I was in Zabyvat-Pomni-Slomay, the static-filled world of fae-born “cartoon” peoples. I sat in a bar that was run by one of the elder-fae. Considering that most of this world’s peoples held some relation to the fae and elves, it should come as no surprise that the elves and fae courts often conducted business in this server.

I found myself in an odd mood today, there was something about the bar that chafed at me. The food was little more than passable according to immortal standards, which meant by mortal standards it was food that could potentially give one a mind-enlightening, soul-changing, experience…or whatever. The only thing that was maybe a bit indecently, inconceivable good was the bar’s chicken wings. The drinks were only a little better than the food was.

Thus the little bar had become quite the gathering spot for many of the rich and famous mucky-mucks within this particular server of Horologia. Overall, I wasn’t too impressed. Hm, okay…Maybe I “am” a bit salty as a competing business owner. Maybe those chicken wings had shaken my confidence as a cook a bit, and I was driving myself crazy trying to figure out how they got their wings to be this transcendentally salty, sweet, and savory without muddling the flavor profile.

“I...I’ve cooked better food than this…and I absolutely sell better liquor and spirits in my shop,” I muttered inwardly. Repeating the phrase thrice. Trying to hypnotize myself. Nodding firmly to myself to keep from getting depressed by the crowd of people who all looked and sounded like they were having the time of their lives.

I really “did” offer better items than what this bar offered its customers. I just hated crowds. That’s why even the busier quantum-offshoots of my shop only had a handful of people at a time in them. In fact, after taking a quick headcount of the room and confirming that my shop’s numbers were indeed better than this bar’s, I soon found myself feeling a bit better. With my self-confidence as a purveyor of food and drink reaffirmed, I sat a little taller, calmed my tumultuous heart, and focused on more pressing matters. Like the mobster that had been saying….something…to me for the last fifteen minutes.

I’d allowed my attention to drift, and as my attention drifted, my experience of the flow of time fell to a more natural state. An immortal state of mind. My accelerated neural-processing unspooled the seconds into centuries, as the three-dimensional world rapidly slowed to a stand-still and became a slow-shifting sculpture. I’d gone from pretending to be a cartoon living amongst cartoons, to being a lone three-dimensional figure standing amidst an all-encompassing still-life.

Apparently, this man had broken one of the biggest cardinal rules one can break when dealing with an immortal, he’d managed to bore me. He’d invited me to this bar, in what was no doubt a simultaneous attempt to show off his status, and gain home-field advantage. He’d strode in while still managing to look like he was wearing ill-fitted, off-the-rack, commercial cast-offs, despite clearly being dressed to the nine in a custom-tailored, custom-made suit.

He’d come in here smelling of liquor, too much cologne, his sweat, and the perfume and sweat of a lady of the evening whose services he’d been indulging in shortly before coming to meet me. Now despite using a mixture of hard and soft words, and despite wagging his finger in my face, and making a bunch of funny faces that I suspect were meant to look domineering, and making a bunch of threats that he no doubt thought should have been terrifying, this man had managed to bore me.

Casey Cobb was the young head of the Cobb family. Inheriting the position after his father stepped down to focus on the cultivation of spirit-ink and the static-magic, a few years ago. While Casey Cobb’s reputation was outwardly outstanding, those who were truly in the know, would be well-aware that the Cobb family had certain unsavory ties, and a slightly nefarious background.

I was here because Cobb’s people were harassing one of my customers. Attempting to get at the customer’s new assets any way they could. This would ordinarily be none of my business, but in this case, was very much my business because the customer in mention was A) a minor, and B) had entrusted our store with the task of protecting their financial interests. Now I’d been invited to this bar, a bar that was admittedly waking a surprising competitive streak in me. I’d been invited to this bar for the young Mister Cobb to try and “talk some sense” into me, so I’d release our store’s client’s assets to him instead.

“Hm….Should I kill this fellow?...No, no…He hasn’t quite earned that yet….Soon though…If this drag’s on a little longer maybe…Or maybe he’ll say something to justify me taking more drastic measures,” I muttered to myself. Considering what my pawns and rooks had caught the man’s people doing, he was pretty borderline. Yet, he still had yet to cross the threshold that would allow me to take his life.

My time as a villain had ironically made me more of a stickler about such things. The difference between hunting-hounds and mad-dogs, was that the former knew when to bite and when to hold back, and I tried to stay disciplined in regards to such matters. Aware of how easy it was for me to fall into a state of bloody-minded depravity.

“I...I beg your pardon?!” said the man. Eyes wide.

“Huh?... Oh, I said that aloud? Damn…How embarrassing…” I said. Smiling tightly. My cheeks colored a little beneath my facade, because I genuinely hadn’t meant for him to hear that.

I ran a hand over my head, and ran my fingers through my hair.

“Look…Mister Cobb…I’m afraid I’m short on time, so please allow me to be blunt. We could spend the next several hours of your short, finite, mortal life-span, with you making vague threats and me shaking my head and regretfully repeating that I ‘really’ wish I could help you, but I can’t because I am a Trustee to Miss West’s assets and financial affairs and owe her certain loyalties…but honestly that’d be a waste of both our time…” I said. Finishing a drink that had tasted far better than it had any right to taste and inwardly deciding that once I got home, I wouldn’t be leaving my kitchen-laboratory until I could make the food and drink in this establishment look and taste like sewer run-off in comparison. Apparently, this bar had triggered my competitive side.

“Bwa! Wha-?!...I…Well, I never! Do you know who you’re talking to, chap?! Do you know just who you’re fucking with?! Why, with one word I can-...” blustered the man.

“Mister Cobb…You’re embarrassing yourself, sir…I know exactly who you are, I know all about your Cobb family, and I know all about the eight-legged ones who stand behind you…And my statement still stands…I’m afraid we are at an impasse here. The things that belong to Miss West are Miss West’s…and shall remain Miss West’s until she relieves us of our duty as her trustees…And while I do not wish to take my current ill-mood out on you, I must inform you, that ‘IF’ and when you act against her, contrary to this warning…I, and mine, shall fall upon you like the sea washing over a collapsing coastline…” I said. A part of my mind was already thinking up recipe ideas.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to see what happens then! Won’t we?!” said a red-faced Casey Cobb. Gritting his teeth.

I shook my head.

“I already know what will happen…I’ve seen it countless times…If you wish to see that same outcome feel free to proceed in the direction you seem so determined to tread…I’ve long known that the lady in black isn’t really much of a romantic, but people insist on courting her anyway…In the meantime, I need to go. I’ve other matters to attend to, and you do too…I’m pretty sure there is a situation that needs your attention,” I said. Getting up, and walking away from the table. Teleporting back home as soon as I was out of the building and away from the prying eyes of the fairies, that the bar’s owners had watching over the bar.

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Casey Cobb watched the strange, and infuriating, Mister Holst walk away. There was something otherworldly about the man that made Casey’s teeth itch, and Casey now regretted not inviting the man to a place that was under his Cobb family’s control so he could have his men show that Holst fellow why the roses were painted red. Just as Casey was leaving the bar, one of his men came running up to him.

“Bos-...I mean, Mr. Cobb…Mr. Cobb, sir…We have a problem!” said the man. Sounding out of breath.

“Hm? What issue?” said Casey. Frowning. Immediately connecting this what that Holst fellow had said before.

“The men we had watching the West girl got picked up…” said the man.

“Oh…The coppers got them then? Tch, well, then just bail them out and send them abroad for a bit to keep this from getting back to us,” said Casey.

“No…It…It wasn’t the lawmen, sir…and that’s not the whole of it,” said the man. Shaking his head.

“Well, if it’s not the law? Then who’d have the temerity to touch our men?” said Casey.

“I…We’re not sure, sir…I just know that they didn’t stop with the men we had watching the girl…”

“What?!... What do you mean?” said Casey. Feeling a growing sense of alarm.

“All of our boys in that part of town got picked up…” said the man. Looking pale.

“And…And it’s not the law that picked them up?” said Casey. His expression growing gray and grim.

The man shook his head.

“No, sir…”

“Are they…Are they dead?” said Casey.

“No, sir…Just spooked…” said the man.

“Spooked…”

“According to what the boys, who’ve managed to find their way back to the city, say…They don’t know what got them…or how, but they were all left, tied up, outside any empty beast-den…” said the man.

“.....” Casey said nothing. Mulling over the details, and recognizing that this as a clear warning. He’d had his men following the West girl just in case, and now all of his people in the city had found themselves trussed up and tossed into the wild…Thankfully no one had died…but that could have easily not been the case. This was especially alarming since there were some fairly strong fellows from the Eight-Legs Gang mixed up with those men. Perhaps that Holst fellow wasn’t all hot air after all.

“Alright…You go back to keep track of things. Make sure the men get back to the city safely, you can ask the fellows in Cobb Accounts for some coin, if you must…” said Casey.

“Understood, sir…” said the man.

Casey watched the man run off, then Casey decided to head home to talk to seek his father’s advice on what to do about this matter.