"Oh, Miss Dee….look, I know what we talked about, but there’s a bit of a problem; someone else came in and paid for every pack we have, even the ones put aside for….huh?" Before Travis could finish speaking, I burst into motion.
Using my perception, I scanned the place for Cameras and other people. I knew it was just the three of us present, so in the blink of an eye, I appeared in front of Travis, standing on the counter, grabbed his face, and made him stare directly into my eyes.
’Psy-Kinesis’
"Tell me everything," I said with a twisted smile, and in those three simple words, I pumped enough Particles to perform a partial lobotomy. Still, with the itching suspicion at the back of my neck, I had a feeling my boring life was about to become interesting again.
"Not long after I got off the phone, a young man about 19-20 years old came in with two muscular adults wearing suits and sunglasses. At first, I thought he was from the Mafia or something." Travis’s eyes glazed over and shined with blue light as he began recounting what had transpired less than an hour before our arrival.
"Give me a full description of the young man." Releasing Travis, I stood on the counter without breaking eye contact, and my arms crossed over my chest.
"About six foot tall, athletic body, like he was a gymnast or olympian, orange hair that seemed to glow like fire in the sunlight, and his eyes were the clearest green I had ever seen in my life."
"Every article of clothing and accessory he wore screamed rich kid, from the Rolex watch to the designer brand outfit, that, and he showed up in an expensive car."
"Let me guess; he demanded you sell him every P*kemon card pack you have in stock and wouldn’t take no for an answer, maybe even tossing cash on the counter like it meant nothing to him." Narrowing my eyes as I ran through a list of known heroes and villains in my mind to try to find out the guy’s identity, I spoke my thoughts aloud, eliciting a response from Travis.
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"Yes, he had one of the bulky bodyguards drop a briefcase on the counter for the owner, but when Phil, *Store Owner* opened the briefcase and saw there was 50 thousand dollars inside, he didn’t hesitate to fetch all our supply and hand it over, along with some MTG boxes."
’Who are you…’ I said with a slight frown before asking the obvious question that wouldn’t have the answer I wanted to hear.
"Did he leave you a name or anything?"
"…No, from start to finish, the dude didn’t say his name; he just walked in, demanded to see Phil, and threw out a shit ton of money before leaving…but…" Scrunching up his face, I could tell there was something more that Travis had noticed, but he was having trouble putting it into words.
’Let’s see what you saw then; Travis here noticed something but is either too scared to tell me since he doesn’t know if there will be any blowback or not…Telepathy…’
My eyes went unfocused for a moment as I scanned through Travis’s memory without bothering to leave him unharmed. I wanted answers, and if I had to make a mess of the guy’s head, well, I could write it off as a necessary casualty.
Within 30 seconds, I had not only a mental image of the young guy but also the bit of information Travis was hiding out of self-preservation, so I released my hold on his mind and hopped off the table before motioning toward Deeana that we were leaving.
’Sigh, all I wanted to do was load up on cards that would spike massively in the future, yet I’ve found myself at a crossroads. It would be one thing if the Returner in question didn’t have a background, but this guy…it just had to be him, as if his family doesn’t have enough money, he decided to fuck around and lay traps for returners.’
By combining the clues I got from Travis’s memories, I knew not only who the person was but also his background. It wasn’t because I recognized the Returner—no, I hadn’t ever seen a picture of him—but because of the combination of his physical features and the tattoos the two bodyguards had on their wrists, which Travis noticed when one of them fixed the cuff of his suit jacket.
While I may not know the guy personally, the tattoo on the bodyguard’s wrist was more than enough to bring me to the conclusion that I wasn’t dealing with a simple person.
"Three lines, top and bottom in blue with a squiggle in it, the middle black and a straight line… Stillwater, it just had to be them; well, alright, Fredrick Colt, game on," I muttered under my breath while getting into the back seat of Deeana’s car.
Stillwater was a "Private Security" company started in 1996 by former US Navy Seal Erik Colt, but it was all a front for the public. While they touted themselves as being top-of-the-line hired muscle, what they really were was an underground Mercenary Organization, aka hired guns for the highest bidder.
They used their cover as a private security company to look good in the public eye, but in reality, it was a large group of ex-military men running around the world and killing people left and right.
That wasn’t all either; multiple World Governments, including the USA, had a habit of enlisting Stillwater for missions that were so top-secret and sketchy that they couldn’t be on record as having a hand in executing them.
But sometime in the 2000s, around 2004 or 5, this all came to light, forcing Stillwater to change its name as multiple legislative bills were brought down on the company in an attempt to control the highly skilled and trained Mercs until they were forced out of the country. No longer allowed to stay in the US, the organization moved to Russia, where they carried out missions alongside the Spetsnaz and Russian Secret Service.
And Fredrick, who had stolen my cards from under my nose…is the second youngest son of Erik Colt.