Sudden Call #38

The theater loomed before me, a relic of a bygone era. The exterior walls, adorned with intricate carvings and elegant arches, were now chipped and weathered, covered in a thick layer of grime.

Ivy snaked its way up the sides, giving the whole structure a sense of forgotten grandeur. Above the entrance, a faded sign bore the name "The Crescent Theater," a fitting title for a place that seemed caught between shadows and light.

I pushed open the heavy, ornate doors and stepped inside, the sound of my footsteps echoing through the vast, empty space. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light that pierced through the broken windows, casting an eerie glow over the interior.

Rows of seats stretched out before me, all covered in white sheets that resembled ghostly shrouds. The stage, once the heart of the theater, was now bare and desolate, with only a few remnants of old props scattered about.

I made my way down the central aisle, taking in the details of the once-opulent decor. The walls were adorned with faded murals depicting scenes from classical plays, and the chandeliers overhead were tarnished and missing several crystals. It was clear that The Crescent Theater had seen better days, but I could also see the potential it held.

I turned my attention to the task at hand. While I didn't really need the theater itself, the location was perfect. The warehouse where my other Palbox was built was far too remote, and relocating it to a spot more convenient for fast travel was a priority.

Having a second base wouldn't hurt either, even if this theater was nowhere near the size of my private island.

As I explored further, I found rooms filled with wrecked and worn-out furniture, old props, and remnants of past productions. Clearing all of this out would be a monumental task, but I had a secret weapon.

The wristwatch I wore had a function that allowed me to disassemble man-made objects within the range of a Palbox I owned. As it turns out, this not only works on constructs made with the wristwatch but also on any object, as long as it's within reach of my Palbox.

Not only would this help me get rid of the unwanted items, but it would also convert them into resources for future construction.

I started with the first room, placing my hand on a battered old chair. The watch hummed to life, and the chair began to disassemble itself, breaking down into its component parts and vanishing, leaving behind a small pile of raw materials; wood, leather, and cloth, all of which were instantly absorbed into my inventory.

As I continued to work, I considered the challenges ahead. Managing the limited space of the theater and squeezing in the necessary constructs to run and maintain a base would be difficult. I decided that for now, I would only create the bare minimum here. The Crescent Theater would serve as a fast travel point rather than a fully functional base.

Before I knew it, I was absorbed in the work of clearing the unwanted furniture, and over an hour had already passed. The process was almost therapeutic—disassembling the old, dusty pieces and transforming them into raw materials.

The rhythmic hum of the wristwatch and the gentle clattering of disintegrating furniture became a soothing background noise.

Suddenly, the sound of my phone ringing broke the silence. I retrieved it, frowning at the caller ID: an unidentified number. This phone was brand new, and I had only given the number to a very small number of people. After a moment's hesitation, I answered the call.

"Vito, is that you?" The voice on the other end was urgent and anxious.

I immediately recognized the voice. "Carlo?"

My confusion deepened. I had given Carlo my number and told him to call if he needed anything, but I didn't expect to hear from him anytime soon, especially given his desire to disappear. "What's going on? Why do you sound so anxious?"

"I'm in trouble," Carlo replied quickly. "Manfredi's goons found me. They captured me and my wife and brought us back to New York."

"What?" I was genuinely surprised. "How the hell did that happen?"

"I don't know!" Carlo's voice was frantic. "I didn't expect them to track me all the way to fucking Tasmania. But that's not the point. The point is, I need help, and you're the only one crazy enough to take on the Maggia. Please—"

His sentence was abruptly cut off by a loud grunt, followed by the sound of a struggle and pained grunts. It sounded like someone had hit him hard. "Carlo!" I called out, but the line went dead.

Vito materialized beside me, smirking. "Good riddance."

I gave Vito a glare that could have melted steel. "Shut up, Vito. I need to think."

Vito raised an eyebrow, his smirk unwavering. "Are you seriously considering helping Carlo?"

I ignored him, trying to focus, but Vito wasn't one to relent. He pressed on, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You do remember that Carlo pointed a gun at you, right? He was ready to sell us out to Manfredi for fuck's sake!"

I snapped, my voice harsh. "Carlo didn't have much choice, did he? The fact that Manfredi had him and his wife captured just goes to show he was right to point a gun at me. He was desperate."

Vito scoffed, crossing his arms. "The man was friends with my pops, but he still decided to deal with us in bad faith... it's karma, I tell you. He deserves what's coming to him."

"Carlo wouldn't have had to try to double-cross me if we didn't put him in a tough spot," I argued, my voice rising. "I only tried to strike a deal with him because you assured me he'd be willing to help. And the only reason Manfredi found out about Carlo working with us was because I listened to your advice and bought guns from that nutcase, Hammerhead."

Vito shrugged nonchalantly. "Fair enough. But that doesn't change the fact that Carlo is a scumbag, and you're not obliged to help him."

"Shut up, Vito. Just shut up and fuck off," I snapped.

Vito's smirk finally faded, replaced by a look of mild irritation. "Fine. Do what you want."

Ignoring him, I pulled out my phone and dialed Dugan's number. It rang a few times before he picked up.

"I need a favor," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

...

Materializing near the Pal Box, I found Dugan already waiting for me. He shook his head, eyes wide. "I swear, I'll never get used to seeing someone appear out of thin air like that."

I sighed, waving his comment away. "Now's not the time for that. Did you manage to trace the call?"

Dugan nodded, his expression serious. "Yeah, it's done. The call was made from inside a bar in New York. If they haven't moved him, he should still be there."

"Good," I said, motioning for him to follow me. "Walk with me. I need to grab a few things from the workshop."

Dugan hesitated, then fell in step behind me. "That call... it came from your friend's personal phone."

I stopped in my tracks for a second, then resumed walking. "I figured as much."

Dugan sighed, the weight of the situation clear in his voice. "You know what that means, right? Whoever's holding him probably let Carlo get to his phone to make the call. It's a trap, 100%."

"Maybe... but it doesn't change what I have to do," I replied, stepping into the workshop. I touched a few quivers, causing them to vanish into my inventory.

Dugan watched, his concern evident. "We can send a strike team, you know. Just say the word, and we'll get your friend out."

I materialized my gun, checking the clip to ensure it was fully loaded. "There's no need for that. You and your people have your battles, and I have mine."

Dugan frowned, frustration creeping into his voice. "What you're doing is reckless. Don't put your mate's life in danger out of pride or because you don't want to owe SHIELD a bloody favor."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "SHIELD is nothing more than a front for HYDRA. The most trustworthy people in the organization are Nick Fury and Maria Hill, and I wouldn't trust those two to serve me a glass of water without planting trackers in it."

Dugan's expression hardened. "You're letting your paranoia get the best of you. Carlo's life is on the line."

I turned to face him, my voice firm. "I'm not being paranoid. I'm being realistic. SHIELD has its own agenda, and I won't let them use Carlo as a pawn to get to me..."

Dugan's shoulders sagged slightly, but he didn't back down. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you. and just... just be careful, alright?"

I nodded, appreciating his concern despite our differences. "I will. And thanks, Dugan..."

He nodded back, a reluctant respect in his eyes. "Good luck. You'll need it."

I shook my head at him. "No. I won't."

With that, I finished gathering my gear and prepared to head out. Carlo and his wife were in this situation because of me, and I intended to get him out of it no matter what I had to do to make it happen.

...

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