, he takes a second look, notices the denominations, and understands why. The old man removes two bills and proffers them. "I will pay you $200.00 for the privilege of examining these artifacts, presuming that I get first access to them. Additional funds will be forthcoming should they interest me."
"Two hundred bucks just to look? Seems good enough to me. I just need to talk to my partner first," KK decides. Then he turns around and heads for the door. Time to catch up with the partner in question and find out what his problem is.
"Very well," the gentleman replies.
Ben's waiting just outside the shop. He's scanning nearby parked cars trying to determine if any of them belong to the old man and his entourage. The very expensive looking Rolls Royce is the likely candidate. "What's up?" he asks as KK comes rushing out.
"That guy in there wants to pay 200 bucks just to look at the angel," KK explains. "Not the kind of money I was expecting, but he said he'd pay more if he was interested. Anyway, why did you leave so damn quick?"
"That guy in there just fucked with your head. Think about it. One minute your standing there in the background perfectly willing to let me handle the situation and the next your spillin' your guts. Why do you think that is?"
"I trusted him! And you didn't seem to do that well with Elvira... Besides, he was talking to me and it wasn't about that weird shit that you seem to know so much about, so I figured I could speak for myself. Maybe it was time to quit beating around the bush. At least we get to see some money," KK explains, apparently not quite done spilling his guts.
Ben stands there listening to KK, shaking his head in disgust. "I don't trust the guy and I'm not going to deal with him. It's as simple as that. You can do what ever you want but I'm leaving." Ben starts looking around for a cab.
"Hmpf. Well, I guess I'll be coming with you, at least until you move that corpse from your room. Should we go to that temple and see if they got any rich christian fanatics who're eager to buy an angel?" KK asks. Then he gets an idea. "You wouldn't want to sell me your room-key for $200, would you?"
"Look, I know you think I'm being an asshole about this but you have to see it from my perspective. That old man coerced you. It doesn't matter if he did it with his mind or with a baseball bat, it's all the same to me. The way in which he did it, so brazenly, leads me to believe he's either crazy or very powerful. Either way, he's to dangerous to deal with. Besides, guys like that usually don't pay for what they can take."
"Maybe you're right about that. But why would someone rich enough to have two bodyguards bother to stiff someone like me? And I can't think of anyone but the crazy and powerful who'd want what we're selling. You know, if I deal with him you could just hang in the background and collect the money. Or run when the shit hits the fan. Or do you think we can find someone crazy enough to deal with the likes of us and who's still got enough money to make it worth the while?"
"Oh yeah, rich guys never stiff anybody, they never cheat on their taxes, and in fact, I don't think they ever break the law at all. You must be one of the most fucking naive people I've ever met. I can't understand you. That guy screwed with your mind. If it were me, I'd be out here plotting his death, not arguing to give him another crack at it."
"Hey, hey, hey! I never said rich guys are perfect, I just don't see this guy stiffing guys like us. He looks like a perfect buyer for what we got, and I think we're really lucky to stumble upon him like that. And about him messing with my head... Well, all I got is your word. Can you prove that he did it? Or is it just a gut feeling like the one I got saying that we can trust him?"
"It's more than a gut feeling. I have no doubt as to what he did. I simply do not want to deal with this man, even if it means sacrificing any chance at making a profit."
"Well, I have no doubt that we can trust him," KK grumbles. "And you still won't let me do the dealing while you watch me closely from a safe distance? You wouldn't even have to be close by, and you'd have a chance at profit without any more risk than you're already in."
"You still don't understand what I'm sayin'. At this point, it's not about risk. It's about condoning what he did. Which is what we'll be doing if we continue to deal with him. We'll basically be saying that you can fuck with us and get away with it. That's not a precedent I'm about to set. In my line of business, reputation is very important. I'm not going to lose face just so you can make a few bucks."
"Lose face? What kind of business are you in, then? Personally I don't give a shit about 'face'. Can't spend every waking moment thinking about what people will think about me, you know? When face gets in the way of money, face should go take a hike to Japan, or wherever the hell it came from," KK says agitately. Then he looks intently at the cab driving mime and shakes his head at him. Turning back to Ben he continues to argue his point. "And besides, if giving me money just for looking at the merchandise is 'fucking with me and getting away with it', I really think I need a second language lesson. Because last thing I heard, fucking with someone meant that you treated them badly."
"You don't need to convince me that you need a language lesson. You obviously can't comprehend a thing I'm sayin'. I'm tired of repeating myself but I'll try one more time. I am not dealing with that old man. IT SIMPLY IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN! You can either accept that or we can go our seperate ways. Frankly, I don't give a shit one way or another."
"I can accept that. I let people like you fuck with me whenever they feel like it. Happens all the time. But the stuff is still in your room. And I'm not asking for you to deal with the old man. I'm asking for you to let me do it. What are people going to say? That you were seen hanging with some loser who got no face?" KK reasons. "It seems to me like you want to punish that guy in there. Are you some kind of undercover cop? Or are you just some concerned citizen who wants everyone to conform to his way of doing things?"
"You can call it punishment or what ever the hell else you want.
I don't want to sell the angel to this guy under any circumstances.
We can stand here and argue until hell freezes over but I'm not going to
change my mind."
The mime, noting that he is being ignored in the midst of an argument, puffs out his chest importantly, places a standard "mime scowl" on his face, and begins shaking his finger, first at Ben, then at KK, as if arguing with them each in turn.
KK can't help to chuckle a little at the rather amusing antics of the mime, and suddenly all his will to argue vanishes. As if by magic.
"Well, I don't know about you, but standing here until hell freezes over is in the way of making a buck, so it's not an option. You could've just told me from the beginning that you wanted to keep the angel from the old man. Just because we fight like an old married couple doesn't mean that we are one, so I figured that since we didn't have to do everything as a couple there would still be hope." KK grins, bringing up his fan to help cool him off.
"Anyway, I'd better go tell him of our decision. Hate to leave the guy hanging, you know." KK says as he heads back to the store. It takes a gang of knife-toting kids who'll cut him up and leave pieces of him all over the Edge for KK to leave someone hanging. Or so he would like to think anyway.
With the argument apparently over and KK exiting the scene, Ben finally takes notice of the mime. He stands there a few moments and watches the street performers antics. "Do you take requests?"
The mime drops his aggressive stance, leans forward, and cups his hand behind one ear, an expression of cartoon attentiveness on his face.
Ben cracks his knuckles. "Try this one. Pretend your a mime who's getting the shit kicked out of him. Oh wait," says Ben as he begins to advance menacingly. "I don't think you'll have to pretend at all."
The mime falls into an exaggerated boxing stance, fists up, and prepares to meet Ben using the manly art of fisticuffs.
Ben moves forward with lethal intent and the mime holds his ground, skinny arms circling in front of him, fists up. Ben decides to avoid getting grease paint all over his knuckles and starts off the combat with a feint to the jaw followed up by a jab to the solar plexus. The mime, however, is just quick enough on his feet to avoid the blow and still have time to make one of those stupid, smarmy, insufferable mime faces in Ben's direction, further enraging him
Ben moves in close with a series of jabs, attempting to crowd the mime and get him backpedaling. As the mime begins to retreat Ben will sweep his legs. He connects with a good one to the solar plexus (he's still avoiding the face due to the aforementioned greasepaint problem) which the mime is only partially able to deflect, then sweeps the mime's feet out from him as the street performer desperately attempts a retreat, causing the mime to plummet onto his butt in the middle of the sidewalk.
It's obvious that Ben doesn't mind getting greasepaint on his boots as he steps forward and attempts to punt the mime's head somewhere out into the plaza.
Ben's attempt at decapitation through concentrated application of blunt head trauma does not quite work out as planned, and the mime scuttles backwards with the alacrity borne of many years of being beaten up by irate people. Ben's kick does land a glancing blow on the mime's face, opening a nice cut along one cheek which begins to turn the grease paint red. The mime, for his part, slithers under a nearby parked car, emerging on the other side with the car between him and Ben.
"Do me a favor," says Ben. "Pretend your in an invisible box, so as I don't have to chase ya around so much. You know the more you make me work, the worse it's gonna be. Stand still and take it like a mime."
The mime, looking somewhat crestfallen, obligingly begins pantomiming being inside of an invisible box, but as soon as Ben starts moving around the car the mime's hands flip over and he gives Ben a double-barreled "three finger salute" before turning and dodging through traffic in the general direction of the plaza in the middle of the roundabout.
Ben gives a raucous laugh at the mimes antics. "You got balls,
I'll give you that much," he calls out to the retreating street performer.
"But it won't keep you from gettin' stomped into the pavement if you ever
bother me again." Ben watches as the mime disappears into the crowd
before turning back to the Golden Bough. Now where the hell is KK?
"Ah, you have returned," the old man says, "I presume you have a counter-proposal for me?"
"No, not really. My friend out there doesn't want to have anything to do with you, and that includes selling you the angel. He wouldn't let me do it either, so I just came back to tell you. Okay?" KK says, moving in close to the old man so that he'll be able to speak quietly.
There is close, and then there is close. I'm unsure if there is a European word for it but the Japanese have one - shiken. It is the distance with which one can effectively reach with a sword - essentially the killing zone for a swordsman. The look on the nearer bodyguard's face and the subtle movement of his hand towards the hilt of his cutlass communicates that he should not enter that proximity. And although KK isn't japanese and has never used a sword, he can still take a hint. But he does so grudgingly, because if he wanted to cause harm to the old man, surely he would've made his move when he handed him the feather a while ago.
The old man, however, seems to take no notice whatsoever of such things. His snowy eyebrows draw together in a frown and he pauses a moment, stroking his chin, while he thinks.
"How rude," he mutters after a moment. He releases his chin and holds up one hand, with one finger pointing upwards. He shakes it slightly to illustrate his point.
"Young man, I must admit that I am somewhat taken aback by this rather rough treatment. It certainly wasn't I who volunteered to be brought into this situation. It was your... friend... who spoke to me on this matter, not the other way around. And having been invited to explore this 'opportunity of a lifetime', and having further accepted that invitation and even gone so far as to offer monetary remuneration for the privilege of even being granted consideration in this matter, I find it unconscionable that your companion would now decline to grant me access - access that he offered me without any prompting on my part I might add. I can certainly understand if your friend wished to haggle over price - such things are common business practices after all. But this defies rules of polite behavior, and I am not an individual who is accustomed to be treated incourteously.
"Be that as it may, young man, should your friend choose to take his business elsewhere that is certainly his prerogative. However, before you go there is certainly something you should know. The object that you were kind enough to show to Elvira and I is, indeed, a chicken feather. Since you did not take Elvira's word for it, I assume that you will not take mine either, but I strongly suggest that if you wish to confirm this fact you make a trip to the Ramble. The sale of live animals there is relatively common, and I am certain that you can find a chicken or two with which to make a comparison.
"Finally, while I know nothing of your arrangements with your... friend... I am still interested in obtaining access to these objects that you claim to have - the body and the passport - and would be more than happy to continue negotiations, either with him or without him, if you understand my meaning."
"Yeah, I get you. But the stuff is in his hotel room, so I don't think I'll be able to deal with you on my own without him finding out about it. And since he's gotten into his head that you did something to my head, he won't allow you to deal with any of us. And are you sure an angel feather would look much different from a chicken feather? I mean, why would anyone in heaven bother to chuck down chicken feathers after a barbequed angel? Are you saying they got some sense of humor up there?" KK says, looking rather astounded at that last thought. But he doesn't think that the old man could answer the question, no matter how wise and educated he might be. So instead he takes another stab at establishing a consensus that will allow him to take his leave.
The old man shrugs gently. "Who can say? I have found in my experience that dealing with the minions of heaven is a lot like dealing with any other bureaucracy - they are generally poorly skilled, uninterested in anything you might have to say, and often do things for no perceptible reason. Because of this I find that it is usually unproductive to deal with them."
"As for his allegation that I 'did something to your head' he is certainly correct, as you will no doubt realize when the effects wear off in about eight hours. A minor effect to be certain, one that put you in a friendly frame of mind towards me. Certainly nothing that will cause you any undue harm." Again he shrugs - KK can't help comparing him to a friendly uncle. "As an example, consider what your reaction would be if I were to ask you to go and throw yourself under a moving automobile for my amusement, or even a more minor matter such as simply giving me these artifacts of yours."
KK does so, and realizes that even though he likes the man, he wouldn't simply throw away his life for him, nor would he engage in such a foolish move as to give up a potentially valuable artifact.
"I have always found it fascinating how narrowly most people see," continues the old man. "I have no doubt that if your companion were convinced that it would be in his interests to do so he would use the assets at his disposal - his strength, size, intimidating demeanor - to his advantage. As you can see, I am not endowed with great size. My gifts and talents lie elsewhere. And yet when I use them, people such as your friend react adversely, when it was only my intention to create a relaxed atmosphere for further negotiations."
"Heh, I'd say most people would "react adversely" if my partner started to threaten them with his strength and size. I know I would," KK reasons. In his mind he wonders what kind of man would need to use magic to make people like him. Maybe he just expected KK to be an overly suspicious or hostile person? Judging from the two bodyguards the old man certainly seems worried about something.
"Exactly my point, young man. While we all find fault in the actions of others, we tend to see our own actions as above reproach."
"No, I don't think my partner would use his strength and expect his victim to still deal with him afterwards. He didn't threaten me out there, and we got into a pretty heated argument." He sighs. "Anyway, if it was just up to me we'd already be on our way to the hotel, but my partner has made up his mind, and I can't change it. So I'm sorry, but we'll have to wait until I find some occult stuff all by myself. And you're right about him being rude, it's just something that I've learned to live with," KK finishes.
"Very well," replies the old man. "Do check on the feather, however. It may affect your determination of asking price and..."
"Sir Arthur?" says the guy with the cutlass by the door, great deference and a bit of hesitation in his voice. The old man pauses and his eyebrows draw together, indicating his general opinion of being interrupted. "Yes?" he says quietly, allowing only the barest hint of displeasure to color the word.
"You might want to look at this," replies the guy with the cutlass by the door.
The old man walks over and looks out the window, then chuckles slightly and motions KK over. "Your friend has been busy," he says as KK looks out the window.
Down the block Ben can clearly be seen stomping the living daylights out of a mime!
"Huh. Looks like he's using his strength to his advantage right there. I wonder how the mime feels about it," KK grins at the old man. "Not that I'd really like to know..." he then adds for the sake his well-being.
"But my point is not how the poor mime feels about it, but rather how your companion feels about it. I believe that if you ask him, he will have some reasonable justification for his actions, or at least one which sounds reasonable to him." The old man frowns as he continues to stare out the window, apparently deep in thought.
"Yeah, he might have that. But he isn't negotiating a deal with the mime either. Looks to me like any negotiations have broken down into conflict, and that is where we ended up when you used your stuff on me and my partner found out about it. Except that he didn't actually start pounding on you. Probably because you have these guards," KK says, gesturing towards the two swordsmen. "Well, I'd better go out and see what that's all about. But before I go, would you mind telling me exactly how you know it's a chicken feather? As far as I can tell any white feather is a chicken feather, so I'd really like to know how you can tell one feather from another."
The old man sighs, apparently somewhat miffed at not having his word taken. "Young man, I have neither the time nor the inclination to expound upon the comparative structures of avian anatomy. If such matters actually interest you, I would strongly suggest that you enroll in a biology course. Chickens, as you should know, are one of the more common birds used in arcane rituals due to their ease of procurement and the fact that they are easy to care for and relatively inexpensive to feed. Therefore those who are knowledgeable in the arts arcane find them fairly easy to recognize. The specimen you showed me had the characteristic shape of a contour feather, almost equally divided between a firm, pennaceous distal vane area and a soft, plumulaceous inner vane area. Moreover the afterfeather was not more prominent than the forefeather, removing any possibility that it may have come from a goose, and it lacked the heavy, oily covering that might have suggested a duck. It was too small to be from an egret or heron, and the barb structure of the rachis was indicitive of a gallenaceous fowl."
He turns to look at KK. "In short, young man, it looks like a chicken feather."
"Yeah, that's what I said. Except I know where it came from..." KK mumbles.
The old man turns to the man by the door. "Go and bring the car around," he says. The man nods and leaves the store.
The old man turns his attention to the other guard with the cutlass. "Number Three," he says, and the man steps forward. KK notices that he doesn't stop until KK himself is well within his reach. The old man turns to regard KK once again.
"Now then, young man, I tire of this game. I did not force myself upon either you or your companion - it was the two of you who sought me out. However, having given the matter some thought, I have determined that I am not yet prepared simply to be cast aside because your friend does not like my negotiating tactics. Consequently, you will now come with me and direct me to the hotel where this artifact may be found. Bear in mind, if you would, that should you resist or impede my progress Number Three here will simply kill you. Moreover, the only long-term effects that your death will have on negotiations for the artifact is that I will have to perform a five minute ritual in order to garner the information from your spirit, that in order to assure myself that I will have this five minute interval free of distractions I will be forced to send my companions to kill your friend out there, and that in the end I will no longer have to pay either one of you for the privilege of examining this artifact."
KK notes that any affection he might have felt for the old man is rapidly dwindling under his icy tone. "Do not trifle with me, young man. It is not in your best interests to do so, I assure you."
"OK, I won't. As long as I get paid I don't really care," KK responds.
And if Ben doesn't like it, KK can now say that he was forced. Of
course, Ben never liked it, and always knew KK was forced, but now KK knows
it as well.
To Be Continued...