Solo [Tall Johnny's Casino & Cage Fights] Eye For An Eye

[Cosmo Crocus]

9 | Spring | 515 AV

Sunberth was barely different than it was in winter. There was still crime aplenty. That was a given. Dead bodies, mangled and looted of all valuables, riddled the streets. Of the dead bodies, a new one was added to the count. A woman named Lasher Veecos was found in a slave pen, her eyes popped from her head, a red smile placed on her throat. The rumors had that she hadn't been too friendly with something called the Brotherhood of Chains, whatever that was.

The Symenestra shook his head, trying to stop thinking of local gossip. He had a job to do.

The rather extravagant brick building loomed on the street near the Baroque Bay docks, it's brick exterior dully catching the afternoon rays. Double doors were present, thick and dark-colored. As the spy approached, he fixed his shirt around his neck and made sure the waistband of his pants fit snugly. He was meeting a client, one who'd approached him 2 nights previous, and had left him a small piece of parchment reading only, "Tall Johnny's."

He walked up the few steps there were and was greeted by the two Akalak bouncers perched on either door. They had a no-nonsense look scrawled across each of their blue faces.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." Cosmo said curtly. There was no charge for entering the establishment, thank the gods. He pushed open the double doors and stepped inside the casino famous for its cage fights.

It was dark and smelled of pipeweeds and hard liquor. A layer of smoke was present, giving the darkness a kind of accented mist. He watched as women in very revealing clothes, if they weren't strips of string laid across their bodies, walked past, some wih men in suits and the like on their arms. Waiters, bustling by, were also a common sight.

The Symenstra kept an aura of importance as he walked to a table where a group of burly men played cards. Your look was how you were judged in the city; wimps and beggars were stolen from frequently, and those who presented themselves as "fancy" or "important" weren't stolen from as much. Cosmo sat himself on a stool right in front of the action. The group, no more than 7 men, all had cards in hands. One already had Mizas piled in front of him.

He leaned forward, hands folded in front of him, intent on seeming interested in the game, although he was not. He was waiting for the client to reveal himself.

Be patient. You don't even know what he looks like, he was wearing a hood.

He nodded at his inner workings. Patience was a virtue, and even then, he still didn't even know what he man looked like.

Things were getting hot at the cards table. A small crowd formed around the players as they dealt. The dealer swished out the cards. The deck held in one hand, the dealer pinched the front-right corner of the top card between the other thumb and index finger. A red-backed card was then thrown to each man, with a wrist extending motion.

The positioning of the throwing wrist was superb, the cards maintained low and level with the table surface. Cosmo and a few other spectators ooh'd at the dealer's skill. They watched as the men prepared to turn in more cards.

There was a sudden whoosh, as though a length of cotton was flourished in the air, and a small glass of brown liquid was placed in front of Cosmo. Startled, he turned to see who had placed the drink in front of him. The nearest waiter was at a table many feet from him, and almost all other patrons had sat at a game.

He turned around in his stool, confused. He took a sniff of the brown drink, wafting it towards his nose. It smelled strongly of bananas. He took a sip. As soon as the liquid touched his tongue, it burned and burned. But almost all strong liquor burned. He forced himself to swallow the fire, feeling it rush into his delicate Symenestran digestive system.

He prepared to sit it back down on the table and wait again for his client, but a small strip of paper was where his drink once sat. He sat the banana-smelling cocktail down and picked up the slip .

Sylvester Dequins. Human. Cage arena. Fedora.
Get info on current business dealings regarding Slammer drug trades with Tent City dealers.

The spy smirked and sat the parchment in his breast pocket. He craned his head to the arena. Cheers erupted from their, probably as one of the brutes had landed a well-placed shot to his opponent.

This was going to be a very long investigation.

[Cosmo Crocus]

Just as quickly as he read and pocketed the message, he stood, excusing himself from the game. He began to walk over to the cage arena, repeating the small note's contents in his mind.

Sylvester Dequins. Human. Fedora. Slammer trades.

He repeated this in a mantra until he entered the amphitheater-esque seating area. It seated many, and there were too many in the vicinity to simply see someone with a Fedora. He'd have to move around.

But the fight happening not 20 feet before him caught his eye instead.

2 men, each rather large and bulky, swung at each other with clenched fists. One if the men looked as though the side of his fade had been caved in, a steady stream of blood running down his pockmarked skin, white bits of presumably skull fragments littering his beard and the packed floor of dirt. The other looked as if almost no blows were thrown to him, and he was significantly smaller than the man with his head deflated. It was a gruesome thing, watching two people fight until they simply couldn't anymore or one of them died.

We're they even getting paid for this?

Shaking his head lightly, Cosmo began to move around the circular seating area. He looked for someone with a very strange hat, presumably a male with fair skin and... maybe brown hair? He let his thoughts condense and settle in his enigmatic mind as he moved.

"Sorry, 'scuse me." he said as he moved in front of those who were seated. He made sure to look at their heads. Most didn't have hats, probably because they couldn't afford them. This was proving to be rather difficult. He was already 3/4 of the way around the seating area and no one had a-

Wait.

He stopped in his tracks. Two seats below and 3 to the right, quite literally next to the bloodbath, a man had a beautiful matte grey Fedora perched on dark blonde hair.

He'd found his mark.

He stepped over a seat, nearly kicking a woman in the back of her head.

"Move, you petchin' ass!" she exclaimed quietly. He raised his hands apologetically and sat right next to her, a row above Mr. Delquins. He straightened his shirt and fixed his boots on his feet. He leaned forward ever so slightly, casually, just to see if he could hear what the man was talking about to the smaller man to his right about over the sounds of the fighters' battle.

"... and the Ytun account is secure?"

The other man nodded. "They are quite pleased with the new delivery system, Mr. Dequins."

Cosmo leaned back, trying hard to be nonchalant about listening in. He formulated his plan in his mind: he'd follow the dealer around once he left, gather info, maybe get a little evidence.

Then he'd give these developments to the Night Eyes.

[Cosmo Crocus]

Cosmo watched in a semi-detached stupor as the two men didn't talk for quite some time. He almost had one eye on the men and the other on the two new competitors in the ring.

But the competitors were much more interesting than watching those two sit in complete silence.

The first one introduced, Grunge, as the announcer said, was very large. Very large, indeed. He seemed to be just on the side of 230 pounds, with a horrible lazy eye, clouded with a scar runnning from the top of his eye socket down for another 3 inches below it. Scars and crippled limbs were certainly a common sight in good ol' Sunberth.

The second man, Mart, seemed just as large as Grunge. There were a few minute differences, though. His strawberry blonde hair teemed with piled-on dirt and his eyes both seemed to work fine. He wore a singular strap across his torso, his opponent opting for a tattered shirt more suitable for holding potatoes than anything else.

Then, almost as soon as the men were introduced, the match began.

As soon as it happened, Cosmo's attention on Dequins diminished to the bare minimum. Grunge squared his meaty fists into a fist and threw a rather solid punch to the blonde doppelganger. Mart took the hit horribly, almost coming to his knees, clenching his now smarting face. This arose jeers from the crowd. Cosmo wasn't ashamed to admit he boo'd ever so slightly.

C'mon, really. I can take punches better than that.

The Symenestran spy sat up in his seat, eager for the show to go on. Mart took advantage of his low stance and took Grunge by his legs. They both collided with the packed dirt floor, jabbing and hooking. Shouts aplenty could be heard, assistants running around rampantly, taking wagers and bets. A unanimous wince permeated from the whole of the audience as the blonde man got a particularly hard kick to his face, sending tooth fragments and blood onto the earth.

Just below the mesmerized spy, Dequins and his unnamed associate began to speak once more.

"Mr, Dequins, it's rather crowded here. Shouldn't we go somewhere more... private?" the smaller man wagered.

"Of course, Smyth. Let us go."

And, like that, the pair was gone, making haste towards the exit.

Shyke. Just as everything was getting good.

Cosmo, too, excused himself, never taking his eyes off the men, who were getting more unrecognizable by the second. He hoped the match wouldn't end in death, although it most certainly would, as he followed closely behind the two. He made sure to keep an appropriate distance as the two left the casino. He turned his head ever so slightly to attempt to hide what little he could.

But, in doing this, he didn't notice the snag on the carpet. He tripped over himself, nearly falling to the ground, but catching himself before he could do any damage to his delicate Symenestran frame. He exclaimed loudly, alerting many in the immediate vicinity.

Including Dequins and Smyth. They turned their heads to look at the bumbling fool behind them. He quickly turned his head, making it seem as though he lost something in the bumble. His breath hitched as everyone seemed to stare at him. Then, to his immense relief, everything got back into gear, although rather slowly.

Ionu. You MUST be more careful.

He was positive they saw his eyes.