Leon had found himself an apartment in one of the high-rise residential living blocks. Nothing big. Nothing fancy. Not close to the park, but acceptable with public transport. For a no-questions-asked kind of deal, he'd even paid a little extra. He had also asked the others how they explained away all their extra income. The answer had been simple, yet obvious.
They didn't. They hadn't needed to. All of them worked their day job and paid off everything official from that. The extra money they made had been all cash anyway, and it hadn't been enough to seem suspicious. The big word here was "hadn't."
Now the four of them were sitting on a collected 400000 Tales worth of product.
How the two addicts had gotten their hands on so much, Leon had no idea. The others had told him that they had been dealers too. Still didn't explain the amount.
The more pressing problem wasn't how the druggies had gotten their hands on it anyway, but how they themselves were going to move it. And once they moved it, how were they going to explain that kind of money? He himself having the biggest issue.
He was officially jobless.
He was bringing in money like no one.
And of the 400000, around 300000 belonged to him.
Not problems he would complain about, but problems nonetheless.
The crew had told him to come to an apartment in one of the wealthier districts of Eden. Not crazy rich, just well-off. They wanted to introduce him to their supplier and ask him for counsel on how to solve their problems. So Leon was bringing his backpack and his product.
As Leon turned the corner, he could already see others waiting for him, waving him over as they noticed him.
Cherry: "Good that you made it in time, printer."
Leon: "You? Putting special notice on punctuality? Who are you, and what did you do to Cherry?"
Cherry: "Ha ha…" Cherry sarcastically answered.
Cousie: "It's because of our supplier. He's very keen on… punctuality, as you said."
Sixer: "Alright, alright. Let's go."
Leon followed the others into the apartment block. They entered an escalator and went to the sixth floor. There they turned right and followed the hallway until they stood in front of apartment 609.
Cherry: "Alright, printer. No need to be nervous here. He's not really in a high position in any of the gangs around; he's more of a middleman. Still, that position makes him meet a lot of people and gets him a lot of contacts. And he's reliable, so his customers are usually very satisfied with his service, which gives him some sway with the Lokals. Sooo… don't be disrespectful, and all is going to be fine."
Leon: "Got it."
Sixer: "Could you stop yapping?" he said as he rang the doorbell.
Opening the door was a short, lanky man with some sweatpants and a hoodie on. In contrast to his very leisurely look, his hair and beard were neatly trimmed. Excessively so. He generally seemed very orderly. Leon also felt that he seemed stressed and anxious. Like meeting other people was a chore, was something uncomfortable. Leon hadn't expected a drug middleman to be socially anxious, but there was a first for everything.
Sixer: "Michael, how are you doing?"
Michael: "Could be better, could be worse," he said in a tired tone.
Cherry: "Anything we could help with?"
Michael: "Doubt it, but come in first."
The crew moved into the apartment. The living room was directly past the door, with a cozy-looking couch and big window front. Everything looked orderly. Very much so.
Michael: "Sit down, sit down," he gestured to the couch.
As the crew made themselves comfortable, Leon could notice the exact opposite happening to Michael. He was very uncomfortable with their presence.
Michael: "Could you guys be a little more… I don't know; could you be a little more orderly?"
Cousie: "Sure." Leon felt their confusion. Michael seemed to be acting differently from usual.
Cherry: "Are you sure there isn't anything we can help you with?"
Michael: "As long as you don't have any weed on you, I don't think there is."
Weed? Why would he need… Ding. It made sense. Michael seemed very orderly, excessively so. Cousie had also told him that he liked punctuality. The social anxiety, on top, was another hint. Michael probably had OCD. With some autism too. And, Leon, remember that he himself had, so to say, spawned with the legendary quest item "Devil's Lettuce" for this self-medication storyline encounter. He also didn't recall ever really having taken it out of his bag.
Leon: "Actually, I might have," he reached into his bag, "a little bit of weed here." He pulled out the weed. He could immediately feel the longing in Michael.
Michael: "You are a lifesaver."
Leon: "My name's Le… Printer, by the way."
Michael: "I'm Michael." He grabbed the bag. "So you're the new one."
Leon: "That I am."
Michael: "Pretty lucky find you got there."
Leon: "?" Leon looked at him questioningly.
Michael: "The 5 blocks. The others told me about it."
Leon: "Yes, it was… a lucky encounter."
Michael: "That it was. I, personally, wouldn't want to keep it, though."
Sixer: "Why is that?"
Michael: "I mean, think about it. Two absolute addicts just happen to own 5 blocks? Nahhh. They got the product the same way you guys did. And I heard through the Bush that the people it got gotten from are not really happy about it. In fact, I am positive that they are pissed. Livid even."
By now, Michael had finished the joint and started smoking it.
Cherr: "So what do you suggest we do?"
Michael: "Your first choice is keeping it. I would only do that if you guys feel particularly lucky , want to skip country or want to swim with some fishes."
Sixer gulped.
Sixer: "The other choice?"
Michael: "You go to them, give them the product, and hope they listen to you explain how you got it before they decide to make you responsible."
Cousie: "So either we're butt fucked with lube or, in case we decide to take option one, without it, with a hefty run-up?
Michael: "Not quiet. If you bring the product back, and if they don't just immediately castrate you, and furthermore, you lot manage to explain yourselves… You just recouped very powerful people 400000 tales worth of goods thought lost."
Leon: "And who are these powerful people?
Micheal: "That, my friend, is something your three friends can answer you best."
They looked at each other confused.
Michael: "It's the ones you're getting your 'license to sell' for your park from."
Sixer, Cousie, and Cherry looked at each other.
And as Leon felt their realization, then their fear, and lastly their terror, he could hear them all collectively saying one word.
"Fuck."