“In recent news three Gordish tourists were reportedly assaulted and murdered while camping near the Churgon mountains. Police are hesitant to give a public statement but reports indicate the killers to be of Renai descent…”

I tuned out the sound of the TV as I thumbed through the contacts of the stolen phone. Turns out gangsters don’t helpfully name their friends ‘Boss’. Or ‘Really-Important-Assassination-Type- Contact.’

Nevertheless I persevered and managed to come up with a few names that might be useful. Namely (ha ha geddit?) the people who were listed under the ‘Family’ tab, there was Gran, Gramps, Mom, Dad, Lucy and Connor. Now the only question was-

Ring Ring

My mom looked over from the couch and looked at my phone before frowning. “When did we buy you a phone?”

“Uh, it’s from the new job I got.” I lied.

“Job?” She asked, confused.

“Yeah. Um, I’ve been hired as a security guy for a warehouse.” I said.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” She was concerned now.

“Oh no, I just monitor the cameras. It’s fine, speaking of which, I might be coming home later at night from now on.”

“Oh. Good, I’m glad you’ve finally found yourself a job.” She said before she went back to watching the television.

“Thanks mum.” I replied as a walked outside the living room and picked up the phone.

“Yes?” I answered.

“Good evening Mr Beck. I am talking to Mr Norman Beck I presume.” A smooth, clipped voice answered.

Oh shit. Okay Norman play this cool, this is not the time for cock ups.

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Excellent. Mr Beck you have made quite a few ripples among my organization.” The voice said.

“Organization?” I asked.

“Yes, if my information is to be trusted you broke in to one of our safe houses and robbed my cousin’s underlings of all their worth. Shortly after interfering with a preplanned hit and run, getting four of his men taken in to police custody.” The voice replied.

Yeah, I kinda did do that.

“Yes and?”

The voice laughed at that, a nice throaty laugh from the belly, the dude was probably a voice actor in his spare time when not running a criminal syndicate. “Forgive me but I find your crassness amusing, it is not often that I hear people’s opinions so openly.”

Yeah because you probably kill them for it you sick fuck.

“But now I come to a problem. Because you, Mr Beck, frankly are an enigma. I don’t understand you, or your motives for doing what you do so I’m left at an impasse. Do I try to reason with you? Or kill you?” The voice said, its sound ever so smooth.

I gulped at that, I did not sign up for death threats when I decided to play hero, especially from people who can carry out said death threats. But then I thought about it, really thought about it. Do I want to keep doing this? Am I selfish enough to put my loved ones in danger just so I can get a dopamine boost every time I do something super cool?

I looked back at the television screen, fuck yes I do.

“Reasoning sounds nice and civil, I think we can come to an agreement.” I replied confidently, putting a bit of honey in to my voice.

“Wonderful, I’m pleased to hear you can listen to the voice of reason. I would like to further discuss our arrangement in person, please come to the Basil Garden in Boroughburn tomorrow evening at nine. Oh and please don’t cause further trouble to my cousin, you’ve already stolen his necklace.”

And with that he hung up. Huh, he sounded a bit full of himself but I could work with that. Now what does this Basil Garden look like?

I stood outside a classy restaurant as the rain hung silently in the air around me. The lights from the window reflecting in the droplets, yet another picture to add to my unseen collection.

The restaurant had a cozy feel to it, sitting squat with shingled roofs and obscured glass, along with a little closed off courtyard complete with wall vines. I slowly walked in as I scouted the place, it was just as warm on the inside as it was made to look on the outside, with red drapes and yellow ambient light it reminded me of a form of humble wealth, like someone had the money but didn’t buy a racecar with it.

The place wasn’t packed but wasn’t empty either, with some couples frozen eating, others frozen laughing, everyone looked just the part of people enjoying a night out.

Now, if I was a mob boss where would I have dinner? There was a waitress next to me, ready to take guests to an available table standing in front of a book stand that no doubt listed the reservations for tonight. Yep, my name was right there, N. Beck, listed to be taken to the ‘private room’. A rape dungeon reference if ever there was one.

I looked around a bit more, finding a few guns on some people and even an uzi before I found what I thought was the correct room. The room was lavishly furnished, with a nice red carpet and a small chandelier hanging from the roof, stylized as if to put the only man sitting in the room in an eerie shadow. Said man was thin and handsome, impossibly so, like one of those men you see on the cover of those old books that only middle aged women read. He had a sharp jawline, paper thin moustache and green jade-like eyes. I didn’t like him.

The rest of the room was alright, with only a button on the handsome dude’s side of the table, conveniently placed within easy reach in case he wanted to alert his goons that he was getting tired and wanted someone to take care of the poor victim in front of him.

I soon found the goons that were supposed to come and assist him in case of said emergency. Three of them cleaning their various weapons in a room full of cigarette smoke and ammunition, and damn me if they weren’t kitted out.

Satisfied with what I have gathered I went back to outside, making sure to close the door behind me and started time again. The sound was like a vacuum cleaner being turned on except there was no delay with this one, it just went from zero to hero in a space of nothing and caused me to stagger at the suddenness of it. Righting myself and my senses I approached the door and entered, I was greeted to the same picture as last time but the movements of the people were a small and welcome change.

“Good evening sir, do you have a reservation?” The lady attending the door asked.

“Ah yes, Norman Beck, I believe I’m being expected.” I said with a smile, sadly the arrogance was lost as I was shorter than the woman.

With a quick perusal at her book she nodded, “Follow me.” She said before walking off among the tables and chairs.

I did as I was told, all the while checking the faces of the patrons. Few passed subtle glances at me and I noticed that they were all the ones carrying guns, heh, more henchmen of the Underlord I presume?

We arrived at the curtain that I entered from before and walked down a long corridor only to pass the door where I thought the big boss was supposed to spawn. Uh oh, things weren’t going to plan, instead we came to another door.

“Mr Cambron is expecting you sir, have a pleasant evening.” The waitress said, leaving me alone with the imposing entrance.

Taking a deep breath I entered the room. It was like walking through a portal in to another world, the place was like a jungle, with tropical pot plants covering every corner of the place, limiting eyesight to practically zero. And the place also made sounds! The buzzing of insects and the calling of birds, I half expected a bin half filled with machetes saying “Take one for Free.”

I spied a small path among the floorboards that winded off further in to this artificial forest, following it I arrived at a small clearing which was occupied by a small garden table and two chairs, both gilded into oblivion.

I looked around suspiciously, there was no one in sight, no hidden bodyguards, no tripwires that unleashed poison darts, at least not that I could see. Still I hesitated to sit down and instead tip toed around the garden furniture, as I was making my way around I heard a small hiss come from behind me, turning around I was just in time to stare in to the maw of the greatest Basilisk I’ve ever seen. And as its giant mouth encapsulated my head my last heroic word was GAH-.

Ever been inside a snake? Let me tell you right off the bat that it’s icky as fuck, and dark. The only thing you can feel is this soft gelatinous substance that covers your every orifice and a rising sense of dread that it’s over. And the smell, oh god the smell it made me want to throw up, it was a fusion between roadkill past its due by date, the exhaust pipe of a car on its last legs and chloroform.

Wait Norman don’t panic. Yes, ignore the strange uvula thing at the back of the throat, holy sweet mother of the maker this thing had a uvula. No focus, stop time. Stop it, stop! STOP!

It worked, whatever muscle that was moving forward in to the snake’s belly stopped its convulsing. Okay genius now what? I was still stuck. I tried to pull my head out but it seemed that the bloody thing had teeth which snagged in to my clothes, causing me a good minute of frustration as I slowly tore my shirt off the jagged edges, less then fun I assure you but I managed. Smelly, slimy, full of cuts and no decency but I was alive, I gave a shout of whoop in to the air and did a little dance at the sheer euphoria of living.