[center][h2]Lekh Antol: Fresh off the Boat[/h2][/center]

[u]Two Months Ago[/u]

The waves lapped softly against the hull of the trawler as it glided into the harbour in the early hours of the morning. There was an eerie quiet aboard, almost harkening back to the old tales of Ghost Ships sailing into harbour unmanned. In reality there was simply few awake at such an ungodly hour and the secondary purpose of the trawler was not one that would leave one wanting to attract attention with unnecessary fan-fare. The ship was one of many that offered a service to those dissatisfied with their lot in Europe without the means or perhaps the inclination to obtain valid entry into the ‘great’ U.S.A. There were perhaps ten of them stowed away in an empty supply room barely big enough for half their number, dozing or staring into nothingness with an uneasy yet somehow hopeful expression upon their faces. The Polish man who had conspicuously earned himself more space than any of the others in one corner fell into the former category. 

The ship moored at one of the more inconspicuous docking points close to the French Quarter, which was coincidentally (or perhaps not) the place where the Polish traveller wished to go. He stood up suddenly, while those around him eyed him warily. They had been together too long, the man thought sardonically, even his mask had slipped in such close quarters for such an extended period. No matter, he would be unfortunate to see them again. To say he had packed light would be an understatement, the only clothes to his name were those adorning him, a full nike tracksuit. He did have a small backpack with some less than savoury bits and pieces and some mementoes, but for the most part he was painfully under-equipped. Still, it was well within his capacity to rectify that small issue.

He escaped any boarding official’s eye upon slipping out the docks, text-book evasion by all accounts. It seemed the scant research he had carried out on the journey using newspapers and the like had served him well already, though catching up with more current events was a must. Still, he could deal with that problem when he had his feet on the ground so to speak, which meant seeking out someone he’d rather not see. His brother. 

A short taxi ride to the French Quarter’s strip was more than informative, though it cost the traveller quite the head-ache reining in his more intrusive abilities. He was aware the area had more metas than any other area by population, but they were almost common-place. He was moving around at a busy time for trouble, crime was rampant in areas where people intoxicated themselves and fights were frequent. He spotted two would be vigilantes dealing with criminal elements on his way to his brother’s nightclub which was somewhat ostentatiously named ‘Eden’, they seemed fairly competent to his as yet inexperienced eye, though manageable. Further observations were cut short however by the cab pulling up outside the club. The passenger’s lack of anything resembling American currency left him in a somewhat embarrassing situation for only a moment though. With practiced skill he unleashed his reined in power, saturating the driver in near nauseating waves of his psychic aura. He handed the man a Polish bill, nodding his thanks. The cabby looked at it with a frown, shrugged, and tucked it away. The man smiled. 

The club was winding down as people filtered out into the early morn, unstable and sickly intoxicated. He had little trouble meandering his way through them, neither drawing attention to himself nor giving way at any point, an interesting and somewhat contradictory set of actions only possible because of his unique set of skills. He paid little attention to his surroundings, all the better to nonchalantly dismiss his brother’s achievements when he almost certainly asked his older brother his opinion of the place. What small glimpses he did take in were impressive though, a dancefloor that could easily hold a thousand people, perhaps more, lights and decorations of a tasteful and effortless class. His brother always did have a flair for the aesthetic. 

Impressively the traveller made his way to the V.I.P lounge with no incidents, more notable perhaps because he was painfully under-dressed for the event and should have stuck out like a sore thumb. Even he had to admit to cheating a little bit to get this far. He knocked briskly on a solid oak door bearing the name ‘Adrian Smith, Owner’ and twisted open the door, finding it unlocked. It opened up into a plush office. The man couldn’t help noting it overlooked the dance floor, unsurprising, he thought sardonically. It seemed not much had changed, though the man behind the desk bore little resemblance to the young lad he had grown up with he recognised him immediately. Dressed in an impeccable purple suit with dyed black hair and gold rimmed sun-glasses, his brother was probably the gaudiest thing in the building. Those glasses were almost thrown from the man’s face in surprise as he took in the tired face of the man who had barged into his office. 

“Lekh, what the f** are you doing here?”

[color=bc8dbf]“Is that any way to greet your older brother, Adrian?”[/color] Lekh riposted with a fake smile, showing just a little too much canine and somehow managing to make his innocent reply condescending in the extreme. These things were not lost on the young man behind the desk, whose right hand seemed to stray by the drawer at his side, no doubt caressing a firearm. 

“I asked you a question, how did you find me?” 

[color=bc8dbf]“And now you have asked another. Question, that is.”[/color] Lekh replied in his amiable fashion that he knew infuriated the younger fierier Antol. Adrian looked ready to burst for a moment, before visibly calming down with a sigh through his teeth. 

“Fine, whatever, what do you want?” He asked finally, getting to the real crux of their short conversation. Lekh smiled appreciatively, causing the veins on Adrian’s forehead to stand out, threatening to burst as he reined himself in again. 

[color=bc8dbf]“Now we are getting somewhere are we not?”[/color] Lekh sat down on the side of the desk, ignoring a perfectly good chair so that he could look down on his slightly taller brother. 

“Well?”

[color=bc8dbf]“Money, for now, couple thousand dollars should be fine. You can afford that can you not?”[/color]

“As you might have noticed I am doing pretty well for myself here, what did you think of the place?”

[color=bc8dbf]“The place? Oh you mean this club? So-so.”[/color]

“Dick.”

[color=bc8dbf]“So, the money?”[/color]

“If I give you a couple g’s you’ll f*** off?”

[color=bc8dbf]“Well, for a couple days maybe.”[/color]

“Deal.”