Chapter 13) The Crimson Fang
Cael leaned back against the damp brick wall, watching the rain slide down the edges of his hood.
"There's something else you should know about the Black Consortium. At the top, way above the crews, the gangs, the smugglers, there's the High Council. But they don't call themselves that."
Vey raised an eyebrow. "Then what?"
"The Shadow Council," Cael said, almost reverently. "Seven people. No one's ever seen them together. Hell, no one's even sure they've been in the same room at all. Every decision, every move the Consortium makes… it traces back to them."
"Seven people running the whole thing?"
"Yeah. But here's the trick, they don't speak to the outside world directly. Everything goes through their chosen 'proxies.' People so close to them, they practically breathe the same air. And even those people guard their identities like their lives depend on it."
Vey frowned. "So no one knows who they are?"
"No one. Not their rivals, not their allies. Only their personal circles. And believe me, getting close enough to even sniff one of those circles is suicide."
Vey shifted uncomfortably. "Then how the hell do we even start?"
"That's where the subgroups come in," Cael said. "The Consortium's got dozens of them- the big names, the ghosts, the crews that don't even leave a paper trail. And one of those is exactly what we need."
Vey tilted his head. "Which one?"
"The Crimson Fang."
Vey repeated the name slowly, tasting it. "Sounds dramatic."
"They make their living off underground fight rings — bloody, no-rules, winner-walks-out kind of fights. But that's just the front. They've got assassins, smugglers, mercenaries. You pay them, they do the job, no questions asked. And politics? They couldn't care less who's sitting on some Zone's throne or which Division's killing who. They care about business. Only business."
Vey gave a skeptical smirk. "And you think people like that will take us in?"
"They might," Cael said, "if we have something worth offering. They don't deal in favors, only in value. If we prove useful, they won't ask where we've been or who's chasing us."
Vey studied him for a moment, then asked, "Alright, I have to know. How do you know all this? The Shadow Council, Crimson Fang, the whole structure… This isn't exactly common street gossip."
Cael hesitated, then looked away. "My parents. They worked in an archive. Not your local library kind.. the kind full of records nobody's supposed to read. They pieced things together over years. I… picked up more than I should've."
Vey raised an eyebrow. "And they just let you dig through that kind of stuff?"
"They didn't 'let' me," Cael said sharply. "I listened. I learned. And if you're smart, you won't start pulling at threads you're not ready to unravel."
---
Cael narrowed his eyes.
"Hold on," he said. "Back when we were running, you wrote something down. 'Embermark.' You never told me what that was."
Vey's expression froze for a second. He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing toward the alley mouth as if to make sure no one was listening.
"Yeah… forget about that."
"Forget? You just scribbled it down like it was important…"
"I thought it might be a good lead," Vey cut him off, "but it's not. Trust me, Cael, it's more trouble than it's worth. Dead end. Let's leave it there."
Cael studied him, but Vey's tone carried a finality that made pushing pointless.
"Alright," Cael muttered. "So what then?"
"We focus on the real problem," Vey said firmly. "Getting to the Crimson Fang."
Cael gave a low laugh, shaking his head. "You do realize how insane that sounds? That's a massive crew. We're nobodies to them."
"In the Consortium, yeah," Vey agreed, "we're nobodies. Just another pair of strays. But that's the thing,in their world, the Black Consortium's got its own pecking order. Even a crew as big as the Crimson Fang are considered small dogs compared to the Shadow Council."
"And you think that works in our favor?"
"It might," Vey said, eyes narrowing. "If we can figure out how to make ourselves useful to the Fang, we don't have to climb the whole Consortium ladder. We just need a door in."
Cael leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. "A door in… right. Except every door they have is guarded by someone who'd slit your throat for blinking wrong."
"Then we find the one door they don't guard so well," Vey said. "There's always a weak point. We just have to know where to look."
---
Cael suddenly straightened, eyes lighting up.
"Wait. Actually… I think I've got it. We can get into the Crimson Fang."
Vey blinked. "What? You were just doubting this whole thing five minutes ago."
"Yeah, but think about it," Cael said, leaning in. "The Crimson Fang might be a big crew, but they need people like us."
Vey raised an eyebrow. "And why's that?"
"Because we're System Users," Cael said simply. "And right now? System Users are rare. Most of them get killed, missions into other zones, scouting the wastelands beyond the borders, dungeon runs gone wrong, you name it. And the ones who survive? Most get scooped up by the Internal Circle."
Vey's eyes widened slightly. "Right. The newer generations of System Users… they all get funneled into Internal Circle operations. Makes sense the Fang would want some who aren't under their thumb."
"Exactly," Cael said. "We just need to play the part.. act like eager little pups, make ourselves useful, find allies… and then, when the time's right, we get the hell out of this zone for good."
Vey smirked. "So we do it?"
"Yeah," Cael said. "But first, we need a plan. We need to know exactly how to find the Crimson Fang and how we're going to make contact without ending up in a ditch."
Vey cracked his knuckles, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Then let's start our plan."
Silence…
But then, Vey buried his face in his hands.
"Okay… We want into the Crimson Fang. Problem is, we're nowhere near their league. How are we even supposed to get close?"
Cael tapped a finger against the table.
"Then we don't get close directly. We climb the ladder."
Vey squinted. "The ladder?"
"Yeah. Look, Crimson Fang isn't gonna notice us on their own. But they've got an underlayer. The small fry who work for them, underground fight bookies, gun runners, errand crews, the guys who clean up their messes. If we wedge ourselves into one of those circles, even at the bottom, we've got a shot at being noticed."
"So we start small?"
"Exactly. Step one, find the minor players who feed off Crimson Fang's business. Most likely, it's the guys who run bets on fights. We get in by offering muscle, hands, whatever they need. Not as rivals, but as helpful nobodies."
Vey frowned. "And that somehow gets us further?"
"Step two, we prove we're reliable. Small-time operators love people who don't talk and get the job done. If we quietly build trust, eventually one of them will pass our names up the chain for bigger errands. They don't give those to just anyone."
Vey leaned back, still skeptical. "And 'bigger errands' means what exactly?"
"Step three, we take jobs nobody else wants. Dangerous deliveries, sketchy escorts, maybe even guard work during the fights. We make it look like we're just after the cash, nothing political. Fang doesn't like people who talk ideology, they like people who work."
Vey smirked a little. "So we're not trying to storm the front door, we're sneaking in through the basement."
"Exactly. Keep our heads down, play the part, and when we finally meet someone who actually wears the Fang insignia… that's when we start talking about 'alliances.' Until then, we're just harmless pups fetching sticks."
Vey nodded slowly. "…I hate that this actually makes sense."
Cael grinned. "Good. Then let's get started."