[Chapter 9: Allen Francis]
"Kid, you got guts. Aren't you scared?"
"Oh, really? Lots of people say that. Nothing to be surprised about. Besides, I don't think you, someone barely able to walk, can do anything to me," John Leighton said calmly.
Because of the rush last night, he hadn't gotten a good look before. Now, looking at the man before him -- tight small braids, a full beard, pale complexion, square face, thick eyebrows, large eyes, estimated height around 6 feet, sturdy build, with a defiant look and brown skin, probably around 30 years old.
To John, the man had a decent appearance, though not quite movie-star handsome.
At the same time, the Mexican-American man was also studying John. Clearly, Allen was quite surprised by the kid.
Though John was nearly as tall, his youthful face showed he was still a minor.
Yet the kid across from him was completely calm, looking at him like any regular person. Allen sensed the boy was confident, even when facing a strong adult.
...
"Alright, thanks to you two last night. If not, I might have ended up dead in the streets."
"Oh, well, we're not really interested in that. What you need to think about now is to leave immediately."
"Don't worry, kid. I'll call my men soon and leave. Won't drag you into this."
"Better be. We don't want any trouble."
"Actually, I should be the one thanking you. Anyway, I'm Allen Francis. I owe you my life."
"What? You're Allen Francis?"
Just then, Zach Johnson came back into the room and heard Allen. From Zach's surprised tone, it was clear Allen had some reputation in the area.
"Oh, I see you recognize me."
"Zach, whoever he is, he's leaving today. We don't want trouble, right?"
Zach shrugged and handed Allen his breakfast. John thought to himself: Allen must be respected despite being a gang figure. Seems like a man of principle.
"Mr. Francis, how did you pass out in front of our car last night?" John asked curiously.
"John, that's none of our business," Zach cut in immediately.
"Zach, huh? Don't worry, it's in the past. Just a story to tell. A few days ago, we had a shootout with some guys from New York. I got injured. Didn't expect we had a mole here last night. Luckily, I got away. Then you saw what happened."
Hearing Allen's story, the two thought of the gunfight they heard about on their first day in Silicon Valley. Probably the same folks.
"To be honest, did you two treat my wounds last night? Today I noticed they've healed quite a bit."
"Maybe your body just heals well," John replied without blinking at Allen's puzzled look.
He didn't want to stir trouble, and explaining would be complicated. Better to feign ignorance.
Obviously, they didn't press further. After breakfast, Allen made a phone call from the room and announced he'd be leaving soon.
Sure enough, within 15 minutes, he said goodbye and left the apartment quietly, avoiding everyone. He hid in a corner nearby.
Soon three large SUVs arrived. They exchanged a brief greeting then drove off.
...
"Alright, Zach, let's just call it a dream."
"Hey, kid, do you know who Allen Francis is?"
"Who else? Is that not Allen Francis?" John teased, just humoring Zach's ego.
"Okay, he's the leader of the local Mexican gang -- the Black Vipers."
Zach's tone made it clear he knew John was guessing right, so he confirmed the identity.
John thought: 'just some gang guy. I'm only an apprentice mage now, but once I become a full mage, I could take them all down alone without anyone understanding what hit them.'
Thinking about leveling up, he sighed deeply. It was really tough. He wondered when he'd finally become a full mage.
Only as a full mage, even a junior one, could he truly unleash magic's power. Then, even as a junior mage, he'd be unbeatable within a hundred meters.
Right now, as an apprentice, he could only cast small spells but would get exhausted quickly.
...
Around 6:30 p.m., the two were sitting on John's small balcony eating dinner when a knock came at the door.
Through his senses, John saw a young Mexican-American with tight braids place a bulging yellow leather bag at the door, knock, and immediately take the elevator down, leaving the 12th floor.
"Shit, who is that?" Zach cursed and wanted to open the door, but John stopped him.
After all, they had just rescued a Mexican gang leader. Now a young Mexican guy just showed up outside with something. What if it was a bomb? That'd be bad.
Hearing Zach mutter, John said, "We just saved a gang leader. You can't just rush out when someone knocks. What if they come looking for trouble?"
Hearing this, Zach's eyes widened, clearly spooked.
...
Then the phone rang.
"Hello, this is St. John Leighton's home. Who's calling?"
"Hey, kid, it's Francis. Listen, the gift just delivered -- hope you two like it. This is the best I can do to thank you. I know it's a bit tacky, but I didn't have anything else. If you ever need help, call me. My contact is in the bag." Without waiting for a response, he hung up.
"Who was that?" Zach asked nervously, noticing John deep in thought.
"Nothing much. It was Francis. He also sent that thing at the door. Let's bring it in and see."
"Oh!" Hearing this, Zach visibly relaxed.
...
They opened the door and found the yellow leather bag on the floor, bulging.
Inside, they found 20 bundles of cash, each thousand-dollar bills, totaling $200,000. There was also a note with Francis's contact info and a note specifying the amount.
"Kid, what should we do?" Unconsciously, Zach looked to John for the decision on the big matter.
"Forget it. Let's just keep it to avoid trouble. Consider it charity. Look, we're broke anyway. Just a little relief," John said indifferently.
Zach rolled his eyes but started eagerly counting the money. Now that the decision was made, the cash was all that mattered.
*****
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