Post by The BombTrax on Dec 20, 2019 7:37:46 GMT -8
11/6/2019
THE APARTMENT
LAS VEGAS, NEVADA
Youth's nose curled at the smell of burnt motor oil and stale pizza emanating from the apartment. They had moved back in over a week ago and it seemed that no amount of Glade could remove the stench. Press didn't seem to notice, intent on getting their gear stowed away in the familiar places. Youth didn't remember the place being so small, but that could be because they had been spoiled in New Orleans. The condo they shared there was much larger, cleaner, and altogether nicer. This...there was a stain on the floor that he couldn't remember the origin and the first order of business before even moving in the first box had been a bug bomb.
What's worse was the fact that no one else had lived her since their departure. Frank, the landlord, wouldn't dream of it.
You see, Frank was the proprietor of the auto body shop below the dwelling. He was also a Panzar Demon. A dredge from the lower regions of Hell that specialized in glamours. If only Frank's customers could see what he actually looked like he'd probably not do so well with his business. Youth was pretty sure that he had no idea on how to actually turn a wrench, either. He would just keep the vehicle for an extended period of days and then glamour it to appear to be fixed. The magic would last until such a time that Frank needed beer and pizza money and then would suddenly fall back apart.
They had come close to killing Frank when they first met, but in the end it was easier to make this arrangement. Besides, as far as Panzar Demons go, Frank was pretty harmless. He just wanted to continue living topside and enjoy the amenities that humanity had to offer.
If only all demons were so passive.
A loud bang from down the hall drew the man's attention, and he pushed up off the edge of the bed where he was unpacking a box of clothes. Stepping out of his door he moseyed down the hall to the only other bedroom and peered through the portal. Inside, Press was flipping his mattress back onto the box spring and cursing at the fact that the bed took up almost the entire room. He has just enough space to get a chest of drawers wedged into the corner at the foot of the bed but not much else. Youth wondered to himself where he was going to put the rest of his stuff, cause there were three more boxes in the living room labeled Press' bedroom...
"This sucks..." He suddenly blurted, drawing an eye from the big man as he gave the bed one last push to line it up with the box spring.
"Yeah. Kind of. But it's home."
The thought didn't sit well with Youth. It might have been true a few years ago, but since they had left Vegas fro New Orleans it wasn't the case. They had been in the top spots at PAW, had residuals from royalties and commercials. They had a pretty decent sum of money in the bank thanks to that. Sure, neither of them were rich, but they weren't destitute either. This place felt pretty broke.
"I don't know man. I think we should have invested in getting a place closer to the strip. The condo in Orleans will sell soon, and we would probably only be in the whole a couple of grand."
"Do you know how much those places near the strip cost? This isn't New Orleans. If we didn't know Frank, a place like this would run us fifteen hundred easily."
"This place?" Youth questioned incredulously, looking around in disgust.
"Cost of living, my friend. Now why don't you toss those three boxes in here so I can put them away."
Youth shrugged, much the same expression of disgust on his face as he complied with the request. Now the room was even more cramped than it had been before. Press sighed, the first time he'd shown any real disappointment in their current conditions, but he seemed to shake it off and began opening the first box to pile clothes into the chest-of-drawers. The sudden realization that there was some permanency to this move suddenly dawned on Youth, and he quickly began to run through his inner brain to figure out how they could complete their task as quickly as possible and GTFO this joint.
"So where do you think we should start with this Loki business?"
Press grunted as the first box was folded up and tossed aside in lieu of the second box. "No idea. I figure we put our feelers out within the community, see if anyone's heard anything. Establish a network."
Youth nodded, trying to remember what all contacts they already had within the city. "Do you really think there's anyone out there that will just give him up?"
"There's always a snitch. Even in their world."
"What about one of the information dealers?"
Press paused in what he was doing to look over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "You really want to try and cut a deal with one of them? I mean...they usually have a pretty dark price tag."
"Man, I don't fucking know. I just don't like the idea of being stuck her for any extended period of time. I know we agreed to that deal for Nin..." The glare he receives causes him to throw his hands up and quickly readjust that thought. "And I don't regret it! Only...Can we not ever just catch a break? I realize it's sort of our jobs to take care of the big bad's of the world, but why are we always the ones getting sucked into this overarching plots? Can we not just do our thing and retire to the comforts of a nice apartment with good food? Do we always have to be put under the gun of having our immortal souls ripped from our bodies by some nefarious entity or the other?"
"Jesus..." Press exasperates, tossing number two aside and snatching up box number three, obviously annoyed. "When in the hell did you start bitching so much?"
"Fuck you, prick! You know you feel the same!"
Press paused in his unpacking for a moment to stare out the window that had a broken shade that now hung at an angle. It caused the light to be partially blocked but was otherwise ineffective. It sort of looked like he felt at the moment. On one hand, Youth was right. He did feel the same. On the other, it was Munin, and he'd do anything to protect her. Even if that meant giving up the comfortable life they had in New Orleans and moving halfway across the country back to Vegas where they were to uncover the location of the God of Mischief, Loki. When you say it like that, maybe it was a little too much.
Press shook the thought away and resumed emptying box number three. "Listen, kid, we can sit around and sing the woe-is-me song or we can focus on the work. We've been out of Vegas for four years now and you gotta believe that the denizens of the under city have replenished their number. It's time to do some clean up, and if that means downsizing our living situation, then so be it. I mean, how long can the money we have last? We've done nothing for the past couple of years of any consequence in the wrestling business, and if Sam wasn't supplying us with free drinks...hell...we'd have already went bankrupt."
"Sam...damn, I'll miss those free drinks. It was kind of nice having backup too."
Press couldn't deny that. The old Voodoo Priest on Bourbon Street had kept them in jobs and alcohol, and had went on patrol with them plenty. He was gong to miss him too.
"We've got friends here in Vegas. We should go pay them a visit before we decide anything."
Youth snorted. Friends. He was talking about the LoLo. A dive bar and grill famous for their chicken and waffles on Rainbow Boulevard. The locals loved the place and it had recently went through a retrofit. Now everything looked fresh and updated, but beneath the shiny new veneer were the red walls painted in lambs blood and the etchings of the unholy trinity in its very foundation. LoLo, the bar's namesake, was a fey of the Summer variety. That's why she set up shop in the middle of the desert where it might as well be summer all the time. The wards in her floorboards and walls were to prevent any bloodshed from going down in her establishment, meaning that it was one of the few places in Vegas where all were truly welcome. Of course...she didn't own the sidewalks past the glass double doors, soooo...
"So I guess it's chicken and waffles for dinner?"
"Haven't had them in a good long while. Not LoLo's anyways."
"And you think she'll know something?"
"Nothing that she'd be willing to tell."
"Then why are we going there again?"
Press huffed a sigh of relief as he folded the third box down and tossed onto the others that would eventually find their way to recycling. "Because...I'm betting someone there will know something."
Red eyes peered at the two as they approached, Press dropping his weight on a stool to lean heavily on the bar surface while Youth leapfrogged to come to rest nonchalantly. A tinkling voice singing along with the radio filtered out of the kitchen and when it emerged into the main dining are the woman providing it took one look at the two newcomers and nearly dropped the tray balancing on her hand. She quickly recovered her composure and her tray, and made her way over to the college kids and set out their orders in front of them. After a second she returned to the bar where she docked the tray and made a B-Line right for her new guests.
"What the hell are you two doing here?" She asked in a clipped voice as the five or six patrons sitting farther away leaned in to try and hear.
Press looked indignant as he placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. "LoLo...I would have thought you'd be happy to see us after all this time."
The five foot two petite blonde with overly large almond eyes shook her head violently and crossed her arms over her tiny chest. "The last time you two were here there was violence. I do not allow violence in my establishment!"
It was Youth this time that leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bar and his chin in his hands. "Come on, LoLo. That wasn't our fault. They jumped us, and technically...that was out in the street, not in the bar."
LoLo's eyes narrowed and somehow they still looked wide open as she sneered in his direction. "You playing at semantics with me boy?"
"Nah," Youth replied with a charming smile and a shoulder shrug. "I just want some chicken and waffles."
That rocked her back on her heels, but she casts a glance at a nearby server and nodded her head towards the kitchen. The server rolled her eyes before making her way to the kitchen to alert the cook. She stood there for a few moments just looking at the two men expectantly as they returned the glare with stark stoicism.
Finally, like a pot boiling over, she threw her hands out at her sides and exploded. "Well are you going to get on with it, or do I have to stand here with bated breath all damn night?"
"Jesus," Youth breathes through a chuckle.
Press couldn't hide what started as a twitch in his lips but eventually pulled back into a smile. He leaned forward on his elbows and spoke in a quiet tone, "Look, we have some business we'd like to discuss with you, but we can't just bust out with it here. Do you have somewhere we could speak in private?"
She looked from side to side to notice that the other patrons seemed very interested in the conversation, and she let out a loud breath before turning to walk around the bar. With a stiff wave over her shoulder she signaled them to follow and upon reaching the kitchen she hooked a right to follow a path between counters that led to a single door at the end that read 'Office'. She looked over her shoulder at the cook who was hard at work frying up some fresh chicken.
"These two mooks will be taking their plates in here, Umberto. Thanks."
The cook looked up for just a moment to shrug as the two men disappeared within the office behind his boss. The room was what you'd expect from a restaurant office. A desk in the center of the room with a well worn office chair behind it. An outdated computer on its surface along with stacks of paper in organized chaos. There was a file cabinet along the wall and two chairs for employee's in front of the desk.
Lolo rounded the desk and opened the top drawer as Youth closed the door behind them. She sat an opal gem in front of her and said a few hushed words in a spidery language. The gem gave off an eerie hum and then the entire room was cast in an amber light emanating from the object, and she looked at the two of them confidently before taking a seat in the office chair.
"This will ensure privacy." She told them matter-of-factly, indicating with her hand that they should sit down. "Now, what is that you two want?"
Press heaved himself into one of the small chairs while Youth leaned on the back of the other while giving LoLo a casual smile.
"Loki."
The Fey's eyes went wide at first but was quickly followed up by a raucous laugh that caused both men's eyebrows to furrow. She couldn't stop laughing for a solid minute, and even then it still took her several more to catch her breath before she could speak.
"Are you two out of your minds?" She asked, still stifling back a few leftover chuckles. "Seriously, no one is 'actually' that stupid."
Press crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at the woman. "We know that he's been operating in Vegas. We just need a starting point."
Her laughter finally in check, LoLo regarded the big man with a sidelong glance. "You know? And who told you that?"
"Odin."
LoLo's eyes went wide again, but this time there was no mirth. She stared at the two men in front of her in awe, but on the fringes of that surprise was fear. She shuddered for a moment, her head lolling down to stare at the floor and she gripped the desk in front of her as if to steady herself from falling. When she looked back up at them she was gravely serious, if not a little nauseous.
"What kind of game have you two fools gotten yourself into?"
"The kind that you can't squelch on. The kind that you want to finish as quickly as possible because there is a time table, and at the end of it...the price is high."
She shook her head as if by some chance, this was a dream, the two men in front of her would just disappear. Seeing that they weren't going away, she gave a resigned sigh.
"So you need a place to start?"
"That's all we're asking." Youth chimed in expectantly.
"You say that as if it were some small thing," she replied as she sat back in her chair, fingers absentmindedly stroking her chin. "If he finds out that I gave you anything, there will be consequences. Dire consequences."
Press leaned forward to give one of their typical responses to that sort of statement, but she threw her other hand up to stop him. "Save it. I realize you two are big bad dudes and all, but he's bigger. Any threats you have for me can be shoved up your ass."
Press seemed to have reached his limit, leaning forward so that the chair creaked in protest. "Just give us a goddamn name. Anyone that can at least point us in the right direction. Worst case scenario he finds out we're looking for him and comes to find us instead. In that event, we'll probably be dead, and no one's the wiser to your involvement. If it goes the other way, he has bigger problems with Odin, and we'll owe you a favor."
She regarded the man with a cool expression for his outburst, but he did have a point. And if two of the God Touched were put down, she could capitalize on that information within her own circles.
"I do so love favors," she cooed. "Alright. So I don't have anything direct, but there has been speculation. There's a guy named Arnie who frequents the LoLo on Fridays. Karaoke night. He sings a mean Elvis..."
"LoLo.."
"Alright, Alright..." she replied tersely, irritated at being interrupted. "He's a low level muse. Works with some of the local garage bands and artists."
Youth cast LoLo a skeptical expression. "That doesn't sound like someone who would work with Loki."
"I didn't say he did. But he is contracted to someone who might. Otto Orpheus."
"The Broker?"
"That's the one. Otto's been scooping up contracts with all manner of creature lately, and some are saying that it's for one of his other clients. A top client. Didn't really make sense before, but now that you're telling me Loki's in town it kind of does."
"Are we talking about a chain of command? A monster mafia?"
"Could be. Otto is the deal maker and would have those types of contacts in the city. Doesn't hurt that he operates in a metropolis designed to create the illusion of making dreams come true. So many come to Sin City ready to strike a bargain."
The soul trade. You won't read about that forecast in the Wall Street Journal, yet it's one of the more lucrative commodities in the underworld. Think about faith like a financial institution and demons and angels as employee's. Just like in western culture, there are different value sets that represent the currency used to build up faith. A prayer is like a dollar. A devotion like a five spot. A baptism like a ten. A sacrifice like a twenty. A soul like a C-note. And their traded every second of every day, millions of transactions that build your power base. The more you have, the more influence you control in the cosmic spectrum.
Having a broker on hand would be a huge asset to anyone, but to someone like Loki, a griffter and deal maker in his own right, it would be the culmination of a power vacuum.
Press' voice was grim when he finally spoke. "Odin had to know about this."
"It's the reason he sent us. He wants the organization for himself. Can you imagine what the All-Father could do with that much Faith."
Press shook his head just before pushing himself to his feet. LoLo watched both men with interest, filing the information away for a future date.
The big man seemed to realize this for the first time and gave the Fey a dark look. "Fridays? Without fail?"
"He'll be here," she said with a twinkle in her voice.
He nodded just as the orb on her desk suddenly cut out, putting the room back to normal, and the door behind them opened. Both men looked over their shoulder to see the cook standing there with two plates full of chicken and waffles.
Youth looked from him back to LoLo and shrugged. "Looks like we'll need that to go."
What's worse was the fact that no one else had lived her since their departure. Frank, the landlord, wouldn't dream of it.
You see, Frank was the proprietor of the auto body shop below the dwelling. He was also a Panzar Demon. A dredge from the lower regions of Hell that specialized in glamours. If only Frank's customers could see what he actually looked like he'd probably not do so well with his business. Youth was pretty sure that he had no idea on how to actually turn a wrench, either. He would just keep the vehicle for an extended period of days and then glamour it to appear to be fixed. The magic would last until such a time that Frank needed beer and pizza money and then would suddenly fall back apart.
They had come close to killing Frank when they first met, but in the end it was easier to make this arrangement. Besides, as far as Panzar Demons go, Frank was pretty harmless. He just wanted to continue living topside and enjoy the amenities that humanity had to offer.
If only all demons were so passive.
A loud bang from down the hall drew the man's attention, and he pushed up off the edge of the bed where he was unpacking a box of clothes. Stepping out of his door he moseyed down the hall to the only other bedroom and peered through the portal. Inside, Press was flipping his mattress back onto the box spring and cursing at the fact that the bed took up almost the entire room. He has just enough space to get a chest of drawers wedged into the corner at the foot of the bed but not much else. Youth wondered to himself where he was going to put the rest of his stuff, cause there were three more boxes in the living room labeled Press' bedroom...
"This sucks..." He suddenly blurted, drawing an eye from the big man as he gave the bed one last push to line it up with the box spring.
"Yeah. Kind of. But it's home."
The thought didn't sit well with Youth. It might have been true a few years ago, but since they had left Vegas fro New Orleans it wasn't the case. They had been in the top spots at PAW, had residuals from royalties and commercials. They had a pretty decent sum of money in the bank thanks to that. Sure, neither of them were rich, but they weren't destitute either. This place felt pretty broke.
"I don't know man. I think we should have invested in getting a place closer to the strip. The condo in Orleans will sell soon, and we would probably only be in the whole a couple of grand."
"Do you know how much those places near the strip cost? This isn't New Orleans. If we didn't know Frank, a place like this would run us fifteen hundred easily."
"This place?" Youth questioned incredulously, looking around in disgust.
"Cost of living, my friend. Now why don't you toss those three boxes in here so I can put them away."
Youth shrugged, much the same expression of disgust on his face as he complied with the request. Now the room was even more cramped than it had been before. Press sighed, the first time he'd shown any real disappointment in their current conditions, but he seemed to shake it off and began opening the first box to pile clothes into the chest-of-drawers. The sudden realization that there was some permanency to this move suddenly dawned on Youth, and he quickly began to run through his inner brain to figure out how they could complete their task as quickly as possible and GTFO this joint.
"So where do you think we should start with this Loki business?"
Press grunted as the first box was folded up and tossed aside in lieu of the second box. "No idea. I figure we put our feelers out within the community, see if anyone's heard anything. Establish a network."
Youth nodded, trying to remember what all contacts they already had within the city. "Do you really think there's anyone out there that will just give him up?"
"There's always a snitch. Even in their world."
"What about one of the information dealers?"
Press paused in what he was doing to look over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "You really want to try and cut a deal with one of them? I mean...they usually have a pretty dark price tag."
"Man, I don't fucking know. I just don't like the idea of being stuck her for any extended period of time. I know we agreed to that deal for Nin..." The glare he receives causes him to throw his hands up and quickly readjust that thought. "And I don't regret it! Only...Can we not ever just catch a break? I realize it's sort of our jobs to take care of the big bad's of the world, but why are we always the ones getting sucked into this overarching plots? Can we not just do our thing and retire to the comforts of a nice apartment with good food? Do we always have to be put under the gun of having our immortal souls ripped from our bodies by some nefarious entity or the other?"
"Jesus..." Press exasperates, tossing number two aside and snatching up box number three, obviously annoyed. "When in the hell did you start bitching so much?"
"Fuck you, prick! You know you feel the same!"
Press paused in his unpacking for a moment to stare out the window that had a broken shade that now hung at an angle. It caused the light to be partially blocked but was otherwise ineffective. It sort of looked like he felt at the moment. On one hand, Youth was right. He did feel the same. On the other, it was Munin, and he'd do anything to protect her. Even if that meant giving up the comfortable life they had in New Orleans and moving halfway across the country back to Vegas where they were to uncover the location of the God of Mischief, Loki. When you say it like that, maybe it was a little too much.
Press shook the thought away and resumed emptying box number three. "Listen, kid, we can sit around and sing the woe-is-me song or we can focus on the work. We've been out of Vegas for four years now and you gotta believe that the denizens of the under city have replenished their number. It's time to do some clean up, and if that means downsizing our living situation, then so be it. I mean, how long can the money we have last? We've done nothing for the past couple of years of any consequence in the wrestling business, and if Sam wasn't supplying us with free drinks...hell...we'd have already went bankrupt."
"Sam...damn, I'll miss those free drinks. It was kind of nice having backup too."
Press couldn't deny that. The old Voodoo Priest on Bourbon Street had kept them in jobs and alcohol, and had went on patrol with them plenty. He was gong to miss him too.
"We've got friends here in Vegas. We should go pay them a visit before we decide anything."
Youth snorted. Friends. He was talking about the LoLo. A dive bar and grill famous for their chicken and waffles on Rainbow Boulevard. The locals loved the place and it had recently went through a retrofit. Now everything looked fresh and updated, but beneath the shiny new veneer were the red walls painted in lambs blood and the etchings of the unholy trinity in its very foundation. LoLo, the bar's namesake, was a fey of the Summer variety. That's why she set up shop in the middle of the desert where it might as well be summer all the time. The wards in her floorboards and walls were to prevent any bloodshed from going down in her establishment, meaning that it was one of the few places in Vegas where all were truly welcome. Of course...she didn't own the sidewalks past the glass double doors, soooo...
"So I guess it's chicken and waffles for dinner?"
"Haven't had them in a good long while. Not LoLo's anyways."
"And you think she'll know something?"
"Nothing that she'd be willing to tell."
"Then why are we going there again?"
Press huffed a sigh of relief as he folded the third box down and tossed onto the others that would eventually find their way to recycling. "Because...I'm betting someone there will know something."
LATER THAT NIGHT
LOLO'S BAR AND GRILL
RAINBOW BOULEVARD, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA
The two men lucked out when they pulled up to LoLo's and found a parking space about ten feet away from the front doors. Press eased the 1966 Pontiac Tempest into the spot and both men exited and made their way to the front. It was just past midnight, which meant that any respectable people were probably in their beds and the tourists were still playing the slot machines. When the glass double doors open the familiar ding' of an automated chime system signaled their arrival drawing several glances from the bar. A group, comprised of wasted college kids, sat at large booth to their far right, slurring their orders over the den of a best of the 80's radio station playing through the strategically placed speakers overhead. They were oblivious to the newcomers, but that wasn't so for those circled around the bar.LOLO'S BAR AND GRILL
RAINBOW BOULEVARD, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA
Red eyes peered at the two as they approached, Press dropping his weight on a stool to lean heavily on the bar surface while Youth leapfrogged to come to rest nonchalantly. A tinkling voice singing along with the radio filtered out of the kitchen and when it emerged into the main dining are the woman providing it took one look at the two newcomers and nearly dropped the tray balancing on her hand. She quickly recovered her composure and her tray, and made her way over to the college kids and set out their orders in front of them. After a second she returned to the bar where she docked the tray and made a B-Line right for her new guests.
"What the hell are you two doing here?" She asked in a clipped voice as the five or six patrons sitting farther away leaned in to try and hear.
Press looked indignant as he placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. "LoLo...I would have thought you'd be happy to see us after all this time."
The five foot two petite blonde with overly large almond eyes shook her head violently and crossed her arms over her tiny chest. "The last time you two were here there was violence. I do not allow violence in my establishment!"
It was Youth this time that leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bar and his chin in his hands. "Come on, LoLo. That wasn't our fault. They jumped us, and technically...that was out in the street, not in the bar."
LoLo's eyes narrowed and somehow they still looked wide open as she sneered in his direction. "You playing at semantics with me boy?"
"Nah," Youth replied with a charming smile and a shoulder shrug. "I just want some chicken and waffles."
That rocked her back on her heels, but she casts a glance at a nearby server and nodded her head towards the kitchen. The server rolled her eyes before making her way to the kitchen to alert the cook. She stood there for a few moments just looking at the two men expectantly as they returned the glare with stark stoicism.
Finally, like a pot boiling over, she threw her hands out at her sides and exploded. "Well are you going to get on with it, or do I have to stand here with bated breath all damn night?"
"Jesus," Youth breathes through a chuckle.
Press couldn't hide what started as a twitch in his lips but eventually pulled back into a smile. He leaned forward on his elbows and spoke in a quiet tone, "Look, we have some business we'd like to discuss with you, but we can't just bust out with it here. Do you have somewhere we could speak in private?"
She looked from side to side to notice that the other patrons seemed very interested in the conversation, and she let out a loud breath before turning to walk around the bar. With a stiff wave over her shoulder she signaled them to follow and upon reaching the kitchen she hooked a right to follow a path between counters that led to a single door at the end that read 'Office'. She looked over her shoulder at the cook who was hard at work frying up some fresh chicken.
"These two mooks will be taking their plates in here, Umberto. Thanks."
The cook looked up for just a moment to shrug as the two men disappeared within the office behind his boss. The room was what you'd expect from a restaurant office. A desk in the center of the room with a well worn office chair behind it. An outdated computer on its surface along with stacks of paper in organized chaos. There was a file cabinet along the wall and two chairs for employee's in front of the desk.
Lolo rounded the desk and opened the top drawer as Youth closed the door behind them. She sat an opal gem in front of her and said a few hushed words in a spidery language. The gem gave off an eerie hum and then the entire room was cast in an amber light emanating from the object, and she looked at the two of them confidently before taking a seat in the office chair.
"This will ensure privacy." She told them matter-of-factly, indicating with her hand that they should sit down. "Now, what is that you two want?"
Press heaved himself into one of the small chairs while Youth leaned on the back of the other while giving LoLo a casual smile.
"Loki."
The Fey's eyes went wide at first but was quickly followed up by a raucous laugh that caused both men's eyebrows to furrow. She couldn't stop laughing for a solid minute, and even then it still took her several more to catch her breath before she could speak.
"Are you two out of your minds?" She asked, still stifling back a few leftover chuckles. "Seriously, no one is 'actually' that stupid."
Press crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at the woman. "We know that he's been operating in Vegas. We just need a starting point."
Her laughter finally in check, LoLo regarded the big man with a sidelong glance. "You know? And who told you that?"
"Odin."
LoLo's eyes went wide again, but this time there was no mirth. She stared at the two men in front of her in awe, but on the fringes of that surprise was fear. She shuddered for a moment, her head lolling down to stare at the floor and she gripped the desk in front of her as if to steady herself from falling. When she looked back up at them she was gravely serious, if not a little nauseous.
"What kind of game have you two fools gotten yourself into?"
"The kind that you can't squelch on. The kind that you want to finish as quickly as possible because there is a time table, and at the end of it...the price is high."
She shook her head as if by some chance, this was a dream, the two men in front of her would just disappear. Seeing that they weren't going away, she gave a resigned sigh.
"So you need a place to start?"
"That's all we're asking." Youth chimed in expectantly.
"You say that as if it were some small thing," she replied as she sat back in her chair, fingers absentmindedly stroking her chin. "If he finds out that I gave you anything, there will be consequences. Dire consequences."
Press leaned forward to give one of their typical responses to that sort of statement, but she threw her other hand up to stop him. "Save it. I realize you two are big bad dudes and all, but he's bigger. Any threats you have for me can be shoved up your ass."
Press seemed to have reached his limit, leaning forward so that the chair creaked in protest. "Just give us a goddamn name. Anyone that can at least point us in the right direction. Worst case scenario he finds out we're looking for him and comes to find us instead. In that event, we'll probably be dead, and no one's the wiser to your involvement. If it goes the other way, he has bigger problems with Odin, and we'll owe you a favor."
She regarded the man with a cool expression for his outburst, but he did have a point. And if two of the God Touched were put down, she could capitalize on that information within her own circles.
"I do so love favors," she cooed. "Alright. So I don't have anything direct, but there has been speculation. There's a guy named Arnie who frequents the LoLo on Fridays. Karaoke night. He sings a mean Elvis..."
"LoLo.."
"Alright, Alright..." she replied tersely, irritated at being interrupted. "He's a low level muse. Works with some of the local garage bands and artists."
Youth cast LoLo a skeptical expression. "That doesn't sound like someone who would work with Loki."
"I didn't say he did. But he is contracted to someone who might. Otto Orpheus."
"The Broker?"
"That's the one. Otto's been scooping up contracts with all manner of creature lately, and some are saying that it's for one of his other clients. A top client. Didn't really make sense before, but now that you're telling me Loki's in town it kind of does."
"Are we talking about a chain of command? A monster mafia?"
"Could be. Otto is the deal maker and would have those types of contacts in the city. Doesn't hurt that he operates in a metropolis designed to create the illusion of making dreams come true. So many come to Sin City ready to strike a bargain."
The soul trade. You won't read about that forecast in the Wall Street Journal, yet it's one of the more lucrative commodities in the underworld. Think about faith like a financial institution and demons and angels as employee's. Just like in western culture, there are different value sets that represent the currency used to build up faith. A prayer is like a dollar. A devotion like a five spot. A baptism like a ten. A sacrifice like a twenty. A soul like a C-note. And their traded every second of every day, millions of transactions that build your power base. The more you have, the more influence you control in the cosmic spectrum.
Having a broker on hand would be a huge asset to anyone, but to someone like Loki, a griffter and deal maker in his own right, it would be the culmination of a power vacuum.
Press' voice was grim when he finally spoke. "Odin had to know about this."
"It's the reason he sent us. He wants the organization for himself. Can you imagine what the All-Father could do with that much Faith."
Press shook his head just before pushing himself to his feet. LoLo watched both men with interest, filing the information away for a future date.
The big man seemed to realize this for the first time and gave the Fey a dark look. "Fridays? Without fail?"
"He'll be here," she said with a twinkle in her voice.
He nodded just as the orb on her desk suddenly cut out, putting the room back to normal, and the door behind them opened. Both men looked over their shoulder to see the cook standing there with two plates full of chicken and waffles.
Youth looked from him back to LoLo and shrugged. "Looks like we'll need that to go."
TO BE CONTINUED...
