CH-19: Friend or Foe?

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•Dragon Cross

•AJ

•Benoît Valtin

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The warm stream of water ran across my face as I stood in the shower, relishing the silence. I casually tousled my long, uncut hair, watching as the droplets cascaded down.

It had been two days since the heist in Washington D.C. I returned to New York and settled back into my room, leaving Caliban to handle the rest.

The two million dollars marked the end of my job here in New York. I reminded myself of this as I stepped into the shower, knowing that I would only be in the city for a few more hours.

My flight was already booked, and all the necessary documents were laid out on the bed. My bag stood packed in the corner, ready to go.

I turned off the tap, gradually cutting off the flow of water. I paused for a moment, allowing the remaining drops to fall before reaching for the towel.

Stepping out of the shower into the room, the chilly air of the city rushed against my face.

My eyes instinctively darted toward the open window.

With the towel wrapped around my waist, I approached the window and leaned over the glass, gazing at the bustling cityscape with a nostalgic smile.

The cold air sent shivers through my wet body, causing my hairs to stand on end. I closed the window and walked over to the bed, beginning to get dressed.

A moment later, I stood in front of the mirror, observing my reflection. The white jacket over my plain black shirt swayed as I moved around and the track pants felt strangely loose.

After securing the documents and swinging the backpack over my shoulder, I slowly made my way toward the door. Multiple thoughts about the months I had spent in this room rushed through my mind.

I turned back and gave it one last glance, the television I had never turned on, the stack of newspapers in the corner, the neatly made low bed and the creaking wooden walls.

I had become accustomed to the view from the window and the faceless neighbour with their peculiar taste in music whom I had never met. It was time to leave them all behind.

"Venom." I called out, and the symbiote slithered over my body, concealing itself beneath the clothes, leaving me clad in the black suit.

I closed the door and began to walk out, my footsteps echoing through the wooden staircase as I descended the hotel floor.

As I reached the ground floor, my gaze landed on old lady Claire. As usual, her television blared loudly and her eyes remained fixated on the screen.

Part of me wanted to leave without bothering her, but another part insisted on not letting her have peace before I departed.

"I would like to check out." I said, standing before the reception desk.

Claire sighed, tearing her eyes away from the screen for a moment. She paused the Judge Judy show and slowly approached the table, her perpetual frown etched on her face.

"So, you've finally decided to run along, huh?" She asked, snatching the keys from the table.

"Maybe." I shrugged, glancing over my shoulder at the bag.

"Hmph, thought I'd have to fetch the old broom from the cupboard to get rid of you." She snorted as she hung the key on the board.

As she turned around, I had a hundred-dollar bill ready in my hand. She raised her eyebrows upon noticing the money.

"Get a better heater for the hotel." I smirked under my mask as her face scowled.

"Keep it yourself, you bastard! My heater works just fine!" She retorted, puffing her chest in pride as she pushed back the money.

I took a breath, observing her. She had never seen my face, and she didn't care about me. She was definitely not Aunt May but there was a fleeting resemblance in my mind.

"Goodbye, Claire." I muttered and walked out of the hotel.

As I began to walk toward the main streets to hail a taxi, my phone rang from my pocket, it was Caliban once again.

"V-." He started, but I interrupted him before he could continue.

"Yes, I've got my documents. Yes, I have the tickets. And yes, I'm really leaving." I rambled out.

"Huh." There was silence on the other end before he spoke again. "That's great and all, but I want you to come to the bar."

"Why?" I asked, simultaneously calling for a taxi.

"There's someone here who wants to meet you." Caliban growled with a hint of venom in his voice. "Someone I don't want in my bar."

I blinked, surprised by the level of hatred in his tone.

"Who?" I asked, intrigued by this stranger.

"Just... Just come here for a moment and handle this guy." He sighed and stammered.

"Fine." I grumbled, dismissing the taxi as the driver flipped me the bird and drove away.

[Shall I kill him?]

I glanced at the yellow vehicle in the distance before shaking my head.

"Another day."

It took me ten minutes to reach the bar. By the time I entered through the front entrance, the sun had already set.

The guards, who had grown accustomed to seeing me, didn't bother a platinum member like myself as I made my way into the dimly lit bar.

Caliban stood at the bar table, wearing a frown as he finished the last of his whiskey. His alcoholism seemed to flare up during times of stress.

He noticed me approaching and pointed towards a private booth in the corner.

Ignoring his gesture, I walked towards him. He tried signalling again but I was already right beside him.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"Some Thief Guild bastard!" Caliban grumbled, pouring himself another glass. "Tell him to get out of my bar!"

"Why can't you do that yourself?" I questioned, finding it odd that he would allow someone he clearly despised to remain in his bar when he had the power to kick them out.

"Because he's a stubborn asshole and a respected member of the Bar Council." Caliban grumbled again. "Please, get him out of my bar. I can't drink in peace until he's gone."

"Sure, man." I shrugged and made my way to the booth.

I knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for permission.

"Rudeness seems to be your trait."

My eyes widened as I heard the British accent and recognized the voice.

I turned to my right and saw the figure standing opposite me, his hand pressed against a chair at the round table.

He was tall and lean, standing at approximately 6 feet in height.

His slender yet muscular build hinted at his physical prowess and agility. His rich and deep ebony complexion gave him a distinct appearance.

His facial features exuded mystery and intrigue. His eyes, set beneath well-defined eyebrows, were a striking shade of amber, seemingly gleaming with intelligence and cunning.

A shock of white hair crowned his head, flowing freely in a windswept manner. The contrasting colour against his dark complexion added to his distinguished presence.

Though his hair showed signs of greying, it only enhanced his overall appearance, symbolising his age and experience.

He wore a sleek and form-fitting black bodysuit that allowed for ease of movement and flexibility. Over it, he donned a black and white tuxedo adorned with intricate patterns of silver or gold accents, subtly enhancing his look.

Completing his ensemble were black gloves and boots, both equipped with specialised padding and grip, adding to his dexterity and agility while adorning his chest was a stylized emblem resembling a fox's head.

"You." I called out in shock, surprise, and a hint of wariness.

"Hmm, looks like you recognize me." He said with a mischievous smirk on his chiselled face.

"You're that half-assed thief." I pointed at him.

His smirk immediately faded, and he clenched his fist, clearly bothered by the direct disrespect. But he quickly regained his composure, taking a breath before his smile returned.

"Well, calling me half-assed is a bit of an understatement." He shrugged and took a seat. "I wasn't at my best that day."

'Sureee,' I rolled my eyes, mentally commenting on his response.

"Anyway, I didn't have the pleasure of introducing myself back then." He stood up, his hand reaching across his shoulder as he gave me a slight bow.

"I'm Black Fox."

He tilted his head slightly, his narrowed eyes sharply focused on me.

"It's nice to meet you... Edward."