September 9, 2006 (idea)

There are very few things I won't do for enough money. I don't like to think of myself as a bad guy, I try to follow traffic laws, buy cookies from the Girl Scouts when I can, hell sometimes help little old ladies cross the street. But I sure as fuck ain't one of the good guys. There are certain things that I find distasteful and put off doing until I'm hungry enough. Kidnapping is one of 'em. But I got a pile of bills with increasingly unfriendly accompanying letters and an emptry fridge, and the only job I've been offered lately is kidnapping. So, instead of taking the high road, I'm meeting this guy in this smoke-filled, dark bar where people tend to mind their own business. Not my place of choice. A little too cloak-and-dagger for me, I like to meet in malls. Wear bright clothing. You wear trenchcoats and skulk around in the shadows, sooner or later someone's gonna think you're up to something. So yeah, I'm in this smoky, dark bar, full of mysterious ambience waiting on my contact, guy calls himself Avery. It's the kinda place where you can throw peanuts on the floor. Jukebox is playing some sad old blues song where a man got left by his one good woman. At precisely 7:30, our meeting time, the front door swings open. This guy is clean, you can tell he doesn't go to too many of these rundown joints. His suit isn't really black, probably what they'd call a charcoal and it fits him perfectly, like it was made for him, probably was. No pinstripes or nothing, plain and dark, but I can tell from here that it cost him a pretty penny. He's got on the old fashion kind of cufflinks with little diamonds twinkling in him. But he's not what you'd call flashy, rather he's one smooth character. He nods at me and makes his way over to my table. Sits down across from me and says in one of those movie detective voices, "Mr. Hutchence?"

I nod my head and take a swig out of my scotch and soda, "Yeah. You must be Mr. Avery."

"Not Mr. Avery, if you please. Call me Avery."

"Okay, you're the customer. Now what can I do you for, Avery?"

His voice drops all low and confidential, I try not to laugh, no one here is paying us any mind, too busy trying to get drunk off their collective asses,"My employer is aware of your work history and your formidable reputation. He is prepared to offer you a substantial amount if you should complete this task for him. I believe the offer quoted is three times your normal fee?"

Of course, if he's paying this well, it means this job ain't gonna be a cakewalk. I look Avery in the eye and tell him, "If your employer knows so much about my reputation, he should know that I hate doing this kind of thing. When you get to four times my fee, then we can start talking."

Avery does this sort of half-smile and says, "I believe I can safely authorize four times your fee. If you're interested, I have prepared a dossier with pertinent information to the task."

Like I said, I ain't a good guy, and four times my fee is more money than I can safely turn down, I try not too look to eager, already I'm afraid I'm some kind of mark for Avery's mystery boss, "I'd prefer if you'd just answer the questions first, then I'll decide to look at your dossier."

"Very well, shall we go someplace more private?"

"Hey fella, I don't know what you heard, but I don't get private without a movie and dinner first," he doesn't laugh at this, "Anywho, the questions I mean to ask ain't gonna ruffle anyone's feathers. Even if they was listening."

Avery sighs looks at his Rolex and says, "proceed."

"How old are we talking? Are there gonna be spooks? I assume with the high rate you're payin' that we're talking at least an A-class paranormal, possibly S-class."

"All of this is answered in the dossier."

"Yeah, like I said..."

"Very well. He is twelve years, four months and 17 days old currently. He has exhibited A-class manifestations and conjurations consistently, with S-class manipulations previously observed sporadically."

I nod at this, no cakewalk, "What about spooks? He got spirit attendants?"

Avery scowls, "There are three known. One is benign and negligable, the second is neutral and is potentially Magna class. The third is malevolent and most definitely Magna class."

I raise an eyebrow at this, a Magna class malevolent spook would eat most would-be necromancers alive without any trouble, but this kid's got one as an attendant. Definitely more than meets the eye here. This could prove to be interesting, and the money's good. I smile my broadest at Avery and say, "Give me the dossier, I'll take the case." He looks surprised and relieved and pulls a manila folder out of his briefcase, hands it to me. I shove it into a Von's grocery bag I brought for that purpose. Before Avery gets up and scurries away I saw, "I'll need an expense account and a way to contact you and your employer for updates."

Avery smiles, "The expenses will be taken care of. And you will not need to contact my employer. Once you have performed your task, he will contact you."

Avery walks out and I finish my scotch. I sure hope his spooky-ass employer has some sort of mystic way of contacting me once I've got the kid secured, 'cause I ain't planning on running a daycare.

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