Black Market – Reed’s Water Shop
After looting Nathan’s inventory, Charles Reed, leader of the Axe Gang, stood before his men, examining a number of boxes of mineral water.
"Boss, there’s word on the street this water is not just clean but it is also very sweet and refreshing," said One-Eye Jack, his lean lieutenant with the one piercing eye. "Our business is suffering because of it.
Don’t know from where is that kid getting it from?"
Charles grinned. "It is a filtered sewage, I’m certain of it. My brother Simon, who works for the city government, informed me that only two wells are in operation in Ironhold. The city owns one. We own the other. Government’s water is not bad, but mine is superior to any filtered sewage water whether it is bitter or not."
The reality was cruel: all the other wells had run dry in the three-year famine. Only Charles had been getting fat and wealthy by having one of the remaining two. If anyone else really did have water, they’d have been in business selling it well ahead of time.
Nathan’s odd water bottles, Charles concluded, were simply filled with some purified sewage water.
"Yes, it’s looks clean, but it will taste like dirt most likely," one of his men spoke.
"Boss is right," another chimed in hastily, wanting to appease.
"Let’s see," Charles grumbled, picking up a bottle. He unscrewed the cap, sniffed once, and sipped.
The minute it hit his tongue, his eyes sprang open.
In all his years, he had never drunk anything better. His bitter well water couldn’t compete this was simply nectar to horse piss.
"Gulp... gulp..." He swallowed the whole bottle straight, then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
His members looked at him. "Didn’t he just say it’d be bad? Then why drink it all?" they grumbled amongst themselves.
They never cared for him all that much to begin with. Charles had constructed a mansion and married nine wives after the monopoly of the water market in Ironhold, while they survived but living is worse than death barely getting enough to live on.
They still flatter him, but there was resentment beneath each of their smiles.
"Take some men, One-Eye," Charles snapped, "and follow Nathan. Discover where this water is coming from."
His little eyes sparkled with greed. If he could acquire this source, he could put the entire other set of sellers out of business in the city. Perhaps Nathan had discovered a secret well. If that were the case, Charles was going to take it.
Two more of One-Eye’s men followed him as he departed.
Charles’s resentment of Nathan went deeper than business. He had attempted to woo Lucy a month ago in the street, giving her gifts. She had rejected him cold.
Nathan had intervened after that and beat him bloody for it. Now, watching Nathan sell more than him had been the final audacity to trample his pride.
But just when One-Eye Jack made it to the door, a streak of motion emerged from outside.
A massive kick landed on his abdomen, sending him flying off his feet and crash back into the store. He landed with a thud on the floor, his midsection clutched tightly to him, his breath stolen from his lungs.
"Who the fuck did that?!" Charles bellowed, pushing back from the table so vigorously that it overturned.
The response came as a number of silhouettes poured into the store, their feet pounding the ground.
Charles’s complexion paled all at once.
"Boss, there’s so many of them!" one of Charles’s minions stuttered.
"Is that Nathan? How the hell did he accumulate this many men?" another whispered.
"Where the hell did he got all these guys!" a third gasped, exchanging fearful glances.
Charles’s dozen men stood transfixed, their eyes fixed on the horde that stood in the way.
Nathan stood in the forefront, backed by a row of powerful men whose faces were hidden behind black cloth masks. Their glowering, motionless presence weighed down upon the room like an oppressive burden.
"Nathan!" Charles snapped, attempting to steady his voice. "What are you doing here?"
How? How had Nathan mobilized so many men in so short a time? Charles’s own gang had barely a dozen men at his disposal; the rest were scattered about the market. Outnumbered nearly four to one, he felt his stomach tighten into a knot.
Outside on the street, the whispers started.
"Look, they’re gonna fight! Charles Reed and Mr. Hartwell’s son are at it," someone said.
"Deserves well beat that Charles into the ground! His water costs too much and tastes awful," another taunted.
"This was not unusual. Charles had destroyed their stalls and stolen their water earlier," a third had said
This was all that was needed to attract a crowd from throughout the black market. Everyone despised Charles for charging them for his foul water, and now they stood anxiously waiting to see him receive what was coming.
Nathan advanced, his tone icy but sarcastic. "What am I doing here? You beat up my crew and stolen my water this afternoon, Charles. Why would I not be here?"
He shifted his eyes away to Alex. "Brother Alex, what do we do with them?"
Alex’s response was tranquil, near-natural. "What else? Destroy the shop. Show them a lesson."
In Ironhold’s underworld, only one law ruled: strength. The weak didn’t even have the right to speak. Charles had the audacity to ruin their trade and steal from them now he has to face the consequences of his actions.
"Good!" Nathan’s smile was cruel. "Brother Alex has spoken!"
He lifted his hand. "Destroy this building! Break their legs in the process!"
Upon his signal, thirty masked men which were Miss Evelyn’s servants in disguise charged into the shop like a breaking wave. Clubs whirled through the air, shattering shelves, crates, and jars in a deafening whirlwind of splintered wood and shattering glass.
Charles Reed’s water shop was being dismantled before his eyes.
And he just stood there unable to do anything.