"Can you handle the shipment coming in later today again?"
"Yes, ma'am." I nodded as Anya handed me the clipboard. I scanned it. "The workshop in the third-level catwalks needs a shipment of raw materials and Chemfluid?"
Anya nodded.
"Chembaron Chross's men should be around this evening at rear bay door three to drop off some office supplies and pick up an augment. All you have to do is sign off and hand them the purchase request."
She tapped the clipboard—already filled out, totaling three gold pieces.
"That's it?"
"That's it. They might have a few words, but it's not their decision in the end."
"Why aren't we going to their territory to give it directly? Isn't handing it off like this risky?"
"We've had the same crew of gentlemen come in for over a decade. The relationship and trust are already established. Rigs, the man who'll be here, wears a top hat and suit, bald, has a serpent tattoo on his neck and looks pissed off all the time, but is the nicest man you'll ever meet. He handles it for them."
I nodded again, turning and slowly beginning to walk toward the double doors leading around back.
"Don't let him scare you!"
------
The shutter bay doors rolled open and a large wagon drawn by two horses rolled in. Two burly men were on standby to unload, and three security guards came out to observe as per safety protocol. Each had either a knife or baton, and the chief security officer of the building carried a pistol.
Arcane was a mix of modern and old. Sometimes you'd see horse-drawn carriages, other times the earliest stages of steam-cars with their thin wheels and piped appearances. Ekko even had a monowheel that he and Powder would ride around on, flipping off Enforcers and gang members together.
The doors creaked shut as two men in black business suits and top hats hopped out of the vehicle. Out of the driver's seat, a large, scary-looking man jumped out in the same attire except he also wore a monocle.
"Can I see your bill of lading?" I shout over the heavy, echoing sounds of crates being shifted for unloading.
The man paused and glanced my way before slowly and silently stepping toward me. He gave a throaty growl, whether intimidation or just something stuck in his throat, and approached, reaching into his jacket.
As he moved closer, his sleeve brushed upward for a moment, revealing a faint, rusty smear near his white cuff. Not machine grease. Not Chemfluid. It looked uncomfortably like dried blood.
"Thank you," I smile cordially, scanning the document. "How was the trip?"
"..."
"Not much for talking?"
"It went fine," the man rumbled, his lips downturning as he crossed his arms. "How long will this take? We have other deliveries."
"However long it normally takes. I need to verify and document any damaged goods before we sign off."
"I'm aware of the process, boy."
"Great! Then I'll get started." I kept myself cordial, despite the curt answers I was receiving.
He should be used to this… or maybe it's because I'm a new face.
Stepping around, the men unloaded everything off to the side before we cracked the lids to check the contents. It took roughly an hour, and all the while the man impatiently watched me work, sighing complaints and muttering to his crew.
It was all there but there was a lot of damage to the contents.
Plenty of glass was chipped, boxes cracked inside; it looked like the crates got thrown around or the materials were just tossed inside without a care.
I groaned.
Built-up trust my ass. Did Anya lie to me so she didn't have to deal with this?
Whenever there were damaged goods, it became an issue of whether the transport team damaged them or if it was shipped out already damaged.
Turning, I started to walk back over to the man. He was turned away talking to his crew and had taken his hat off to wipe the glistening sweat away.
He should have a large serpent tattoo on his neck… where is it?
My gaze wandered to his neck as the guy adjusted and turned, but I couldn't see one.
Ah, shit. I never asked for this guy's name. I just assumed because he's big, bald, and mean-looking that he was Rigs. Fucking terrible practice on my part.
Taking a deep breath, I mentally braced myself for the conflict ahead and began walking toward him with a smile.
"Well," I began, "everything is accounted for but there are issues."
I gestured back toward the crates. "Damaged goods. Over half of the shipment is damaged. It's as if the crate was thrown and shaken like some toy. Did something happen or…?"
The man shook his head and put his top hat back on.
"No, nothing happened. We loaded it and you saw us unload it."
"Huh. By the way, what's your name? I never asked. The boss-lady will want to have a chat about this."
"Rigs."
"Rigs?" I kept it loose, but internally I was suspicious and anxious. "Have you spoken with the boss-lady before?"
He shook his head. "Not often. We do our job and leave."
"Ah… so how many times would this make talkin' to her?"
"Only a handful. I don't keep count."
A handful? Anya said they've been working together for over a decade. Something's not right… I don't think this guy is Rigs.
"Alright, well, wait here a moment," I said and when I saw him begin to stiffen, I continued. "After she has a word, she may give you the Chemtech augments."
The man paused to think and visibly I could see the moment he shifted from wanting to protest to deciding to keep his mouth shut.
"You do that kid."
Smiling and nodding, I began to walk away with the clipboard in hand and looked up, locking eyes with the security chief. His expression was already tight with his hands near his belt.
After a few steps further away, I turned my palm toward him and gave the hand signal of tucking the thumb in and repeatedly opening and closing my fingers.
And the security chief acted instantaneously as if he had been waiting for the call to action. Or perhaps he was going to intervene regardless.
Chemtech pistol drawn, a green tube connected to the chamber, the security chief raised it upon the startled transport crew.
"Freeze!"