[color=lightblue]"I hope my work was satisfactory."[/color]

Francis Cain sat in an old yet very comfortable red leather chair with more blemishes than him, his hands resting on the almost antique work desk before him. His hat and coat sat on a hat rack next to the entrance to his office, a door that read "[b]Francis Cain - Private Investigator[/b]" in bold letters. Absolutely everything about his office looked like one had stumbled onto the set of a 50s noir movie, a circumstance that was quite intentional. It seemed out of place, a room inside the city removed from the 'modern day bullshit', as Cain liked to call it - it was one of the reasons why he dressed like he did. Plus, he liked this kind of style. It suited him. But the main reason was how practical it was: It was his signature feature and he was known for it all over town. People came to expect a suit, trenchcoat and trilby when they expected him. That made it very easy to escape their attention when he changed appearances. Sure, there were magical means to do so but more often than not, all he needed was a different look.

That said, he wouldn't have touched his opponent's wardrobe with a ten-foot pole. The young man was a Rat with a colorful Mohican haircut, more metal pinned to his face than most veterans had in their entire body and rags to cover himself in that showed brand signs here and there to prove that the holes in the jeans and hoody were intentional and 'stylish'. He could have just been nervous, judging by how twitchy he was, but an unfortunately placed tear on his sleeve revealed that the boy liked to shoot up. Even though Cain liked human criminals better than vampire ones, dealing with Rats always went hand in hand with seeing what their drugs did to young people.

This one was only a henchman but an excitable one.
"Hell yeah, it was! That fucker Bennert's not gonna mess with our business no more. Dino said that you can come by and have a taste of our product anytime."

Francis raised an eyebrow at this offer.
[color=lightblue]"Tell Dino that I am... humbled by this [i]generous[/i] offer"[/color], his voice oozed of sarcasm but the boy smiled like an idiot and Cain was getting more and more convinced that he was as high as kite, [color=lightblue]"but I think I'll pass and stick to my usual payment."[/color]

Rick Bennert hadn't exactly been a drug kingpin. If anything, he had been the last in a long line of dealers who got uppity and bit the hand that fed them, thinking that they could open their own business with a few runners and brutes to work for them. He cut himself loose from the Rats without seeking protection from a different gang first, which, in Santa Somabra, was the same as painting a bullseye on your back. This was the kind of deal Cain took for the gangs: Taking care of the human, and non-human, refuse that nobody cared about. The gangs were happy and he got to rid the city of the occasional drug dealer, rapist and murderer, no questions asked.

"Right, right..."
The Rat stepped forward, took an envelope from his backpocket and offered it to Cain. Inside were a few small wads of cash which he counted diligently: $1700 in total. Cain furrowed his brows.

[color=lightblue]"That's 100 bucks less than we agreed upon."[/color]

"Well, Dino thought-"

Cain stood up.
[color=lightblue]"I know Dino and he doesn't pull stupid shit like that. Not with me."[/color]

The boy seemed even more nervous than before. Francis knew what was going on; even if he didn't have a few wards and charms in his office to help him sense dishonesty and evil intentions, he could have seen through the deception.
[color=lightblue]"Don't fuck with me, boy. There's a reason your bosses don't. Give me my money."[/color]

Even now, the Rat seemed uncertain, contemplating whether he should run out, fight or give in. Cain was ready to unleash hell on him, to set the junkie ablaze and burn him to ash where he stood, but he knew that that wouldn't be necessary. All he needed was a little push, a little show, another tidbit to add to his mystery and reputation: He let the cigarette in his ashtray flare up - that was all it took to turn his eyes into embers, glowing bright in the twilight of the room and giving him a demonic appearance.

Before he knew it, the guy had not only yelped out in surprise and fear but also presented the missing money to him. It was obvious he wanted to leave but he didn't dare to run. Cain gave him a wolvish grin.
[color=lightblue]"Good. Now get out of my office and pray that Dino never finds out what you tried to do here."[/color]

Within seconds, he was alone again but the silence wasn't meant to last - his cellphone started ringing before he could as much as sit back down again. He didn't recognize the number but that didn't have to mean anything.
[color=lightblue]"Yes?"[/color]

"Am I speaking Francis Cain?", a gravely, servile voice asked.

[color=lightblue]"Who wants to know?"[/color]

"I'm calling on behalf of Mistress Nyxvira Bloodbloom. I assume you are Francis Cain?"

[color=lightblue][i]And here I thought today was going to be boring.[/i][/color] His past dealings with Bloodbloom had been interesting, a mix of very dangerous and quite questionable work, but the payment was always superb. God only knew how she heard about him and his skills. Yes, there were rumors and he spread some of those himself but only few knew what was true and what wasn't. Yet, the moment he met her, she seemed well informed about everything he was capable of. The problem with her was that she was prone to mood swings and fits of rage - combined with her influence throughout the city, that made saying no to her risky.
It went without saying that some of her workforce were not the brightest tools in the shed.
[color=lightblue]"Yes"[/color], he responded with a soft sigh, [color=lightblue]"that would be me."[/color]

"You are to meet her at her penthouse in Dawnpeek Heights. She expects you to be there by the time she arrives."

[color=lightblue][i]Of course she does[/i][/color], he thought to himself. The caller had hung up on him as soon as he delivered his message. That was the Bloodbloom Syndicate for you. Left with little choice but to hear her out, he hid the payment he had just received in the hidden safe, put on the rest of his outfit and a freshly lit cigarette into his mouth, placed the usual wards on the office as he left and made his way to the elevator, wondering what the queenpin had in store for him.