Incline 37: Ivahstar

Pulling the mobster car up into the lot, I carelessly park. Not one piece of gear remains and I slam the door shut behind me. I walk up to the lorry I first arrived here in and frown alongside my pondering. Everything here is fine. There's no sign of them trying anything.

It matters little, I suppose, but it narrows the trail to whatever happened in the black market proper. I think I have it all figured out, anyway, but my gut won't rest easy if I don't at least check here. Reusing this lorry is the better choice, anyway. More capacity for gear and it's not blood-covered and banged up. 

A gruff noise escapes me, and I march out into the marketplace. No one comes out at me and there are no more fights or anything. If it's pure circumstance or if that Gamtambo's gangsters are gone, I do not know. It's a good thing if some remain, though. Torture is a fine art I'm losing my edge in.

The practice will be welcome...

I should hurry, get to the spot in the market I last saw Hrurim at. If any clues remain there, it will be a good time to find them and take them. By force if need be, excessive force if they deny me. I *will* get the information I need. Not a force on this lonely planet will stop me.

"Hm, a traitor...?" I am a fool to let out into the open as my paw remains stuck on my gun. Who could've turned their back on me between now and Agadton? I'm not so sure, but in moments like these it is worthwhile to consider a backstabber. A snitch. My daughter is not going to turn me in. That's impossible.

There are three points I can consider. There is no traitor, it's just a result of what I did in Agadton and the consequences catching up with me. Hrurim has been up to something behind my back. Or Don Vyacvan is a liar with words worth nothing.

I scoff and shake my head at the absurdity that this worry is making me paranoid about. Don Vyacvan had the perfect opportunity to handle me at several points. Hrurim's been at my side too long for him to be against me... I'm just worried for Heiya is all, so worried as any father should be.

I come to a stop and stare out at the irony of the black market. A line of border making tape and a group of guards as someone writes down details. I test the perimeter, crossing into it without allowance. A guard approaches with easy anger in his posture and across his face.

My hand grabs his approaching arm and I twist, "WHAT HAPPENED TO MY FRIEND AND PRODUCT!?"

"Ah, you know what happened here?" the note-taker asks, approaching.

"Partially." I grumble, letting go of the wounded guard and kicking him off elsewhere. He scurries off, getting back to his feet and vanishing with another. For help or medical attention, who knows? I won't in the little time I am left here.

"Out with it," the note-taker demands and I gesture for his tablet to see what he's already scribed.

"The unknown men are Don Gamtambo's. They were after me specifically." I explain, clenching my fist as the note-taker snatches the tablet back. He writes down some more notes, looking back at me with a glare in his eyes.

"You best be on your way, then. Can't have troublemakers on market day," he tells me, his head nodding the rest of the guards after him. I linger, staring around at the crime scene in the criminal market. I become a spectacle to those passing around. For those annoyed that they need to walk longer than they have to. 

"I'll leave when I am ready." I snort quite clearly and I approach where Nin was being kept. I glance along the ground, frowning at the tire marks. The abandoned trolley that was no doubt used to hall the caged bug into a van or larger. My eyes twitch and I bend over, pinching the ash-ended stick dropped by Hrurim. I sniff the air and stub it out properly.

Whatever happened here, Hrurim was jumped just as much as me and Heiya were. They must've seen Nin as an accomplice or something else if they took him, too. The whys aren't all that relevant, I suppose. The fact I can use the clues, though, that is as helpful as ever.

Still... Still. I best get going. Get my gear and get moving. Every moment I waste figuring things out here is another hour given to my daughter's captors. My chances of finding her are slipping.

I growl and get going, ducking and weaving under the border tape. Heading off into the market, I retrace my steps from before the attack. A familiar gun runner comes into view, but she pays me no mind. As if nothing was particularly clear around here.

Going through the backs of some stalls and tents, I arrive at the kidnap scene. Most of our stuff is still here. They got me and Heiya first without issue and then made a tussle going after Hrurim and Nin. I frown and drop to a knee to grab the box Heiya was fiddling with.

Her gun is not here, so the gangsters probably took it as some kind of proof. My jaw shifts about and I stare at the unopened box. She wanted to show me what she bought. I will not open it. I want her to still do that. Show me what she got...

"Guess we have a plan for you lot." I mutter, taking up the duffle bag, which somehow endured a miracle. Mobsters not taking the opportunity for easy money? I guess they really were single-mindedly focused on me. Well, I'm not one to overlook a blessing such as this. Saves me some trouble with getting my gear together.

The gangsters took most of my usual stuff, and I got it back. My person is as well-equipped as ever. But I'm not loaded with spare weapons and munitions. Grenades and traps. All I have is my gun and what ammo survived the mobsters and their rough handling of my blood wasps. 

I gather my things and double-check the area. Heading back out into view, I meet the eyes of one person here and glare until he backs off. I head back towards the familiar gun runner and approach her. Her eyes linger, her memory jogging.

"Where's the smart one?" she huffs, a smile coming to her face as I show off the box. I don't return it, I keep it.

"Mobsters came for us." I answer, not seeing the point in hiding anything.

"Well..." she lets out, her eyes diving for cover from the awkward feelings in her.

"How familiar are you with what is on sale here?" I ask, my focus following the feeling of my dominant paw as it clenches my weapon grip. Blood wasps. I need blood wasps for my gun.

"Not very, you can always try reception-" she starts to say, a fist on her collar shutting her up.

"I don't have time. They have my daughter!" I hiss, catching the attention of the entire market street. Her guard comes in, hand on his weapon, but my grip does not relent.

"Alright! Alright! Let me think..." the gun runner tells me, her hands banging at her head to get the memory moving.

"Here's a pre-arranged business layout. For the regulars," the guard answers, handing me a sheet of paper. I release the gun runner and nod, looking over at the index and its details.

Heading off before more trouble comes of it, I orient myself and my place in the black market. I find the closet thing this place has to a landmark and establish myself. One of my fingers traces a route and I roll the paper up. My legs get to work and I take in all the disappointing sights.

Slipping close to some of the stalls, I put my decades of experience to good use. Taking and snatching what I can without anyone noticing. The black market is busier compared to before. All the easier to exploit and make fools of. 

My body withstands the growing burden, and not one feeling of aching pain makes me stop. I keep going and going, stealing and stealing. All until I reach my final destination, a last hope for what I am looking for. A seller of exotic animals.

The slithery old man approaches, a kelbalid too far from the surface. No room to gallop with those four reptilian legs of his. Though I suppose at his age, he can barely jog between the water bowl and food one. I dump the duffel bag into clear view, making it clear I have a purchase on mind.

"Hooow... Can I... he-alp?" he struggles to ask, his Common Hwardgonic not all that great.

"Blood wasps." I say, speaking the main tongue of the surface to see if that agrees better with him.

"Ah, yes. I... Might. I might have them," he answers, his elongated lower-half making things all the more awkward for a stall as tightly packed as his. I glance at some of the animals he has on sale and eye the poison frogs. One of them in particular ribbits, its see-through throat skin taking on a misty shade. The ribbit finishes and a cloud of toxic gas comes out, drowning the small container in its devastation. The container's fan lights up, extracting the poison and steadily filling a glass jar.

A thoughtful noise leaves me and I prod one of the already filled jars on sale. Can't be that lethal if no one's pestered this old man about selling it so carelessly. I need only nudge and the glass comes closer and closer to a solid stone floor. Another noise goes through me and the kelbalid returns with a terrarium.

"Not many, no. I know," he says and I nod, bringing out my usual ammo container. His eyes, however, shift to my gun as it remains mostly out of view.

"Can you get them into here safely?" I ask, tapping the ammo container to get his focus where I need it to be. His eyes twitch and the old man lingers, something ticking in his head.

"Ah. You are a man of fine tastes. I see that now." he chuckles, something about his expression twitching into something fake or honest. All I give is the same glare. He disappears back into the depths of his stall and I eye the terrarium.

These blood wasps are quite young. Their honey-making capabilities aren't quite there yet. It'll take too long for them to mature, anyhow. Certainly a disappointment to finally find what I want and have it be the wrong kind...

The kelbalid returns, a heavy, thoroughly locked up box in his hands. He smashes it down to the ground, and it comes alive with tremors and violent shaking. The lid jumps up, catching on the chains, and we share a smirk. Ah, there we are.

"How much?" I ask, already considering making this transaction free as my mind's eye travels to my gun's trigger.

"Rumours whisper to me, Ivahstar." the old kelbalid chuckles and my eyes narrow. What a stupid old man I am currently transacting with. So foolish as to tell a man whose daughter has just been kidnapped by thugs... Telling me you know my name, what a fool you are.

"Do they now...?" I ask him, more eagerly showing off my weapon. The barrel's end in particular. He raises his hands, an innocent smile on his face. There's a limit to my finger's patience, but still there enough for him.

"I guess you don't remember me, do you?" he questions and my glare eases up. A simple, thoughtful expression takes me over. No, I am afraid I do not. My mind is not ready to consider such things.

"My concerns are on my daughter." I explain, gesturing back to the money so we can get this other with. The kelbalid shakes his head, leaning in close.

"I know, Ivahstar. News spread fast from Agadton about two mass murders. All sharing one trait..." he lets out, his snicker almost finding the words delectable.

"Blood wasp honey." I finish, letting his smirk grow even wider. Two lines of cracked teeth come into view and he nods away.

"It's no worry if you cannot remember me. But, know I have always been a fan of your work. How you make use of my services is quite helpful. If you know what I mean?" he explains, one hand pinching its fingers together and rubbing away.

"Supply me one more time, then." I say, his name still eluding me, but at least I have more context. Either he's my supplier from my hitman days or he's one of the few businessmen I've a history with. Those who've kept me supplied on blood wasps these past few years.

He claps his hand, "Only the finest for the Terror of the Dark."

"Only the finest for my daughter." I can't help but correct as I take hold of the caged up hive. The side bangs again and again with a bullet's force. My eyes widen and a smirk grows across my lips. A blood wasp queen is in here.

"No, no. Ivahstar. You seeking your revenge is payment enough. I... I've grown tired of Gamtambo's interference in the black market. Business is so slow these days because of men like him," the old kelbalid explains and I nod. Though I leave the duffel bag either way.

I do not need money to kill gangsters.