The Inheritance: Part 1

Chapter 4

Soon enough.

It's not like she needed any help navigating the building. She'd committed the layout to memory before making entry. Still, she follows her escort just a step behind his right shoulder.

"So are you a like a bodyguard?" she asks once they are out of earshot of Franco. "Or just an errand boy?"

He takes three more steps before saying, "Assistant, actually."

"Oh, my bad. It's just the way he talks to you I thought— you know what, never mind." They reach the threshold of the front door. He reaches to open it, but she steps in his way. "I actually have one more question, maybe you can answer it?"

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't move.

"The clientele, I'm assuming they stay local prior to ship outs, and if they're paying such premiums to afford the trips, you guys are probably putting them up somewhere nice."

"That's not a question."

"And that's because I haven't asked it yet." She smirks and rolls her eyes. "What I wanted to ask is if you keep the staff there too, or if you have a separate boarding house?'

He thinks for a moment, then reaches for the door again. She doesn't stand in his way this time, but when he opens it, she doesn't move.

He sighs. "Staff is lodged down by the old ferry terminal."

She flashes him a grin. "Thank you. Tell Franco I'll be in touch."

She's gone before the door closes behind her.

How rude.

Not that she expected any less from someone in his inner circle.

She checks the area he'd mentioned, but finds nothing out of the ordinary. Figures that he'd only tell her what he knew would show up clear. The drive comes to mind and she knows she should take it back and look it over, but something tells her that she needs to keep looking.

The sun has already started to go down, but she's getting a second wind. Since she's already there, she decides to sweep the abandoned terminal. It couldn't hurt, and abandoned places always attract illicit activities.

As far as abandoned buildings go, the terminal isn't bad. Dust and grime cover most surfaces, and there's a few broken windows and signs of vandalization, but most of it's wear and tear is from neglect, not abuse. If this were Bludhaven, it would have been burnt to the ground and flooded. Plus there'd be at least three junkies so high out of their mind they'd be in another dimension.

The building's clear from her preliminary sweep, but there's just too much building to leave without a second look.

Out by the dock, she finds a fresh rope.

It's not exactly brand new, so it didn't catch her eye, but upon closer inspection, it's enough to tell her that the terminal is still in use. If it's not part of Franco's operation, then there's someone using it for discrete entrances or exits.

A pair of hard leather boots drop behind her. They take a step in her direction and she ducks into a pivot.

She blocks a pistol whip to the temple and throws her opponent over her shoulder. He grabs the fabric behind her neck and pulls her down with him. They grapple only briefly before the barrel of a gun is shoved up against her head.

She goes limp and raises her hands. "I yield."

He relaxes, not moving the gun, but he gives her a little more breathing room. Leather jacket over body armor, patrol style pants, and a helmet that glows red in the dying sun. She doesn't know him— or of him.