Secret meetings are secret (Vicente/planned)

And like the boogeyman, Vicente de la Sangre did appear. As if materializing from the very shadows behind the teenage bow, the assassin stood there for a moment, watching him drink a beer. This was not the same person who had hired him; obviously the difference that this was a boy and not the same teenage girl whom had hired him to look for mommy. But when he contacted the phone number he was given, and threatened to hang up and slit the throat of the wrong person who answered, it was explained to him that this was the girl’s mutation…gender shifting.

Heh…it took all kinds. It was only after a fit of dark humored laughter that he finally agreed to keep with this new male persona. He didn’t care if it was a girl, boy or in between…so long as they had his money.

Still apparently oblivious to his appearance, Vicente clapped his hand hard on the boy’s shoulder as he whispered. “You sure you’re old enough to be drinking that?” he hissed like a malicious and venomous viper.

Despite the answer, Vicente really didn’t care. He simply laughed again as he smacked the boys arm and maneuvered himself over to a stool to next to him.

Vicente had dropped out of sight after that whole debacle with that one girl getting away. He didn’t want to be seen too much in the public after that for fear of being recognized. He didn’t know exactly how much that green skinned mutant had told the police. But just in case he needed to keep low. Which granted him the perfect opportunity to complete this little side job that he got wrangled into by the annoy teenager.

Little did he know that it would dredge up some very…interesting results.

“Corona,” he said to the bartender and then nodded to the boy. “Put it on his bill.”

Once his drink had been brought, he grabbed the lemon wedge that had been stuck into the bottle’s opening and squeezed its essence into the drink within. After that he took a satisfied sip before he turned and glanced to the boy.

“So…you have my money?”

The kid was startled, Vicente could see that. But he didn’t call him on in. Instead he let him sit there, drinking his beer in peace as he waited for the boy to respond. All the assassin really cared about was whether or not he had his money. Though he had to admit that he was interested in what he found out about the kid’s mother. He could see why she left the picture. But how much to tell the boy? Not that the assassin cared, all he really cared about was getting his money and leaving him to wallow in his self-pity.

After all…the mother left for reason. A pretty damn good one at that…

>> "Half. Yes…So, what did you find?"

Vicente eyed him closely. The boy knew how to play the game. He seemed serious, like he did have the money, he hoped that he did. He was beginning to like this snippy teen’s attitude but there would be little keeping him from shoving a knife into his chest if he decided otherwise.

But seeing as they were at a bit of a stand-off right now, the assassin found no reason to prolong this meeting out any longer.

Eyes locked onto the younger boy, Vicente grabbed his beer, took a long draught before he reached up to smooth his long, black hair backward. It hung loose and straight about his shoulders and danced with every movement of his head. A glance down and a few long strands briefly covered his face as he reached into his trench coat pocket. He fished around for only a second before he produced a small manila envelope and held it up for the boy to see.

“Last whereabouts of Gillian Morris…from two days ago,” he smirked. He set the envelop down on the countertop and carefully placed his large fist over it, holding it down. He then nodded to his client. “Now, pass me the money…and you’re free to have this information. But…trust me…you’ll wish you had left well enough alone…”

A grin marked his face as he sat there, staring the boy. It was obvious that he was not kidding. The money for the information…these were his rules now…

They stared at eachother. But if there was one thing that Vicente could pick out better than anyone, it was when someone was desperate. And this kid was desperate. He saw the look in his face the second that he told him that there was recent information pertaining to his mother in his envelope. He knew he had this kid over a barrel if he wanted him to be. He could make him jump, bark like a dog, kill someone if he so choose. Vicente knew the desperation for news in one’s eyes when he saw it. And surely…it would have been a fun evening…

…had he decided to exploit it. Instead the old assassin merely eyed the envelope the kid slid across to him. It was thick…it looked like it had his money. Again…that was all he really cared about.

>> "There ya go…This'd better be real."

He arched a brow. The kid had a little ‘tude in his voice. He was like a hungry, rabid dog after a savory bone with only a scrap of meat on it. He wanted that information, he wanted it bad. And Vicente was the one dangling it on a string. But instead of prolonging it further, Vicente merely lifted his hand from the envelope and let the kid take it while he reached over and grabbed his envelope of money. Once it was in his hands, he opened the envelope carefully and looked in. All high bills and a cursory glance proved that it was a correct amount.

“Nicely done,” he grinned as he closed the flap and slipped the envelope into his coat pocket.

Silently the assassin sat there as he calmly drank his beer and let the kid look over the information, faxed over photos, written up bits of information, lines about “forcing mutants through blackmail to commit acts”, even…a more current photo of the young mother whom the kid had apparently been searching for for the majority of his life. It was grainy and from a surveillance camera but it was labeled with a date from nearly two days ago, outside of a bank. She must have looked just as young and sweet as when the kid remembered her. It was almost sweet. But Vicente did one dwell on it too long…the rest of the information was not as nice.

“You ask me, I suggest you let her be…don’t follow this one,” he grinned as he watched the boy get to the page that described some of ‘darker’ jobs that these enslaved mutants had to do. “She’s alive…you know that now. Go on and live the rest of your life. You’ll just end up with a bullet between your eyes.”

The kid had a look on his face. A look that spoke of shock, joy, and especially fear. He now knew that his mother was alive, but the sad thing was that she was untouchable. At least that is how Vicente would describe it. The woman belonged to this mafia group, a group that specialized in capturing and using mutants to their advantage. It made no sense to go after her. Even if the kid could arrange a meeting with her, there would be no way to get her out of it. The most that would happen is that he would find himself dead and all because he wanted another hug from mommy. It was ridiculous to say the least.

But thus far the kid had shone a pretty strong stubborn streak. S/he proved that back at the fight club. So it was a of little wonder that when he turned to look, he saw that same stubborn expression. Part of him laughed inside.

This kid’s gunna find himself dead one day, he thought. Vicente could see that the kid didn’t know how to jump a sinking ship when given a chance. Bad way to start off a life…

>> "You know I can't…Do you have anything else to tell me?"

He grinned. That was it. Normally the people who have hired him for such jobs are so quick to get their information that they simply pay him, leave, and then are surprised to know that he had held back. But it seemed as if this kid did have some general knowledge of how the game worked. He was an arrogant little punk that Vicente would sooner ram his fist through than trust. But he had to admit that he respected him, or her, a little more than before.

Eyes forward, staring at the wall behind the bar, Vicente took another sip of his beer. It’s golden contents were down to about half now. But the assassin didn’t care, he could order another. After all, it was on the kid’s tab.

“I believe, you already know the answer to that,” Vicente grinned. “But…seeing as the information I already gave you has been paid for, I’m afraid I can’t divulge anymore without further payment.”

The old assassin too way too much pleasure in dangling that carrot.

>> "You have been paid half as agreed…The other half will be paid when you bring me more information. I guess part of it could be paid in advance if you happened to bring more along today..."

Vicente’s expression was unreadable as he watched the kid’s face. So far he man had been amused by the kid’s attitude, his antics, his bravado, but he was not going to be amused forever. When that day came, he would have no problem ridding himself of this albatross once and for all. But for now…he was still slightly amused. So there was little he could do but take yet another sip of his alcoholic beverage. The kid wanted more information, he had more information. But he needed to pull just a little more out of the kid before he divulged his entire hand.

A glance at the kid, seeing the desperation in his eyes, despite the consequences, just made him smirk on the inside. This kid was going through hell and highwater simply to find a woman that abandoned him years ago. And what did he expect? A fancy reunion? Full of hugs, kisses, and tearful apologies? With the line of work that Ms. Gillian Morris was doing, he highly doubted that any of it was going to lead to that.

Downing the last of his Corona, Vicente set the bottle down with a satisfied sigh and turned back to the kid.

>> "Or maybe you want it paid straight in alcohol?"

Vicente smirked. The kid was funny. Always quick with a quip or a witty word.

“This?” he asked as he pointed to the empty beer bottle. “Oh, this doesn’t count. This is a business expense. For meeting purposes.” The assassin then stood as he check his coat to make sure the money was still there and the kid had pulled some kind of Houdini trick. “End of the day. I’ll bring you the last of the information that I have, you pay me my advance. Say…” he calculated briefly in his head “…half of what you just brought me right now. Deal?”

>> "Deal."

Vicente nodded. The kid managed to come up with this amount of money, but it made the assassin wonder how many piggy banks he swiped in order to come up with the scratch. Not that he really cared where the money came from, but the idea amused him to think about how quickly he would attempt to gather half of this amount of money as an advance. If the kid wanted to know it all, then so be it, he wouldn’t stand in his way. He was fulfilling his part of the deal, he was finding that kid’s mother. What he did with that information was completely up to him. He wasn’t going to stand in his way.

Let him walk into the gates of hell for all he cared.

He adjusted his coat and walked around him, heading for the door. Before he got too far though, he stopped and turned back to face him.

“Right here…tonight at nine o’ clock. Don’t be late,” he winked as a sadistic smile spread across his lips. The kid was turning out to be of some interesting entertainment value. Hopefully he would live to see him again…

***

9:00pm – Unknown Bar

The rest of the day had proved to be uneventful for Vicente. It didn’t take him more than a twenty or thirty minutes to return home and pick up the last of the information that he had concerning the boy’s mother and her location. But part of him knew that the boy was going to need time to gather up the last of the money he had charged him. Vicente could have easily just let the boy buy him drinks for the rest of the night…but where was the fun in that? Besides, the green always talked so much louder than the bottle in his ears.

Choosing a nice, shadowy corner of the bar so no one could sneak up behind him, the old assassin carefully adjusted his coat as he peered out into the shadows. He wondered when or even if the kid would show up after all.

Throughout the day, while Vicente whittled away time doing nothing but standard errands, he kept glancing at the TV and at newsstands in case someone was going to break the news about some crazed teenage boy who attempted to rob a bank or a liquor in a desperate attempt to earn enough money. The headlines would read “Robbery for Assassin Money: Crazed Teen Gunned Down” or something along those lines. There would be coverage all over the major networks, professional and amateur footage of the boy screaming from his stand-off that he needed to money! It would help him find his mother! And Vicente would laugh and laugh as he watched the reply over and over again.

Unfortunately, no such thing happened. Instead, he mere sat there in his dark corner, dark eyes glistening as they watched every entering patron. He’d give him…two extra minutes. Then he would walk out…

Nearly five minutes were up and Vicente was getting ready to walk. Maybe the kid did get himself killed trying to get the money from one of the crime families. That would be fitting and a reason as to why Vicente had not heard about it yet. They would make sure that the kid would never be found again. Just a passing name in the wind that would never belong to a face again. At least that is how Vicente imagined the situation.

So, he was out the rest of the money. At least he got the small amount of it that he had not. All’s well that ends well, he always says. So with money in hand, Vicente made ready to leave the establishment. Their Corona was not the best anyways.

But as he made to move, there was a sudden appearance next to him. Vicente immediately went onto alert, not scared but not likely the sudden movement either. But his fast yes and quicker dexterity halted his hand from grabbing on of his many knives at his belt. It hovered over the hilt as he glared at the young, exasperated boy sitting next to him…his client.

The money was laid down. He was in no mood for any more foolishness apparently.

>> "There…Tell me what you know."

With a smirk, he moved his hand away from the knife and slowly moved his chair around so that he could face him. He was almost hurt that there was no witty greeting. How unfortunate that the boy was already looking so taxed. If he continued on this journey, he was going to find out just how mentally exhausted he could be.

But, deciding against mocking the child further, he wanted him out his sight now, Vicente pulled a small notepad from his coat pocket and began to flip through the entries. It was not until he reached one of the last ones that he finally began to speak…

“Here’s the deal. I know where she’s at,” he said quietly, almost as if it were a secret to not revealed to the rest of the world. “Well…I at least know the state.” he eyed the kid as he reached out, took his next payment and slipped it into his pocket. “She’s still in Washington. I got confirmation that whatever this mafia group is that she is working for, they still have her stationed there. I just haven’t been able to pin down an exact locale. But…there is someone who knows…” he smirked and turned his eyes directly onto the kid’s. “She just narrowed down the location of your mother. And you hired her behind my back…”