Captain George Pyre of the Salamanders 41-43 division sat at a small poker table. The wood was of a dark mahogany, almost real-looking, no doubt expensive for the neighbourhood he now occupied. The slums were generally somewhere most avoided, but the sins of vice had strange bedfellows. Instead of his usual clan colours, he wore a smart brown coat with brass press studs and a tight black shirt. His bald head shined in the warm yellow light. His game of choice was blackjack, and he sat with a clean glass and bottle of fine whiskey from Section 6.
"Thirteen," said the young man in front of him. "What do you wanna do?"
"Hit me," he replied.
"And ten makes twenty-three. Bad luck. You want in for another round?"
Pyre knocked back his whiskey, then slammed it against the table with some force. "Thanks, I'm good."
The young man grimaced.
"So, tell me, what do you think about your employers?"
*
In a dark room beneath the House of Cards, Professor Graham was chained up by his ankles, his eye black and swollen. "Is somebody… Is somebody there?!"
A few moments later, he heard footsteps. Then, the lights flickered on, and three figures appeared in the doorway behind him.
"Good, you're awake," said the young man. His hair was black and his dark beard coming to a sharp point exaggerated the angular aspect of his face.
Graham looked around. "What on earth are you doing? Let me go this instant."
"Do you know who I am?" the young man asked.
Graham tried to turn, but the way the chains held him fast made each swing and turn of his body ultimately pointless, awkwardly ending up in the same position.
"Here, let me help you." The young man came around to the front of him, leaving his associates in the doorway. "Better?"
The older man stared at him, now showing a little concern on his face.
"We'll try again… do you know who I am?"
"N-no," he replied.
"Funny that, I don't believe you," he said. He pulled out a deck of cards in a packet, then placed them down on the trestle table full of power tools off to one side. "See anything you like?"
The man scoffed, as if not deigning to consider his question seriously.
The young man gestured over to one of the men by the door, who walked over and punched the suspended man in the gut.
"We'll try again, shall we? Please, don't waste our time."
"Jack," he spat blood. "You're Jack."
"That's better. Here, honesty. We like honesty. And how do you know me?"
"Your father's the leader of the House of Cards. The gang who runs the casino in my area. Well, the area below my apartment anyway."
"And that's all?"
"Y-yes. That's everything."
"And what do you do for a living, Graham?"
"I'm a professor. Graham is my last name, actually. Professor Graham."
"Good, and what's your field of study?"
"Just… research, you know? Nothing in particular, history, other stuff."
"History, other stuff. Never heard of that one. You heard of that one Sharky?"
"Can't say I have."
"I think our guest here is telling fibs," Jack picked up the cards again, removed them from the packet and began to shuffle. "Do you think you'd be chained up by your fucking ankles right now if you studied history?" He cut the deck, looking at the top card.
Graham winced.
"Did you spot that?"
"What?"
"His reaction. Truth is Graham, we know that you study abilities, rare ones specifically, and that you've made our gang's trademark your most recent subject of interest."
"No, I—"
"Don't try and deny it. You'll just embarrass yourself. And we don't like liars. Besides, this is just a formality really, making sure we haven't missed anything. We already have all the details."
"I have nothing to do with your gang," the older man protested.
"Sharky, his arm."
The large man standing off to one side suddenly transformed his neck and face into the broad features of a Great White. He went to chomp down, but in doing so, Graham suddenly activated his hardening ability, his arm transforming into a rocky substance. Sharky's teeth snapped and he quickly transformed back into his human state, a few of his teeth falling out in the process.
Graham's arm was fine, hardly marked. "Do you really think someone of my social standing wouldn't have a useful ability of some kind?"
Jack cut the deck again, showing a five of diamonds.
Graham quickly activated his hardening ability all over his body, not knowing where or how fast the next strike would come.
As Jack threw the card, it transformed into five shards of red crystals. The crystals cracked the tough shell of the hardening as they made contact, and Graham was forced to transform back into his human state with several punctures in his body.
"How? That was a high tier hardening ability? I was tutored by—"
"Do you really think you'd understand the full extent of our powers from bribing some nobody? Some runt of the litter?"
"Okay… Yes, I have studied a member of your gang. I made some notes, but they can be destroyed."
"Honesty again," Jack smiled. "Now, isn't this easier for everyone involved? I did hear that it was more than just a few notes though. Try, several interviews with some money changing hands."
"How did you--?"
"We keep track of all of our employees' bank accounts. Didn't take him long to crack under interrogation. Plus, we have ways of verifying our information." Jack smiled and looked over at the figure standing by the doorway. "So, I think it would be best if you told us the details of where every copy of your manuscript is: the physical, the digital, any notes you might have lying around. Don't go holding out on us. We need to make sure the secrets of our abilities stay that way."
"Sure. Of course. There's a copy in my flat."
"We got that one," Sharky growled through broken teeth.
"And there's one on my laptop, and I emailed it myself on my personal account."
"Good, this is good."
"Any other copies?"
"No," Graham said quickly.
"Is he telling the truth?" Jack asked, seemingly staring off into a dark corner.
A chubby figure stepped forward into the light. He was wearing a dirty white tank top and had an eight ball tattooed on his skull. He shook his head back and forth, like a head banger, then suddenly came to a stop. "Don't count on it."
"Why lie to us?" Jack shuffled and cut the deck again. "The Joker… You lucky bastard." He began to shuffle.
"Okay, okay, I sent a copy to my agent too. His name's Edward. I can give you all his details."
"And that's everyone?"
"Yes. Absolutely."
"Eight Ball? That true?"
Eight Ball shook his head again, then stopped: "Ask again later."
Jack glared.
"Sorry…" After the same routine, he said: "Outlook not so good."
Jack quickly threw a card out, the ten of clubs. Ten large wooden clubs battered Graham one after another. He tried to activate his hardening again, but it couldn't cover all the spots that were struck.
"Do not lie to me again!"
"Please, I can't! I can't!"
Jack threw out the three of spades, each one appeared, one after the other, aiming for the same limb. Professor Graham activated his hardening in that single spot, but together, they cut through his arm, bit by bit.
Graham screamed, his bloody stump of an arm swinging wildly.
"Who else knows?!" asked Jack, shuffling the deck.
"My daughter. My daughter has the last copy."
"Good, that wasn't so bad now, was it?"
"Will you… will you let me go?" Graham asked, his eyes pleading.
"Be reasonable. See, we might get rid of the physical copies, even the digital ones, but you'd still have a copy in that big noggin of yours. You know, I always wondered what went on in those big brains of you academic types. In fact, I might take a look for my—"
"Boss," someone interrupted from the hallway.
"Can't you see I'm busy?" Said Jack, clenching his teeth in frustration.
"We've got a problem," the man replied nervously.
"What is it?"
"You know that man in the local news, from the Salamanders."
"What about him?"
"Well, he's upstairs. And he's asking a bunch of questions."
Jack thought for a moment, running his thumb and index finger down his beard, bringing them to a point. He sighed, then pulled out an Ace of Diamonds, and quickly slashed it across the suspended man's throat. Blood pumped out, like a pig in butcher's shop, each heartbeat bringing another small surge. The man tried to speak, but his vocal cords were cut and instead he only gurgled and spat.
"Let's find out what he wants then," said Jack, leaving the place more than just a little annoyed. Sharky followed and Eight Ball paused for a moment before switching off the lights, leaving the Professor's last moments in the dark.