A Transaction III

What did he mean by one of them? Did he know about evolved humans? Wait, of course, he did. This was the freaking black market.

Everyone came here...

"Please, sit down my friend, we have a transaction to complete." The man's voice snapped me out of my thoughts and I could see him gesturing to my former seat with his hand.

I glanced around and relaxed my nerves, my surprise, and confusion dispelling when I saw the calmness of the place.

Looking at the cunning smile plastered on his face and the motionless guards at this side, I sighed internally and sat back down on the chair, placing the bag on the ground.

If he was willing to pretend that nothing happened, then I'd do the same. After all, I was here for business...

"So, Mr. X, in lieu of our previous, uhm misunderstanding, I'm willing to reduce the tax to thirty percent. What say you?" He said with a shameless smile.

I cocked an eyebrow. Thirty percent? Misunderstanding? Shameless motherfucker, wasn't that the usual rate?

At least, now, he wasn't playing around.

"That's good." I snickered and nodded and his smile broadened.

"Excellent. Now, let's talk about the account you want." He drew up a paper from the stack and took an office pen near it.

"Offshore, a Swiss one in particular," I stated and he nodded as he jotted it down.

"Account name and Currency?"

"Fraser Baker and USD."

"Mhm." He mouthed in response as he continued to write diligently.

He looked up after a few seconds, placed the pen down, and called out, "Marco."

An average-looking young Latino man with a dull look on his face wearing casual clothing came over from the workstation and stood at the right side of the desk.

"Run this for the gentleman over here," The man gave the paper to Marco, "Kindly give him the money." He said to me, gesturing to Marco with his head.

Nodding, I grabbed the bag off the ground and handed it to him. He turned to the man, mouthed something in Spanish, and then went back to his station.

"It'll take a few minutes for the account to be prepared," He smiled at me as he relaxed into his seat. "So, I think it's time we got to know each other, don't you agree Mr. X?"

My eyebrows furrowed in suspicion. What game did he want to play with me?

I didn't respond and taking my silence as agreement, his smile widened a little and he leaned forward to pull back a drawer in the table.

"Don't be so stiff Mr. X. We are friends here," He sighed playfully as he took out a bottle of Scotch and two small glasses and placed them on the table. "There's no need to be tense."

"Yeah right." I scoffed and he just shook his head as he opened up the bottle and started filling the two glasses with the golden liquid, the rich fragrance wafted into my nose.

"Oh don't be like that. What happened a couple of minutes ago is in the past and you, my friend, are a thing of the future." He said meaningfully with an innocent smile as he placed the bottle down and pushed one of the glasses to me.

I glanced down at the liquid now in front of me and then looked up to see him bringing his glass to his lips.

"Don't worry, it's not poisoned if that's what you're afraid of," He smirked and took a sip of the drink. "Like I said, Mr. X, I want us to be friends and a dead man can't be my friend r——?"

"What do you want?" I cut him off curtly and crossed my arms beneath my chest. I didn't have time for this charade.

He froze for a second and sighed helplessly with a smile, and then he leaned forward on the table, his elbows propped on it with his fingers locked and raised in front of his face.

"Not one for small talk huh? Alright," He commented, his tone now serious. "What do you think about working for us."

Working for them? Can't say I didn't see this coming...

"I see. Why?"

"Why? Because you're special. And let's just say we lack 'gifted' personnel." He answered seriously.

"What makes you think I'm special or gifted as you say."

"Let's not play the denial game. We both know what you are. After all, no unarmed person would be so brave as to threaten men as capable and equipped as mine with no fear.

"It's either you possess some qualities that make you unafraid of certain death or you're an idiot. I think we can all agree that you're not the latter.

"Also, let's just say you're not the first of your kind I've encountered." He elucidated confidently, emphasizing the last sentence with a knowing smirk.

...Can't argue with that. He was sharp I'd give him that.

"...Assuming I'm what you say I am and I agree, what's in it for me?" I asked, very curious about what type of offers he would give me.

"A lot of things my friend. From women, money, influence, you name it," He spread his arms for emphasis, his tone confident. "You would be compensated that the money you brought in here today would feel like chicken change. And that's just for starters."

His smile deepened and I could see the honesty in his eyes, either that or he was a very good liar. But that was highly unlikely.

The offer was understandable considering the fact that possessing even a single evolved human could give an unequal edge to whoever was in the business.

And the fact that we were all living incognito made us a precious resource in the market. It was like having cheat codes for a difficult game, everything became super easy.

"It all sounds interesting at all but I'll have to pass on this one." I shook my head and rejected him calmly.

It sounded like a great deal and all but I knew that the moment I joined, I'd be a dog on a leash with basically no freedom.

No sane black market organization allows their people to do whatever they want not to talk of superhumans who are far more valuable and dangerous.

They'd entice you and make you comfortable for a while but the moment they get leverage or something at all they could use against you, you'd essentially be their slave.

And if you're hardheaded or rebellious, they'd either kill you or sell you to whatever creep or organization that wants to get their hands on you.

After all, if human trafficking exists, why wouldn't superhuman trafficking exist too? It was a win-win for them either way.

Plus, I had my own plans, and being under the yoke of a black market organization wasn't one of them.

He clicked his tongue as if expecting my answer and then took up the glass to take another down the liquid.

"...What if I add protection in the mix?" He looked at me and asked, his face serious, as he placed the empty shot glass down.

"What do you mean by protection?" I asked, my eyebrows raising in surprise.

Did he know about the organization too? I thought they were literally 'invisible'.

"Let's just say, not everyone is perfectly comfortable with people like you walking around. People like you tend to be hunted down.

"I don't know who or what hunts you guys down. All I know is the moment anyone of you guys pop up or even do the slightest mistake, you disappear off the radar, never to be seen again.

"But if you join us, I can guarantee you that nothing bad will happen to you and you can live your life the way you want it." He explains somberly, his tone and voice, mysterious and alluring.

His explanation almost made me chuckle. This guy was good. Hell, if I didn't know the true story, I would've been sold on the spot or told him I'd think about it.

Sure, the organization targeted or hunted superhumans but they didn't make all of them disappear. They only did that to those who use their powers for mayhem or chaos or killers.

Most of the time, when they get you, they'll only implant a tracking device in your body, make you forget about it, and then leave you be to live your life.

If you're good and usable, they get you to work for them. If you're the opposite, they either kill you or lock you away until they find a way of using you.

They were all about benefits, interests, and control. They wouldn't kill you just for existing, because after all, the headrunners were just like us, and no matter what, minorities liked to stick together and we were a minority.

"I understand but my answer still stands," I remarked, in a tone of finality.

The man remained silent after hearing my response and stared at me for a few seconds before sighing helplessly, leaning back into his chair.

"Well, at least I tried," He mouthed and then looked behind me. "You can bring it now Marco." He gestured with his left hand.

Marco walked to the table holding a document and presented it to the man.

As the man skimmed through it, Marco turned to me and wordlessly handed me my empty duffle bag.

"It's done Mr. X. All your details are right here," He relayed, extending the document to me with his characteristic smile drawing on his face.

I took it and also skimmed through to see my Acconur number, name, and all the necessary details I needed, and satisfied, I nodded at him and stood up.

"You'll find the man who accompanied you here outside," He said, looking down, as he poured himself another glass. "He'll take you back to the park and from there, we'll go on our way."

"Understood." Placing the document inside the bag and closing it, I turned to walk away after mouthing a reply as Marco walked back to his seat.

"Oh and be careful Mr. X. And if you ever change your mind, you know where to find us." He added, his voice soft and casual.

I turned my head to take one final glance at him as he sipped on the Scotch with a smile and then walked out of the room.

Finally, my business here was done. It was time to go home. Hopefully, I wouldn't get to see his punchable face ever again...