25. The Hoard of Cadaver

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"Between myriads and tycoons, my heart shall cease"

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Matt was a mere silhouette amongst the rougish men hurrying their way past all hurdles and chaos, blending in so effortlessly at the Black Base. Despite the bulk beneath the rough skins of the underworlders, there was nothing much left for a brain. And those blessed with one, never dared enter this sight.

And there was always an exception. Matt.

The Black Base was one of the three central hubs where all the vices spreading in New York started. The huge metalled building widespread to the uninhabited parts of the city was warm, in fact boiling, contrary to the heavy snow outside.

Everything was showcased here, without a fret, coke was passed around like frisbees by the delighted drunk addicts. Pornography, gambling, alcohol, prostitution were some that gained prominence.

Matt's skin was boiling beneath his warm jacket, the need to flip a cigar and burn down this place to a charred mess was increasing with every passing second.

As a resolution, he lighted a cigarette, fastened his pace pushing past grumbling buyers and sellers.

Before he'd left Isabelle at home, he was tipped with information of a hoard meeting at the Base by one of his spies. What mattered most to him was not the hoard of treasure troves potentially being passed around but the possibility of one of his B-listed criminals being there at the meeting.

Matt puffed a generous amount of smoke as a tall stout man dressed in a black suit passed by him, partly to blur the man's vision. He threw a suspicious look at Matt and so did his sinewy minions do, imitating their leader. Matt was least bothered, but there was an itching feeling in his gut after glancing at the briefcase the man grasped tightly to.

Suppressing the feeling, he decided to continue walking till he reached the centre, opposite to the gambling hub.

He waited a few minutes, his eagle eyes pecking a glance at every hub, scouring for some glitch in their normal procedures, a small signal. But nothing happened.

Assuming the information was a rumour, he decided to leave the Hell hole. He came out through one of the secret passages that led to the east end of the hub, the cold instantly clinging onto him like a wet leech.

There was a little rustle, a bunch of hushed voices being carried in the wind. Curious and alert, he followed the trail of voices, his legs walking almost automatically and as the building turned the south corner, he saw exactly what he needed.

On the far corner of the south wall were four fancy cars, two SUVs and a moderate truck, presumably carrying the hoard of valuables. Three guards, dressed akin to thugs were standing near the truck, voices low but the murmur was carried in the cold wind.

Matt stood there for a moment, partially to give time and see what happens next and to let his mind process the trail of the oncoming chaos. He waited for some time, but nothing happened, inconsiderate of the truck driver joining the trio and the gruesome laughter of one of them as one punched the other in the stomach. It was just trivial movements that Matt's vision clinged to.

Without any thought, he resolved to reveal his hidden self to the possibly doomed guardsmen.

He walked to the quartet, with a stoic, authoritative gait. A feet apart, the facial expressions of the four men gained clarity in Matt's vision. The tallest one had a repulsive frown, the driver squinted to look at the new intruder, the shortest guy had boredom written all over his flabby face but the most comely one was the fourth guy, his pale, dumbstruck mien stood the most satisfying to Matt.

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