Twenty- Three: Silver

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I hated lying to her.

We had finally managed to build some sort of trust with one another, and the last thing I wanted to do was break it by lying, but Beast had been insistent that no one knew we were meeting up.

I walked into the tattoo studio owned by Chuck, one of the Specters, and looked around.

The shop was empty, besides Chuck himself, who was sitting at his station, surrounded by pencils and paper.  The music was blasting, something by Pantera, one of the few bands Clyde had shown me that I actually enjoyed

Chuck was the one who put Bonnie on as an apprentice, after seeing her drawing on my arm in black marker one day.  At first, Clyde and I thought he had an alternative motive, but it turned out he was harmless.  He treated Bonnie well, like a little sister, and genuinely recognized her talent, regularly letting her do her work there.

He turned when I walked in, nodding at me in greeting.

"You looking for Beast?"  He asked, running his fingers over the redback spider that was tattooed on his shaven scalp.

"Yeah," I responded.

"Out back," he told me, tilting his head in that direction.  "He's waiting for you."

I nodded and followed him through to the back of the shop, where it opened out into a tiny courtyard, half covered by the second story of the building. Beast was lounging on one of the couches they had out there, under the covered half, speaking with Jack and Boomer. 

I started feeling anxious, not sure why they were both there as well, being higher ranks in the Specters.  My apprehension eased slightly when Boomer offered a friendly smile, the first to notice me, and Jack dragged over a chair from against the wall.

Beast kept a blank expression, all business, but the vibe was light, non threatening, and I relaxed slightly. I watched the smoke from his cigarette coiling up into the sky as Chuck went back into the shop.

"Thanks for coming, kid," Beast started, then chuckled to himself, leaning back.  "I shouldn't call you that, should I?  You're not really a kid, anymore."

"Marcus still does, sometimes," I said, shrugging as he took another drag.

"Yeah, he did raise you, I suppose."  Beast leaned forward again, eyeing me.  "How's your old man coping, now he's out?"

I shrugged again.

"Seems okay," I told him.  "Marcus had a party for him last night."

Beast nodded, but, otherwise said nothing.

"You could go see him," I offered.  "I'm sure he'd apreciate it."

Beast sighed and shook his head.

"I think we're past that, now," he admitted.  "Me and your dad were like brothers, back when we were about your age.  After that shit went down with Kim... he never really forgave me for it, and who could blame him?  I let his family get hurt."

He seemed genuinely regretful, but I still didn't understand why.  Sure, Kim got hurt, and dad paid for it for fifteen years, but where did Beast come into it? Why was he taking the blame for what happened?

"Anyway, we should be talking business."  He stubbed out his cigarette and gestured to Jack, who reached into his jacket and came back out with a small, wrapped package, and put it on the table between us.

I raised an eyebrow at Beast, but his eyes gave nothing away.

"We need to know we can trust you," he said, his face dead serious, set in an expression he'd never worn while speaking to me.  "Does anyone know you came here?"

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