Neon lights flashed around me. The streets of Genge had slowly started to become dark, and many people were making their way around to their shops and spots.
I turned into an alleyway first. Gathered there, in front of lines of discarded garbage bags and old, thrown away cardboard boxes were the beggars and the homeless who had developed a strong gambling addiction.
Their eyes turned to me. All of them on the ground, looking at a man with a helmet in his hands.
"Ah?"
"W-w-what?"
I didn't say anything. Instead, I just tossed them my bag. The beggars looked at me, and then at the bag, their eyes alternated for a few seconds before they pounced on the bag and swung it open. There wasn't much, except the money that I had taken from Mrs. Benson's cash register.
The beggars huffed and puffed at it.
"T-this much!"
"We got money!"
They looked at me again, I didn't wait to hear anything and simply turned away. This much was enough.
It didn't take long. As I moved to another corner of the streets. Almost like clockwork, the same scene played out once again that I had observed many times these last few days.
The beggars, in a group, rushed to the gate. The bouncers who were probably just like the fifteen people I had thrashed, held their heads and started pushing the beggars away.
This time, they had money, more than enough money. So of course, the beggars were far stronger in their approach.
I watched as the bouncers both had no choice but to pull the beggars away to the alleyways, pushing them along. Everyone else just walked by, minding their own business, it didn't concern anyone. No body at all.
As soon as the bouncers were past, I put the helmet on again and walked straight to the arcade. Hit Parade, they had named it. Quite the name.
I entered the place where the lights and the lack of windows made it feel like it was night again. Straight in, past the sounds of all the machines and the smell of the smoke, to the back of the place.
There was just one man cleaning the machines, he didn't look like a cleaner, probably the front man of the shop. He hadn't even noticed me over the sounds and considering the time.
I found a door at the very end of the place. Even though it looked like a wall, it was a door, just as the floor-plan had laid it out.
Creak went the hinges. A white light completely different from outside lit up.
At the desk, a man in a white shirt and a vest sat with his back to the door. In his hand was a cigar, a plume of smoke drifting in the tiny room.
I quickly reached for the knife I had grabbed from Adrian and walked over.
The man turned his chair.
He met my eyes.
His eyes widened.
I hopped over the table.
And placed the knife right in front of his eye.
"Shush…"
I said.
My body was sore. Aching from all the pushes and the hits I had taken. God-damned thugs.
Every breath felt like breathing fire.
No, perhaps it was not from the exhaustion.
Nor from the fights.
Maybe it was rage.
"W-who are you…?" The man asked, raising his hands.
I shushed him again, the knife mere centimetres from his eye.
"You buy arcade companies under the name of New Engine Gaming. Companies, because you can't take the insurance that individuals have enrolled into."
I started.
"At the turn of the last century, many places had started quite the lucrative insurance policy to support the growing nightlife in the city. A bunch of arcades, discos, night clubs, all of them had been given a great, long term insurance policy. You target that."
The man gulped.
"Buy the company. Take the insurance over as well. Then, when you have the place, and it is still under the old name, you set it to fire or get it thrashed by your goons. A friend in the police, or maybe you get a fake report filed. Then your 'in' in the insurance company, probably on a high-enough position, gives you the entire payout. Which, surprisingly…"
I slid the knife down his face, a thin streak going down the man's nose.
"Comes out to quite the hefty amount, usually in the upper-end of six figures. Arcades were an expensive deal back then. You split the money between you and the insurance 'in' and that's how you make your buck."
"W-what do you want… This is just business. What, did we end up targeting your family business or something? It was all paid for, alright? There is nothing bad happening here."
"Oh, no. No. I don't give a fuck about your insurance scam," I said. "Your people have all left to go support your guy named Adrian—"
The man reached for something below his desk. I quickly gripped the knife in my fist and punched his nose. Blood spilled from his nose, before the man could even reel back, though, the knife was again in front of his eyes.
"Look. This could turn very messy for you. No funny moves, or every single one of you bastards will end up in jail."
The man laughed.
"You think it's that easy kid—"
"Scott. Right?" I muttered. The name of the owner was of course in Peridot's files. I pulled out my phone and showed him a picture, a picture of me in the same get-up as right now, after having beat up all sixteen of his people. "I have lines of evidence, and a lot more contacts to storm in here than you think. I take you for a smart man, let us both respect that, yeah?"
Scott gulped and raised his hands up. In a surrender position. This was a good start.
"What do you have?"
"I have more than I need, no more questions from you," I said. "First. Whoever your 'in' is, get him to pay out the insurance of this place that your guys just thrashed, to same owner."
Scott nodded.
"That can be done."
"I don't care what you do next, leave that place alone."
He nodded again.
I took in a deep breath.
"And lastly… Three years ago."
The air conditioner in the room hummed. My vision had narrowed. All I could see was the man in front of me.
The tip of the knife shook. My voice had a hard time coming out. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer.
"Three years ago… you paid a man named Nick for a hit."
Scott's eyes widened.
"Who was it? And answer very carefully. Who did you get killed?"