The 8 Of Clubs

So as soon as I finished reading Terrence's post, I asked Sal about the shop he mentioned. Sal grabbed my shoulder and teleported us right outside.

"Holy fuck!" I said, stumbling over in shock. "I still don't understand how you do that."

"You don't need to understand," Sal said.

"We just came straight here," I pointed out. "Usually when people teleport, they pass through another domain or something. At least briefly."

"Not me," Sal said.

"That doesn't make a whole lot of sense," I pointed out.

"My teleportation wasn't designed to work," he said. "It was designed to be efficient."

"Could you use it to get us back to the real world?" I asked.

"No," he said. "I'm limited to whatever world I'm in at the time."

"Oh," I said. "Well, I guess we'd better get to finding where Terrence is. Guess I'll go inside and ask."

"I'll wait out here," Sal said. "Don't do anything stupid."

I went in. There were a couple people inside getting supplies or whatever. The masked guy Terrence mentioned was behind the counter, reading some kind of dirty magazine. He had long black hair, and was wearing a red jacket. I went up to him to ask about Terrence.

"Hey," I said. "I'm looking for someone."

"I can't help you," the man replied.

"He's a friend of mine," I said.

"Too bad," the man said. "Can't give away locations."

"Come on, man," I said. "He's in trouble and I wanna help him."

"Rules are rules, Justin," the man said. Not sure how he knew my name, but whatever.

"Whatever," I said. "I'll find him my fucking self."

"Watch your language," he said.

I turned away, planning to ask the other people there. I paused on my way over to them as I realized something. I looked back at the guy in the mask.

The red coat. The greasy black hair. I had seen this guy before.

I strained for a minute, trying to remember. I looked at his mask. The club symbol and the number 8.

And then I remembered. The night I met with Henry and Derek. At Sal's. Table number 8, in the club seat. This guy had been sleeping there.

"I know you," I said.

"Hm?" he asked.

"The night I met with those proxies at Sal's," I said. "You were there. You were listening."

Realizations began piling up one by one.

"You're the one who followed us," I said. "You watched our fight with Oceana. You..."

I felt a sudden wave of anger wash over me.

"You're the one who marked Terrence and the Hooded Guy for this tournament!" I snapped.

The man sighed, and set down his magazine.

"It was you, wasn't it!" I demanded. "Answer me, you fucking bastard!"

"Please," he said, speaking slowly. "Watch. Your. Language."

"Fuck you!" I shouted. "Tell me where Terrence is, asshole!"

The man stood up. Something suddenly felt very wrong about him. When he spoke, his voice was much more assertive and threatening.

"He said, watch you LANGUAGE!"

With that last word, he raised a hand and shot a ball of fucking fire at me. I swung my scythe in an effort to defend myself. I was sort of successful. I burnt my coat, and part of my scythe's blade got melted, but other that that, unharmed.

Sal suddenly appeared right next to me and grabbed me by the arm. He and the masked man looked at each other for a second before Sal teleported us elsewhere.

"I thought I told you not to do anything stupid," he said.

"Have we met?" I asked sarcastically.

I stood up, examining the damage done to my scythe.

"He's the reason Terrence is here," I said. "That mother fucking-"

"Calm down, Justin," Sal demanded. "Let's just start looking."

So yeah. That fucking happened. "I'll need to find another shop somewhere so that I can get a new scythe. I've killed a few people here, so I should be able to get something with the points I have left.

I'm still in the area, so Terrence, if you're reading this, let's keep an eye out for each other.