“Dear me, you’ve seen better days haven’t you?” The blonde tutted, her heels clicking on the pavement as she approached the downtrodden man. The rain was pouring down, completely soaking the cheap suit the elderly, balding man wore. As his company, she was less affected, a large umbrella shielding the woman from every and any drop of water. She extended the umbrella slightly, shielding him partly from the downpour. “You should be more careful, Johnathan. You’ll get sick this way.”
“Miss…. Miss Faska! It’s good to see you.” He stumbled up, careful to keep his head bowed in her presence. “I-I was looking for you.”
As usual, Faska wore rather obscuring clothing: a grey dress more fitting for a governess, long black gloves, black heels and a large black sunhat that blocked most of her blonde hair which was braided intricately. Even in the pouring rain, she looked immaculate, though the waft of immensely sweet perfume that hit him as she approached brought Johnathan out of his surprised stupor.
It was fairly busy on the street, cars passing every few seconds, splashing water on the pavement. People kept to themselves and moved on, intending to get home after a day of work, or at least get through this rain as quickly as possible. Nobody paid mind to the two having a conversation in the middle of the sideway, though Johnathan noticed people avoided Faska with a larger arch than him.
“Were you? That’s amazing! Here I am.” She beamed, widely smiling at Johnathan. “How can I help you, my boy?”
She was younger than him, by many years, but that didn’t matter in this situation.
“I might need a bit more…time than we originally agreed upon.” He confessed, still looking down at his shoes. “Things ran a bit differently and… I don’t think I can pay you back without a little bit more.”
Faska nodded, motioning for him to continue speaking.
“It’s just… the business is hitting off! The drugs are selling just fine! But two hundred million jenny is a lot to just pay back by tomorrow, so I came to ask for a replacement of the deadline.” He stopped to breathe, but immediately added on more when he saw her unimpressed smile. “It’s just this once! The next payments are set, I promise.”
“Hmmm, let me think.” Faska took a pensive gander at the man in front of her, his hair dripping with water and his eyes still respectfully facing down, not even taking the chance of looking up. “Well… if it’s just this once.”
Johnathans face shot up, his eyes wide with relief. “Really? I will make it worth your while, miss! I promise. You’ll get your money back, with interest and all, I promise.”
Her smile didn’t waver. “Of course you will! You’ve seen what happens when you don’t.”
His smile did waver. “Ah, yes. I have. Don’t worry, that won’t happen.”
“I sure hope for you!”
“Well… yes. Uhm, good day, miss Faska. I-I’ll see you next week.”
She withdrew her umbrella, her smile widening as the rain once again cascaded onto Johnathan, not at all responding to the mans growing discomfort. “And a good day to you, Johnathan!”
A long, black car stopped next to the side-walk, a tall green-haired woman stepping out to open the back door, not even blinking as her entire suit took the full brunt of the rain. Faska pivoted toward the entrance, handed the umbrella to the green-haired woman guarding the door, and stepped into the car.
The green-haired woman was middle-aged and rather tall, a nearly permanent looking scowl etched on the woman’s face. Johnathan felt intimidated by the mere presence of the woman, her appearance and vibe a lot more aggressive than the comparatively peppy and smiley Faska.
Johnathan was spared not a single glance by either women, left in the rain as the two drove off.
“Did he pay, Miss Faska?” The driver said as soon as she closed the door.
“Not yet.” Faska honestly replied, taking off her gloves and throwing them next to her. As soon as they were off, she also removed the large black sunhat she wore, a completely useless frivolity in this weather. “I gave him an extension. Isn’t that kind of me, Olly? Isn’t it?”
“It certainly is.” Olly replied, scowling through the mirror, looking at the woman in the back who perked up immensely at the praise. “What brought you in such a good mood?”
“I don’t know! I really liked the soup this morning, so that might’ve caused it.”
It was always like this, Olly mused within herself. In public and while working, Faska fronted with an image of perfection and politeness, fazed by nothing. Olly, someone who’d been a bodyguard of the debt collector since her very start in the business, was the only one who ever saw this other side. Olly’s boss was much more… dramatic and childish than she let on in public.
“I will tell that to the chef.” The green-haired driver took a left, mindlessly scanning the road for anything noticeable. “How many more do we need to do?”
The magic words to instantly deflate Faska’s mood, a groan resounding throughout the car. Immediately the woman shot forward to the window, which was always rolled down, and leaned on Olly’s shoulder. “Ollyyyyyy, I don’t wanna do anymore. Can I just go home and watch tv?”
“We’ll lose a lot of money if you don’t, miss Faska.” The green haired woman snapped, already done with her boss’ whims. “Come on, how many more do we need?”
“Just oneeeee. Can we skip ‘em?” Olly shook her head, and Faska threw herself back on the couch, making a dramatic noise of agony only someone who wanted to go to sleep could make. “Fine. But if they don’t pay up, I’m not giving extensions.”
Olly shrugged. “Less work later on.”
Faska conjured her book, a fluffy pink notebook that looked like it would be used for a schoolgirls’ diary, and opened it. Scanning through the lists of names and numbers on the pages, she found the page with today’s date. After having been passed the address, Olly quickly rode through the city center, the location only a few minutes away.
The target was already there, waiting under a extruding part of a building to shield herself from the rain unlike the previous one who’d just sat in despair. Faska remembered the woman on sight, and already sighed when they pulled up to the location. There was no briefcase or bag of money to be seen, never a good sign. She put her hat back on.
“Goodday.”
“Hello!” Olly stepped out and handed Faska her umbrella, standing by the car to keep an eye on the situation, useless as it was. Faska let her eyes drawl over the woman in front of her, the brunette wearing a party dress and high heels, not looking very worried about the contract ending in mere minutes. “I am here to collect the fourty-five million jenny, as agreed upon.”
“It ain’t here.” The woman pointed to a nearby alley, completely unlit and filled with dumpsters. “I hid it there, so it would be all inconspicuous and shit.”
“Very smart.” Faska praised. She wasn’t dumb enough to actually move there herself, the chance of an ambush a bit too big, though Faska doubted the woman could afford the kind of hired muscle that would go against her. “Can you get it now? It is nearly five o’clock.”
The brunette winced, and immediately moved toward the alley, Faska noting with a bit of disappointment that the other woman was most definitely drunk. She returned moments later with a bag in her arms and handed it over to Faska, wiping her nose nervously mere seconds after passing it. Not a lot of people were on the street, and those that were knew better than to meddle in any business that occurred this openly. Sketchy businesses that didn’t care about daylight were the ones to look out for.
Olly stepped forward and Faska handed the bag over to her for inspection. The green haired woman rummaged through the bag, counting the stacks of money. With the messy ways the stacks had been handled, the amount would probably not be as precisely as both would have liked, but an estimate was better than nothing.
“Short.”
“Oh dear.” Faska replied, quickly looking at her wrist watch. 4:58.
“What? No! It’s all there, I swear.” The woman immediately called out, eyes flying in between Faska and Olly. “Can you count again?”
Olly shrugged and looked again, eyes rising back up at the two other women after a few tense moments.
“As I said. Short.”
“That old bitch is lying!” The brunette screeched, stepping forward. “It’s all there, I counted.”
“Then you can’t count for shit, cause fifteen million isn’t in here.” Olly looked at her own wristwatch. 4:59. “I’d hurry the fuck up if you have it.”
Faska frowned. “Olly, don’t curse like that.” She turned to the brunette, who now gripped her own dress tightly. “I’m sorry, but this goes against the terms we set. We’ll collect the rest off of your close relatives.”
“I told you, it’s all-“
5:00
Faska and Olly turned back to the car, not waiting to watch the woman slump down on the floor.
The blonde handed the umbrella back and stepped back inside, immediately removing her hat again. The car was comfortably warm, a sharp contrast with the sharp cold outside. The rain hadn’t subsided yet, and only increased in intensity, the tapping of the droplets against the windshield turning from soft to an outright cacophony.
As soon as the car drove off, Faska conjured her book again, opening it to the current date. Most of the names had new dates, new debts and new information written behind them, only one having been striped through. A reasonable day of work.
The radio host introduced a pop-song the debt collector liked, so she told Olly to turn it up.
Olly did.
While Faska was singing along obnoxiously to some pop song about partying and dying young, on the other side of the city a particular band of thieves were gathered. The place they had chosen as first meeting place was quite unlike their usual tastes, the elegance and decadence of high dining protruding through every part of the restaurant.
Silver cutlery, golden candelabras lighting the tables, fine lace tablecloths that seemed to tear even when looking at them. Most of the guests were whispering amongst themselves respectfully, a single group tearing through the customs of high dining, laughing and talking loudly, not caring a single moment of the stares sent throughout the hall.
“So we just gonna take the statues?” Phinks mumbled, taking another bite of the curry. “Shouldn’t we take the jewels instead? Seems like they’re much easier to sell.”
“Yeah, but the statues are worth a little bit more.” Nobunaga responded, piling up more of the food on his plate. “More effort, though.”
Uvogin laughed at that. “I throw, you catch, simple as that. If the cops show up, I throw a few their way.”
Most of the troupe was joined around the large table, the entire thing filled to the brim with dishes. The servers kept bringing more, but every time they brought a new dish, another thing being ordered. The rest of the hall kept sending worried glances at the large table, their presence making the rest feel less safe by the second. Anybody with a set of eyes recognized the band as inhabitants of Meteor City, Mokkud the next-closest city.
“If we were back home, we could certainly do that, but I think we’ll get a lit more trouble doing that here.” Shalnark chuckled, winking at an elder lady that kept sending angry glances at the troupe.
Their clothes were dirty, their hair untamed and their manners non-existent, but the servers felt too scared to do anything about it, a single look at the brown-haired giant scarfing down the appetizers enough to dissuade anyone.
The police had probably been called already, but if the band knew, they didn’t seem intimidated by the prospect.
Machi picked at some food, frowning as she tasted something odd, spitting it back into a napkin. “This’ll be our first job outside the city, so I guess there’ll be complications one way or the other. I’m sure the boss has a plan though.”
Said boss looked up, his own plate empty. “I wouldn’t have gathered you all if I didn’t. It isn’t all that complicated, but to do it we’ll need one thing, and one thing only.”
“Weapons?” Feitan mused.
Chrollo smiled, looking across the table, the cacophony of dining and talking stilling for a mere second to listen to what he had to say. “Money.”
