Lanky build, red hair, scruffy clothes – it's Vinnie again. No matter how many times I try to scare this guy straight, he seems to get under the thumb of another gang leader or crime lord. He isn't so much malicious as he is amazingly unlucky, constantly pulled in to be a stooge or messenger boy. How I keep running into him, I don't know. He's never quite doing something illegal, but he's constantly running around delivering messages and the occasional piece of contraband that he 'had no idea was in that package.' Which is true, when put in a circle of truth we found that they don't even tell him what he's delivering. It's easy enough to spook him into talking and then he hides from whoever he got caught, and ends up working for another person who will tell him even less than the last boss did.
“We gotta stop meeting like this Vinnie. Breaking and entering is illegal, you know.”
“Denwatch? The 'ell are ya doing 'ere? An' I wasn't breakin' in. Why would I yell out for 'im if I was trying to bust inta 'is place? Can you let me down? This ain't a very comfy spot ya got me in.”
“You're right Vinnie, but I could probably take you in for this one anyway. Though I might let you off with a warning if you let me in on what Pete here has to do with your boss.”
“Wait, ya don't know? Why're ya even 'ere then?”
“I'm sure you've heard about the recent surge of missing persons.”
“Shit, I knew Pete was a real nutter, but I didn't think all of 'em were 'is.”
“You're still not telling me anything, and my partner will be back soon with men from the guard house.”
That got him, now he's sweating and shaking, but not enough to loosen his dead grip on that ladder.
“Hell, Pete finds ways to lure guys inta private and knocks 'em off. I hear 'e like strange clothes an steals 'em from those that don't need 'em no more in 'is free time. 'ats all I know 'bout 'im. Been tryin' to reach 'im since yesterday but 'e wasn't in 'is usual 'aunt, and so I decided I'd come 'ere. To tell the truth I don't want to be anywhere near the guy. Lot's of people that 'ave done business wit' 'im are just gone. Maybe they left,” he appends quietly, “but I don't think so.”
“Like who, where?”
“Andy Alchemist on west side. Gary Padfoot, maybe others. I wouldn't bother check for 'em though, they're just gone. Places 'ave since been cleaned of everything but dust.”
“Dust?”
“Not blue dust! All 'ats left where they used to work or live is a pile 'o dust now.”
“Well, all that's left here is a pile of dust, too. I'd say you should stay out of trouble if you don't want to end up the same. So who's your boss and what's this job? Let me know and I'll let you off for now.”
“He'd 'ave my 'ead if 'e knew I was telling ya, but 'e's gone missin' too, probly safe to give it to ya. Just say ya found it 'ere, an' I'll say I left it in 'is room, an' no one'll know any better.” He pulls out an envelope. I pull the ladder back with the hook of my halberd and he hands it to me. Once I have the letter he drops down the ladder quick as he can, folds it up impossibly small, and bolts. “I'm outta 'ere!”
Something to read until the investigator shows up.
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