The Character of "Li"
"I think I'm dependable. It's what matters in life," Zane professed. "And who are you?"
"Mephistopheles."
Zane blinked in surprise. "Mephistopheles?"
"Mephistopheles," the man repeated, from a foot to Zane's right. He flinched and stepped back, stumbling and falling on his ass, onto the stairs, as he looked at Mephistopheles now standing right where Zane had stood a moment ago. "Yes. And like you, I wield a Godcard. Points for guessing which."
"Uh..."
"Well - yes - I see the irony," Mephistopheles agreed with Zane's confusion. "A Godcard with a demon stamped on it... A Demoncard?"
"Er, no, that's not it," Zane said, raising a finger. "How did you do that?"
"I appear where my name is called. Although I can refuse a summoning, it's neither easy nor pleasant," the man said, moving over and sitting down right next to Zane. Poised like this next to each other, neither of them had much space on the stairs; barely space to nudge the other with an elbow, maybe, let alone to break into a fight. Zane reached for his left pocket, absently fingering the zipper, considering whether to swap Cards for the Boreads. Defense over illusion. He wasn't sure.
"Alright."
After that, both of them sat in uncomfortable - or so Zane thought - silence for a couple of seconds.
"I'm the boss of the Gravesend Demons," Mephistopheles began, out of the blue. "I organize them, lead them, direct them, where possible. I distribute the salaries to the underbosses and they distribute the salaries to the soldiers, workers, associates. A beautiful hierarchy where people use each other. I also grant wishes, where possible - always at a cost, because such is the nature of my power. Is there anything you'd like to wish for?"
For Uncle Shen to stop moping so much.
"No," Zane stated adamantly.
Mephistopheles nodded. "Smart."
He reached into his pocket, offered Zane some of his citrus-flavored tic-tacs (an offer the boy refused,) and then poured a handful into his mouth, chewing blasphemously.
Still chewing, with occasional cracks of the hard candied shelling, the man spoke, "You see, to the east of Williamsburg - to the east of Brooklyn, rather, I should say, there is a legendary place - the borough of Queens. It's not a part of my domain. Actually, it's contested territory - between the Gravesend Demons and the McNessa mafia family. As if that wasn't enough, the police have a strong interest in the area, for reasons I cannot fathom. What's even in Queens, that's so interesting to everyone? A tennis stadium? In any case, it's something of a no man's land; a wild zone, or, more preferably: a table."
The man had an oddly melodic way of speaking, easy to listen to and absorb. Although he usually wasn't one for complicated conversation, Zane found himself soaking up the facts intently. It was pure charisma on the man's side.
"A table?"
"Indeed, and I'm playing cards with my rivals there. It's eminently irritating, as we're locked in a stalemate." He paused, tapping a finger against one knee. "Were locked in a stalemate. As it turns out, I've had a talented wild card in my employ. You defeated a pair of Card-users and plundered their possessions. It's already been sufficient to shatter the balance. The Zuchezzi brothers were the hard-hitters of the McNessa family. And without them, I have the numerical advantage, so to speak. Let's talk about your employment, then - you're pulling out, right? Which I find strange, because you came here, for some reason."
The man waved a hand at the fine establishment next to them. The noises of shouting and combat were audible from within. Zane could feel the violence slowly amassing like a heavy rock in his heart, steadily becoming heavier, drenched in negative emotion; ready to be pulled out like strands of gossamer and shaped into illusions.
"I'm not surprised you know about that," Zane said.
"I know lots of things," Mephistopheles said. "You don't get into my position without knowing things about people. Anyway, I don't object to you leaving - you're your own man. But you'd be, essentially, depriving me of good personnel - and taking magical artifacts with you. And that, for someone who won't use these artifacts, I find unconscionable. Here's my offer: aid me in my conquest of the Queens borough of New York, and I will let you leave my organization with no strings attached. Otherwise, I will demand you hand over one of your cards."
---
At the moment you have 27 Ambrosia.
[ ] Agree - Stay with the Gravesend Demons for one last fight.
[ ] Disagree - And do what?
-[ ] Hand over the Boreads
-[ ] Hand over Phobos
-[ ] Fight Mephistopheles - His portfolio doesn't seem particularly combat-oriented, and he's not a martial artist - you can tell with a glance. What are the odds he'll be able to outfight you if you use your cards to your advantage?
[ ] Purchase Brawler's Repute [25 Ambrosia] - Restores Brawler of Midwood, and now you can use it thrice per Story Arc.
