chapter 14
previous chapter
The late Mr Cain Fortune was a seriously rich person, and when seriously rich people suddenly pass away, the lawyers swoop in like well-dressed sharks...
Now, lawyers have always been, in general, portrayed negatively in literary fiction. Sharks, vultures, crocodiles... every single one of these animals are merciless killers of the animal kingdom, and have the unfortunate tendency to be mentioned whenever people mention lawyers. Of course, this was not a fair description of lawyers at all, since most of them are, in fact, distinguished members of the noble profession of law. Unlike sharks, lawyers don't swim around underwater with a permanent frown on their faces. Unlike vultures, they don't swoop down cackling to feast on rotting carcasses. However, they do admittedly sunbathe like crocodiles occasionally.
...but these lawyers really did resemble very well-groomed sharks. They were the predators of their profession, and a man of Fortune's fortune could afford to hire the best hunters in the pack. When you're this rich, there are plenty of people who will gladly steal (or at least try to share) a piece of your pie, on the justification that you'll be too busy being rich to notice. Lawyers were great for making sure these people return the pieces, with interest, and the law firm of Miller, Jacobson, Johnson & Johnson were exceptionally good at it.
* * * * *
Seraph looked up as a man entered the room. The newcomer was thin, with a gaunt face, greying but tidily combed hair, and expensive clothes. A single gold-chained monocle hung loosely from one pocket, and he had a meticulously trimmed beard. Behind him were several clerks, although something in their manner suggested that they played the role of bodyguard as well. They were dressed like priests: black clothes, neat robes, except there was a faint suggestion of concealed weaponry.
The newcomer smiled, and it was the well-trained smile of an animal perched at the very top of the food pyramid. Seraph's brain immediately took a running jump and leapt to one obvious conclusion: lawyer. And a good one.
"Mr Loopelberry Cabbage III, I gather?" he asked, in a soft clipped voice. It was the sort of voice that sounded harmless until it actually reaches your brain, at which point you have an uncomfortable feeling that a shark is grinning at you. "My name is Mr Miller, and I represent the firm of Miller, Jacobson, Johnson & Johnson. The recently departed Mr Cain Fortune, bless his soul, has, for several decades now, engaged the services of our firm to look after his various assets and investments." The lawyer extended a hand towards Seraph.
Seraph hesitated, then cautiously shook it. Firm, cold grip, and it was like shaking hands with a corpse.
The lawyer smiled again, and took out a thin file from the depths of his jacket. "Mr Fortune had the foresight to make certain arrangements in the event of an untimely demise. Since his death was certainly untimely, I think there's no better time to take care of these little matters." He winked, and took his monocle out of the pocket, polished it, then wore it on his right eye. "Now, Mr Fortune has instructed us to make a payment of no less than $50,000 upon delivery of a..." He looked up from the notes and glanced at Cantrip, "...a boy with an extensive, complicated tattoo on one arm."
Seraph was barely listening now, drunk with euphoria as his heart leapt with joy. The money... oh yes... he was going to get paid after all...
"The payment will be made immediately, but there are some additional clauses you should be aware of," said the lawyer, and shut the file. The tone of his voice became noticably sharper and more business like. "First, you are instructed to ensure that the boy stays alive. Mr Fortune has explicitedly stated that the sum of $50,000 will be recovered, by force if necessary, upon the death of the boy. Is that agreed then?"
Cantrip's heart skipped a few beats when he heard this. On the other hand, whispered a treacherous little voice inside his head, the old man had reason to believe that someone wants you dead. From the corner of his eye, he saw Seraph nodding slowly.
"And secondly, you are to bring the boy to a location specified by the late Mr Fortune, as soon as possible. The exact location is unknown even to me; apparently Mr Fortune went through a great deal of trouble to keep it a secret." The lawyer paused, and fished inside his pocket, producing what looked suspiciously like an extraordinarily large cut diamond. It glittered in the light.
Seraph stiffled a gasp. "But.. that's worth at least... at least..." he stuttered, as his brain, calculating an estimate of how much a diamond that size is worth, ran out of zeros and gave up.
The lawyer handed the diamond over carefully. "No, it is worth a lot less than you think: a very well-made fake, made of glass. Mr Fortune told me to give this to you, and you are to use it to begin your search. According to Mr Fortune, this is an exact replica of a real diamond which is hidden at the location: this will be the proof that your task is complete."
Clever move there, thought Seraph bitterly. A real diamond of that size would be truly one of a kind, and more than impossible to forge.
He reopened the file and pulled out a yellowed parchment. "This is the deed to a vault in Central Bank. The password chosen by Mr Fortune is 'wealth': a rather appropriate password, you will agree. Inside you will find $50,000 in unmarked coins, and a further $15,000 as a token of good faith."
The lawyer paused and looked Seraph straight in the eye. "Mr Loopelberry, I have dealt with many bounty hunters in my time, and quite frankly, I find their blatant greed and thuggish methods rather distasteful. But Mr Fortune seemed to hold your abilities in high regard, and against my own better judgement, I now execute the final will and testament of the late Mr Cain Fortune: complete the tasks given, Mr Loopelberry, and your reward will be the complete ownership of the Fortune empire."
* * * * *
The rest of the day passed by in a daze. Seraph, Penelope and Cantrip were back in the safehouse, but they were still in shock over the lawyer's announcement. $65,000 in cash... and a chance to be rich beyond even their wildest dreams.
The Fortune empire: the lawyer had spent some time outlining the sheer vastness of the riches. And vast was too small a word, in fact; through a series of ruthless takeovers and business maneuvers, Cain Fortune took over large chunks of the city's financial sectors. He was the business world's Genghiz Khan, Alexander the Great and Roman Empire all rolled into one: an unstoppable conqueror, marching his legions of gold horsemen through the desolate plains of the business, and then building a glorious empire that stretched further than the eye can see.
Cain Fortune had a special kind of genius: he somehow knew which properties and businesses were undervalued or undeveloped, and he had an uncanny knack for building them up again into serious cash cows. Big fat cash cows, with large bells on. The money rolled in like a golden tidal wave, and then it rolled out again to finance more investments, more takeovers... and soon the money was everywhere, growing into a larger and larger pile.
Seraph's eyes glinted as he estimated how much the entire fortune must be worth. Millions of dollars, possibly. Controlling the Fortune empire.. well, that would certainly get Penelope out of trouble with the Guild.
However, there was one small catch. That damned diamond. Seraph took it carefully out of his pocket, and examined it. It looked shiny, just like an ordinary diamond, except that this was the shine of high quality glass instead of pressurized carbon. Its unusually large size meant that it had to be cut many times, and the end result could be best described as a glass diamond with a lot of faces. As Seraph twirled it in his hands, the light rays passing through it bounced around, creating tiny rainbows within the glass. Fascinating.
But of course, the glass diamond was totally useless to Seraph at the moment. Even with the cash they had, they were still short by $185,000, and even the thousands of gold he had earned was sitting in a bank vault somewhere deep within the bowels of the Central Bank. Certainly it was comforting to know that it was there, but until he saw it with his own eyes, it was pretty hard to bend his mind around that much gold. He had to find out where the real diamond was hidden... and until he did, he also had to keep Cantrip alive.
He turned to Cantrip and grinned. "Well kid, have I got some happy news for you. Come on.. I think it's time we taught you the beautiful art of bounty hunter combat."
* * * * *
It only took about an hour to turn the safehouse into a makeshift combat training center.
Seraph and Penelope had dragged out a really ugly looking straw dummy from somewhere (it's always helpful to have a straw dummy when practicing: that way, if you ever come up against an immobile, limbless and headless enemy, you will know exactly where to hit him), and the floors were padded with thick, moth-eaten carpets. Penelope had also produced a variety of wooden blades, arranged neatly on a rack. Even the wooden daggers were shaped exactly like real throwing daggers, except that they were slightly less likely to take your head off when thrown.
Seraph pulled a wooden sword from the rack, and tossed it to Cantrip.
"Alright kid, show me what you've got. Come at me swinging, and try and land a hit," said Seraph cheerfully.
Cantrip took a deep breath, lifted the sword and charged.
When Cantrip opened his eyes again, he found himself staring blankly at his sword, which had somehow lodged itself firmly in the ceiling, leaving him flat out on the floor. There was nothing but silence from Seraph and Penelope. Seraph sighed. "Okay, I see we've got a lot to teach you here," he muttered.
* * * * *
"The most important thing about fighting is staying alive. That's the only trick there is to it," said Penelope, twirling a wooden dagger like a circus juggler. "Sure, fancy moves are impressive, but at the end of every fight, the winner is the one who can still walk away. Or maybe crawl away. Or maybe even roll away, if it's a particularly tough match."
"Remember, the best fighters fight like rats. No rules, no honour. Bite anywhere it hurts, and run if necessary. Putting on a macho image is an excellent way to get yourself killed. Come on, you're a street urchin, I'm sure you've had plenty of practice at running, eh?" asked Penelope.
Cantrip grimaced. "Oh yes. Lots," he muttered.
"Great!" beamed Penelope. "Now let's see if we can get you to move just a LITTLE bit faster..."
* * * * *
It's a common misconception that tying heavy weights to your legs makes you move faster when the weights come off. Countless stories have a plot device where heroes wear an extremely heavy item of clothing (a thousand-kg shirt, for example, or a heavy turtle shell, or maybe a heavy alien hermit in a basket, even), learn to move around normally with it, and upon the removal of the shirt/shell/alien, they suddenly develop the ability to move with superhuman speed, bouncing around like rubber balls, and in rare cases, even developing the ability to fly.
All this is utter rubbish, of course. Tying weights to your legs merely makes you look a bit ridiculous, and a thousand kg shirt will probably kill you before it makes you fly. And wearing a turtle shell makes you look silly, AND gives you a terrible backache until you take it off.
* * * * *
"Speed is a good thing. If you can react faster, move faster, and hit faster than the enemy, then you gain two immediate advantages. One, you could probably take the enemy by surprise, and do some major damage before they can even react to your presence. And two, you can outrun them if they outnumber you greatly," explained Penelope as Seraph watched their training. "Unfortunately, the bad news is that it'll take several years of well-structured and intensive training to condition your muscles to move even a litttle bit faster."
Cantrip looked puzzled. "Er... so I can forget about becoming faster, right?"
"Well.. yes. Unfortunately. But there are certain tricks, which you can use in a real emergency, that will probably let you move as fast as I can. Observe...." Penelope produced a small wooden box which suspiciously resembled a Watch radio. She cracked it open, and inside, staring back at a startled Cantrip, was a little red imp, blinking in the sudden light. Penelope gave it a big friendly smile, and carefully picked it up by the scruff of its neck.
"Here, hold the guy. Gently now..." she slowly lowered the imp into Cantrip's grasp. It peered at Cantrip curiously, and squeaked a greeting. Cantrip smiled at it nervously. Penelope took a few steps back, and...
...whipped out a shiny STEEL dagger, and stabbed it towards Cantrip at lightning speed....
...Cantrip shouted, caught completely off guard, and squeezed the imp tightly...
...and time slowed. Everything moved in slow motion, like an incredibly overused special effect, as the dagger braked through the air, growing slower and slower, and then stopped, half an inch from the tip of Cantrip's nose. He blinked, and carefully moved his nose out of the dagger's path. In his iron grip, the imp was squealing madly, so he loosened his grip...
...and the dagger shot past, missing him by inches. Penelope turned around and grinned. "Keep an imp on you at all times: it's a little known fact that they can actually bend time enough to slow it down for a bit. Be careful though, squeeze too hard and they actually explode in your hands."
Cantrip could only stare at her incredulously.
next chapter
The late Mr Cain Fortune was a seriously rich person, and when seriously rich people suddenly pass away, the lawyers swoop in like well-dressed sharks...
Now, lawyers have always been, in general, portrayed negatively in literary fiction. Sharks, vultures, crocodiles... every single one of these animals are merciless killers of the animal kingdom, and have the unfortunate tendency to be mentioned whenever people mention lawyers. Of course, this was not a fair description of lawyers at all, since most of them are, in fact, distinguished members of the noble profession of law. Unlike sharks, lawyers don't swim around underwater with a permanent frown on their faces. Unlike vultures, they don't swoop down cackling to feast on rotting carcasses. However, they do admittedly sunbathe like crocodiles occasionally.
...but these lawyers really did resemble very well-groomed sharks. They were the predators of their profession, and a man of Fortune's fortune could afford to hire the best hunters in the pack. When you're this rich, there are plenty of people who will gladly steal (or at least try to share) a piece of your pie, on the justification that you'll be too busy being rich to notice. Lawyers were great for making sure these people return the pieces, with interest, and the law firm of Miller, Jacobson, Johnson & Johnson were exceptionally good at it.
* * * * *
Seraph looked up as a man entered the room. The newcomer was thin, with a gaunt face, greying but tidily combed hair, and expensive clothes. A single gold-chained monocle hung loosely from one pocket, and he had a meticulously trimmed beard. Behind him were several clerks, although something in their manner suggested that they played the role of bodyguard as well. They were dressed like priests: black clothes, neat robes, except there was a faint suggestion of concealed weaponry.
The newcomer smiled, and it was the well-trained smile of an animal perched at the very top of the food pyramid. Seraph's brain immediately took a running jump and leapt to one obvious conclusion: lawyer. And a good one.
"Mr Loopelberry Cabbage III, I gather?" he asked, in a soft clipped voice. It was the sort of voice that sounded harmless until it actually reaches your brain, at which point you have an uncomfortable feeling that a shark is grinning at you. "My name is Mr Miller, and I represent the firm of Miller, Jacobson, Johnson & Johnson. The recently departed Mr Cain Fortune, bless his soul, has, for several decades now, engaged the services of our firm to look after his various assets and investments." The lawyer extended a hand towards Seraph.
Seraph hesitated, then cautiously shook it. Firm, cold grip, and it was like shaking hands with a corpse.
The lawyer smiled again, and took out a thin file from the depths of his jacket. "Mr Fortune had the foresight to make certain arrangements in the event of an untimely demise. Since his death was certainly untimely, I think there's no better time to take care of these little matters." He winked, and took his monocle out of the pocket, polished it, then wore it on his right eye. "Now, Mr Fortune has instructed us to make a payment of no less than $50,000 upon delivery of a..." He looked up from the notes and glanced at Cantrip, "...a boy with an extensive, complicated tattoo on one arm."
Seraph was barely listening now, drunk with euphoria as his heart leapt with joy. The money... oh yes... he was going to get paid after all...
"The payment will be made immediately, but there are some additional clauses you should be aware of," said the lawyer, and shut the file. The tone of his voice became noticably sharper and more business like. "First, you are instructed to ensure that the boy stays alive. Mr Fortune has explicitedly stated that the sum of $50,000 will be recovered, by force if necessary, upon the death of the boy. Is that agreed then?"
Cantrip's heart skipped a few beats when he heard this. On the other hand, whispered a treacherous little voice inside his head, the old man had reason to believe that someone wants you dead. From the corner of his eye, he saw Seraph nodding slowly.
"And secondly, you are to bring the boy to a location specified by the late Mr Fortune, as soon as possible. The exact location is unknown even to me; apparently Mr Fortune went through a great deal of trouble to keep it a secret." The lawyer paused, and fished inside his pocket, producing what looked suspiciously like an extraordinarily large cut diamond. It glittered in the light.
Seraph stiffled a gasp. "But.. that's worth at least... at least..." he stuttered, as his brain, calculating an estimate of how much a diamond that size is worth, ran out of zeros and gave up.
The lawyer handed the diamond over carefully. "No, it is worth a lot less than you think: a very well-made fake, made of glass. Mr Fortune told me to give this to you, and you are to use it to begin your search. According to Mr Fortune, this is an exact replica of a real diamond which is hidden at the location: this will be the proof that your task is complete."
Clever move there, thought Seraph bitterly. A real diamond of that size would be truly one of a kind, and more than impossible to forge.
He reopened the file and pulled out a yellowed parchment. "This is the deed to a vault in Central Bank. The password chosen by Mr Fortune is 'wealth': a rather appropriate password, you will agree. Inside you will find $50,000 in unmarked coins, and a further $15,000 as a token of good faith."
The lawyer paused and looked Seraph straight in the eye. "Mr Loopelberry, I have dealt with many bounty hunters in my time, and quite frankly, I find their blatant greed and thuggish methods rather distasteful. But Mr Fortune seemed to hold your abilities in high regard, and against my own better judgement, I now execute the final will and testament of the late Mr Cain Fortune: complete the tasks given, Mr Loopelberry, and your reward will be the complete ownership of the Fortune empire."
* * * * *
The rest of the day passed by in a daze. Seraph, Penelope and Cantrip were back in the safehouse, but they were still in shock over the lawyer's announcement. $65,000 in cash... and a chance to be rich beyond even their wildest dreams.
The Fortune empire: the lawyer had spent some time outlining the sheer vastness of the riches. And vast was too small a word, in fact; through a series of ruthless takeovers and business maneuvers, Cain Fortune took over large chunks of the city's financial sectors. He was the business world's Genghiz Khan, Alexander the Great and Roman Empire all rolled into one: an unstoppable conqueror, marching his legions of gold horsemen through the desolate plains of the business, and then building a glorious empire that stretched further than the eye can see.
Cain Fortune had a special kind of genius: he somehow knew which properties and businesses were undervalued or undeveloped, and he had an uncanny knack for building them up again into serious cash cows. Big fat cash cows, with large bells on. The money rolled in like a golden tidal wave, and then it rolled out again to finance more investments, more takeovers... and soon the money was everywhere, growing into a larger and larger pile.
Seraph's eyes glinted as he estimated how much the entire fortune must be worth. Millions of dollars, possibly. Controlling the Fortune empire.. well, that would certainly get Penelope out of trouble with the Guild.
However, there was one small catch. That damned diamond. Seraph took it carefully out of his pocket, and examined it. It looked shiny, just like an ordinary diamond, except that this was the shine of high quality glass instead of pressurized carbon. Its unusually large size meant that it had to be cut many times, and the end result could be best described as a glass diamond with a lot of faces. As Seraph twirled it in his hands, the light rays passing through it bounced around, creating tiny rainbows within the glass. Fascinating.
But of course, the glass diamond was totally useless to Seraph at the moment. Even with the cash they had, they were still short by $185,000, and even the thousands of gold he had earned was sitting in a bank vault somewhere deep within the bowels of the Central Bank. Certainly it was comforting to know that it was there, but until he saw it with his own eyes, it was pretty hard to bend his mind around that much gold. He had to find out where the real diamond was hidden... and until he did, he also had to keep Cantrip alive.
He turned to Cantrip and grinned. "Well kid, have I got some happy news for you. Come on.. I think it's time we taught you the beautiful art of bounty hunter combat."
* * * * *
It only took about an hour to turn the safehouse into a makeshift combat training center.
Seraph and Penelope had dragged out a really ugly looking straw dummy from somewhere (it's always helpful to have a straw dummy when practicing: that way, if you ever come up against an immobile, limbless and headless enemy, you will know exactly where to hit him), and the floors were padded with thick, moth-eaten carpets. Penelope had also produced a variety of wooden blades, arranged neatly on a rack. Even the wooden daggers were shaped exactly like real throwing daggers, except that they were slightly less likely to take your head off when thrown.
Seraph pulled a wooden sword from the rack, and tossed it to Cantrip.
"Alright kid, show me what you've got. Come at me swinging, and try and land a hit," said Seraph cheerfully.
Cantrip took a deep breath, lifted the sword and charged.
When Cantrip opened his eyes again, he found himself staring blankly at his sword, which had somehow lodged itself firmly in the ceiling, leaving him flat out on the floor. There was nothing but silence from Seraph and Penelope. Seraph sighed. "Okay, I see we've got a lot to teach you here," he muttered.
* * * * *
"The most important thing about fighting is staying alive. That's the only trick there is to it," said Penelope, twirling a wooden dagger like a circus juggler. "Sure, fancy moves are impressive, but at the end of every fight, the winner is the one who can still walk away. Or maybe crawl away. Or maybe even roll away, if it's a particularly tough match."
"Remember, the best fighters fight like rats. No rules, no honour. Bite anywhere it hurts, and run if necessary. Putting on a macho image is an excellent way to get yourself killed. Come on, you're a street urchin, I'm sure you've had plenty of practice at running, eh?" asked Penelope.
Cantrip grimaced. "Oh yes. Lots," he muttered.
"Great!" beamed Penelope. "Now let's see if we can get you to move just a LITTLE bit faster..."
* * * * *
It's a common misconception that tying heavy weights to your legs makes you move faster when the weights come off. Countless stories have a plot device where heroes wear an extremely heavy item of clothing (a thousand-kg shirt, for example, or a heavy turtle shell, or maybe a heavy alien hermit in a basket, even), learn to move around normally with it, and upon the removal of the shirt/shell/alien, they suddenly develop the ability to move with superhuman speed, bouncing around like rubber balls, and in rare cases, even developing the ability to fly.
All this is utter rubbish, of course. Tying weights to your legs merely makes you look a bit ridiculous, and a thousand kg shirt will probably kill you before it makes you fly. And wearing a turtle shell makes you look silly, AND gives you a terrible backache until you take it off.
* * * * *
"Speed is a good thing. If you can react faster, move faster, and hit faster than the enemy, then you gain two immediate advantages. One, you could probably take the enemy by surprise, and do some major damage before they can even react to your presence. And two, you can outrun them if they outnumber you greatly," explained Penelope as Seraph watched their training. "Unfortunately, the bad news is that it'll take several years of well-structured and intensive training to condition your muscles to move even a litttle bit faster."
Cantrip looked puzzled. "Er... so I can forget about becoming faster, right?"
"Well.. yes. Unfortunately. But there are certain tricks, which you can use in a real emergency, that will probably let you move as fast as I can. Observe...." Penelope produced a small wooden box which suspiciously resembled a Watch radio. She cracked it open, and inside, staring back at a startled Cantrip, was a little red imp, blinking in the sudden light. Penelope gave it a big friendly smile, and carefully picked it up by the scruff of its neck.
"Here, hold the guy. Gently now..." she slowly lowered the imp into Cantrip's grasp. It peered at Cantrip curiously, and squeaked a greeting. Cantrip smiled at it nervously. Penelope took a few steps back, and...
...whipped out a shiny STEEL dagger, and stabbed it towards Cantrip at lightning speed....
...Cantrip shouted, caught completely off guard, and squeezed the imp tightly...
...and time slowed. Everything moved in slow motion, like an incredibly overused special effect, as the dagger braked through the air, growing slower and slower, and then stopped, half an inch from the tip of Cantrip's nose. He blinked, and carefully moved his nose out of the dagger's path. In his iron grip, the imp was squealing madly, so he loosened his grip...
...and the dagger shot past, missing him by inches. Penelope turned around and grinned. "Keep an imp on you at all times: it's a little known fact that they can actually bend time enough to slow it down for a bit. Be careful though, squeeze too hard and they actually explode in your hands."
Cantrip could only stare at her incredulously.
next chapter
posted by nerdook at 8:58 PM
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