“Am I interrupting something?”
I jumped at the sudden words, almost caving out the back of my skull in the process. Wondering who on earth was walking into such a grisly scene, and doing so so casually, I turned slowly to greet the stranger, leveling the pump action shotgun at him as I did so. I don’t know what I expected to see when I turned around, but the clean shaven man in the expensive looking suit was certainly not it. He wore black dress shoes that shone in the light of the lantern overhead, and a gold wrist watch that had to cost more than I made in a year (not that that was saying much) adorned his wrist. His face was calm and impassive and if staring down the barrel of my shotgun unnerved him, he certainly didn’t show it. His only response was to lift his hands up in front of him, slowly, facing his palms towards me but otherwise making no sound or movement.
“Who are you?” I tried to stop my hands from shaking as I kept the shotgun leveled at him.
“I asked first.” the man replied calmly “There are rules where I come from, and this is an exchange. Answer my question, and I will answer yours.”
I stared at the man for a moment, trying to remember what exactly he’d asked. For his part he simply stared back at me impassively, and I got the impression he’d stand there all night if I didn’t answer. Finally, recalling the seeming rhetorical question he’d asked, I responded.
“No. Not anymore. Now, who are you? And what are you doing here?”
The man nodded, seeming satisfied with my answer, then replied:
“That’s two questions, but fortunately they have one answer. I am called the Merchant. And I’m here to help you.”
I scoffed upon hearing this. “Get out of here man, before your shoes get blood all over them. No one can help me. It’ll be a lot easier on both of us if you leave now.”
“I know you believe that.” the man replied calmly “or I wouldn’t be here. It’s 5 minutes Jason, just hear me out. What have you got to lose? Besides, it’s not like that shotgun is going anywhere.”
Realizing his words made sense I lowered the gun before motioning for him to continue.
“I want you to meet someone. Her name is Justice and she’s… well, she’s justice. Justice for you, for your family, for the farmers hanging from the rafters, and countless other people. She can’t do it alone though. She needs a place to stay, and a friend. A friend ready to help her deliver justice.”
As if on cue I noticed a woman standing behind him that I was 99% sure hadn’t been standing there before. She was gorgeous, and not in a girl next store sort of way. She was wearing tight distressed jeans and a red tank top that barely qualified as more than a sports bra. Her skin was pale white, her fingernails painted a sharp red. Her red hair was bright and seemed to glow, as if on fire. It was pulled into a pony tail and went nearly to the small of her back. She looked down shyly as the merchant spoke, nervously drawing a pattern on the floor with the toe of her booted foot.
I pulled my gaze from her and directed my attention back to the man in the suit. “So… you’re a merchant? If you’re here to sell me a girl, I’m afraid you’re out of luck. I’m not interested in participating in human trafficking and, even if I was, I have nothing of value. Those shoes you have are probably worth more than everything I own. Speaking of which, what size shoe are you?”
I kept the shotgun pointed down, and I had no intention of robbing the traveling salesman. Still, I imagine I was as fond of door to door salesmen as most people and even more than that something about this encounter was off. I was hoping the shift in conversation may help him decide it was time to move on. To my surprise, and disappointment, the man ignored my attempt at intimidation as he replied.
“I didn’t say I was A merchant. I said I’m called THE merchant. The distinction doesn’t mean much to you now, but it’s an important one. As for the price, don’t worry, it’s all been paid. I play a lot of roles but in this case consider me like a placement agency, or travel agent. Justice hired me to find her someone to stay with. Don’t worry about accommodations, she doesn’t need a room or anything. All you need to do is agree to help her help people in need. And in exchange, she’ll help you avenge the farmers. And, related, she’ll help you find the man that murdered your family, and serve him the justice he so richly deserves. It’s all here, in this contract.” He partially opened a briefcase that, like the girl behind him, definitely hadn’t been there 5 minutes ago, and pulled out a long sheet of paper, with calligraphic lettering that glowed slightly in the lamplight and rippled in a way that made it appear to move across the page. Instead of looking at the paper I glanced down at the shotgun, wondering if perhaps it had gone off and I just hadn’t noticed it. Maybe I was already dead? When I glanced back up at “The Merchant” he was wearing a thin smile as he presented the contract to me.
I reached out tentatively and took the contract from him, making sure not to get too close and keeping the shotgun away from him. I then stepped back and held the crisp parchment up slightly, holding it so that I could read the document without it blocking my view of the strange man in the suit.
By signing below The signee agreeing to serve as host (hereafter referred to as “host”) , agrees to host the signee agreeing to serve as Tenant (hereafter referred to as “tenant”) by providing safe harbor with Host in perpetuity. Host shall make every reasonable effort to execute binding contracts on behalf of tenant in a manner found appropriate by Host. Tenant shall compensate Host fair market rate for each contract, and will agree to remain with host and make every reasonable effort to ensure the perpetuation of this contract, and all contracts executed on behalf of Tenant by Host.
“Okay so, just so I have this right. I give her” This said with a gesture to this Justice chick “Safe harbor, whatever the hell that is, and agree to execute contracts, whatever the hell those are, and in exchange I get a promise to provide me the tools necessary to find and kill the man who murdered my family? Does that about sum it up?”
The merchant nodded before responding “Yes, that is an appropriate summary of the contract.”
“Awesome. You got a pen?”
In response the Merchant pulled a tiny sewing needle out of his suit pocket and handed it to me.
“Just a drop of blood will suffice. Prick your finger and press it against the paper.”
“Of course, probably should have seen that coming.” I said with a roll of my eyes. It was hard not to have a bad feeling about all this but, given how bad things had been 5 minutes ago, it’s not like it could get too much worse. Before I could give myself a chance to change my mind I grabbed the needle, jammed it into my finger, then pressed my finger into the page.
I didn’t know what to expected from the Merchant once he secured my agreement, but if I had to bet I think I would have guessed he’d grow horns and start laughing maniacally. Far from anything profound or ominous though, the well dressed man simply folded the contract, handed it to me, closed his briefcase and spoke
“Well then, I’ll leave you to it. Don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything. Always here to help. For a price, of course…” With this he winked, nodded a goodbye to me, gave my new companion an informal salute and walked away.
As he passed Justice she slowly lifted her head and looked towards me. It crossed my mind that this was the first time I’d seen her eyes and, in a development that probably should not have surprised me they were as red as her hair, and had the same kind of bright glow behind them. That was unnerving, but any unease this caused paled compared to the malicious smile that crossed her face as she spoke, her sultry, almost flirtatious voice doing nothing to hide the general aura of menace around her.
“Well then, Let’s get started, shall we Percy?”