Maybe Victor truly couldn’t see that he didn’t notice Ulrich’s subtle gesture.

  He’d like to imagine that’s the case, but from his experience, Victor was most likely just playing dumb. It’s quite obvious once he gives it some thought. After all, how does a blind man even walk without a mobility cane? Without hitting his head against a lamp-post, or wall, not even once!

  Ulrich was curious, extremely, but he didn’t express it in words.

  “You can say that,” Victor answered plainly. “Why do you ask?”

  Ulrich caressed his finger against the back of his hand. He had always been curious about their relationship and history, especially after witnessing their initial interaction.

  “I want to get her a book. Do you know what she likes to read? The genre? Medium? Novels, or horror stories?”

  For a moment, Victor's face twisted, stumped by the sudden bombardment from their junior member. He opened his mouth, but the voice didn’t come through. Ultimately, he sighed, “You’re a seer now. Figure it out yourself.”

  Huh, you’re useless. Why did I even ask?

  The sun hung high in the sky, and that familiar salty scent of the sea occupied the Eastern District. Well, that’d be the case if he could smell the seashore in the first place; not with the polluted fumes, rat feces, and a very, very familiar smell similar to rancid cheese.

  Yup. Hell was on earth, and it’s Portsmouth.

  Stepping off the carriage, the duo made their way to an obscure street, one that many Portsmouth residents labeled as “Off-Limit”. Though if an outsider stepped into the Eastern District, they wouldn’t know any better. The label wasn’t physical or clearly written, just a fact that the people around this part accepted.

  Either way, Ulrich and Victor were glad that it was an isolated place for the meeting. In the case that an unexpected conflict breaks out between the two parties, they don’t have to worry about innocent bystanders or dealing with witnesses.

  The entrance of the warehouse was stationed with guards and harpoonists, personally hired by Donnie Shelby and Terry Mondie. It's no surprise such heavy security is in place, especially when it comes to two powerhouses meeting within Portsmouth.

  Entering the abandoned warehouse, Donnie Shelby greeted them. “I see you folks have made it just in time.”

  Ulrich scanned the emptied building, realizing that they were the last to arrive. “Can’t believe it, I’m late.”

  The warehouse could be more aptly described as a chaotic mess, with shelves made of accumulated junk. It was a true and poorly-ventilated pile of trash; scavenged rust metal parts hung from the ceiling, and bulbs provided as little light as possible.

  “Only a minute late!” Adeline peeked through the side, her head resting on Donnie’s shoulder. Her smile was radiating, more brilliant than the sun in the sky, and warmer than its rays of light.

  “Get off,” Donnie said, though he remained still, showing no intention of pushing her off.

  Heh, acting all tough. Aren’t you still soft are heart for Addy?

  Ulrich almost teased him, almost. In the end, he let it go, focusing on the more important matter at hand. After all, this matter was related to a certain person he’d been trying to search for a long time now.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Is that person here? Terry Mondie.”

  Donnie nodded, tilting his head toward a certain direction. Ulrich followed closely behind him.

  It was a refined gentleman, his hair extremely smooth and soft with a golden color to it. For a second, Ulrich thought it was an extremely rich aristocrat. However, he reminded himself that it was no noble, not from the houses above, and that Terry was supposed to be a leader of some resistance group.

  He wore a clean, sleek black suit, similar to the Ministry member. It was a style that Ulrich could admire, and fashion was something he greatly appreciated. His pants were pristine, clearly ironed out before being used. But that hat, it was damnable!

  The hat was tall, to the point that Ulrich imagined himself stacking donuts on it, dozens of donuts on it. No matter how hard he tried, the hat stuck out to him, like staring at a giraffe's neck.

  You almost had my praise, only to ruin it with that cartoonishly tall hat. What a shame.

  Bang!

  “Gentleman!” Terry Mondie clapped, his voice confident and charming. Indeed, a leader was something else. Even the way they spoke had a charm to it; no wonder people are willing to take up arms for them.

  “I have seen that everyone has finally gathered. Shall we get to it? I have a tight schedule, and I hope you all understand.”

  Donnie stepped forward, taking the initiative to express the same opinion. “So am I. Let's get this over with.”

  Terry smiled, raising two fingers in the air. “Twenty-thousand. That’s the price I’m willing to pay for it.”

  “No. Anything under forty is nonnegotiable.”

  “Then, thirty it is!”

  “Forty-five!”

  …

  By the goddess, this is how you folks negotiate? If Gerard Nierenberg were alive, he’d wish to be buried six feet under!

  Ulrich coughed, interrupting the two men who were ‘negotiating’ with one another. No, if he were to be honest, it was like two rabid dogs barking at one another, yet neither taking the first bite. The longer he watched, the more he felt sully, not for himself, but for Gerard Nierenberg and his legacy.

  “Who is this?” Terry narrowed his eyes, turning to Donnie for an answer.

  “A family,” He said, assuring Terry, “He can speak on my behalf.”

  Ulrich stepped forward, standing side by side with Donnie. He raised an amicable smile, one that was difficult for many to dislike. Years living on earth, and in the dream, had taught him well. Micro-expression was just one of them.

  “How do you do, sir Mondie?”

  Terry Mondie's reaction was immediate. His eyes flickered with surprise, and his cheek subconsciously raised, producing a smile he didn’t intend to.

  “Sir, your name is?”

  “Ulrich Constantine, you can simply call me Constantine if that makes you comfortable.”

  Not from afar, Victor tapped his finger against his arm, finding Ulrich's manner of speech quite the show. That junior member had always been cheeky and haughty ever since he’d awakened. To think there’s a day when he could witness such a sight was quite amusing to say the least.

  “Right, Constantine. I assume you have some proposal, if you are willing to step in.”

  Ulrich nodded. “Of course. How about this, you both shake hands on forty?”

  Terry Mondie's smile dropped to the ground, his eyes narrowing at Ulrich’s sudden suggestion.

  “What do you mean by this?”

  Yes, I like talking to smart people. This makes things easier.

  “I have no reason to assume your purpose with this merchandise. That is none of our business. What I do know however, is that you need it, and we are the only ones in town with it. Tell me, Sir Mondie, imagine the power in your hand with the appropriate negotiation chip to speak with the Union directly. Here and now, with the small sum of forty thousand pounds.”

  Saying this, Ulrich extended his hand forward and activated his shadow vision, trying to observe Terry Mondie's shadow. In that moment, he almost pulled back his hand, but stopped himself.

  Fuck. He’s even more terrifying than Henrik!