The Brotherhood of The Black Rats

1.9 A Toast

9| A Toast

Along the waterway, east of Battery Park, a sleek black yacht cut across the choppy morning waves as it neared the South Street Seaport. Reginald Bison was polishing off the last of his Mana-infused Bloody Mary as the days first rays of light peered through the clouds overhead, turning the sky slightly blue. He enjoyed coming to the city by way of the water. He had left in a similar fashion years ago, an exile and a thief with barely a dollar to his name, watching the rising smoke off of burning vampires pollute the early morning air of that fateful day of victory for the Belvedere Court so long ago. The twin scars that ran parallel beneath the thick grey beard along his neck itched at the memory.

It seemed only right that he returned by the same means. His hair may have been grayer now than it was back then, and his whiskers all the longer, yet he still remained the striking image of a lion in a man’s clothing. He was hunter who always found his prey; a man as much respected, as he was feared. 

“Another drink, boss?” asked one of his associates joining him topside for a moment as the city's skyline grew before “We've a bit of Black Mana to polish off before we reach the docks. It's still outlawed by The Court here you know...not that that's ever stopped us before.” 

“Gather up Kilroy and Steve, would you, Bartleby,” said Bison, giving his empty glass to the man. “Normally I'd say we wait, but this morning calls for a special celebration.” 

“Shots before noon?” asked Bartleby, sounding surprisingly delighted at the prospect of sharing drinks with the others. “Have I ever told you what a pleasure it is to be in your service.” 

Bison grinned beneath the mane of grey whiskers he kept for a beard. Retreating back to the yacht’s interior, he was soon joined by the men he had called for… as well as  the nearly empty bottle of Black Mana Bartleby had produced from the wet bar.

Bison was careful in choosing the people he did business with. He favored drifters and Hedge Wizards that were easily manipulated with the promise of grand payments and powerful drinks. He'd found the three men before him now during his last visit to Stonehenge and the lost exhibition site far below the grassy knoll. Each one had proved useful in his own way. Unlike the American tradition of wizardry Bison had grown up around, magic was treated with less pomp and circumstance in Europe, and the grizzled hard-worn men Bison often found himself in the company with proved the perfect testament to that. 

“These New Yorkers truly don't know what's good for them,” said Gilroy, taking the first shot of the pitch-dark liquid as it was handed to him. “No offense, boss.” 

“Black Mana was outlawed in the Eighties for it's reputed addictiveness and its tendency to attract the undead and other less desirable creatures to the blood of those who drank it,” said Bison. “Those were dark times.”

“They say it caused the death of the last King Wizard's brother,” noted Bartleby as he poured the last of it into his own glass after the others were filled. “They say he was actually poisoned by it.”

“I say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger!” exclaimed Steve with a hearty yell as he raised his glass to the others. 

“Cheers to that,” said Bison, raising his glass to the others before saying in his own gruff voice, “…and to the road ahead of us, may it be a prosperous one.”

 A hearty chuckle followed as each of the men downed the contents of their glasses in one brisk swallow. All save Bison himself bore the strain of Black Mana's infamous hard-to-swallow taste as the ship neared the South Street Seaport. 

Bison turned his attention to the large rectangular window in front of him as the hidden ledge of Pier 13 and one half came into view. He spied two well-dressed men of Asian heritage awaiting his arrival, with a large black sedan parked at the land's end of the dock.  

“Would...would you look at that?” said Kilroy coming to his side. “Old man Wong sent his lackeys to welcome us instead of coming himself. Aren't the Chinese supposed to be all about reverence?”  

“Their last correspondence spoke of security concerns around this latest auction,” added Bartleby through labored breaths. “If you ask me, they’re all a bunch of untrustworthy --”

His words were cut short by the involuntary sounds of Steve's retching from across the cabin. A puddle of thick black liquid formed at his feet as the contents of his stomach fell from his mouth with a wet splashing noise that filled the room with an unpleasant order.   

It was enough to weaken the others’ resolves as well. Bartleby did his best to hold back his own vomit, only to have the eerie black substance begin leaking from his eyes like twin waterfalls of dark water to pool at his whimpering feet. Bison remained immune and steadfast as the yacht pulled into the dock. 

“Yes, there have been some complications with security this time around, boys,” said the old man as all three of the men fell to their feet before him crying out in agony. “But at least one of you knows it didn't come from our partners at the House of The Gilded Crane.” 

It was Kilory who somehow mustered up the resolve to draw a wand on the reluctant Bison, who, in turn, knocked the burly laborer to his back with a subdued wave of his own and a spell of concussive force aided by the sudden rocky movement of the yacht. 

“Black Mana is a mysterious thing,” Bison began; as two black-cloaked figures appeared in the doorway behind him, having come up from below decks. Each bore a mask blood red in color to conceal the features of its face from view while simultaneously giving off an air of mystery to their visage. 

“Some say it's poisonous, some it's miraculous. Me? I think it tastes damn good in a rum and coke.” 

Each of the three ailing men at his feet were familiar with the red-masked figures that circled above them now as their vision slowly began to fade. Words were beyond each of them now. All that remained was death. 

“The Bison Auction House thanks you for your service, boys,” Bison said, as The Yacht came to a slow stop, rocking slightly forward with subdued movement. “However, due to concerns over security, I'm afraid we're all going to have to part ways,” he added as he turned to make his way off the ship. “Please understand...it's nothing personal.” 

The two men awaiting him at the end of the dock as Bison made his exit were indeed young and Asian. One wore a simple pair of expensive looking eyeglasses and had the demeanor of hastened eagerness that gave away his inexperience at errands such as this. The other wore all black, coupled with an air of laid-back confidence that marked him for a member of the House of The Gilded Crane and all the entitlement that came with it.    

  “Reginald Bison,” began the man with glasses in greeting as Bison reached the dock. He held out his outstretched hand in a welcoming gesture that Bison took into his own as he came towards them. “It is an honor to finally meet you in person. May I present to you the esteemed Alvin Wong of The House of The Gilded Crane,” He motioned to his superior. 

“My grandfather sends his apologies for not being able to greet you in person, as I'm sure you’re aware that there have been some recent security issues,” said the cool spoken young man, taking Bison’s hand into his own. 

“We're all tight on my end,” said Bison. 

“As are we,” said the man in glasses. “Mr. Wong has taken to hiring more security personnel for the days leading up to the auction. Rest assured, all will be well.”     

         “My grandfather has even sought out protection from the Belvedere Court and their Laws of Magic. We'll be fully protected come the event, while we auction away your goods from right under your nose.”Alvin was quite confident in his speech. The idea of having more people involved in his operation was not an appealing one. Bison let his concern show in the form of a halfhearted nod at the revelation. 

“However, it is imperative that we get back to the House without you being seen, as I’m sure you’re well aware,” added the other man.

“Oh what a pity,” stated Bison following after the pair. “I had hoped we could stop for soup dumplings along the way.”