Out of Character:
The days passed in the underground with a heightened sense of urgency as Rayse returned from his excursion to The Salvic States. Large operations were essentially packing up and leaving, others were hastily trying to sell all their goods and not taking new shipments. Rayse figured this would happen, as news of the growing unrest in the country was spreading. He knew that if anything was going to seriously start, it would start right here in Knife's Edge. Nonetheless, he was not phased by the unfolding events. He intended to pursue his business like before, but sadly that was not his destiny.
Upon returning, he found that a client had been waiting for him. One of his messengers told him he was wanted in a certain location at a certain time. Ignoring the obvious suspiciousness of this, Rayse was more than happy to oblige. After all, it was customary to meet clients face-to-face in this business, it's a form of establishing trust. Plus, anyone that screws with a businessman during such a meeting generally gets a bad rap, denying them business in the black market for a long time, sometimes forever.
Despite these supposed insurances, Rayse was walking right into a trap.
He arrived at the alleged meeting place: a large stone building, probably a monument of ancient times, remodeled on the inside to support tenants. Rayse was unfamiliar with this structure, but his eyes and ears were open as he entered. He found himself in a grand room, with two winding staircases leading to a balcony above him. A man appeared from that balcony, as if expecting The Contractor on that very moment.
"Ah, welcome Mr. Valentino! We have been expecting you," he said, in a manner befitting a noble but with an ill-bred tone.
We? Thought Rayse, already too far in as he looked towards the exit. Two men were now guarding it, and several other men came out from hiding, "Quaint place for a headquarters, wouldn't you say?"
"You are quite observant, Mr. Valentino. Our benefactor is expecting you."
Rayse found himself at a loss for words. While he did not like this situation, he was genuinely interested in why he, of all people, would be chosen by a crime syndicate boss. He knew that it had to be some sort of information he wouldn't want spreading, but what exactly he had done to even create such information was a mystery. He was lead up the stairs and down a long corridor, leading to grand doors. His two escorts opened the door, and a chair was turned behind a large desk, with two more guards standing at each side of the desk. The back of the chair faced Rayse, and as it turned towards him, it revealed a large, wide man, smoking a big fat cigar. His tiny mustache cemented his appearance as a rich, spoiled individual.
"I am Lord Bartholomew. Please, sit down," He said, in a low deep voice that Rayse couldn't tolerate.
"I'd prefer to stand," Rayse replied, looking towards the door behind him only to find it just closed tightly. What did I do to deserve this?
"Suit yourself, but I'm sure you'll want to be seated for what I'm about to tell you."
Rayse could barely contain himself from simply jumping over the desk and slitting the fat man's throat outright. He wasn't the kind of man to be pushed around, and he knew all too well what was coming. He was about to get an unreasonable request.
"Enjoy your trip to Tradepost? I hear you did amazing things there," The man began, puffing on his cigar between thoughts, "But I did not call you here to congratulate you, I wanted you for a job, yes?"
Rayse didn't appreciate the man beating around the bush, but he kept his composure, knowing that getting angry is exactly what was wanted of him.
"It's very simple. This city is about to enter turmoil, and I seek to gain a lot from the coming war. I merely want to make sure... no one else has the same idea. I want you to rub out my competitors, to put it in a way I'm sure you'll understand."
Rayse quickly replied, "I'm no assass--"
The man interrupted him, "Ah! But you are! Do you not think I heard of what you did to my dear Cratos?!"
Rayse's voice fell silent. The truth of why he was summoned was finally revealed. He was talking about the job he pulled a little while ago with that strange vampire guy. How he found out about that was beyond Rayse, he thought the means of Cratos's disposal was well concealed.
"After all, how do you think he gained so much influence around the city? It was me! All me!" The man said, his face turning red and veins popping around his forehead and hands. The cigar he was holding shook violently. Following this outburst, he calmed down a bit and continued, "Therefore, I don't think it's unreasonable to ask something of you that you are so well accustomed to."
Rayse didn't know what this man knew exactly, but he was omitting some very important details regarding that job. The Contractor formed a belief that this man was merely using the name of Cratos Horaes, and was at best an acquaintance of his. Nonetheless, he couldn't deny that this information had somehow reached his ears and he was now paying for it.
"My subordinates will familiarize you with the details. I wish I could tell you more, but I am a very busy man, what with a revolution about to begin."
Lord Bartholomew turned his seat around and the door opened, with men coming to lead Rayse out quietly.
"And by the way," said Bart with his back turned and holding a cigar up in view of Rayse, "If you somehow make it out of the city alive, don't expect to have anywhere to go to upon returning. Under the New Order, your head will be the most sought after until the day you die."
Rayse was reluctantly led out of the room, and found himself outside in a small matter of time with a folder under his arm filled with documents relating to his job. The Contractor swore to himself, that after all this is over, he will have that man groveling at his feet, begging for his life.
Later on, he sat at a table in a lonely underground bar. This area was generally a meeting place for shady dealers, its very location a secret inside a vast network of warehouses. While usually it was a bustling place, it now found itself nearly empty with a few stray stragglers. Rayse held his head in his hands, looking over the papers given to him. He found he had no choice in the matter, his retribution upon Cratos has come back to haunt him.
There were five targets in his mission, all of which big name Black Market suppliers. Rayse found this task was essentially suicidal, it was an impossible mission which would result in his death. If that was the case, why bother with all these documents? All these names and building schematics? They could've killed Rayse when he walked through the door. If he had given these papers to the right people, Barty boy (or Fatman as he now dubbed him) would be easily labeled the culprit. Rayse knew that Fatman's intention was not for Rayse to actually attempt this job, but to do something else. Something which would result in Rayse's death as well as manipulate his enemies. The Contractor found himself laughing at the absurdity of his situation.
He found that these five men were supplying The Church, which gave Rayse the impression that Fatman was helping the King. Perhaps by rubbing out The Church's allies, he would gain favor with the new government. After all, the city was The State's domain; he would have a strong, loyal support base here in case The Church revolted. Rayse didn't particularly care for the details, but he found himself sinking into his arms resting upon the stack of papers. The several empty bottles of spirits beside him nearly fell over when he plopped himself down, finding his situation hopeless. The organizations listed here were very old, with orders dating back far before Rayse was even born. Any sort of holes, how they worked, their weaknesses, any sort of form of infiltration were cemented and the possibilities erased a long time ago. He would need some sort of veteran of those days to even stand a chance of this job.
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