Stanley Duff slowly strolled down the alley, whistling a tune to himself as he did. He was in a small surface town, looking for a very specific man. His mansion was under Beef's care, which let Stanley's mind rest easy. Of course, he was still slightly concerned about what he was about to get into. His eyes scanned the sides of the alleyway. Finding nothing of note, he returned to staring straight ahead. His thoughts wandered for a bit before suddenly going silent. He had found the location.
A small indent in the red brick wall revealed a black iron door with no visible handle. Stanley approached it and knocked just as his guide had instructed- 3, pause, 2, pause, 4, stop. After a short delay, a muffled voice came from beyond the door.
"Welcome, businessman. We've been expecting you."
With a quiet creak, the door opened outward, allowing a wave of cigarette smoke and alcohol fumes to bombard Stanley's nostrils. He hesitated a moment before stepping in. The atmosphere immediately enveloped his senses, and he did not hear the door close and lock behind him.
The small lounge was quite ornate, with chairs and booths seemingly plucked from a stylistic era long forgotten. A haze hung over the small crowd gathered there, created by a combination of smoke and dim lighting. To the right was a bar, and to the left a pianist played a gentle melody. Stanley immediately stepped towards the bar, intending to finish his business as fast as possible.
The bar had only one patron, as all other occupants of the lounge were grabbing their drinks from a tray that made its way around the room occasionally. This lone man was dressed in a black, modern armor-like uniform. Upon Stanley's arrival at the bar, the man turned in his seat to face him. Though he appeared calm, his eyes were reddened due to some unknown cause.
"You are Stanley Duff, correct?"
"Yes, I am he."
The man studied Stanley for a moment, taking note of the solitary rail pistol at his hip.
"I'm sure you know this already, but out of formality, I must introduce myself. I am Dimitri Strelnikov. I do many things for few people. How can I assist you?"
Stanley let a small smile come across his lips. He liked formal discussion in any context.
"There's a certain someone that owes me a bit of money, and I'd like you to extort it from them."
Dimitri held up a finger. "Let me guess: you want Galactan or the stupid goldfish freak to 'pay' you for some of the damage that occurred a while ago."
"Wrong, but how did you learn about that?"
Dimitri leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice. "You have many members of the underworld watching you, Mr. Duff."
Stanley was slightly shocked by this last comment. He had always thought that his tight surveillance would catch any people spying on him. He made a mental note to install a few thermal cameras later.
"In any case," continued Dimitri, "if it's not either of them, then who is it?"
"The manager of the Salburr Wood Repairs company. They performed a highly unsatisfactory job of repairing the damage and are refusing to give the refund I was promised."
"Good, something easy. The two fighters are far out of my league. Now then, how much money are we talking about here?"
"Twenty grand."
Dimitri's eyebrow raised slightly. "Well, it must have been some expensive stuff broken for twenty thousand dollars of repair."
"That's not important right now. I need to know your price and your speed."
Dimitri thought carefully, running some calculations in his head. "Well... for extortion I normally charge 40% of the money gained, but because your target is in Agorix... your total will be $8,600."
Stanley's organic eye winced. "Your rates are way too steep!" he shouted.
"That's what every first time customer says. Yet they all become regulars. Funny how that works, isn't it?"
Stanley angrily drew his gun and pointed it at Dimitri. "Let me put it another way." he growled, "You'll lower your rates, or you'll find yourself out of business permanently."
"Would you really kill a man who has done you no wrong simply for having high prices?"
All eyes in the room were looking at the bar now. The pianist had stopped playing, leaving the lounge in an unearthly silence. Finally, Dimitri slowly rose. From his belt he pulled what appeared to be a serrated machete, which he calmly brought to Stanley's throat. The two stared at each other a while before the bartender finally interrupted.
"Gentlemen, I must ask both of you to calm down. I won't have my establishment marred with a death within its walls."
The duo stared at one another a little longer before finally holstering their weapons and sitting down. Slowly, the light chatter began to pick up in the room once more, and the pianist resumed his song.
Dimitri was the first to break the silence between the two. "Now Mr. Duff, you have two options. Pay my rates and receive absolute certainty of a perfectly performed job, or pay some other sap with at least one flaw on his record. And remember, if your man goes down, you're likely to go down with him."
Stanley carefully considered his options. He certainly didn't want to pay the high price, but Dimitri presented a fair point: Stanley ran the risk of paying a much higher price if he went somewhere else. Eventually, he nodded at Dimitri. Dimitri in turn motioned to the bartender.
"Bring me an Agorix extortion contract."
The bartender nodded and opened a metal cabinet, revealing several stacks of papers. He fingered through a few before pulling one out and handing it to Dimitri. Dimitri scanned the paper for a moment before passing it to Stanley, who began to read it closely.
"Just print your name on the blue line and sign the red one when you're ready."
Stanley read for a little longer before pulling a pen from within his jacket and doing as instructed. He then handed the paper back to Dimitri.
"Good," said he, "You'll find your requested money personally delivered in a secure container in about two weeks. You may go now, Mr. Duff."
Stanley rose slowly and began to meander towards the exit before Dimitri spoke once again.
"Oh, Mr. Duff? I must commend you for your little display earlier. Nobody has ever had the courage to challenge my rates in such a manner. Though-" he paused and chuckled to himself, "next time you threaten someone with that little gun, make sure its ammunition is loaded."
Stanley looked down at his belt and found that his ammo clip was indeed hanging uselessly from it. He glanced once more at Dimitri, nodded in acknowledgement, then quickly headed out the already open door.
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