The Dealings of Devils

A Passing of Greed

Special Thanks and Image Credit to Iron Age Media.

Sancho Reyes sat patiently in a nymph house deep in the underbelly of New Angeles. It was six years after the fall of the United States, and a few months after the ratification of The California Treaty. Los Angeles was now fully independent from the Chinese overlords. California was no longer one large state, but a series of allied territories. Some major cities, like San Francisco (known after the CCP takeover as Babylon or the Golden Paradise), still belonged to the communists. LA was a cesspool of ideologies with the added pressures of a power vacuum. And that's where guys like Sancho came in handy. 

Despite being a tall, stocky man of Mexican and Filipino descent, he wasn't cut out for typical muscle work. He was a reader. He'd been gifted with a telepathic ability known only as The Perception. His boss, The Gent, an enigmatic figure with no identity, had granted a select few of his goons the gift which allowed him to implant thoughts into people's heads. The power kept him unrecognizable to the human eye and the new scrambling tech from Los Mercados de Gonzalez kept him away from the prying eyes of the Internet and bounty hunters. The Gent, to all but his gang, was a myth. And members like Sancho worshiped him like a God. He was a Chevalier.

He was scanning the room waiting to cut a deal for the drug known as The Veil. The Gent and his Chevaliers, along with a few kidnapped scientists left over from the old academia, created a hallucinogenic which allowed The Gent and his gang to broadcast their thoughts into users. No one truly knew where the power originated. All they knew was that those with the ability were the first in line to take over the burgeoning city-state.

He could hear the thoughts of everyone in the lounge. Whores peddling their trade longed for a husband despite working in the worst possible job to find a potential mate. The customers of the joint were showing a lot of restraint given the images of potential future events. Everyone was on some blend of downers or StimSnow, a concoction of Meth, Ecstasy, and Cocaine with a chemical balance to create a sustainable and longer high than the three drugs individually.

Sancho hated places like this. In his mind, they were contradictory. The establishment looked old school and classy to the untrained eye. Fashions from a century ago were coming back to the forefront of cultural trends. However, despite his excitement to see the resurgence of a bygone era, the almost subconscious nostalgia was stained by the fetid decadence of the present.  Thankfully, solace had arrived.

She was wearing a red dress with black accents.  The moment she approached him the deafening thoughts of the crowd were overpowered by controlled silence. “What'll it be, mister?” she asked.

He was speechless when he saw her. His first instinct was to purchase her body for a few minutes while waiting for his contact. “Whiskey straight, please,” he replied. “Mr. Ogg will be here in a few minutes,” she told him. “And I would if you weren't married. Johnny, get this man a whiskey straight!”

Sancho was shocked. “It doesn't take a telepath to know you're happy to see me, sugar,” she replied to his flabbergasted look. Reyes was flustered. Embarrassment quickly gave into shame. He was married with a teenage son. The times of a quick roll with a stranger were long gone. Old habits die hard, he thought.

The glass slid across the bar directly in front of him. Just as he was about to drink it, a strange man approached from behind. His thoughts gave away that he was the one whom Sancho was looking for. “Mr. Ogg,” Sancho greeted as he turned around. “You're late.”

“The road to the future takes time to build my friend,” Mr. Ogg replied somewhat jovially. He was a fat, pale man with no hair and swollen glands. “Please, Reyes, sit with me at a booth.” Ogg then tipped the hot waitress with a Statesman credit. “I'll be seeing you shortly.” The Chevalier saw images of a man pleased in partaking of the courtesan's spoils. Despite her control over her thoughts, her smile to the man was betrayed by emphatic pains of terror. Sancho for fear of the false god he was peddling for, chose to ignore the psychic plea. That was the rule of the underworld. You saw nothing and said nothing.

“My associate, Mayor Barris-”

“He's not Mayor yet,” Reyes interjected. “New Angeles is still in infancy, as of right now, we are all free floating beings without a ruler.” The Chevalier was hoping for a fast transaction. This man was clearly lost in his flatulence. And due to politicking on behalf of The Gent, he couldn’t end this man's life. The Gent had plans with this upcoming election. Though Sancho didn't know what they were.

“My associate, MAYOR Barris, has heard of your new drug,” Ogg started. “And he would like to order a shipment.”

“How much?” The Chevalier asked.

“How much do you have?” The fat man asked. “Money is no obstacle. I'll take as much as you can give me.”

Sancho pulled out a small sample of The Veil: a medium-sized vial as big as the hilt of a sword. “This is what you'll get to start,’ The Chevalier answered. “We'll discuss bulk prices at a later date. Though, I'd be careful with how much you put out into the wild if your associate is planning what I think he's planning.”

“We'll put it in eyedrops, then,” Ogg retorted. “Any liquid means oughta do it, right? You can microdose this thing, I assume.” 

Sancho was stunned. It was clear why this Statesmen Party Reyes had been hearing about would send a man like him. It was genius. The whole concept fell into place in the blink of an eye. The little concoction in his hand had the power to take over everything. The Gent would have full control over anyone who used it on a small scale and a large scale. Barris and his cronies could use any Perceiver as a broadcaster of propaganda via what was essentially remote controlled LSD. And The Gent would control the supply. Despite the realization, he once again played it cool.

“I guess so,” The Chevalier said. “I hadn't thought about that. Of course, there are simpler methods of fortifying your positions.”

“Lavant is using the old methods to win the hearts and minds of the people. Putsches in halls and mobilizing activists can only go so far. They don't know how to vote. Your concoction will show them the way,” the fat man explained. He'd immediately caught on to the dissuasion. It only convinced him further to trust the drug. “So, how much?”

The Gent got into Sancho's thought waves. Charge high but make it reasonable. The mental sound was made up of over a million distinct voices.

“Fifty million credits,” Sancho said.

“FOR THAT LITTLE VIAL?!!!”

“We're offering you an empire,” Sancho answered. “Fifty mil’ is nothing for what you'll gain. Your candidate could become a god in a matter of minutes depending on how you deliver it. You want to fortify your office? Fifty million for the sample.”

The Chevalier prayed he would reject the deal. It was a price so ludicrous that perhaps he could prevent the future. The Gent blasted Reyes’ mind with enough voices to make it hurt. Though it wasn't enough to make the client notice.

“Fine,” The fat man finally said before his eyes rolled over white. He quickly entered the agreed on amount into the Net. The movements of his eyes were as fast as a typist on a keyboard. Ogg snapped his fingers. From outside, a Fixer, one of Barris’ henchmen, walked up to the deal. Upon arrival, the man clad in a black and red suit had a card ready.

“Well, pass it to the man!” The payor shouted. The Fixer slid the card to Reyes. Sancho handed the vial to Ogg underneath the table. “A pleasure doing business with you,” The Chevalier said half-heartedly. The fat man nodded and grunted. “This had better be worth it.” 

The Fixer helped his boss out of the booth. Reyes shook the men's hand before exiting the establishment. A flash of what the newly minted customer planned to do with the woman flooded his mind. He was going to kill her as soon as he finished. Just before Sancho left, he whispered something into the woman's ear. She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. With that final note, he stepped out into the alleyway.

Outside, Sancho lit up a cigarette. He knew the woman would give him something to remember her by. What better way to demonstrate The Veil's power than to have your hooker inject you with it? Reyes thought. He could only hope that'd be enough to save her. After taking a drag, The Gent burst into The Chevalier's thoughts. The pain of the intrusion was overbearing and the man fell to his knees. You're lucky that he took the deal. Do not defy me again or you will be severely punished. You will come back to the club and you will do penance for your sins. I command you, RETURN!

“Your servant is listening,” The Chevalier said into the empty alley as he sprinted to his car and went back to meet his boss.